First published
Equestria and the Crystal Empire have fallen to the Changeling Hegemony, led by the brutal Queen Chrysalis at the head of a mechanized horde of guns and tanks. Princess Cadance stayed in the Crystal Empire; Princess Twilight stayed in Equestria. Chrysalis rules the continent, only defied by Nova Griffonia, the poor Griffon colony in the north.
Across the ocean, the Griffonian Reich pledges to reclaim its lost territory, sundered by revolution a generation ago. While the Alicorn Sisters retreat to New Mareland, Princess Flurry Heart and Shining Armor turn to Aquileia, the Republic born out of the ashes of the Griffonian Reich. The Kaiser of the Reich is only a child, subject to a regent bent on war and conquest.
Flurry knows the Reich and Chrysalis have worked together.
She knows that war is coming to Aquileia.
She knows that Celestia and Luna abandoned her mother and Twilight Sparkle.
She knows that the world is on fire, and she is the last true Princess of Ponies.
She knows she will go home.
Cover Art by Opal Radiance, commissioned by Sunstreaker.
https://www.deviantart.com/opalradiance
The Princess & the Kaiser
Act I
Part One — The Princess and the Kaiser
Act II
Part Fifty-One — The Princess of Ponies
Act III
Part Eighty-Two — The Wind that Fanned the Flames
Act IV
Part One Hundred & Twenty-Two — The Way the World Ends & The Ice that Froze the Fire
Flurry Heart slammed her horn against the iron frame of the bed. Tears sprang from her eyes as she wailed in pain. Still, she persisted, bringing her horn down again and again. The ring around her horn remained stubbornly fixed as she pantomimed trying to remove it.
The old dog barked something in that brutal tongue of the griffons, waving his paws in a gesture that might have been comforting if it had not come from a slab of meat thrice her size.
“I don’t speak your stupid language,” Flurry scolded through her tears. “Prench, idiot! Or Aquileian, I don’t care which!”
The dog huffed and let his paws dangle uselessly by his sides. His uniform was surprisingly plain, a simple brown jacket and pants, with a ceremonial sword on one hip and a holster on the other. Flurry still wore her frilled pink dress with a high white collar, although her tiara had been left behind in her bedchamber.
Aquileia was a strange place, the only griffon-held area where ponies and griffons lived together in relative harmony. Flurry had heard stories that the eastern borderlands were consumed in fire and blood between the races, but the Aquileian monarchs had always protected their pony subjects. Even when the Revolution came, it was not divided by race; ponies and griffons marched and fought together against their brothers and sisters.
Aquileia had been a kingdom, a vassal of the Griffonian Reich, a republic, a restored kingdom, then finally a second republic. The Republicans had made the change stick by beheading King Discret early and exiling his daughter Vivienne east. Flurry liked to imagine that Vivienne and her aunties sat around the same table in the River Republic to the east, grumbling over their rights and titles.
The Republicans had been wary of her father when he crossed from New Mareland to offer his services in their army. They had an innate distrust of monarchs, even princes without a princedom. Shining Armor had persisted, swearing to uphold the ideals of the Republic and becoming a citizen, even renouncing his claim to the Crystal Empire and Equestria. Flurry had been appalled.
“How could you?” she railed at him when she had caught the announcement over the radio; the Republicans were using it as propaganda. “Mom believed in the Empire with all her heart. The Crystal Ponies believed in you! What will they think when they hear this? When we go back to the Empire-”
“We won’t go back,” Shining Armor said quietly, adjusting the buttons on his blue dress shirt. He had been made a lieutenant. It was a disgrace; her father had commanded the entire army of the Crystal Empire, millions of ponies, and the Republicans had given him the rank of Lieutenant.
“Auntie Celestia and Luna are rebuilding the fleet in New Mareland. They’ve announced an alliance of free nations.”
“With who?” Shining had asked tiredly.
“The radio didn’t say,” Flurry replied.
“Because there is no alliance. There is no one left to appeal to.” Shining knelt before his daughter to look her in the eyes. His own glacial eyes were sunken and eternally bloodshot. He had aged a decade in half the time. His blue mane had a few streaks of white that matched his coat.
“Flurry,” Shining began, “New Mareland doesn’t have the Ponies to retake Equestria. It doesn’t have the ships and it doesn’t have the equipment. Everypony and everygriffon know it.”
“You could help them,” Flurry tried.
“I won’t help them fight a doomed war,” her father dismissed. “Not after they left Twilight. New Mareland only existed on Griffonia with Equestria’s help.”
Her father seemed prophetic when New Mareland was invaded by Wingbardy three months later, ostensibly to reclaim long-lost territory. Celestia and Luna’s grand army to reclaim Equestria crumbled in two weeks, unable to withstand the onslaught of their querulous neighbor. The Sisters fled on a convoy east, given shelter by the River Coalition. No army followed them.
As far as anyone was concerned, Flurry Heart was the last serious Princess of Ponies at the age of nine. She had been afraid that the Aquileians would view her unkindly; the streets of Aquileia were cluttered with posters reminding its citizens of the cruelty of their monarchs and how they oppressed their griffons and ponies alike. The government had not asked her to renounce her crown, nor would she, even if her father urged her. Flurry Heart had a duty to everypony, and she would see that duty through to the end.
Like her mother.
Instead, the opposite occurred. Aquileans were a romantic people, much like the Crystal Ponies. Flurry became the 'Lost Princess' and a minor celebrity, and her father’s devotion to his family and the Republic was celebrated with a promotion to Colonel. Shining Armor didn’t cry at the ceremony.
The last time her father had wept was when he heard that Cadance stayed behind with the Crystal Heart during the retreat. He had been in a field command tent in Rainbow Falls, trying to coordinate desperate pockets of resistance against Changeling panzers. He ran out of tears by the time he heard that Twilight remained in Canterlot while Auntie Celestia and Luna retreated. He had formed a shield over the Alicorn Sisters one night in Manehattan, screaming at them. Flurry and the soldiers couldn't hear what he said through the spell.
It was the last time her father ever spoke to her aunts before they boarded the boats. He never said, but Flurry knew even at seven years old that he only left with the other Princesses to keep her safe.
Flurry was still surprised when he woke her up early one morning in their New Mareland apartment and took her across the short channel to the north, to the Aquileian Republic. She was barely awake when she met a nice griffon girl in front of some cameras and shook her claw.
She didn’t realize it was the President of the Republic until after breakfast.
Flurry had been assigned a tutor to learn Aquileian, a young black griffon that had cringed at her Prench accent. Luckily for him, Flurry had learned quickly. Unluckily, he also had to tutor Shining Armor, who still kept his Prench accent despite their best efforts.
It had been a quiet life compared to New Mareland. Aquileian style hid her oversized wings in a poofy dress when she went out with her father and her friends, cubs and foals of Shining’s new officers, complained that Flurry was too nice to be the evil queen in Tyrants and Revolutionaries. Aquileia fought a few short wars with its neighbors, then announced an alliance with the Griffonian Republic and the Skyfall Trade Federation. Flurry Heart looked at her father’s map when she was nine and asked him what was happening.
“Aquileia is getting some friends to stand up to the Griffonian Reich,” Shining had said, gesturing to the center of the map with a quill. “With the Republic in the north and Skyfall controlling the ocean, Aquileia is to the south. The Reich is trapped. They have to fight everywhere.”
“Why are they fighting?”
“You remember all the Grovers,” Shining sighed, “or else I have to hunt down Sunburst...”
“I remember!” Flurry lied. “Grover One used his guns. Grover Two beat you black and blue. Grover Three made fees. Grover Four ate more. Grover Five is alive!”
“Rhyme’s out of date,” Shining chuckled. “Grover the Fifth died several years ago. His son, Grover the Sixth, is about your age.”
Flurry stuck out her tongue. “Is he nice?”
Shining paused, tapping a hoof on the floor. “We never met him. Equestria always disagreed with the Reich about war. His regent is in charge, like Sunburst, but far stricter and meaner.”
“So, he has to do what the regent says?”
“At his age, yes,” Shining swept the quill up and down half the continent, “The Reich used to control everything. Right after I was born, there was a big war and everygriffon decided to split up. The regent says they’re going to take everything back.”
Flurry stared at the map for a long time, squinting. The Griffonian Reich would be the size of Equestria if it controlled that much stuff. She shifted her focus to Equestria, drawn in black to represent its occupation by the Changelings. The Changeling Hegemony and Queen Chrysalis controlled nearly the entire continent.
“Dad?”
“Yes, Flurry?”
“You’re gonna stop them, right?”
“I’m going to try, Flurry.”
He would have said yes a few years ago.
Shining Armor tried. He was put in charge of a critical holding point in the frontline when the war finally broke out. He didn’t hug her goodbye, nor did he promise to return. Flurry caught enough snippets on the radio from the basement to know it wasn’t going well, but she didn’t tell the other foals sheltering from the artillery. The north had been pushed back, and the navy was doing well but out of fuel.
One day, there was gunfire outside and the adults left with their guns and didn’t come back. Flurry stayed with three of her friends, technically in charge because she was oldest and a Princess. They ran out of food after four days, and Flurry decided that she needed to go check if the neighbors had any left. The gunfire was very loud, but had moved several streets away. Flurry guessed that the fighting was mostly over. She put on her frilly dress and left her crown behind.
Flurry Heart walked over several bodies in the street while she was looking for food. She had seen dead ponies before, during the retreat from the Empire and despite Sunburst’s best efforts, but the griffons were new. She spared them a cursory glance before closing their eyes with magic. She didn’t recognize any of them.
Flurry ran into a group of griffon soldiers in unfamiliar gray uniforms on the way back. She actually passed by them without issue until one of her saddlebags slipped off her wing. One soldier took notice and shouted a challenge, then looked jubilant when Flurry turned around and stared at him.
He was young with golden feathers and babbled excitedly as he approached, speaking the language of the Griffonian heartland. Flurry never learned it, but recognized her name being spoken several times. Flurry waited until the griffon got close, then summoned a bright blue shield around herself.
“I have to get this back to my friends, sorry,” she said in Aquileian.
The soldier looked confused at the shield while some of his friends laughed at him. After a moment, he tapped on the shield with a claw. It sparkled and produced a sound like a windchime.
Flurry shook her head and walked away, taking the shield with her.
The soldier pounded on the shield with the butt of his rifle.
“Hey!” Flurry shouted over her shoulder. “Don’t do that, it makes my horn hurt.” She turned away again and continued down the street.
There was a gunshot and Flurry’s horn itched. She sighed and turned around as the Griffon lowered his rifle, glaring at Flurry through the shield. His friends stumbled up behind him shouting angrily, not at Flurry, but at him. He sneered something over his beak back at them before working the bolt on his rifle.
Flurry dropped the shield, seized his rifle with her magic, ejected the clip, and disassembled the rifle like her father showed her.
She blinked and let the parts fall to the ground. The group froze for a long moment before one of the other griffons, an older male with a graying head, stepped forward. “Princess Flurry Heart?” he asked in heavily-accented Aquileian.
“Yes,” Flurry replied as she brought her shield back up and began to walk away. He followed at a respectful distance.
“The battle is over. Could you come with us, please?”
“No, I have stuff for my friends.”
The griffon looked thoughtful. “Food?”
“Yes.”
“You have much food?”
Flurry eyed her meager bags. It wasn’t even enough for her. “No,” she replied.
“If we give you food, will you come with us?”
“Are you asking if I will surrender if you help my friends?” Flurry sighed.
The griffon stopped walking after her, either surprised or needing a moment to parse her words.
“You are not a prisoner,” he insisted, flapping his wings to catch up.
That was a lie, and Flurry felt stupid for not realizing it at the time. After leading them back home, she soon found herself with an inhibitor ring on her horn and stuffed inside an unused bedroom in occupied Aquileia.
At least my friends got some rations, Flurry thought. The old gray dog had been waiting in the bedroom when she arrived and seemed content to let Flurry wander around, talking idly in his language while Flurry spoke Aquileian back. After several hours, Flurry began to ram her horn against the bedframe. She could have melted the ring off, but Flurry risked taking half the building with it from the magical backlash.
She had no idea where she'd go even if she escaped. The old dog gave up trying to talk to her just as a pair of Griffon knights entered the room and spoke to him. The dog waved at Flurry to follow him out of the room.
Flurry Heart was led by the knights and dog into the courtyard outside Parliament. Once, it was the royal palace of the Discrets; the republicans had turned the building into their Parliamentary Chambers. Judging from the banners haphazardly dangling from the balconies, it was back to being a seat of royalty. The banners were yellow and orange, depicting a proud, roaring griffon in black relief- the symbol of the Griffonian Reich.
Before the doors to the central chamber, the knight in shining plate armor and a blue plume whirled around and faced Flurry. Placing his claws flush against the ground, he spread his wings and raised his beak to the sky, proclaiming a grand stream of unintelligible garble.
The old dog behind her laughed, and the griffon scowled under his helmet. They exchanged some harsh words before the griffon’s wings deflated and he cast an embarrassed glance at Flurry before waving at the griffons standing before the doors. They pushed them open and the guards ushered Flurry through. There were armed guards throughout the Parliamentary Chamber, spread out along the walls and standing between the scattered desks. All of them cast wary stares at the alicorn.
Flurry blinked at the young griffon wearing an impractically heavy crown. He was seated in the Speaker’s chair, wearing a simple white dress shirt and blue slacks with a small set of spectacles resting awkwardly on his beak. If not for the emerald and ruby studded crown, Flurry would have dismissed him as a student. The griffon blinked back at her, then adjusted his oversized crown with a claw. An absolutely ancient griffon in red and white priestly robes stood beside him and waved a shaking claw at a purple pony wearing a gray uniform.
“Princess Flurry Heart of the Crystal Empire and Equestria,” the pony began in Aquileian, “you stand before Kaiser Grover VI of the Griffonian Reich, rightful heir to Aquileia, Wingbardy, the Borderlands and the North.”
They kept my titles, Flurry thought. She spread out her wings and bent her forelegs in a sweeping bow. “I greet you humbly and beg for your mercy, Kaiser,” Flurry replied in Aquileian. The pony spoke to the Kaiser in Herzlander, the Kaiser’s brutal native tongue. The Kaiser replied back in a high voice as soon as the pony finished, and the flustered pony translated to Flurry.
“There is no need to beg, Princess. The Kaiser has sworn you shall not be harmed.”
“Then I beg for the lives of all Aquileians, Kaiser. They are a kind and just people, but my friends hide from your army, hungry and without their parents. I feared they would cast my father and I aside due to our crowns, but they embraced us as family.”
The pony translated, and this time the old griffon replied. His feathers had been tan once, but were nearly white with age.
“The Kaiser has no desire to harm his subjects, as misguided as they may be. The Kaiser promises that your friends will be fed. He also wishes your father to surrender, and pledges that he will not be harmed,” the pony translated.
Flurry closed her eyes. “My father is dead.”
The young griffon appeared confused before the pony translated. He asked the old priest beside him, and they conversed in whispers for a moment. The old griffon spoke and the pony translated.
“The Kaiser encourages you to have hope. Colonel Shining Armor is a fierce fighter, and has given the Kaiser’s army much trouble.”
“That’s why I know he’s dead,” Flurry replied, staring at the small griffon. “If he were alive, you would not be in that chair.”
The Kaiser’s wings twitched and he lowered his beak. The old griffon beside him was far better at masking his emotions. The pony looked between the Princess and the Kaiser for a moment.
“Translate it,” Flurry demanded.
The pony stuttered, but spoke to the Kaiser in Herzlander with her head held low and forelegs bent in supplication. The old griffon began to reply harshly, but the Kaiser’s head snapped up and he issued a sharp rebuke to the priest. The griffon’s eyebrows wrinkled further, but he instead turned and called to the guards against the door. He spoke quickly to the pony.
“The Kaiser and his regent, Archon Eros VII, share your grief, Princess Flurry. The Kaiser’s father was also taken far too soon from this world by Boreas. The Kaiser still encourages you to have hope, for his esteemed friends in the Changeling Hegemony bring wonderful news.” The Aquileian pony’s muzzle had twisted during the spiel, unable to keep a straight face.
Flurry Heart turned around as the doors opened again and two Changeling officers swaggered in. There was really no other word for it, Flurry snorted to herself. The one in the lead bore a fez and a chest of medals on a crisp uniform that had never seen a day of combat. The other, lagging behind with a slight limp, tracked mud onto the red carpeting. His uniform was rumpled, with only three medals hanging askew on his chest.
The fez-wearing changeling offered Flurry an easy smirk, purple eyes smiling with delight. “Greetings, Flurry Heart. I am Field Marshal Synovial with the Changeling embassy to the great Griffonian Reich,” he stated in Equestrian. He buzzed a wing towards his partner. “This is General Thranx, fresh from the frontlines. We are very pleased to meet you.” Thranx offered a brief nod, but did not make eye contact.
Flurry took a slow breath through her nose, resisting the urge to paw at the ground with her hoof. “I wish I could share your enthusiasm,” she lied in Equestrian.
Synovial obviously caught her lie, but lowered his head in sorrow anyway. “We are sorry to hear about your father. He was a great opponent in the Righteous War against Equestria; the Queen was eager to see him again.”
“I’m sure she was,” Flurry replied noncommittally. She stilled her twitching wings.
Synovial took Flurry’s attitude in stride. “Queen Chrysalis, in her magnanimous mercy, even allowed your dearest mother, Mi Amore Cadenza, to travel here to urge your father’s surrender. We make an offer to you, Flurry Heart. You may travel together back to the Crystal City and share your grief.” Synovial removed his fez with a flash of his horn. “As a family,” he added.
Cadance appeared in the doorway, surrounded by a squad of Jaegers, the elite Changeling troops. The old dog stood behind her, shuffling his paws and looking to the side.
Flurry Heart remembered her mother standing before the Crystal Heart, clad in specially-made purple barding, enchanted to resist high-caliber small arms fire. She would have made an impressive figure if her eyes weren’t so sunken and hollow as she stared up at the glowing Heart.
My family or my throne. Love is the death of duty, Flurry. I will always love you, but I cannot leave them, not again, not after so much loss.
Flurry had been too young to understand. She had cried incessantly on the long journey east to Manehattan, traveling at night to avoid Changeling bombing runs. When her father finally boarded the last convoy to depart, she clung to his legs with all her strength.
He cried too, but for Twilight as well.
Flurry seized ahold of that memory as she faced this Cadance, who was too clean, too trim. Her purple and gold mane was done up in the old, poofy style that her mother had abandoned after long nights at her desk; her wings were preened with no feather out of place. Her horn had a simple black ring at the base, the same as Flurry.
This Cadance wore no regalia, only a simple purple dress. A lone tear emerged from her right eye as she strode towards her daughter. “Oh, my Little Wings,” she began, using the ironic nickname her mother had sparingly used in private, “I’ve missed you so much. My heart broke a thousand times a day.”
“She was so miserable that a changeling couldn’t bear to get near her,” Synovial added from her side. The other changeling, Thranx, wouldn’t make eye contact with Flurry and backed out of the way.
Flurry gripped the memory tighter in her mind. “Dad’s gone,” she rasped with fresh, snotty tears.
Cadance allowed another solitary tear to slide down her muzzle. “I should have been here with Shining. He would have never gone to fight if we were together again.” She stopped a few hooves from Flurry and looked down at her daughter. “I could see his shield blocking the tanks from the harbor. Aquileia did not deserve him.”
Flurry glanced at the gas-masked Jaegers around Cadance, who stared back impassively. “We thought you were dead.”
“Sometimes I wished I was,” Cadance responded. “Queen Chrysalis wanted to study the Heart, and needed my cooperation.” She gave a somewhat baleful glance to the Jaeger on her right. “I remind myself that it would be worse for our ponies if I refused.”
That actually sounded almost like mom, Flurry thought. She stepped forward on trembling hooves, pawing at the carpet. Summoning her most desperate voice, she asked, “C-can we go home now, Mom?”
“Of course, Little Wings,” Cadance gasped as another tear slid down her muzzle.
Flurry rushed forward and embraced her mother. The last hug had been muffled by plate armor and hard steel. It was uncomfortable. Flurry wrapped her wings around Cadance’s forelegs as she lent fully into her chest, smearing her snot into the dress. The smaller alicorn tucked her head under Cadance’s chin. She was warm and soft, just like she remembered.
This hug was almost perfect.
Flurry’s horn had an inhibitor ring around the base, but the tip was still sharp. When she was bored, Flurry would sweep her old drawings into the air with her wings and spear the paper on her horn. Her father had caught her once; it was one of the rare moments where he truly laughed.
Flurry leaned down, sniffling, then drove her horn up into Cadance’s neck.
Cadance shifted at the last moment, so the horn instead rammed through the bottom of her jaw. Flurry felt a hot wash of blood splash across her curls and run down her horn as she smiled. The room devolved into screams in Herzlander. Cadance gurgled a command to the Jaegers in the same language, but Flurry’s wings held Cadance’s forelegs in place long enough for Flurry to get one good twist in before stars exploded across her vision as a rifle butt smashed her head away.
By the time Flurry shook her vision clear, she realized that the figure straddling her was the old dog, who had drawn his very sharp, not-at-all ceremonial sword and was hacking apart a changeling Jaeger lying next to her.
Cadance had torn off a sleeve of her dress and shoved it against her muzzle with magic; the green-tinged magic was seemingly not hampered by the supposed ring on her horn. She glared venomously at Flurry with green eyes and batted away the horrified Field Marshal with a hoof. The other general in the muddy uniform leaned against a desk, looking bored and miserable. Some of the Griffonian knights were fighting with the other Jaegers at the entrance. Flurry leaned her head back against the ground to get an upside-down look at the young Kaiser and his regent.
The young griffon had discarded his crown and was crouched behind the desk. The old regent was behind him, squawking an order at a griffon knight. The Kaiser and the Princess made eye contact; his glasses were askew on his beak.
Flurry grinned at him, tasting blood in her mouth. There was a good chance it wasn’t hers.
The Kaiser’s blue eyes widened, then he steeled himself and leaped onto the desk, screeching some command in a high, reedy voice.
Surprisingly, the violence stopped. The old dog remained standing over Flurry, but stopped hacking at the Jaeger, who slowly crawled towards Cadance and the other changelings. Field Marshal Synovial, whose fez rested at an angle now, began a long-winded tirade, pointing a hole-ridden hoof at the dog and Flurry the whole time. Flurry assumed it to be about her, but the dog seemed braced for violence and his back paws twitched several times throughout the speech.
The Kaiser cut the changeling off midway through at some point, which further enraged Cadance, who spat out green, bloody phlegm and mumbled some warning. The old priest, Archon Eros, waved a shaking claw again and again at Cadance, pleading something and speaking softly.
Flurry watched the exchange from her back, glancing back and forth between the changelings and griffons and resolving to learn Herzlander. The Kaiser gave the prone alicorn one last glance before speaking to the old priest, who sighed and bowed his head towards the Changelings.
The Changelings looked more enraged than mollified, but Cadance stormed out of the room, hobbling on three legs while she clenched the rags to her muzzle. Field Marshal Synovial and the Jaegers followed, pausing only to drag the wounded one out. He left a blood trail on the carpet.
When the doors slammed shut in a burst of green magic, General Thranx, the muddy changeling seemingly left behind, slumped against the desk and laughed in a low chitter. The old dog atop Flurry laughed with him after a beat. The dog looked down at Flurry with kind brown eyes, then sheathed his bloody sword and offered a paw to help her up. Flurry accepted it, and stumbled back to her hooves.
The dog looked around the room before pointing at one of the delegate desks and barking. The Aquileian pony, a mare, poked her horn out from behind the desk and looked embarrassed. She blinked when the Kaiser addressed her, and turned to Flurry.
“The Kaiser will speak privately with you, Princess Flurry. Please follow Benito.”
The dog clapped a meaty paw on her wing.
Flurry followed the dog, Benito, out a side door, then through several hallways and workrooms. The Griffonian guard presence increased exponentially in this side of the Royal Palace; Flurry guessed they were in the west wing. After several minutes of walking, Flurry realized they were traveling through the same hallways multiple times, turning sharply at intersections guarded by knights and backtracking. The dog finally stopped at a plain, unguarded wooden door and rapidly ushered Flurry in.
It was a storage room for cleaning staff. Metal shelves lined the walls, packed with towels, cleaning spray, and some spare uniforms. Benito shut the only door behind her and stood to the side of it against one of the shelves. There was only one bulb to light the room, which left it gloomy. He drew the saber again, placing it on the shelf next to him, and unholstered his pistol. There were no windows and one exit. He looked the shelves over for a moment before giving Flurry a critical look. He pointed at some towels on the shelf beside him.
Flurry took the hint and pulled down some towels with her hooves. She flapped her wings and pulled down a jug of water on one of the higher shelves, popping it open with her teeth and pouring it over her head, soaking her bloody curls and ignoring how the frills on her dress collar collapsed. After a few moments of rapidly scrubbing at her mane and bumping against the inhibitor ring, she spoke up.
“You know,” she began in Aquileian, knowing Benito couldn’t understand her, “this would be easier without the ring.”
“I forget,” the dog replied. “Come,” he beckoned his unarmed paw at her.
Flurry blinked. “You know Aquileian?”
“Some. I sit with Kaiser during teach.” Benito raised his muzzle up. “Kaiser know much Aquileian.”
“I thought so,” Flurry replied.
“How?”
“He responded too quickly during the talks,” Flurry said, but Benito’s muzzle twisted and he shrugged at her. “Kaiser talk too fast,” she simplified.
“Not good,” Benito frowned. “Changelings will know.”
“I thought the Changelings are your friends.”
“Only Thranx,” Benito said gravely, then raised a brow at her. “How old is pony?” he asked.
“Ten.”
“Kaiser ten,” Benito chuckled, "and much smart too."
When Flurry approached, he grabbed the ring around her horn and twisted it clockwise and counterclockwise several times. “Dog make ring,” he said while he worked, “Ring hurt pony. Use pony magic to hurt pony. Trick to turn ring off.” He pulled the ring off her horn smoothly.
“Like breaking into a safe,” Flurry replied, sparking her horn. She took a deep breath and felt the magic all around her. As the only natural-born alicorn in recorded history, scholars had been clambering around Flurry her entire life to study her magic. Her mother had vocally told off any that approached the family, and Sunburst never pressured her to learn magic, not after the troubles of her early foalhood. Her father had been more active, throwing one unicorn that broke into the Crystal Palace in jail and having Aunt Twilight revoke his credentials. Nopony tried to investigate after that, though the war had everyone occupied.
All alicorns had a domain, something that spoke to them uniquely over everything else. Cadance could sense love and relationships, something that she used to empower the Crystal Heart and frequently mock Chrysalis over the radio, pointing out that Changeling prisoners of war never felt true love for their Queen, only fear. Auntie Twilight had friendship, both familial and forged in war and adversity. Celestia had the sun and light, and her sister Luna had dreams and the moon.
Flurry always told anypony who asked that she wasn’t sure yet, even her father. It was natural; she was still just a foal.
When she looked at Benito’s pistol, she could tell it had been fired, not in anger, but in duty. It had killed, she sensed, and will kill again for the Kaiser. She saw magic drift from the blood on the sword resting on the shelf, as new blood covered old stains. Benito favored the sword; it was part of his heritage. Flurry knew that the dogs of the Griffonian Empire held fierce loyalty to the Kaiser, and she felt the loyalty of generations in the blade. The blood told her another story.
“You killed the Changeling that hit me,” she said, looking away from the sword.
Benito glanced at the sword. “No,” he replied. “Bug leave with others. Strong armor,” he laughed.
“He’ll die tonight.”
Benito looked confused, but a rapid-fire knock at the door cut off any reply. He tensed and grabbed the sword with his other paw and leveled the pistol against the door. Flurry stepped back and leaned against the shelf on the opposite side of the closet. The knock repeated in a pattern three times before Benito sighed and knocked back with the butt of his pistol.
The Kaiser entered with the old priest. The older griffon took a moment to smooth down his plain robe, while the Kaiser still lacked his crown; his dress shirt was untucked from his slacks and rumpled, but his small glasses had been straightened. Flurry realized she was already taller than him when he stopped a just a few hooves away.
Two knights stood in the hallway, and they would have entered, but the closet was already too cramped. Flurry backed up against the back shelf, scrunching her tail and dress as the elderly griffon squeezed past Benito and shuffled next to the Kaiser. Flurry lit her horn and provided a proper ball of light to illuminate the room as Benito shut the door. The old priest flinched and said something to Benito, who responded defensively with crossed paws.
“It is fine,” the young Kaiser replied, looking Flurry over with a blush around his eyes. Flurry’s mane hung loosely around her head, still wet.
“I only know some Aquileian," Grover began with a slight accent. "I learn all the languages of my subjects. I do not know Equestrian.”
“That is fine,” Flurry nodded. Her own Aquileian was better.
“I am Grover-”
“He is Kaiser Grover VI of the Griffonian Reich,” the priest cut him off in heavily accented Aquileian, “rightful heir to the lands of Aquileia, Wingbardy, Cloudberry, Vedina, and the Evi Valley.” Kaiser Grover gave him an even look.
“I am Grover,” the Kaiser sighed. “And this is my regent, Archon Eros.”
“My name is Flurry,” the Princess said. “Why am I in a closet?”
“The Changelings wish you harm.”
Flurry snorted. “Is that meant to be a surprise?”
“You attacked your mother,” Eros stated.
“My mother,” Flurry began shortly, “is dead. She stayed behind with the Crystal Heart, shielding the Crystal City from bombers.” She shook her head. “Even if she wasn’t dead, Chrysalis would never let her travel here. They always hated each other.”
She looked at Eros. “Was I expected to fall for that?”
“It was not our plan,” the old griffon took an effort to shrug his wings. They shook from the effort.
“Synovial and Thranx have been part of the Changeling advisors to us for several years,” Grover said. “Synovial presented Cadance just before you came." He smiled. "I am glad you did not fall for it.”
“It was obvious,” Flurry scoffed.
“Which poses a problem,” Eros said. “Because you just attacked Queen Chrysalis.”
Flurry threw her head back and whinnied in laughter, causing Benito to jump and look at the door. Flurry spread her wings and knocked some cleaning supplies off the shelves as she laughed again at the Archon’s dour look.
“I didn’t think you were funny,” Flurry said to him, settling her wings. “Are you this funny in your language?”
“It’s true,” Eros glared. Grover was blushing at her oversized wings.
“If they told you that my 'mother' was Chrysalis, they were lying." Flurry rolled her eyes. "She spends all her time in that stupid tower in the Changeling Lands, sucking up love and getting fat.”
Grover choked down a laugh at Eros’ glare.
“General Thranx told us,” Eros stated. "It is meant to be a secret, but he has a soft spot for our Kaiser."
Flurry felt a block of ice fall into her stomach.
“She arrived unexpectedly at the dockyards in Skyfall to the north," Eros continued, "She brought a convoy of Jaegers and fresh panzer tanks as a gift from the embassy.” Eros squinted at her. “Officially, Queen Chrysalis is still in the Changeling Lands. She sent a telegram to congratulate our conquest of Aquileia. There will be a meeting at the capitol in Griffenheim in a few days, where the embassy will request you and your father be given over to them.”
Flurry took a deep breath through her nose and closed her eyes. She hugged the mare that almost certainly killed her mother, her Aunt Twilight, and her home. She tricked and almost killed that mare in a single moment. Flurry couldn’t stop the smile, but the ice remained in her stomach.
“I always heard that she was bad at pretending to be my mom,” Flurry deflected.
“She’s here for you and your father,” Eros summarized. “Wingbardy refused Changeling help when they took New Mareland and the Sisters escaped to the River Republic. I’m sure Chrysalis wants them too,” the Archon sighed. "It is a miracle that she kept up the disguise after you attacked her. She must be too proud to admit she was nearly killed by a filly."
Flurry looked at the glowing orb illuminating the room as she sized up the other occupants. “Why,” she repeated, “am I in a closet?”
“I asked Benito to take you here,” Grover replied.
“Why?” Flurry asked again.
“Because you are…” Grover paused and lifted up a claw to his beak in thought. “You are…under my wing?” he said uncertainly. Flurry blushed and her wings fluttered.
Lucky I'm already pink, Flurry thought.
“The Kaiser means that you are under his protection,” Eros cut in, flustered. “It is a saying in the Herzland. You have pleaded for mercy before the Kaiser, and he has pledged your safety. The Changelings are our guests, but they will not respect that.”
“They demanded you be given over to them. Archon Eros bought some time, but you must leave,” Grover said. “Chrysalis will hunt you; she is very angry. We cannot take you back to Griffenheim.” Grover gave the Archon a wry look. “I am ten, and still a silly cub. The Archon will convince me to take away your protection, but you will be gone.”
"Where is Chrysalis now?" Flurry asked.
Grover shrugged his wings. "In the east wing of the palace with the other changelings." He blinked as Flurry's horn sparked with a bolt of electricity, then shook his head. "You surprised her, but she will be surrounded by her best guards."
"She defeated Celestia before the war during your parent's wedding," Eros reminded.
"That is not that great of an achievement," Flurry replied.
The Archon swallowed to suppress a chuckle. "Even if I believed you could best her, she is technically our ally. We would be obligated to defend her, even from an alicorn."
"Please," Grover implored as he clasped his claws together, "you are under my wing. Do not try to fight her."
Flurry's icy blue eyes looked into Grover's bright blue eyes, then she dismissed the static around her horn with a sigh. “I need to find my father.” Flurry changed tactics. “I won’t let him be buried in some ditch.”
“Your father shielded Flowena during the advance. It held off our tanks for a week before collapsing. The city is mostly rubble; we lost far too many griffons in street fighting,” Eros countered. "We aren't even sure he is dead, neither are the Aquileians we captured, including Président Gaudreau."
“He would have come for me. I will find my father. You cannot deny me that,” Flurry demanded.
“Listen,” Eros stepped forward in the cramped space and grabbed her muzzle. His claw no longer shook. “If your father is alive, he would want you to escape. If he is dead, then he died fighting a war against us for nothing, and you are the last of your line. We did not want to kill him, but he chose to be our enemy,” Eros spat. “He could have stayed here with you.”
“Love is the death of duty,” Flurry replied around his talons.
Eros looked at her strangely and removed his claw. “An odd saying,” he remarked. “Your father’s?”
“My mother’s.”
“A strange saying for the Princess of Love,” Eros replied dubiously.
“It was the last thing she said to me,” Flurry replied, “before I was sent east with the retreating forces.”
Grover stepped forward in the small closet and held a claw up towards the glowing orb. The light reflected on his glasses.
“Princess Flurry Heart,” he began in a squeaky voice. “I swear that your father will be found and given a full burial with honors. He will rest in Griffenheim with my father until you reclaim your empire as I have.”
“Pinkie Promise?” Flurry asked.
“What?”
“Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.” Flurry did the motions as best she could in the cramped space. Grover copied her after a moment, stuttering through the unfamiliar Aquileian.
He smiled at her when he finished. "A strange promise," he commented.
"Breaking it is the fastest way to lose a friend," Flurry said.
Benito’s ear twitched and he listened at the door for a moment before shaking his head.
"I am proud to be your friend, Princess Flurry," Grover stated. "I will fulfill your promise."
“Okay,” Flurry nodded. “How do I get out of here and where do I go?”
“There’s several convoys leaving the harbor, volunteers from the River Republic returning back to the Riverlands,” Eros explained. “They fought for Aquileia, but they don’t want to start a proper war with us,” he grumbled. "Benito will take you."
“I do not want a war with the east. You can go to your aunties,” Grover said. "We will send a message to the River Republic once you are on the boat."
“No,” Flurry immediately replied. “I don’t want to see them.”
“Why not?” Eros scoffed.
“They quit.”
Grover laughed at the Archon. “You said the same thing."
Benito said something in Herzlander and Grover nodded, much to the Archon’s exasperation.
“There’s a ship leaving for Nova Griffonia with volunteers and refugees, but we are hostile to them,” Eros said grudgingly.
“I forbid our boats from attacking," Grover cut in. "Griffons can leave if they wish; I will not cause my subjects more harm." The Kaiser cleared his throat awkwardly. "Besides," he admitted, "our boats are not very good.”
“My Kaiser,” Eros implored, “we have discussed this.” He ran a claw down his beak.
The regent and his charge argued softly in Herzlander while Flurry thought.
Nova Griffonia was north of Equestria and the Crystal Empire. It was the last bastion of hope on the continent; everyone else had submitted to Chrysalis. Some ponies had fled north during the chaotic retreat, racing to stay ahead of Chrysalis' tanks. The Republic of Nova Griffonia remained officially neutral during the war, but took in any refugees that made it across the border.
“Chrysalis hasn’t attacked them?” Flurry asked, ending the argument.
“We don’t know why,” Eros answered. “Something must be wrong in Equestria.”
“The tanks they just brought are not as good as the one Chrysalis got for my birthday a few years ago,” Grover added. "Thranx taught me how to drive it. These new tanks look cheap."
“I want to go to Nova Griffonia,” Flurry nodded.
Eros gave her a look; the same look of disapproval her father used to give her. “Do you have friends there, Princess?”
“Yes,” Flurry lied. “Crystal ponies went there during the retreat.” Sunburst's convoy got left behind, along with a dozen other trucks. He might have made it to the border, Flurry justified to herself.
Eros narrowed his eyes, but Grover clapped his claws together. He spoke in Herzlander rapidly to Benito, then turned to Flurry.
“Benito will take you to the docks. You will get on a boat to Nova Griffonia. You can trust Benito.”
“I do,” Flurry affirmed.
“Benito will give you money,” Grover continued. “You can find your friends in Nova Griffonia.”
"Your Aquileian is good. You can pass as a local pony at a distance. Can you hide your wings with magic?" Eros asked.
"No," Flurry said and grabbed a uniform off one of the shelves with her magic, then discarded it. She continued rummaging about the shelves until she found one cut for a pony.
It was a rather bland and unassuming blue jumpsuit meant for cleaning staff. Uncaring of her audience, Flurry tore her dress off with magic and slipped it on.
Benito, Grover, and Eros turned away abruptly with a cough.
“Clearly, none of you have been to Equestria,” Flurry said under her breath.
Flurry had to roll up the sleeves halfway, but her freakish alicorn height and large wings finally paid off, and she filled out the jumpsuit well enough to pass for a teenager. Her wings twitched, stuffed inside the jumpsuit, but Flurry had a lot of practice keeping them still under starched dresses. She cleared her throat and Grover and the Archon turned around, signaling Benito to step into the hallway, weapons drawn.
Grover was still blushing when he looked at Flurry, whose mane had dried into a stringy mess during their conversation. She looked nothing like a princess, but he didn't look much like a kaiser.
“G-good luck, Princess Flurry Heart,” he stammered. “I hope to see you again one day in Nova Griffonia.”
“Thank you, Kaiser Grover,” Flurry replied. “I wish you luck as well.”
Benito stuck his head through the doorway. “We go now,” he said in broken Aquileian.
Flurry and Grover nodded as she brushed past his blushing beak. The Archon looked down at her as she passed him. He opened his beak to say something, but closed it again. As she exited, he finally said, “I will pray for your safety, Princess.”
Flurry smiled back and left.
Benito led her for several hours through the streets, bypassing checkpoints and taking side alleys when possible. Apparently, he was well-known enough not to be questioned, and he occasionally ordered several ponies and griffons that were walking behind them seized for questioning by passing Reich soldiers. Flurry wasn’t sure they were changelings, but Benito never stayed to check.
There was a massive crowd at the dockyard, and Reich soldiers were clearly overwhelmed trying to keep the native Aquileians under control. Benito shoved his way through the crowd as Flurry followed. His ears pinned back as the dog kept glancing back at the disguised alicorn following him. At the front of the crowd, he grabbed a soldier by the helmet and barked something in his face. The Griffon stammered a reply, and Benito grabbed Flurry by the horn and dragged her towards a pier, barreling through the crowd with an escort of soldiers.
They stopped against the railing at the end of the pier, among a crowd of ponies and griffons carrying bags. Benito pointed to a ship sailing away. Flurry recognized the Nova Griffonian flag, a griffon's claw against a purple background.
“Griffon ship,” he said in Aquileian.
“I can fly,” Flurry said. She braced herself on the railing and started to unzip the jumpsuit.
Benito began to reply, but his ear twitched and he whirled around. In one smooth motion, he unholstered his pistol and jammed it under a unicorn mare’s head and pulled the trigger. The unicorn’s own gun tumbled out of her green magic as the crowd screamed and surged away.
“Fly!” Benito barked over his shoulder. He drew his sword with his off-paw.
Flurry flew. She tore off her jumpsuit in a flare of magic and flew all the way to the ship, corkscrewing to throw off any bullets, before abruptly crashing onto the deck of the old steamer crowded with wounded and angry griffons. She was utterly naked, her purple and blue mane was a windswept stringy mess, and she did not receive money from Benito.
One griffon with an eye patch leveled a rifle at her. A crowd had gathered on the aft deck to watch her fly towards them as a riot erupted on the docks. Several more gunshots sounded from shore.
“Stop right there and fly right back,” he growled in Equestrian.
“I can stop or I can fly back, idiot. I can’t do both,” Flurry retorted in Equestrian, earning some wary chuckles from the crowd.
“Think you’re a comedian, filly?” the griffon replied. He was wearing a dirty camouflaged jacket over a bandaged wing.
“No,” Flurry said before stretching her wings out and lighting her horn with a spark of electricity. “I am Princess Flurry Heart, heir to the Crystal Empire and Equestria.”
“Now, that’s funny,” the griffon laughed and lowered his rifle. “They’re both gone, filly. No one cares anymore.”
Flurry stood tall as the griffon continued to laugh down at her, even as the crowd joined in mocking the disheveled and naked filly, even as tears came to her eyes, even as she recognized that she was the last of her family except for two ancient sisters half a world away.
Flurry stood proud on the deck of a strange ship, bound for a strange land, surrounded by defeated and tired griffons.
She finally understood how her father had thrown aside his crown.
“Princess Flurry?”
A voice broke through the scattered laughter.
A crystal pony pushed through the crowd. “I heard you’d been killed.” The young stallion looked at her in awe.
“Princess?” Another crystal pony, a mare with a wounded foreleg, emerged between two griffons. The pair stopped laughing.
A bat pony landed to her right, cradling a rifle between two hooves. “I thought you got captured by the changelings,” he said.
“The griffons,” Flurry replied, sniffling away tears. “I escaped. I used a cleaning outfit to hide my wings.” The crowd began to chatter in a variety of languages, only half of which Flurry knew.
A unicorn pushed her way past, a mare in a tattered Equestrian uniform with sagging gray eyes. She eyed Flurry suspiciously before lighting up her horn with a gray burst of magic. The pistol on the mare's belt was already cocked in its holster.
The crowd quieted down. Wordlessly, the older mare swept her horn over the alicorn. Flurry felt the magic brush across her and recognized the spell.
“Auntie Twilight made that spell. I could never figure it out. Sunburst told me if I got it wrong, I could make some poor pony or changeling explode.” Flurry smiled at her.
The gray-eyed unicorn stared at her a moment longer as the ponies around her shared uncertain looks.
Then she knelt. “Princess Flurry Heart.”
Two more crystal ponies pushed their way through the crowd, stopping before Flurry with tears in their eyes.
“Princess!” They exclaimed together and knelt as one.
A griffon in a blue Aquileian uniform burst forth, knocking the one-eyed griffon aside. “Little Flurry,” she shouted in Aquileian, “I served under your father!”
Another griffon followed her. “We would have never escaped if not for his magic.”
The two griffons bowed; claw clasped on their heart in the Aquileian way.
“Princess,” a pegasus stepped forward, speaking in Prench. “I saw your father in Flowena. There was no finer unicorn in the entire army.” He bent his forelegs in an elaborate bow.
“Princess Flurry,” the bat pony lowered his rifle to the ground and inclined his head. Flurry remembered bat ponies in the Night Guard doing the same for Luna.
The one-eyed griffon that laughed at her was pushed back as more ponies and griffons made their way forward. Flurry could only stare as a dozen, then two dozen, then more and more creatures faced her with shock in their faces and tears in their eyes.
An earth pony in a New Marelander expeditionary outfit knelt to her right. “I should’ve gone with your father when he left,” he said.
Flurry saw the wounded crystal mare wince as she knelt, crying. “I came to fight for your father, but I was too late,” she sobbed. “Please forgive me, Princess!” She waited for Flurry to respond.
All of them were waiting for her to respond.
Flurry looked around the crowd. Equestrian and Crystal uniforms blended with Aquileian and Nova Griffonian. This was a ship of losers, Flurry thought, leaving another war lost. Nova Griffonia’s time was coming, whether by the Reich or by Chrysalis.
Flurry Heart was ten years old, almost eleven. She wanted to fly away, back to her mother and father and castle. She wanted to wake up in her bed in the Empire, yelling at Aunt Luna for giving her such a bad dream. She wanted to go back to Grover and see if she could make him blush again. She wanted Auntie Twilight to read her another bedtime story.
Flurry Heart closed her eyes and took a breath. She couldn’t do any of that. And her subjects needed her.
“As long as I live, the Crystal Empire is not lost,” she said, projecting her voice like her mother.
“I know you are tired; I know you are hurt," Flurry looked at the wounded Crystal mare, pulling her back to her hooves with a flare of magic. "But as long as you live, the Crystal Empire is not lost."
"Princess," the mare sobbed.
“As long as you live, Equestria is not lost,” Flurry looked at the gray-eyed mare, then the bat pony.
“Princess!” Everypony around her called out.
“As long as you live, Aquileia is not lost,” Flurry looked at the two griffons, speaking in Aquileian.
“Princess!” The griffons in the crowd matched the shout. It was the one word that everyone knew, regardless of language.
“As long as you live, New Mareland is not lost,” Flurry smiled at the earth pony, flapping her wings as she reared up.
“Princess!” The crowd shouted in unison.
“As long as we live, we have not lost!” Flurry shouted in Equestrian. Her voice echoed across the deck.
“PRINCESS!”
“PRINCESS!”
“PRINCESS!”
The crowd roared until the captain came onto the deck to investigate. Flurry Heart got his cabin.
She cried herself to sleep in it every night until the ship docked in Weter, the capital of Nova Griffonia.
It took three days for the old steamer to chug into port at Weter, the capital of Nova Griffonia. The captain, an old brown griffon named Hayes, had been very gracious to Flurry the whole trip.
He was utterly terrified of her, Flurry realized at dinner in his cabin. The trick was his eyes: they tracked her horn instead of making eye contact. Flurry remembered a similar look in the maids and servants in the Crystal Empire, after she destroyed the Crystal Heart with her foalish wailing. Her parents expanded their staff after the crystal ponies began reclaiming the Frozen North, but Flurry could recognize the old staff by how they looked at her.
Captain Hayes looked at her the same way, and he had good reason to. When the news spread of her arrival on the ship, Flurry gained nearly two hundred armed and devoted veterans on board, outnumbering his own crew. Crystal Ponies, Equestrians, and New Marelanders pledged fealty on the aft deck. A few dozen Aquileian griffons joined them, loyalty to her father proving stronger than loyalty to the fallen republic. The ship ended up a floating diplomatic crisis.
Nova Griffonia accepted any refugee that made it across the border, pledging neutrality during the Great War, but they had never offered to take in a princess. When Flurry was five, the governor of the colony was assassinated outside his house, and the country nearly fell in a military coup. By the time Nova Griffonia stabilized into a republic, the war had turned thoroughly against Equestria and the Crystal Empire. The new president claimed to her mother they were too weak to help against Chrysalis. It might have even been true.
Nova Griffonia never offered to shelter the Princesses, and nopony ever asked them to consider it. But hundreds of thousands of ponies missed the boats to New Mareland and fled north to the border before Chrysalis’ panzers caught up to them. Nova Griffonia ended up with a sizable pony diaspora, straining its already flagging economy to the limit.
The night before the ship reached Weter, a pair of bat ponies left to fly ahead and Flurry went to bed with two crystal ponies guarding her room. The next morning, Flurry Heart stood next to a despondent Captain Hayes on deck and stared at a cheering crowd of ten thousand assorted ponies at the dock.
All of them were armed.
Most ponies made it across the border with only their guns and the President of Nova Griffonia, Triton Blackpeak, believed that their extra armaments could mean the difference if Chrysalis or the Reich invaded. President Blackpeak met the ship at the dock to speak to Flurry personally. Judging from the way he kept tugging on his brown shirt collar with a claw, he regretted letting the ponies keep their weapons.
Flurry had no crown, no parents, and no legal guardian. Flurry did have an army of jubilant ponies that would doubtless be very angry if she was turned away. The gray-eyed mare, Lieutenant Dusty Mark of the Equestrian Army, spoke with Blackpeak and compromised, admitting Flurry as an underage refugee, but officially did not acknowledge her standing as a Princess. He stood with Flurry on the deck and shook her hoof to a cheering crowd of ponies that stomped their hooves in welcome.
Flurry didn’t mention that the last president that shook her hoof ended up deposed by an invading army.
Thorax found her shortly afterwards on the dock, disguised as ‘Crystal Hoof,’ the bland pony he wore when they first met. Flurry nearly skewered him with her horn before she remembered to ask her unicorns to verify his identity. Lieutenant Dusty scanned the undisguised, naked changeling squirming in Flurry's magic over before nodding to her.
“Yeah, that’s my neighbor Thorax.” Dusty gave him a grim smile and shook the rifle at her flank. "Our Princess is quick on the draw," she commented to the gathered crowd. Some of them looked warily at the changeling, but most smiled.
“I’m so sorry Thorax,” Flurry admitted, pulling him into a hug before letting him down.
“No, no, caution is good,” Thorax said, hugging her back. He lost weight, seeming thinner and leaner; the holes in his legs were more pronounced, like his fangs in a narrow muzzle. Thorax traded radio broadcasts with Cadance during the war, urging his fellow changelings to defect and embrace friendship and harmony. He’d been with Sunburst during the evacuation.
Flurry had no idea he was alive.
Princess Flurry Heart did her duty and greeted the cheering crowd, politely asked them to disperse like Blackpeak asked and promised to speak again over the radio. She followed Thorax, Dusty, and a few dozen veteran ponies through the dockyards to a small, cramped ghetto in Weter.
The buildings were made of unpainted brink and uncomfortably grouped together. There was no sign of the traditional open-air griffon architecture; this had been built quickly and cheaply. Ponies cheered for her in the street as her motley guards passed. Most of ponies were naked like her or wore stitched up old clothes. A foal wearing an old sack stopped in front of them before being snatched up by an overly apologetic stallion in a poorly-tailored suit meant for a griffon.
“There’re a few dozen settlements, mostly in the mountains to the west or near the Equestrian border,” Dusty explained with Thorax nodding along. “The griffons want our guns to fight, but they can’t give us proper homes. There’s not enough jobs, either. Those of us that got jobs," Dusty grimaced, "got them in Triton’s Armories on the coast or the mines in the mountains.”
“Isn’t the President Triton Blackpeak?” Flurry asked.
“How do you think he got elected?” Dusty snorted. "He's one of the only ones to give us jobs. He's got a few hundred thousand ponies voting for him." Dusty, Thorax, and Flurry walked up to a three-story tenement with leaky windows and chipped paint on the door. Dusty patted the rifle at her side as a pair of armed ponies opened the front doors for them.
She turned to Thorax. “I’ll do the rounds, set up some guards again. You talk to your ‘lings, too.”
“They’re already set up,” Thorax replied. He led Flurry up the stairs past three unicorns with green eyes that only nodded at her. Flurry tensed, but Thorax’s easy demeanor reassured her. He led her to apartment 206, but the ‘6’ was hanging upside down. Flurry wrenched it upright and affixed it with a glue spell.
“I’ll need you to fix some of the stool legs in the kitchen,” Thorax chuckled as he led her inside.
It was three rooms, with a bare stove in the kitchen, an unvarnished table beside it, a frayed purple couch next to a dirty window and uneven stools around the table. Flurry took it in with a blink.
It was nowhere near as bad as shelled-out houses.
She sat down on a stool and cast a repair spell on the leg. It still wobbled, but now the leg was too long. She huffed and tossed her frayed purple and blue curls. Thorax sat across from her on his own stool. He glanced over her head at the door, waiting. There was movement outside in the hallway and a short whistle. Thorax whistled back with a chirp.
“Are we safe here?” Flurry asked.
“Of course,” Thorax replied. “Do you have anything on the ship?”
“No, I left in a hurry. Reich soldiers caught me and were going to give me to the Changelings,” Flurry replied. “I escaped and flew from the docks to the ship.”
Thorax’s smile twitched. “Please,” he said slowly, “there’s no need to lie, Princess.”
Flurry met his look. “Don’t lie to me either.”
Thorax looked away first.
“Am I safe here?” Flurry repeated.
“No,” Thorax sighed, “but you’re safer here in Weter than any of the border towns. This is the oldest and most populated pony neighborhood. Chrysalis could send a strike team across the border, but not into Weter, not without starting a war. She knows I’m here, and that I’m helping the Nova Griffonians watch out for infiltrators.”
Flurry looked around the room. “You work for the government and live here?”
“It’s the biggest room in the building,” Thorax replied.
Flurry’s muzzle scrunched in shame and swished her tail nervously. “I’m sorry, Thorax. Dad thought you died with Sunburst.”
“Sunburst’s truck got strafed by a fighter and we had to keep going,” Thorax sighed. “I ended up leading a few hundred ponies north with the changelings that defected. We barely made it across the border.”
“Who else is here?”
“Most of the crystal ponies went to the border instead of trying for the coast. Colonel Heartsong is the highest ranked.” Thorax continued to list the names of ponies that Flurry barely remembered before he stopped and closed his eyes.
“Princess Flurry,” Thorax said softly, “many crystal ponies volunteered to fight with your father in Aquileia. I…if you don’t want to-”
“My father is dead,” Flurry cut him off. “I had to leave before they found the body, but he’s dead. Chrysalis showed up wearing my mother’s face and tried to drag me back.”
Thorax slumped against the table and his wings buzzed weakly. “I’m so sorry, Flurry.”
Flurry shook her head and whickered. “Grover protected me, came up with the story that I escaped. His bodyguard helped me get to the dock.”
Thorax lifted his head back up. “Why?”
“He promised.” Flurry shrugged her wings.
“He promised to get you to Nova Griffonia?”
“No,” Flurry smiled. “He promised to keep me safe. This was my idea. I wanted to go here. Some changelings chased us, but I got away.” I hope Benito is okay. Flurry liked the old dog. He risked a lot.
“Their alliance with the Chrysalis might be over, then,” Thorax considered. “She’s still broadcasting in Canterlot, but that could be a recording.”
“If she’s still gone, we could say something, tell ponies,” Flurry said. Her wings started fluttering. “They could rise up!”
Thorax shook his head. “No, most ponies are Nova Griffonian citizens now. It’s been years, Flurry. Nova Griffonia won’t risk a war, especially not with Chrysalis."
“I don’t need their permission. They’re ponies, and I’m their Princess,” Flurry responded. “They want to live like this?” Flurry scoffed, sweeping her wings around the room.
“No, they don’t,” Thorax replied, reaching into a cupboard with his magic. He retrieved a crinkled map and smoothed it out on the table, “but it is better than living in occupied Equestria.”
Flurry looked down at the map, showing Equestria divided into occupied governates. “I’ve seen this before,” she said shortly.
“Every few months, we get runners that escaped from the plantations or mines.” Thorax acted like he didn’t hear her. “We help get them across the border. Chrysalis is too proud and stupid to admit anypony escapes, so President Blackpeak turns a blind eye to it.”
Thorax put a hoof on Canterlot. “West and central Equestria are the only areas directly controlled from Vesalipolis and the Changeling Lands, mostly because Chrysalis likes to vacation in Canterlot. Most of the garrisons are tied up there. The Everfree Forest is out of control and a center of resistance.”
He moved the hoof to the south. “The south is lawless, either desert or jungle. The governors assigned to the area keep getting assassinated. The Changelings are resorting to walled slave plantations to harvest love and rubber.”
Flurry noticed he referred to changelings separately, not including himself.
He put a hoof over the empire. “The Crystal Empire is too sparsely populated to properly garrison. They can't control the weather enough to dispel the storm; the Crystal Heart only protects Crystal City, none of the farmland around it. It’s basically a research center surrounded by slave mines.”
“It shrunk?” Flurry asked. The barrier formed by the Crystal Heart was never very large, but the little circle on the map was pitiful.
“The Crystal Heart must be broken," Thorax chittered. "Your mother held out for months after Equestria fell. The snow storm outside the shield brought down their bombers and planes in the hundreds. Thousands of troops froze in the snow outside as their tanks and artillery pounded the shield. The delay bought a lot of ponies time to make it here.”
Thorax tapped his hoof on the map. “I think Chrysalis tried to drop some new kind of bomb on the city, but it didn’t work. We saw a flash from the border.”
“I didn’t hear any of that in Aquileia or New Mareland.”
“I doubt Chrysalis wanted to spread that around.”
“Do you know how Mom died?” Flurry asked.
Thorax closed his eyes. “I don’t know. The shield shattered suddenly and changelings poured in. Nopony made it out.”
Thorax blinked his solid blue eyes several times and moved a hoof to Manehattan. “The eastern coastline is led by Governor Lilac, who’s trying to be liberal with her underequipped garrison.” He smiled at Flurry. “Starlight Glimmer and Trixie Lulamoon are underground, making Tartarus. The rebellion will start there when it starts.”
“Chrysalis is weak,” Flurry summarized. “If we rise up, we can beat them! President Blackpeak said I can go on the radio; we can tell everypony to fight.” She put her hoof over the Crystal City. “A lot of ponies live at the border, right? We can storm right over those loser guards and make it to the Crystal Heart, easy!”
"Blackpeak wants you to calm everypony down," Thorax stressed, "not rile them up for war. Nova Griffonia is committed to defense, against Chrysalis or the Reich."
"Then what's the point of telling me any of this?" Flurry complained.
“My point,” Thorax tapped the map, “is that the rebellion already started the moment Chrysalis set a holed hoof in Equestria. Ponies are doing all they can. Sometimes that means sabotaging a train or attacking a garrison, sometimes that means bringing home enough food for tomorrow. Getting on the radio and shouting to fight won’t change that.”
“I want to help them."
“Are you doing it for them or for you?” Thorax challenged.
Flurry didn't respond immediately. "I'm their Princess," she finally answered with a defiant pout.
Thorax continued staring her down with solid blue eyes. “So, you'll go on the radio. Did all those speeches on the radio from Celestia and Luna help New Mareland fight?”
Flurry clamped her muzzle shut and her stomach twisted. “Don’t compare me to them,” she strained out between gritted teeth.
“Are you going to fight?”
“If I have to.”
“An alicorn on the field doesn’t guarantee victory; Luna proved that twice.”
“It would have been different if Celestia and Twilight helped.”
“Maybe,” Thorax conceded, “or they could have all died fighting on the front and destroyed any hope of victory. Besides, Twilight spent the war researching new weapons. Are you stronger than Luna? Are you smarter than Twilight?” he asked.
“Not yet,” Flurry bit out.
“So, you can’t fight yet,” Thorax concluded, “would you like to shout for ponies to fight on the radio? Do you want them to hear your voice as they die, calling for them to give everything, like Celestia?”
“Stop it!” Flurry covered her ears with her hooves.
“Will you write condolence letters like your mother, assuring their families that they died for a higher cause while sitting in a crystal castle?”
“Don't you dare mock Mom!”
The entire building rattled. Flurry’s horn fired a bolt of lightning that scorched the ceiling. Two disguised changelings burst in through the door, took one look at Flurry, then backed out.
Flurry Heart’s muzzle twitched uncontrollably as she heaved, floating in the air in her own magical aura. Her wings buzzed, causing a gale to blow up dust and knock the map off the table. She hung in the air like an inert pendulum before Thorax.
Thorax stayed on his stool and gripped the table for balance. He stared up at Flurry as she glared down at him, tears falling from her eyes. She bared her teeth at him with a snarl fit for a changeling.
“I loved your mother,” Thorax said calmly. Flurry stilled her wings to hear him, but remained floating in her magic. “Writing those letters destroyed her. She wasn’t a fighter,” he admitted, “but she did everything could until the end."
He kept eye contact, not staring at the electrical arcs coming from her horn. "When the city finally fell, Chrysalis gave the city to Hive Marshal Trimmel. His first act was to hang my brother from one of the balconies of the Crystal Palace. Chrysalis said he helped me escape.”
Flurry took a shuddering breath as she tried to calm down. “Pharynx?”
“Yes,” Thorax said, chuckling to himself. “We hadn’t talked for years, and our last conversation ended with him swearing to bring me before Chrysalis." He snorted. "But that’s exactly the kind of leader Chrysalis is. She watched the war from that damn tower in Vesalipolis, gave speeches on the radio for changelings to die to, then executed her best panzer commander.”
“She lied,” Flurry righted the stool and fixed it again with a flare of blue magic.
“No,” Thorax laughed. “Pharynx's tank broke down while his brigade was chasing us across the tundra. He made the everyling stop and wait for him to repair it. He wanted to be there when I was caught, you see.”
“I don’t understand,” Flurry sat down on the stool. It didn’t wobble.
“He faked the breakdown,” Thorax said. “Pharynx was always a good liar, even to other changelings, but it was too suspicious.” The changeling closed his eyes and sighed. “He did what he could, when it counted.”
He opened his eyes. “What kind of princess can you be right now?”
“I can go on the radio,” Flurry began and Thorax frowned.
Flurry paused. “I can tell my ponies that I am glad so many of them came to see me, and I can tell them to give me time to settle into Nova Griffonia, like President Blackpeak asked.”
Thorax nodded with relief.
“I can visit them and see where they live. I can show them I care.”
Thorax hesitated, but nodded. “We can do that. We'll use it as a chance to set up your legal guardian. It will just be on paper; Dusty Mark downstairs is a good choice-”
“You,” Flurry said and crossed her forelegs.
Thorax blinked. “Flurry, no.”
“You said it was just on paper. I can stay with Dusty or anypony or a spare room.”
“Flurry, I am a changeling. Nova Griffonia tolerates us because we help them, but there’s still a lot of distrust.”
“You’re Thorax, my friend and honorary uncle. You helped my mother and father. You helped raise me.”
“That was a long time ago, Flurry. Ponies don’t always remember things they should.” Thorax worried his fangs with a forked tongue.
“We can remind them. Besides, what better to guard against changelings than changelings?” Flurry asked, and knew she’d won the argument because Thorax looked over her head to the door as his ears pinned back.
“It’s not a good idea,” he sighed.
“Because you’re starving?”
Thorax’s head fin stiffened. “I am not.”
“Don’t lie,” Flurry reminded him, “those holes are pretty big.” She pointed at his hooves on the table. Thorax quickly shifted them under the table.
“I work with the other changelings," Thorax said quickly. "We ration. I’m just hungry. Nova Griffonia has limited trade. Food can get scarce.”
“Yeah, I bet with all that distrust, like you said.” Flurry stuck her hoof across the table and thought about the time Thorax fell asleep reading her Daring Do and the Temple of Terror.
Thorax flinched and hissed at her on reflex. “No,” he rasped, “we’re better than that." He swallowed, licking at his fangs. "It belongs to your family."
“My family,” Flurry said wistfully. “You’re the closest thing to family I have left, and you know that's not a lie.”
Princess Flurry Heart and Thorax the Exile stared at each other. Flurry's ears twitched as it began to rain outside. Thorax's window started to leak from the downpour.
Thorax shut his eyes and slowly reached out with a holed hoof that was more hole than actual hoof. Flurry Heart sat quietly as she felt the pull on her magic. It was barely more than a drop being drawn from an ocean. They sat together in the rundown kitchen, now slightly more battered due to Flurry’s outburst.
“My brother was right. I really am an idiot,” Thorax laughed with a sniffle. "I'm sorry I said all those things."
"They needed to be said," Flurry answered. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. Mom always said a Princess needs wise counsel."
Thorax laughed again and Flurry giggled.
The alicorn glanced at the scorch mark on the ceiling.
I need to control my magic better; I can’t fight with it, not without probably destroying a building. I can’t write letters for ponies who died for me. I can't call them to war without fighting myself. Dad taught me about guns, but didn't teach me to shoot, she thought.
But she had time to learn.
All of it.
And if Thorax objected, he was only her legal guardian on paper.
I am a Princess.
Flurry Heart levitated the last slice of her pink birthday cake over to the foal. It was the slice with the ‘12’ on top.
His brown eyes, wide as dinner plates, gaped at the slice as it gracefully landed on his own, chipped ceramic plate. His mother nudged him with a rear hoof and adjusted the conical pink party hat on his gray mane.
“T-thank you, Princess,” he stammered.
His mother, a green-eyed white unicorn, bowed to her. “We are grateful for your generosity, Princess Flurry.”
Flurry waved a pink wing at her. “It’s nothing,” she said as she leaned close to the mare. “Did he have cake for his birthday?” she whispered into her ear.
The mare shook her head.
“Then consider it a belated gift,” Flurry smiled, and trotted back to the head of the table next to Thorax, who sat undisguised in a bulky brown jacket. He had two holstered pistols along his barrel. It was hard to tell with changelings, but he was scanning the room, seeking nods of confirmation from tactically-placed ponies in the crowd.
“I wish you would wait for guests to approach, Princess,” he remarked with a sigh as Flurry sat down.
“I will not fear for my life at my birthday party, uncle,” Flurry snorted. “You’re bad enough at the soup kitchen.”
“You will mean far more to your ponies alive, Princess.”
“I mean nothing to them if they do not see me,” Flurry replied, tapping a hoof on her empty plate. It was clean.
Thorax glanced at the plate. “Did you have any cake? Opal Agate used her month’s allotment of flour for it,” he whispered.
“Of course, uncle,” Flurry replied back loudly, smiling at Opal from across the room. “The cake was so delicious I licked my plate clean; such a fine cake deserved to be shared.”
Opal smiled back and her blue crystal coat shimmered a bit brighter under her apron. It wasn’t the same smile Flurry remembered from the Crystal Kitchens, but it was close. An earth pony next to her clapped her shoulder in celebration. A pegasus chased a griffon cub around the table, laughing at the role reversal of predator and prey.
“I can tell when you’re lying,” Thorax sighed.
“You should be able to tell that it was only half a lie,” Flurry sniped back quietly. “They deserve it more than me.”
Thorax sighed again and leaned back on the stool, but didn’t argue with her. Flurry knew that meant he was too proud to be annoyed. The alicorn leaned back and shook the party hat on her horn, making it light up in her blue magic. Some of the foals pointed and laughed.
Heartshovel was two days travel on hoof to the border of the Crystal Empire. It was a mining town, nestled deep in the Crystal Mountains, and exported tungsten that went east to the armories on the coastline of Nova Griffonia. Griffons abhorred digging in a hole, so gladly farmed the work out to the poor and destitute refugees that had fled to their lands. The Republic of Nova Griffonia had racial equality written into its constitution, but what was on paper was rarely done in practice.
Heartshovel had a population of a thousand, of which only a quarter were griffons, remnants of the stubborn mountain clans that had tried to rebel before the Great War. They hated the government far more than they hated ponies, so the griffins kept their traditional grouchiness to a minimum. Flurry Heart pledged to visit every refugee town once a year around her birthday, then return to Weter and speak with the Aquileians. This was the second year she traveled, and this time she was sure to mention how grateful she was to President Blackpeak at every stop, encouraging her ponies to vote for him in the upcoming election.
Except when she stopped at New Stalliongrad, which burned an effigy of her in protest for the second year in a row. She told them not to vote for Blackpeak, which guaranteed some of the communists would do so out of spite.
She didn’t care for Blackpeak, but he was dependent on the pony vote to be reelected, which made him dependent on her. He had yet to press the issue of her title, only asking her not to use it when she went on the radio. "Everypony knows you are their princess," he said with false cheer once at the radio station. "It is not necessary." Flurry nodded dutifully and thanked him for his hospitality.
He never used her title.
Opal had been one of the head chefs in the kitchen back home; she worked in the canteen for the mine with her three fillies. Flurry was ecstatic to meet her last year and promised to return for her next birthday. Opal had nervously accepted on behalf of the town.
Heartshovel tried to welcome their Princess properly. They scrounged together a choir of colts and fillies to sing off-key, set up a discolored banner on main street, and set aside the town’s meeting hall to host her party. It was a wooden, off-white building with dust-streaked windows. Even the griffons came to see her and share their one joke about the town.
“Is it called Heart’s Hovel or Heart Shovel? Can you settle the question, Princess of Ponies?” The old griffon had used the same joke last year, and spat her title with a crooked grin.
"You may call it what you wish. It is your home as well," Flurry replied, sweeping her wings to include the combined crowd. There was less mockery from the griffons afterwards.
Princess Flurry Heart didn’t care about the celebration. She didn’t care that the gifts ranged from mining equipment to rare emeralds stolen from the mine. She didn’t care that the party was clearly meant for the Princess her ponies fondly remembered, the little foal that giggled at anything vaguely funny and struggled with big words.
She was their Princess, and that meant her birthday was not about her.
In every town she visited, the gifts would be accidentally left behind and the food would be given out to her colts and fillies. She would see the miners that had been crippled in the frequent accidents, heal what she could with her limited magic, and collapse during the ride to the next town. She would repeat the process until she returned to Weter, where she would attend the Aquileian veteran’s meeting to thank the griffons that served with her father. She would listen to stories about the old Discret Kings and the Republicans. She would end her birthday on the radio, thanking pony and griffon alike for their hospitality.
Thorax and some disguised changelings traveled along with her volunteer guard. Flurry didn’t now the exact number of changelings, but she trusted Thorax. Queen Chrysalis remained silent on Flurry’s presence in the north, but her spies sought her ruthlessly. Flurry Heart learned Twilight’s changeling detection spell from Dusty Mark before her eleventh birthday.
There had been one attempt last year, the first year she started her tour. Flurry Heart stayed in Evergreen for a night; it was the largest Pony town in the mountains and three days from the border. Thorax’s agents were struggling to secure the area, but Flurry wanted to get some rest before returning to Weter and dismissed his concerns. A Changeling spy poisoned her soup, probably to knock her out at night and abduct her with some other agents.
Flurry gave it to a homeless foal begging outside her hotel.
He collapsed within a minute after thanking her profusely and taking a sip.
Poison for alicorns wasn’t the same as poison for foals. He lived, only thanks to Thorax carrying several antidotes as a paranoid precaution.
The hotel waived the damage Flurry did to their kitchen. The Changeling spy died choking on a cyanide capsule, still in his chef’s hat. The real chef was tied up in the pantry, terrified and nearly decapitated by Flurry’s magical blast that obliterated the outer wall. No other spies were discovered, and a Changeling broadcast from Canterlot dismissed it an act of terrorism by a rogue agent. President Blackpeak gracefully accepted the excuse on Flurry's behalf.
Rioting broke out among the towns Flurry visited.
On her eleventh birthday, Princess Flurry Heart could’ve called her ponies to war, but she instead returned to Weter with Thorax.
“Next year, we will double our agents, Princess,” he had pleaded. “I swear it.”
Thorax only called her Princess when he was upset.
“No, it was a mistake.”
“The trip did so well, Princess. Take it from a changeling, everywhere you visited was happier and more hopeful than it had been in years.”
“Now they riot, but I wasn’t talking about the trip. I made a mistake,” Flurry said in her room. She had her own one-room apartment on the second-floor, across from Thorax. He wasn’t home very often, but there were enough guards at all hours, day or night. It was on the inside of the building, with no windows and one door, with one vent for a tiny stove. The only amenities were a private shower and toilet, which was a luxury for the tenement and the ghetto.
“It was my job to know about the soup.”
“No,” Flurry replied on her bed. She stared up at an old Wonderbolt poster on the ceiling and wondered if Rainbow Dash was alive. “That would never have happened if I didn’t demand to stay the night."
Thorax didn't refute her. His wings buzzed uncomfortably.
"Next year, I sleep on the road and we take different roads between the towns," Flurry said. "No known schedule. I start the visits two weeks before my birthday and we pass by some towns then circle back. We go to Heartshovel on my birthday, then return directly to Weter.”
Thorax thought about it. “That will be difficult.”
“What do you suggest?”
“No, I meant it will be difficult for you,” Thorax said. Flurry blinked and raised her head off her lumpy pillow.
“You won’t get much sleep between towns,” Thorax began slowly. “You’ll end up visiting some of them at night, some during the day. Ponies will be happy to see you anytime, but we'll be always be on the move. Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes,” Flurry replied. “Set the alarm for an hour. I need to go down to Weter Radio to stop the rioting and announce that I believe the Changeling was a rogue agent.” She yawned. “It’s good Chrysalis can’t detect lies over the radio.”
It had been a good plan, and it worked well, but Flurry dreaded the ride out of Heartshovel on the dirt road through the mountains. She slumped in the back of the truck and removed her party hat. Her dress, a simple white-frilled blue skirt, was flecked with brown and black stains from dirt and coal, plus a smudge of icing from a hug.
Dusty Mark and a few of her guards climbed into the old troop carrier after her. Dusty Mark was technically an unemployed mercenary, along with nearly a third of the ponies living in the ghetto in Weter. The rest worked in the armories. Flurry Heart had a core guard of almost a hundred Equestrians and Crystal Ponies that patrolled the ghetto as a militia. Money came in from somewhere Thorax didn’t want Flurry to know about to support her guards and their families, but she trusted him enough not to pry.
"I hate this truck," Flurry groused. "The other two don't jump around as much."
"I don't think it will make a difference on this road, Princess," Frosty Jadis replied. She was the crystal mare that knelt to Flurry Heart while sobbing on the ship two years ago. Her leg had healed poorly. She couldn't gallop, but she could hit a target at extreme range and was the most devoted of Flurry's guard. She closed the back doors of the truck and peered out the reinforced glass. Three trucks traveled with Flurry, and she changed trucks every stop, sometimes on the road as well.
If the worst happened and they were attacked, Flurry could teleport. Flurry's teleportation wasn't exactly stable, but she had been told to immediately jump away if ordered to by her guards. She couldn't take anypony with her yet, not like her Aunt Twilight. Something to work on, Flurry reminded herself.
Flurry leaned her head back. "Wake me in Weter." Her curls began to bounce as the truck moved.
"It's a long drive. We'll change trucks before we hit the main road," Dusty replied.
"Don't wake me. Just toss me in the back of the truck," Flurry commanded. They woke her up anyway. She took the opportunity to pop her wing joints and pee on the side of the road, hiking up her skirt.
Dusty and Jadis looked away with serious muzzles, scanning the forest.
My loyal guards, Flurry rolled her eyes. I'm still their Princess as I squat on the side of the road. She suppressed a laugh.
The trip back continued through the night. Her little convoy stopped once, blocked by fallen logs from a flatbed truck in a narrow pass. The poor griffon that tried to flag down the first truck was nearly shot. Flurry summoned a blue bubble shield over the convoy as Thorax and her guards secured the area and forced the driver to the ground.
"He's taking the stuff to Evergreen and the straps broke," Thorax summarized, returning from the griffon. "Not a Changeling. We'll reverse and take the side path."
"That could be a trap," Dusty suggested.
"If there's a trap, he doesn't know about it. I questioned him thoroughly," Thorax replied. The griffon slumped up against the door of his truck with a bloody beak, glaring through the shield. He looked away when Flurry glanced at him.
"I'll help him," Flurry declared. She waved at the griffon to approach with a wing. His eyes widened and his wings twitched against his overalls. He seemed to decide against trying to fly away and slowly approached.
"Princess, we don't have time," Thorax argued. Flurry ignored him and watched the griffon cautiously reach a claw out and pass it through the shield.
"I'll be quick," Flurry replied. She pulled him by the claw towards her with her magic. His wings flared as he tried to pull back, but it was pointless to fight an alicorn, even a filly. She let him go a few hooves away from her. He fell to the ground and stayed down.
The griffon glanced fearfully at the armed guards and held out his claws. "Please, Princess," he pleaded. "I did not mean to ruin your birthday. I work with many ponies. I saw you at Evergreen three days ago. I gave you a gift: fine carpentry tools."
"You ruined nothing." Flurry fired a beam of magic at his beak. He squawked in shock, clutching at it with both claws before blinking.
"I'm not the best with healing spells," Flurry admitted, "but you will not need a doctor." Flurry dispelled the shield and seized the fallen logs in her magic, stacking them back on the flatbed of his truck. She ignored the twinge of pain in her horn. She lifted the truck and the logs together and moved them to the side of the road. The logs rested uneasily in the flatbed, so Flurry fired a large blue bolt and glued the logs to the flatbed.
Flurry blinked stars from her eyes and swallowed, looking down at the stunned griffon. "That spell will only last a few hours on something that big," she said with a slight rasp. "You're going to Evergreen?"
"Yes, Princess, to the lumber yard."
"What's your name?"
"Gunner, Princess. I am from the hills. I welcomed many ponies when they came during the war." He stood up and wiped the blood from his beak on his overalls, trying to smile at Flurry.
Thorax snorted next to him and Gunner clacked his beak shut.
"Please wait for us to pass," Flurry said apologetically.
"Of course, Princess," the griffon moved to approach Flurry, then thought better of it when Jadis conspicuously checked her rifle. He instead nodded and swept his wings in a bow before returning to his truck.
Flurry's legs collapsed out from under her once she climbed back into her own truck. Jadis leaned her against the side and wrapped her in a blanket while Thorax and Dusty looked on.
"That was too much magic, Princess," Dusty chided her.
"I'll be able to sleep until Weter for sure," Flurry responded. "I saved time anyway."
"Can you still teleport?" Thorax asked.
Flurry nodded. She looked out the reinforced glass and saw Gunner wave at the passing trucks.
"You know he was lying about welcoming ponies, right?" Thorax asked as he followed Flurry's eyes.
"Did he lie about giving me a gift in Evergreen?" Flurry questioned back. "Did he lie about working with ponies?"
Thorax paused and shook his head. "Lots of griffons gave you things this year, Princess."
"Rightly so," Jadis huffed. "Our Princess spends more time helping them like they're her own ponies, than any griffon from Weter. They should remember who'll cure their coal lung and set their broken bones for free when she visits."
Flurry closed her eyes as the truck trundled down the rough road. Her curls were matted with sweat and she needed to shower when they made it back to Weter.
I am a Princess of Ponies, and my ponies must always come first, Flurry reminded herself, but many griffons suffer beside them. I will help them when I can, she promised.
They are not my subjects by right. But when the time comes, they will be my subjects by choice.
“Were you waiting for me?” Flurry asked. She had just returned to Weter, leaving the trucks outside the ghetto.
“No, no,” the mailgriffon answered in accented Equestrian. He was Aquileian. He stood outside Flurry's tenement on the sidewalk, fiddling with the brass buttons on his gray uniform with two satchels under his wings. Flurry knew Jacques; he was one of the few griffons that brought mail to the ghetto, but he traveled frequently for his job. Her horn lit up and she cast her detection spell on him.
He wasn’t a changeling.
Jacques’ dark brown feathers ruffled and he gave Flurry a sour look. “You do not trust me, Little Flurry?” Flurry stared blankly at him until he clacked his beak in a laugh. “Good! A monarch should never trust a republican.” He flourished the bag on his left. “I bring your birthday wishes.”
“I’ll need to check them,” Thorax interrupted.
“Please,” Jacques scoffed. “Everyone in the mail office has read them, including me. There is no poison or bombs. If there was, Nova Griffonia would collapse without their poorly-paid mail service.” He set down the heavy satchel. “Your mail from ponies and proud Aquileians in Nova Griffonia.” He pulled out two opened envelopes from his other satchel. “And letters abroad: your old aunts write to you.”
Flurry took the envelopes in her magic and tucked them under her wing. “Summary?”
Jacques held a claw to his beak in shock. “You dare not read the words of the immortal Princesses?” He cackled. “Oh, we will make a republican out of you yet. They ask you come visit them, offer to pay for your trip, wish you happy birthday.” He ticked off the points on a claw.
"Anything else?"
His eyes soured as he sighed and retrieved another opened envelope. He tossed it to Flurry, who caught it in her magic. “From the great Kaiser,” he squawked. “Actually arrived on time this year. Long winded drivel about how great he is, invites you to his birthday next month. Spelled your name wrong again. Why do you even write back?”
Flurry tucked it under her other wing with a neutral expression. “His letters make good kindling.”
Jacques squawked another laugh and closed his bag. “Goodbye, Little Flurry,” he said in Aquileian. He gestured to the satchel on the ground. "I will return next week for your replies."
Flurry nodded, responding back in Aquileian. "Thank you, Jacques."
He smiled. “Of course, Little Flurry. I will see you tomorrow at the Veteran's Hall,” he promised and flared his wings, taking flight down the street and above the bustle of ponies.
Flurry Heart took the satchel in her magic and let Thorax, Dusty and her guards escort her through her building.
“If you’re tired, I can work through the letter,” Thorax offered in the stairwell.
“Nah,” Flurry shrugged. “Make the rounds and check on everyone, or just make some coffee and relax. I’ll do it myself.” She hugged him with a large wing. "We did good this year, Uncle." Thorax nuzzled the top of her head and stopped to talk to Dusty.
Flurry Heart stopped outside the door to her room and nodded at Falx, the disguised changeling guarding the hallway, who nodded back and tapped a front hoof on the floor. She passed the floating satchel of birthday mail to him to double-check. She stood in the hallway, took a deep breath, and reached out with her magic to scan her room, then reached into the walls, floor and ceiling.
Her wards hadn’t been tampered with and nothing had been breached. She still wasn’t great at defensive spells other than her barriers, so she warned everypony that if they tried to force their way past her spells, her room could explode and take the building with it. Nopony was sure their Princess was serious, except Thorax and his changelings.
They refused to comment.
Flurry yawned again, entered, and locked the door behind her, taking in the musty smell and muffled radio from the floor above. She threw the two letters from Celestia and Luna in the wastebasket by her desk and set the Kaiser’s letter on the bed. She teleported her dress away with a crack of blue magic.
It landed on top of her dresser, fluttering and slightly smoking.
Flurry sighed. It'll need to be pressed and cleaned later anyway. Lastly, she removed the simple gold band from under her curly mane and placed it on the dresser, on top of the dress. It was the only piece of regalia she owned, a gift for her eleventh birthday. A crystal pony smith had made it from wedding rings donated by unicorns. Most of them had lost their spouses during the war.
It was the only gift she kept. It reminded her of her duty.
Flurry Heart raised up a foreleg and sniffed, recoiling with a soft whicker. She definitely needed to shower before she left, but she wanted to do the letter now. Flurry Heart sat down on her bed and peeled away the Wonderbolt poster on the ceiling with a burst of magic, revealing a hole in plaster. The walls were too thin to have a proper secret cubbyhole, but the large crack above her bed was perfect to slip two folders between her ceiling and the floor above. She pulled the folders down gently with her magic and dusted them off with a flash before replacing the poster. She opened the thinner folder and retrieved her notes, scratch paper, and a pencil. Flurry rolled onto her barrel and set the letter from the Kaiser and her notes side-by-side on the bed as she began to work.
The letter from the desk of Kaiser Grover VI was written in archaic Equestrian, rife with spelling errors, syntax mistakes and enough misused words to confuse any reader. It reminded her of Luna’s letters to her mother. Aunt Twilight would have a fit, she giggled. She received a letter every two or three months since she arrived in Nova Griffonia. Flurry overheard Dusty joke to Jadis once that the Kaiser’s letters were the only reason the trade embargo was not worse.
His first letter had been depressingly formal, lambasting her for refusing his sanctuary and hospitality and ending with a long string of absurd titles and honorifics for himself, full of errors. Thorax had scanned it thoroughly and triple-checked for poison before giving it to her with an apologetic grimace. She threw it in her wastebasket and went to bed with tears in her eyes.
Two days later, Thorax tried to slam her door open just before dawn. Flurry dispelled her lock and opened it to a grinning Thorax who held up the crumpled letter in shaky hooves.
“It’s a code!” His black hooves were stained with ink.
“What?” Flurry yawned. It was four in the morning. She discreetly cast her detection spell as best she could.
Thorax didn't notice. “It’s written in a code! Look at the spelling mistakes, take every third one, then reverse the sequence!" The fin on his head was slightly bent, and he swayed on his hooves like he hadn't slept. "It spells out an abbreviated message in Herzlander,” Thorax explained. “I thought something was off; I never would have caught it if I hadn’t learned Herzlander from the Changeling Heer.” Thorax passed Flurry a napkin covered in near illegible scribbles.
Princess Flurry Dog Says Safe
Happy Hear You Radio
Bugs Leave Griffons Angry
Kept Crown Will Give Back
Bye Friend
Flurry blinked, instantly awake, and shifted her eyes between the napkin and the letter. “You kept it? I threw it out.”
Thorax’s wings rustled. “I thought something was off,” he said as he scraped a hoof on the floor. He left a trail of ink.
“You go through my trash?” Her eyes narrowed.
“No,” Thorax replied defensively. “Arex goes through your trash when she collects it.”
Thorax twitched and shifted his gaze away from Flurry’s stare. "I know it was important to you," he muttered. "The letter didn't make sense if he wanted to help you."
She pulled him into a hug. “Thanks, Uncle. Help me reply?” Flurry asked. Thorax leaned against her and she had to flare her oversized wings to hold him up. "After you get some sleep," she added as the changeling nearly collapsed.
Thorax helped her write back in the same style, using Thorax’s old Herzlander to write a reply hidden in broken and misspelled Aquileian that begged the Kaiser for forgiveness and an end to the war against the Griffonian Republic to the north. The next letter confirmed he found it. She had read it on her bed.
Princess Flurry See Reply Found Father
It hadn’t been announced over the radio. Her father was still considered missing.
Sorry Sorry Sorry
Flurry sniffled.
Father Rest Here Secret
He kept his word.
Rest Near My Father
There was a stain on the original letter. Thorax checked and said it was a teardrop.
When Pony Have Empire Father Go Home
Flurry began to cry.
Still Have Crown
She laughed through the tears.
Bye Friend
Flurry held the letter between her forelegs that night.
She kept all the past letters in her other folder, which was starting to get too large to fit in the ceiling. As far as Thorax knew, nopony or griffon had realized Grover was writing her secret messages. The Changelings might be able to figure it out, but they were too busy hunting down resistance groups in Equestria to deal with Flurry’s fanmail.
Flurry huffed as she worked through her scratch paper with a pencil nub, switching between Grover’s letter and Thorax’s notes. When she was finished, she meticulously copied down the letters in reverse and fetched her Herzlander-Equestrian dictionary from under the bed. She couldn’t speak Grover's language and could barely write it; nopony or griffon was eager to teach her the language of the Reich.
Thorax and his changelings knew it, but she imposed far too much of them already just to keep her safe. Changelings once had their own language, a beautiful, trilling lilt that chirped and sang, but the Changeling Heer and Chrysalis insisted on the harsh, guttural Herzlander as the national language. Thorax said they were trying to copy the most successful army on the planet, but Flurry believed it was just to sound crueler. She flipped through the dictionary and squinted as she translated.
Happy Best Day Princess Flurry
The official letter never used her title, but Grover always included it.
Wish Us Happy Best Day Together
Flurry smiled to herself.
War North Over Near Now
The Griffonian Reich had finally overtaken the Griffonian Republic to the north and the old Kingdom of Vedina after a brutal guerilla war. Vedina surrendered when they lost their capital, but ships evacuated the remnants of the Republicans across the ocean to Nova Griffonia, where they were welcomed by the government. The Reich was directly across from Nova Griffonia now, and Blackpeak declared a massive push to increase coastal bunkers and anti-air defenses. A lot of earth ponies and crystal ponies ended up employed in triple shifts along the coast, building bunkers for little pay.
War South War East
Flurry hummed. It makes sense to attack Wingbardy to the south and the borderlands against the River Republic before they expand their alliance, she thought.
The River Republic led a coalition of foreign ponies and dogs, uneasily sharing the continent of Griffonia with the Reich. The alliance was born out of griffon aggression into the east of Griffonia centuries ago, and the coalition frequently sent aid and volunteers to the countries that had broken away from Grover. If a war broke out between the coalition and the Reich, the entire continent would be set aflame; their border stretched across most of the continent. With every reconquest by the Reich, the border grew larger.
Flurry occasionally caught news on the radio. Celestia spoke of the need for unity against the cruelty of the Reich, still calling herself Princess as she and her sister sat in some townhouse at the grace of River Swirl, the Chancellor of the River Republic.
Flurry’s ears twitched as she heard a pop of magic. Her eyes refocused. She had crumpled her scratch paper into a ball that was beginning to smolder in her horn’s field. She cursed and blew it out, before smoothing her paper back out and continuing to translate.
No War River No War There
President Blackpeak would be relieved, Flurry thought with a snort.
Can Come Please Reply Bye Friend
Flurry's breath hitched and she fluttered her wings. I thought the invitation was just a formality, part of the fake letter, but it’s real. It would be trivial to fly across the ocean, even under her own power. It wouldn’t be the first time she started over in a foreign land. Queen Chrysalis never formally ended her alliance with the Reich, but the embassy had been recalled shortly after she fled to Nova Griffonia. Rumors said not every changeling returned home, some choosing the Kaiser over the Queen, but Thorax put no stock in them.
Flurry stood up on her bed and cracked her neck. She could almost touch the ceiling and poster with her horn. She hopped down, crossed over to her small desk and sat on her chair, bringing out her ink, quill, and fresh parchment from the drawer. She had to rattle the drawer to close it properly. She drifted over the dictionary with her horn as she began to work.
Grover said he figured out the code on his own; Flurry believed him even if Thorax doubted it. It annoyed her a little that he was clearly smarter than her, but she had more magic than he ever would. She began to write in Herzlander, slowly translating herself.
Kaiser Grover,
Thank you for birthday wish. I happy. I wish Boreas and ancestors with you for future.
North griffons come. Griffons mean here. Mean to Ponies. Wish Griffons remembered Twilight say Republic better than Reich. (Sorry!)
The Republicans that had just arrived were very hostile to her ponies, seeing them as more monarchists despite their citizenship. The public knowledge that Flurry shared letters with the Kaiser didn’t help, despite the assurances from President Blackpeak.
I want to come. I safe there. I want see you.
Flurry looked over her shoulder at the door as it glowed faintly blue with her locking spell. Thorax and Dusty were probably looking over the satchel of letters, checking them for lingering poisons.
I must stay. Ponies need Princess. Griffons need Kaiser.
Take back your land.
Bye Friend.
Flurry's horn glowed as she closed her eyes and concentrated. After a few tense seconds, she pointed her horn at the paper and cast a spell. After a bright flash, Flurry shook out her mane and looked down at the blank sheet of paper. The words would only appear for Grover himself when he looked at them; the spell was tied to him. It was a difficult spell, and Dusty and her magic tutor Far Sight had given her a weird look when she picked it out of an old spellbook. It required a piece of the person it was meant to go to, like blood, hair, or saliva.
Flurry used the stain on the second letter, a teardrop. Grover's first letter after she used it was amazed at her magic.
Princess Flurry
How How How
Eros No See
See Me Stare Blank Page
Think I Mad Like Nobles
She only wrote back after she stopped laughing. In her reply, she deflected it as ‘alicorn magic.’ Grover never pressed beyond that. Flurry flipped the paper over and began to write a more vague, diplomatic reply in a mix of Aquileian and Equestrian.
From the desk of Flurry Heart,
She is overjoyed to receive the well-wishes of the Kaiser, and urges him to seek a peaceful resolution to any conflicts…
She continued for the rest of the page, filling it with foalish nonsense. Thorax would read her ‘official’ reply, sigh, knowing she was hiding her true thoughts, and pass it along. The Nova Griffonians would read it and dismiss her as a foal and useful puppet, shipping the letter back to the Reich and Grover. The Imperial Court of the Reich and the Regent would read her letter and laugh at her naivety.
Grover would flip the letter over and smile.
Princess Flurry Heart folded the letter and slipped it into the envelope from Grover, leaving it on her desk with the ink and quill. She placed his letter with the others in the folder, then stuffed the dictionary back under her bed. The poster came down again and the folders were safely tucked away between floors. Flurry laid back on her bed and stuck the poster to the ceiling. She levitated her clock over and set her alarm for two hours.
She would wake up, shower, and get on the radio that evening, shilling for Blackpeak’s reelection and thanking everyone for a memorable birthday. When she returned home, she would begin replying to the letters from her Ponies and Aquileians. She would go the Aquiliean Veteran’s Hall tomorrow and thank the republicans and their families that welcomed her and her father to their home. She would write back to everypony and griffon herself, even if it left her with a week-long horn cramp.
Next week, she would practice at the makeshift shooting range with Dusky Mark for the first time, then practice ice and fire spells with Far Sight at the junkyard. Her lasers could cut through reinforced plating now. Thorax didn't approve of her training, but her guards were eager to aid their Princess.
Princess Flurry Heart turned on her pillow and stared at the little crown on her dresser until she fell asleep.
Flurry Heart brought the rifle up again and slammed the trigger with the side of her hoof. The rifle kicked into her shoulder as she worked the bolt with her magic, chambering in another round.
The glass bottle on the fence exploded.
She braced, took aim at the next bottle, and fired again. She moved down the fence, picking off stationary bottles. After three more shots, Flurry crouched and removed a new stripper clip from the pouch on her flank with a flash of magic.
“On the left!”
Flurry dropped the clip in her magic, catching it on an outstretched hoof. Her horn flashed as she pulled the revolver from the holster on her other flank and looked to the left. She brought the revolver to her eye and fired off six shots. While she fired, she rammed the clip into the bolt-action rifle and cycled it by hoof. She dropped the pistol in her magic and braced the rifle back against her shoulder, one forehoof on the open trigger and the other braced on the frame.
“Panzer on the right!”
Flurry turned and fired a blast from her horn. The tips of her short-cut mane blackened from the heat.
A glass bottle flew at her head from above.
Flurry barely brought up a shield in time. The bottle shattered a hoof from her muzzle as she stared, wide-eyed.
“Hey!” Flurry glared at the griffon hovering above her. “You didn’t call out!”
“Sometimes there is no warning, Princess,” the brown griffon shouted back down.
“Do not throw bottles directly at the Princess, Duskcrest!” Dusty shouted. “How many bucking times do I have to tell you!?”
“I do it to hear your adorable swears,” Duskcrest answered to the mare standing several hooves behind Flurry.
“You’ll hear a lot worse later!”
“Oh,” Duskcrest laughed, landing to Flurry’s left and adjusting his old forest jacket. “Is that a promise?”
Flurry didn’t have to look behind her to know Dusty was blushing.
“Besides,” he continued, “you should have stopped the Princess after her little trick with the revolver.” He looked at Flurry with half-lidded dark golden eyes and waved towards the bottles lined up on an old truck engine to her left.
Flurry dropped the shield around her muzzle and set the safety on the rifle before looking over. She scowled.
Four out of six bottles to her right were still standing on the old truck engine. They were easily within pistol range. She was in a scrapyard outside Evergreen, the largest city in the mountains. The abandoned yard had been converted into a shooting range for the town’s militia.
She picked up the revolver with her hooves and opened the cylinder, ejecting the spent cases. She brought the sights up to her eye again. “It’s not aligned right.”
“It’s my gun,” Dusty answered, walking up to Flurry’s right. She took the pistol from Flurry’s hooves with a flick of gray magic and loaded a single cartridge. She took aim down the range with the pistol in her magic. Dusty squinted, exhaled and fired.
One of the bottles shattered. Flurry was aiming at those with her rifle.
“The sights are fine, Princess,” Dusty said and holstered the pistol.
Flurry sat on her flank and crossed her hooves before lighting up her horn. The remaining bottles downrange glowed blue and shattered in her grip. Duskcrest reached out with a claw and flicked her ear.
“Yes, your horn is your greatest weapon,” Duskcrest sighed, “but it is not your only one.”
He gestured at the bottles on the engine. “You are fast, but that is nothing without accuracy. You are trying to do too many things at once.” He pointed at the sandbags around Flurry. “Use your cover and take your time.”
Dusty walked over to the metal plate propped up by some large rocks on the right. She winced and shook her graying mane. “Well, you punched through the reinforced plate and definitely killed the crew, but if there’s one panzer, there’s at least a dozen more rumbling behind.”
Flurry sighed and brushed her stubby curls aside. She had cut her mane and tail almost indecently short, if not for her white cargo pants and jacket. She couldn’t wear a helmet; the heat from her lasers would melt it to her head.
“If I had a submachine gun or an automatic rifle, I wouldn’t have to take my time,” Flurry remarked.
“I wish I had one of those too!” Duskcrest laughed. “Can you ask Blackpeak to loan us some instead of sending them to the coast guards?”
"We work with what we have, Princess," Dusty rebuked.
Duskcrest patted the alicorn's head. “You’re a better shot at fourteen than I was, and I spent my youth as a bandit in our mountains."
“Great,” Flurry replied sarcastically.
Colonel Duskcrest backed the attempted coup just before the Great War. Nova Griffonia long depended on local militias instead of a professional army. The general he followed, Erwin Highhill, rallied the underpaid militias in the mountains, promising them reform and appreciation. He flew down from the mountains and took the provisional government by complete surprise, but failed to take the capitol building in Weter and was arrested on its steps.
The struggling Republic couldn’t afford to arrest and disband all of the soldiers that followed Highhill as the war between Equestria and the Changeling Hegemony raged at their southern and western border. The provisional government instead returned them to the mountains to help the massive amount of pony refugees settle in their homes. They demoted the commanders and lent them no support to deal with the influx of ponies.
Flurry guessed that the government wanted the exiled griffons to get distracted squabbling over their homes with the ponies, and it had worked for several years. Ponies formed competing militias to defend themselves against banditry and extortion.
Flurry Heart’s arrival changed that. Her tours and interest in the mountains gave her ponies hope, and that hope began to spread to the griffons that lived uneasily beside her ponies before radiating out to the militias. Militias of ponies and griffons merged and began to work together as violence between the races died down. The economists in Weter saw the beginning of slow economic growth and sighed with relief, ignoring the root of the issue.
Of course, none of the government money went to the griffons and ponies in the mountains. President Blackpeak and the Republicans were focused on the coast, reinforcing it against the Reich. They were content to let Flurry play with her ponies, placating them and ensuring that they paid their taxes as good citizens. Her ponies were still poor, but they were poor together with the frontier griffons.
Duskcrest had first attended Flurry's birthday party when she turned thirteen, presenting her with a silver-plated revolver. "For my nephew, he would have died of Feather Flu," he had solemnly declared.
Flurry Heart had heard that an epidemic was sweeping through several mountain towns, affecting pegasi and griffons alike. Weter had stockpiled medicine for the major cities, but there were few doctors inland, even among the ponies. There was a simple spell to relieve the worst symptoms, but even the strongest unicorn couldn't cast it several times a day, everyday. Flurry made an emergency trip to the mountains, dragging along a unicorn doctor to learn the spell.
She did not sleep for three nights, teleporting and flying from town to village, outpacing her desperate guards and Thorax. She dragged herself into the last village, bleeding from the nose. It was an all-griffon town halfway up the highest peak on the Nova Griffonian side of the border.
Flurry looked bad enough that the griffons assumed she was dying of the flu herself and avoided her. She stumbled into the schoolhouse, then a makeshift clinic, and lit up her horn. She didn't quite pass out, but Thorax's changelings had no problems subduing her and dragging her back to Weter when they finally caught up to her.
It took her a month of bedrest to recover, then another three months before she was allowed outside her room. But the death toll was in the single digits when it could have been in the thousands. She had prioritized her ponies, but she came for the griffons when no griffon from Weter would. There were a lot of stereotypes about griffin greed, but they would pay back a debt.
Flurry had waved a wing at the silver revolver when Duskcrest offered it. "Give it to your nephew and teach him to use it."
"As you command, Princess," he replied. The griffons that arrived with him to the party nodded.
Her griffons, she thought with a smile as she shrugged at Duskcrest. "I'm glad to hear I'm a better shot than a fourteen-year-old, filthy bandit." On paper in Weter, he commanded a force of five hundred. In practice, he led a combined militia of five thousand, and held the loyalty of a two dozen smaller militias all over the Crystal Mountains.
He laughed. “Highhill was a fast shot, but he was too reckless. Speed didn’t save him from the noose.” He passed Flurry a canteen, pouring a bit of water into his beak in front of her. She took it in her magic. Flurry trusted him, but she appreciated the gesture.
Dusty walked around the yard and squinted at the setting sun. “One more hour, Princess, then back to Evergreen.”
Flurry nodded. A few bat ponies and griffons patrolled overhead as she drank from the canteen.
Officially, she wasn’t here; she was in Weter. Every month, Flurry Heart would travel into the mountains for two days to practice while Falx imitated her voice from her room if anypony came by. Thorax knew, of course, and it drove him crazy trying to organize the guards.
But Thorax does more dangerous things every week, she snorted to herself.
Thorax did more than help the government root out Changeling spies for Chrysalis. He lived in Weter to work with the black market at the port, running smuggled gems from the mountains to unicorns for dubious enchantments. The gems went to the Reich and embargoed amenities came in. He confessed to her when she was thirteen that most of the ghetto in Weter was involved. The ghetto was nicknamed ‘Ponyville’ by Weter Radio, but no one dared say the name to Flurry’s muzzle.
Flurry’s guards were funded by crime; her room was funded by crime. Technically, everything Flurry depended on was funded by crime.
Her magic tutor Far Sight made a living enchanting stolen gems. “I could work in Triton’s Armories casting spells on rifles for half as much,” he had explained when she asked him, “or I could do it for Thorax and feed my niece and nephew.” He was a mustard-yellow unicorn with a brown mane. Before the war, he was a professor from Trottingham. He still wore his tweed jacket, now significantly patched and scuffed.
“Who does Thorax work for, then?” Flurry asked, looking up from her notebook and old spell tome.
Far Sight paused for a moment too long while writing on the magical blackboard he summoned in her room. Flurry coughed, and he dispelled it and turned to her. He opened his mouth to lie, but Flurry’s glare made him reconsider.
“Thorax runs it, doesn’t he?” she asked, more as a statement than a question.
He nodded.
“Does he hurt Ponies?”
Far Sight hesitated again. “Usually not.” Flurry thought about Gunner, leaning against his truck with a bloody beak.
I questioned him thoroughly.
I thought he did it to protect me, she thought.
Her magic lesson ended early that day.
Flurry avoided the conversation with Thorax. He avoided talking to her about it as well, even though Far Sight certainly told him. Thorax lived poorly in a tenement beside ponies and changelings. He cherished what little free time he spent with her, reading a dog-eared book with poor binding or using the rare bit of chocolate to make cocoa. No matter how often Flurry hugged him and called him family, he still looked lean and tired.
This isn't something he does for fun, Flurry ultimately decided. He does it for me, and it’s killing him.
Flurry Heart had lived in Nova Griffonia for four years, and her ponies still suffered and lived like refugees and criminals. Any improvement to their lives came from her, not the government. Triton Blackpeak was two years into his second term and he had still accomplished little of his promises to them.
The remnants of the Griffonian Republic had organized into an opposing political party led by the son of their dead president. Alexander Kemerskai Junior was a decade older than Flurry. He met her only once, an accident when she arrived for a photo opportunity with Blackpeak at the Capitol Building in downtown Weter. He sneered at her in the hallway to the Rotunda, spying the golden band under her blue and pink mane.
“It is disgraceful that a proud Republic would allow you to strut about wearing that,” he scoffed with a heavy accent. Kemerskai wore a faded green camo jacket and pants with a green cap. He dressed like he was still in a command tent.
“This?” Flurry pretended not to understand, and gestured to her white dress with pink flowers and ruffles. It was stiff and made her wings cramp, but it looked nice in a photograph.
He squawked a laugh and pointed at the simple crown. “That,” he spat. “You are a shining example of the downfall of hereditary rule.”
So are you, she thought, but instead said, “Thank you for the compliment, Mister Kemerskai,” and dipped her wings in a bow. He stalked away with his entourage, still laughing at her naivety. Flurry kept her muzzle still.
Kemerskai dreamed of grinding the Reich against Nova Griffonian shores, then returning triumphantly to Griffenheim and avenging his father. He harnessed the discontent of a few native griffins that were upset about losing jobs to cheaper pony labor, but he had two more years to campaign and make promises. The next election would occur after Flurry Heart turned sixteen and was legally an adult. If Kemerskai won, he would demand she become a citizen and renounce her crown, if not worse.
Flurry had to be ready. She would not flee again. Her ponies, nearly a million strong, would stand with her. The griffons in the hills and mountains would back their pony neighbors against the government. The Aquileians had been allies to Griffonian Republic, but Kemerskai publicly blamed the war’s loss on them. Flurry Heart made overtures to them every year on her birthday, and ‘Little Flurry’ had gradually sounded more like a title than a gesture of affection from the Aquileians.
If it came to it, they might not fight for her, but they might not fight for Kemerskai either.
Like everything, the true challenge came down to Chrysalis. If Nova Griffonia tore itself apart during a civil war, Changeling panzers had free reign to storm in and declare victory. If the Griffonian Reich invaded, the Changelings could sweep in from the south and west. The mountains and tundra would make progress slow, but Nova Griffonia could not fight a two-front war. Her ponies would suffer first in the frontier.
Flurry Heart set the canteen down and looked at the rifle. It was an old bolt-action rifle from the beginning of the Great War; the purple paint had worn away, leaving gray smears along brown wood. She had been using it for two years. Flurry felt the magic around the rifle, the imprint left behind by previous owners. Flurry found that weapons took auras based on who held them and used them. Dusty’s pistol had killed once; she carried it since the war. It felt like loyalty bordering on stubbornness and pride.
The rifle was different. The rifle had not been fired it battle; it had not killed. There was an old aura of fear and terror around it. Flurry Heart looked back at the pants covering her bare flank. Most colts and fillies had a cutie mark by fourteen. She still told no one about her sense, not Far Sight, Dusty or Thorax. It seemed to be entirely unique to her. She closed her eyes and focused on the rifle.
A pony died holding it, alone and afraid. A filly, barely older than me, fresh out of training. She was at the front, terrified. She remembered Celestia’s voice on the radio and climbed out of the trench. A shot knocked her down. Another pony took the rifle as they ran. It traded hooves quickly-
“Princess?”
Flurry Heart snapped her head back up and glanced sheepishly at Duskcrest.
Dusty also looked concerned. "You've been staring at that rifle for a few minutes. Is something wrong?"
“Sorry, I was thinking,” Flurry deflected. “Where’s this rifle from, again?”
“You've asked that before,” Dusty commented.
“One of the old stockpiles from after the war,” Duskcrest answered easily. “Most of the militias use semi-automatics now, but these work fine in an ambush.” He wagged a wing at her. “When I’m impressed with your accuracy, we’ll upgrade.”
“You don’t want me to break your fancy guns?” Flurry asked.
Duskcrest gave an exaggerated, wide-eyed look at the smoking hole in the armor sheet across from him. “Of course not, Princess.”
Flurry giggled.
“Princess!” A green pegasus in flannel flew towards the junkyard from the direction of Evergreen. The guards flying around the scrapyard unslung their rifles and shotguns and faced him, shouting threats.
“Princess!” He waved his forelegs desperately, but didn’t stop.
Dusty drew and loaded her revolver as Duskcrest pulled out his own silver-plated pistol.
Flurry Heart summoned a bubble shield around the Pegasus, trapping him midair. He slammed against the barrier, slumping down against the bottom of the bubble. His nose was gushing blood. He continued to wave down at Flurry Heart and shout, now muffled. She drifted the blue bubble closer.
“He could have a bomb,” Dusty warned.
“It’ll have to be a bomb bigger than him to break my shield,” Flurry replied distractedly. She recognized the pegasus. He was Tree Trimmer, one of the managers of the logging company in Evergreen.
“Princess!” Tree Trimmer shouted through the shield, bowing awkwardly. A few of the patrolling griffons and ponies flapped their wings around the bubble, weapons ready.
“Princess, battle,” he gasped, voice nasally. Blood kept streaming down his muzzle. “There’s a battle!”
Flurry’s chest tightened. “Where?”
“We need to leave,” Dusty commanded. Duskcrest nodded in agreement.
He shook his head. “No, battle!” He gasped again. “Manehattan! On radio!”
Flurry blinked. She was so shocked that the bubble disappeared with a soft pop and Tree Trimmer fell twenty hooves to the ground. He didn’t flap his wings in time. He landed hard and his forelegs buckled, but he kept his eyes on Flurry.
“It’s started!” He was crying. “It started!”
Flurry seized Duskcrest and Dusty in her magic field and hugged them against her. She teleported to Evergreen with a crack.
Duskcrest vomited when they arrived in a flash of magic, but said nothing to Flurry. He instead looked urgently down the main street of Evergreen at the herd of creatures. Ponies and griffons were crowding into every house or store that had a radio. One of the trucks left on the street had the engine running.
Flurry looked to her right. There was a small grocery store packed with ponies. It was run by a sweet earth pony couple that made her a cake one year. Flurry started towards it. Dusty swayed on her hooves, disoriented from the teleport, but reached out with her magic and snagged her pants. “Princess, we need to clear-”
Flurry Heart snarled and sent a wave of magic pulsing through the store. Ponies’ fur bristled as they twitched in unison. The crowd turned as a herd and stared at Flurry’s crackling horn in the doorway. No changelings. The crowd was quiet; they parted as Flurry walked through the store and past bare shelves. The green earth pony couple sat beside the radio, using empty fruit crates to prop it up higher for everypony to see. They bowed as she approached.
Flurry stared up at the radio.
“This is the Equestrian Liberation Front. We have liberated Manehattan from Governor Lilac and Queen Chrysalis. As I speak, our ponies march west to retake our home.”
She didn’t recognize the voice. It sounded like a mare.
“Ponies,” the voice implored, “ponies everywhere, now is the time to fight back, to strike with everything we have against the Changelings.”
The radio crackled with static.
“Now is the time to take back our homes. The light of Equestria will never die as long as we remember it.”
The message repeated.
Dusty and Duskcrest walked up behind her.
“I don’t know that voice,” Flurry said quietly. It felt like a failure to admit it before her ponies.
“Starlight Glimmer,” Dusty answered. “She stayed like Princess Twilight, went underground.”
Flurry Heart barely remembered a light purple mare, Twilight’s apprentice and regretful communist. She turned to the crowd behind her. They looked from the radio to their Princess with hope.
“I need to return to Weter,” Flurry began. “Send word to every town and village along the border. Arm themselves and prepare.”
“I’ll get word to my militias,” Duskcrest said. He flapped his wings and lifted above the crowd, flying over them and out the building.
“I'll round up the guards,” Dusty nodded. “We left the trucks at the scrapyard. We can make it back to Weter on a full tank.”
“No time,” Flurry replied, lighting her horn. “Stand back everypony,” she shouted. Ponies rushed back to give her space. Dusty stumbled towards her with wide eyes, then jumped back as Flurry Heart vanished with a crack.
Flurry couldn’t make it back to Weter in one move. She teleported herself into the sky above the grocery store, flapping her wings. Dusty ran out of the store and shouted, looking around. She looked up and shouted something up to Flurry.
Flurry took a deep breath, looked west and teleported again. She continued the process over two dozen times. By the time she saw Weter below her, her nose dripped blood and her ears rang. She flapped unevenly down to the ghetto outside downtown. Griffons flying home in the sunset had to dodge her abruptly in the waning light.
“Watch it, pegasus!” One female griffon yelled as she swerved to the right, only to freeze as Flurry passed her with a bloody grimace. The alicorn landed hard in the street several buildings down from her tenement, cracking the pavement on landing.
The street was deserted, even the usual guards were missing. Flurry could hear dozens of radios repeating the same broadcast from open windows. Flurry coughed and shakily galloped down the street towards her building. Despite the blinding hornache, she prepped a few sparks for a shield.
A stallion leaned out a third-story window on the left. “Princess!” He was immediately knocked back as a stream of heads crammed into the window, ponies of all tribes and ages.
“It’s the Princess!”
“The Princess is here!” A few more heads poked out of windows on the right side of the street.
“Princess Flurry Heart!” A pony knocked the glass out of their window frame in their rush. Flurry heard it crash behind her and reflexively cast a shield over her head.
Three bat ponies and Falx were armed inside the double doors to her building. They waved her in with wide eyes. Flurry’s forelegs buckled and she collapsed to her haunches in the foyer as they slammed the doors shut, muffling the shouting outside.
“Princess, do you need help?” The shotgun-wielding bat pony asked. He was wearing his old Lunar Guard uniform.
“Of course she does, brother! Look at her!” The two other bat ponies answered in unison, flanking their brother and clutching rifles.
“No,” Flurry replied. She snorted blood into the white sleeve on her foreleg. She lifted her head to Falx. “Where’s Thorax?”
“Dockyard,” Falx replied. “You weren't expected back until tomorrow.”
“You heard the radio.”
“Everypony on Equus has probably heard it by now,” the female bat pony on the left answered.
Hoofsteps pounded down the central staircase. Jadis appeared on the landing. She screamed at the sight of a bloody Flurry Heart. “By the Heart!”
She rushed down the stars, stumbling on her right foreleg. Flurry forced herself to stand and hold Jadis back with her own outstretched foreleg as the crystal mare rushed up to her.
“I’m fine.”
Jadis batted Flurry’s foreleg aside with her own maimed one. Flurry stumbled.
“You are absolutely not fine!" she shouted. "How dare you treat yourself this way again!” Her scowl wavered and broke into a wide smile. She seized Flurry into a crushing hug.
“Oh, I can’t stay mad; this is so wonderful!" she squealed. "Two heroes of the Crystal Empire back under one roof!”
Flurry grunted. “What?”
There was a massive crash on the second floor and part of the railing for the stairs crashed down onto the landing. A large green and purple dragon stumbled down, bumping his wings into the walls. He slid down the rest of the stairs, flaring his wings and carving furrows in the wood with the claws on his feet. His long, purple tail snaked behind him.
The dragon stopped at the bottom of the stairs and stared at Flurry.
Flurry Heart stared back at Spike. She forced magic into her horn and cast.
Spike looked down at the blue glow on the scales on his belly. “Twilight’s spell,” he choked out a laugh. “There’s easier spells, now,” Spike added gently.
“Not as reliable,” Flurry answered.
Spike started crying first when they crashed into each other in the hallway.
“I missed you so much,” Spike said, hefting Flurry and carrying her up the stairs. He groaned. “You’ve gotten big.”
“So have you,” Flurry answered, sniffling and relentlessly nuzzling his chin.
Spike’s chuckle rumbled in his chest as he carried her into the hallway. Several armed ponies in gray uniforms stood along the hallway, wearing armbands with the six Elements of Harmony on it. Flurry didn't recognize them and tensed.
Spike felt her shift. "They're with me, from Equestria. They're part of the delegation," he explained. Spike tucked his wings in and ducked to enter Thorax’s room. Falx and Jadis followed.
There were two more uniformed ponies inside guarding the window who looked suspiciously at Falx. Jadis fetched a rag from the kitchen while Spike set her down on Thorax’s ugly couch.
“I heard you lived here with Thorax,” Spike said, crouching and sitting carefully on the floor. “I was heartbroken to hear you were both away, and a just little upset to find a changeling faking your voice inside your room.” Spike glared at Falx, who still stood in the doorway.
Flurry leaned on the couch to look past Spike and Falx. The door to her room across the hall had a massive scorched hole in the middle. She made eye contact with Falx.
“In my defense,” Falx began with a chitter. “I was never knew what Spike’s voice sounded like until he knocked.”
Jadis returned from the kitchen with a wet rag and a battered first aid box clutched in her crippled hoof. “Luckily, Sir Spike the Brave and Glorious, Defeater of Sombra, is known for his patience and wisdom.” Jadis tossed the cloth to Flurry, who pressed it against her muzzle. “He waited for an explanation before squashing the bug,” she said teasingly to the changeling.
“Thank you, Jadis,” Falx recited with a sigh.
Flurry Heart waved away the first aid kid with a wing. “I don’t need anything.”
“Princess, your muzzle is caked in blood,” Jadis protested with a glare.
“It’s magic burnout,” Spike replied. “It happens when a unicorn overtaxes their reserves.” He looked thoughtful and tapped a claw to his chin. “Did you teleport all the way here?”
Flurry shook her head. “I had to jump forward a few miles at a time. I lost count at twenty-seven,” she mumbled, muffled by the wet rag.
“That’s better than Twilight could do at fourteen.”
“Twilight wasn’t born an alicorn,” Flurry retorted.
“You’re the only natural-born alicorn,” Spike countered, “so we don’t know your limits.” He laughed again. “I remember you used to zip around the palace, blowing holes in the crystal looking for that stupid snail toy.”
“Whammy,” Flurry answered with a light chuckle. She had outgrown it by the time the Empire fell, but she woke up in the dead of night sometimes after dreaming about it. “I bet I made some of the crystal ponies reconsider King Sombra,” she joked.
Jadis looked horrified. “Never!” she spat. “Anypony who wanted that foal back deserved to be overrun by the Changelings.”
“It was just a joke,” Flurry defended herself with a nervous look.
“I would die for you a thousand times before I submitted to the King,” Jadis responded.
Spike waved a claw at Jadis and took the first aid kit. “I’m sorry, Jadis. We were just joking about better times. Flurry just needs rest.”
“Fine,” Jadis huffed. She smiled at Flurry. “You at your worst could not match Sombra. You have a kind heart, Princess.”
Flurry removed the rag. “Thank you.” She looked back to Spike. “I thought you stayed with Twilight in Canterlot.”
Spike closed his eyes. “I did,” he sighed. “I refused to leave her. I helped bolster the defenses for a last stand after we were encircled. She had a shield over the city, just like your mother. There were too many ponies and not enough food. Things were desperate.” He opened his eyes and looked out at the street through the window.
“What happened?” Flurry prompted.
“She teleported me away,” Spike growled. Smoke drifted from his nostrils. “She asked for a private meeting, told me to leave. I refused. Told her even if I wanted to, it was too late. She smiled.” Spike swallowed and the smoke drifted to the ceiling.
“She flung me into the Dragonlands,” Spike continued. “I was so pissed I grew my wings,” he gestured to his body. He was two ponies tall, and fit. If he got any larger, he would have difficulty with pony architecture not meant for pegasi. “I was halfway back, dodging fighter planes when I heard Canterlot had fallen.”
“Spike is the only pony, er, person, we know of that was in Canterlot,” one of the uniformed ponies at the window, a pegasus, added.
"And not a known traitor," the other pegasus added.
“You’ve been in the Dragonlands?” Flurry asked.
“Mostly,” he wiggled a claw. “A dragon stands out in Equestria, especially with all those black buggers running around.”
“Will Dragonlord Ember help?” Flurry asked hopefully. She was a reluctant ally of Equestria. The dragons were utterly backwards, near completely illiterate, and usually too large to use any mass production techniques, but they were still dragons. Ember had sent volunteers to fight in the war, but stayed on the volcanic island herself.
Spike sighed again. “She will, but only if she thinks we’re already winning. Her father died during the war helping us. If the Changelings can kill a dragon that size with a ton of tank shells, nothing is safe.”
“She doesn’t think Starlight can win?” Flurry snorted.
“Starlight and Trixie,” Spike corrected. He suppressed a smile at Flurry’s look. “Yes, the entertainer. She’s vicious with tricks and illusions. She helped get me into Manehattan the night the rebellion started. I think she could be part changeling.”
Spike crossed his arms. “It started two nights ago. Starlight just took the radio station. The Changelings were trying to keep it quiet to stop a mass revolt, but it’s too late now. Chrysalis' dream of a 'Pax Chrysalia' is falling apart.”
“Then why are we sitting here?” Flurry answered, standing up with a grunt. “We’re ready to fight! We have stockpiles in the mountains. I can give the order now and we’ll be across the border tomorrow morning!”
“You’ll give the order?” Spike hummed. “How?”
“On the radio,” Flurry answered confidently. “Weter Radio will let me on. Let’s go.” Flurry passed Spike and started towards the door. Falx blocked her.
“Sit down, Flurry," Spike said slowly. "You’re hurt and need to rest.” She turned back to Spike. The two pegasi with him looked at her as Spike twisted around on the floor to face her. Flurry lit her horn and cast the detection spell again. A fresh drop of blood fell from her nose.
Aside from Falx, no changelings.
Spike looked at her sadly. “I’m here to negotiate support with President Blackpeak,” the dragon said.
“He’s a coward, don’t bother,” Flurry dismissed.
“I already met him.”
Flurry blinked slowly. “He refused?” she guessed.
“Yes.”
“So what?” she scoffed and flared her wings. “We don’t need his permission. Let’s go.”
“He forbid volunteers. They won't let you on the radio.”
“He can’t do that,” Flurry argued. Her stubby tail lashed against her pants.
“He can, nearly everypony is a registered citizen.”
“I’m not, not yet.”
“Flurry,” Spike begged, “you can order ponies to charge over the mountains, but Blackpeak will declare it treason. They’ll have no support.”
“They’ll have me. I’ll go with them!” Flurry shouted.
“Can you make fuel? Food? Trucks? Enough to keep supply lines going? They won’t even make it a quarter of the way to Manehattan or the Crystal City.”
Flurry swallowed. “There’s spells for all that.”
“No, there’s not.” Spike shook his head. “You know that. You need an air force and a navy on top of all that. We need the full support of Nova Griffonia.”
“Well, how do we get it!?” Flurry screamed. Her wings lifted her off the floor and the window rattled. Everypony winced.
“We can't, not yet,” Spike answered calmly. "Once Starlight and Trixie advance the frontline, Blackpeak will have to cave and join the war. If we take Canterlot, it's guaranteed. Starlight thinks they're holding Twilight there."
“No.” Flurry shook her head. “You did not come here just to tell me to wait.”
"Princess," one of the uniformed ponies started, "we will gladly escort you to Manehattan once the front has advanced far enough away."
"How long will that take?" Flurry asked, flapping her wings to stay airborne. Her horn brushed against the ceiling.
"The war just started. We're making good progress, but it takes time, Flurry," Spike said. "I came here to see my friends, not to order you around. We can get ready, but we need to avoid panic in the streets." Spike gestured at the window.
Flurry drifted over to it. There was a crowd of ponies outside the building, armed and arguing with the guards. One of them saw the Princess in the window and waved. The crowd began to look up at her. It was the same look as the one in the grocery store.
I can't fail them.
"When did you meet Blackpeak?" Flurry asked.
Spike took a moment to respond. “I flew in today with my escort. I met him this afternoon.”
Flurry looked at the sky through the window. The sun had set. “He’ll be at his house.” Her horn lit up and she ignored the fresh smear of blood from her nose. Falx and Spike lunged for her from opposite ends as she cracked away in a violent burst of blue light.
She knew where Triton Blackpeak’s house was. It was on the opposite end of Weter, in the leisure district. He lived in a three-story mansion with wide windows and balconies, typical fancy griffon architecture. He was rich from the armories that worked ceaselessly along the coast. He didn’t show off his house publicly, but Thorax took her by once.
Sometimes the communists have a point, she thought as she trotted down the street after the teleport. The glamour of Canterlot and the Crystal Palace soured in her memory after years of living poorly like her ponies.
Flurry Heart appeared before the gate to his house in a flash of blue magic. The two guards slouching against the gate jumped and readied their submachine guns. Flurry tore the guns from their claws before they did something stupid.
Flurry looked between them and nickered before snorting a splash of blood and mucus onto the ground. The one on the right was a young black griffon with orange eyes. The one on her left was older with a graying mustache.
The younger griffon looked more terrified, so Flurry stared at him. “Blackpeak,” she grunted.
“H-he’s occupied,” the griffon stammered.
Flurry ripped the magazine out of his submachine gun and crunched the rest of the gun into a ball. The other gun floated behind her. Another stream of blood came out of her nose. "Not asking."
The older griffon’s right claw drifted towards his sidearm under a wing.
Flurry glanced at him. “Really?”
He set the claw down and looked away. Flurry returned to glaring at the younger griffon. “Go.”
The griffon nodded several times and flapped his wings. He hopped the gate and began running towards the house, passing by a giant fountain with an eagle on the path. Flurry stared at the other guard as she waited. She tucked his gun under her wing, inspecting it briefly.
It was new. He wasn’t used to it, and preferred the old bolt-action rifles. There was a sense of boredom and mild loathing, which probably meant he hated his job. I wonder if his pistol feels the same way, she thought to herself.
The younger guard returned and opened the gate. “President Blackpeak is always delighted to see you, Flurry Heart,” he lied. “Please, this way.”
Flurry walked up the drive, still carrying the other guard’s gun, who trailed behind her. She tossed it into the fountain as she passed by and shot him a glare over her shoulder. He stopped to fish it out.
Flurry Heart was led through the foyer, up a mahogany staircase, and down several halls to Blackpeak’s study. There were many guards inside the mansion and along her path. All of them had drawn their weapons and tracked Flurry as she passed. Flurry ignored them, staring straight ahead and focusing on keeping her hooves steady. She had used a lot of magic in a very short time, but she was currently too angry to sway on her hooves.
Triton Blackpeak’s study was lined with bookshelves. Flurry took one breath to look around, then dismissed all of the books as fake. The trick was the binding; it was too stiff and had no wear or tear. Blackpeak sat behind an oak desk in a white night shirt, balancing a pair of reading glasses on his beak. His feathers were grayish-blue, which wasn’t a common combination. He blinked golden eyes at Flurry as if he was surprised to see her.
Flurry looked down at her blood-smeared white sleeves. He might actually be surprised, she allowed.
“Flurry Heart.” Blackpeak removed his reading glasses. His beak twitched when he broke eye contact to look at her nose. The blood hadn’t dried yet. He leaned back against a plush, red velvet chair.
“It’s time to strike Chrysalis,” Flurry stated.
“I know why you feel that, and I understand your frustration,” Blackpeak said, clasping his talons together. “You’ve spoken to the dragon?”
Flurry ignored the question. “Are you refusing to get involved again?”
“My predecessor refused to get involved in the Great War,” Blackpeak answered, “but I would have done the same.”
“Why?” Flurry grunted. She wiped her nose on her sleeve again.
“The Reich is across the ocean," he lectured, "building naval stations and air bases along their west coast. They intend to invade us.”
“Their army is in the south, fighting Wingbardy,” Flurry countered. “They have to move southeast after that to take out the borderlands in the Evi Valley. Their army has been in the same place for over a year; they’re not moving anytime soon.”
“Interesting strategic assessment,” Blackpeak nodded thoughtfully. “Is that in the Kaiser’s letters?”
Flurry still received and answered Grover's letters, both the bombastic fakes and hidden replies.
Princess Flurry
Eros Say War Go Well
Say Say Say
Mean War Not Go Well
Do Ponies Lie Princess Too
Bye Friend
Flurry had replied with her spell in poor Herzlander:
Kaiser Grover,
Yes, My Ponies lie to me.
Lie to keep safe.
Lie to protect feeling.
Tire of lie too.
Hope war go good.
Bye Friend.
Flurry shook her head and a drop of blood fell from her muzzle. “It’s obvious. And you know what’s in my letters.”
“I don’t actually; I have other griffons do that,” Blackpeak admitted. “But since we are speaking honestly, I will say that I have no interest donating guns and griffons to a doomed war.”
“It’s not doomed,” Flurry protested.
“Chrysalis has the second largest army on the planet, which includes the second most tanks,” Blackpeak shrugged. “Starlight Glimmer has taken one major city and a few surrounding towns, relying on scavenged equipment from her enemy.”
“Nova Griffonia has tanks.”
“Please, we have one division. It’s not worth the comparison.”
“The Changeling border guards are weak.”
“Even so, it’s not worth the risk. I will not clip our wings by joining a war that could last years. The Reich could invade before the next election.”
“You said you had no interest sending griffons.” Flurry grasped at his wording. “There’s mountains and hills full of my ponies ready to fight for our home.”
“I would hope, that after so many years, they would feel that Nova Griffonia is their home,” Blackpeak remarked. He raised a brow. “Your ponies, are they?”
“Yes,” Flurry replied. “You do little enough for them.”
Blackpeak blinked at her and chuckled. “Fair, fair. But I do more than any other griffon you could elect. You think Redtail and communists will respect your crown? Or Ironclaw? He believes ponies are inferior.”
“Equestria will be indebted to you if you help, so will the Empire.”
“Two fallen countries." He waved a claw. "I made my company on investments, Flurry Heart. My armories are an investment. I have a sense for these things.” He tapped a claw to his beak. “That sense is telling me Starlight Glimmer and the Equestrian Liberation Front is a bad investment.”
“You want to live next to Chrysalis?”
“Chrysalis isn’t that bad of a neighbor.” Blackpeak flapped his wings as a shrug.
“She’ll invade you the moment she detects weakness.”
“We’ve been weak for years,” Blackpeak countered, “but so is she. She can’t attack us without losing control of her territory.” He squawked out a laugh. “It’s already happening now.”
Flurry took a breath. “Fine, an investment then.”
Blackpeak stared at her with a brow raised in curiosity.
Flurry closed her eyes. “If you help me retake my throne, I will help you fight the Reich. I swear it as a Princess of Ponies.”
Blackpeak’s beak twitched. He stared at her. A minute ticked by on the clock audibly.
He burst out laughing.
“By Boreas, look at you!”
He looked again and laughed harder.
“Bleeding all over my carpet and swearing a little oath to fight your quill buddy!”
He laughed so hard that he nearly fell out of his plush chair.
Flurry Heart's wings flared out, nearly reaching the bookcases on either side of the study. Her horn sparked with a wick of blue flame as she felt fresh blood on her lip.
Blackpeak slowly regained his composure. He looked at her horn and his right claw drifted under his desk towards a drawer.
“Even if I wanted to send a volunteer force,” he began, “I would have to pass it through the legislature. There are five ponies in a chamber of sixty. How many griffons in there do you think will vote to go die for you?”
“I don’t need your permission,” Flurry replied. "I'll go on the radio." She failed to keep her voice level.
“I suppose not. I can't stop you and neither can the griffons at the station. Ponies might be stupid enough to follow a foal to war. Kemerskai will see it as a provocation. He won’t fight to put you on the throne. I’ll have to declare your communities in revolt and send the coastal militias to evict the ponies who stay, probably the young and the old. Unless you're planning on making them fight?" Blackpeak asked sarcastically.
Flurry's horn winked out.
Blackpeak took in her slumping stature and brought his right claw back out, empty. “You were just a little foal, but it didn’t end well last time the mountains rebelled. It didn’t end well for Highhill either.”
“If you lose,” Blackpeak finished, “there will be nowhere to run. Your ponies will have to pray to Celestia or whoever for a ship at some bombed-out port to take them anywhere else. They won't be welcome here.”
Flurry took a few short breaths. “Don’t count on our votes next election,” she threatened. The alicorn turned on her tail to walk out of the study.
“Very well,” Blackpeak shrugged. “I suppose Kemerskai will win.”
Flurry stopped.
“He hates you, you know,” Blackpeak added. “Hates you almost as much as he hates me. He’s a terrible influence in the coastal cities. He won’t just make you renounce your crown: he’ll exile you to the River Republic.”
“I won’t go,” Flurry promised. She did not turn around to face Blackpeak.
“Oh, that will mean war for sure, which means Chrysalis will surely invade,” Blackpeak gasped with mock horror. “The mountains and the south will suffer first, of course, where most of ‘your’ ponies live.”
Flurry’s legs shook. She blinked back tears. She refused to look back at him.
He sighed. “You play the game poorly, filly. Leave it to the adults.” Blackpeak rang a small bell on his desk. Two guards stepped out from the hallway.
“Please escort Miss Flurry Heart out. Arrange for an escort back to Ponyville if needed, and I suspect it will be needed.”
Flurry followed them wordlessly down the hall. Another two guards trailed her.
“Miss Flurry?” Blackpeak called out from the study. “Try not to bleed on my rugs on the way out.”
Flurry Heart did not look back. She did not look back as she exited the house; she did not look back at the snickering guards she passed. At the gate, she did not look over at the old griffon guard who was trying to dry out his submachine gun. He placed it on the ground and fanned it with a flapping wing.
Flurry’s horn sparked and the gun slid across the driveway and over to her forelegs. She picked it up and clutched it to her chest. “I’m keeping this.”
Flurry Heart lit her horn and vanished with a blast of magic.
She returned to outside the tenement, clutching the gun. Blood from her nose dripped onto the stock. Her ears were ringing. The bat pony guards screamed something into the building. Ponies looked out windows. A few stuck guns out and aimed up or down the street. In the street, a few ponies were crouched behind parked vehicles, blocking the street entrances to the ghetto.
Thorax galloped out the doors and crouched in front of her. Spike followed him into the street at a sprint.
Thorax mouthed something at her.
She gently shook her head and the ringing subsided. “What?”
“Are you hurt?” he repeated. There was shouting up and down the street as armed ponies took positions in windows and doorways.
“No. Tired,” Flurry answered slowly.
He reached out with his front hooves and slipped the gun out from her forelegs. “Did somepony try to hurt you?” he asked gently.
Flurry shook her head again. “I took it,” she whispered.
“Okay,” Thorax nodded. He held the gun out and one of the bat ponies grabbed it.
Spike knelt down beside her and picked her up. “Magic Exhaustion hurts like a broken horn, but Thorax tells me you’ve had way worse,” he said genially as he carried her into the building. “Something about Feather Flu, right?”
Flurry nodded, breathing sharply. Her wide wings fluttered as she clung to him. Thorax stayed in the street and was calling out to ponies.
Spike brought Flurry into her room and laid her down on the bed. She took a moment to let go.
Princess Flurry Heart stared up at the poster on her ceiling. “Don’t leave.”
Spike sat on the floor and took Flurry’s hoof.
She did not look at him.
Princess Flurry Heart frowned at the map as she traced a new line across Equestria.
The radio on the table played a pop song Flurry vaguely remembered from before the war, a hit single from Sapphire Shores. The broadcasts from Manehattan had been taken over by a pony named Vinyl Scratch, who played just about anything she could in-between status updates on the frontlines. Spike assured her she was a real pony and reliable.
Flurry flapped her wings and landed on the floor, staring at the oversized map she pasted to Thorax’s wall. She enlarged an old map of the continent of Equus with a spell, then spent an afternoon collecting several pages of notes and referencing a map of Nova Griffonia and the Changeling Hegemony. She drew the borders of the protectorates under Queen Chrysalis and Starlight’s advance, and placed scraps of paper under the major cities in Equestria and the Crystal Empire with estimates of Changeling forces and equipment.
She had far more scraps of paper stuck to Nova Griffonia, particularly the Crystal Mountains and the south. They estimated the number of Ponies and Griffons ready to fight, as well as supplies. Ponies at the southern border reported that the garrisons in Equestria appeared to have vanished; the roads were abandoned. Duskcrest reported that the pegasi and griffons that scouted the mountain range found abandoned Changeling outposts and guard stations. If they launched an attack from Nova Griffonia, they would take Chrysalis by complete surprise.
But Spike was right; they didn’t have enough supplies stockpiled to make a push, not on their own. Stalliongrad was the largest Equestrian city at the southern border of Nova Griffonia, but it was two days away and supposedly stripped by the Changelings. The mountains to the south and southwest would take a week to traverse using the old roads. The tundra to the west and northwest above the Crystal Mountains didn’t even have roads.
Flurry looked at the previous frontlines. Her short-cut, blue and pink tail lashed in irritation.
From Manehattan, Starlight had taken Fillydelphia to the south and Detrot to the north. Fillydelphia was a major air and naval base; Detrot was turned into a hub of armor manufacturing during the war. The Changelings kept the factories, employing slave labor to keep production. The exact frontline involved mostly guesswork; Thorax only received rumors from the ponies that were smuggled from dockyards or across the border, and the radio was rarely descriptive. Starlight had liberated millions of ponies from Chrysalis’ rule.
“Starlight is slowing down,” Flurry said.
“It takes time to train ponies, Princess,” Sun Flare answered. He was one of the pegasus officers that traveled with Spike.
“She’s still slowing down too much, look.” Flurry tapped the map with the pencil nub in her magic. “She took Fillydelphia two weeks ago; Trixie’s still in Neigh Orleans.”
“The ponies we’ve liberated aren’t like us, Princess.” Barrel Roller, the other pegasus officer, reminded her. “They haven’t fought for years. They’ve suffered in slave camps and been drained by the Changelings. They need time to rest and recuperate.”
Flurry looked at the series of lines she had drawn on the map over the last three months. She shook her head and the light from the window glinted off the golden band under her mane.
They’re barely halfway to Canterlot.
Spike stayed with them in her building, deeming it too dangerous to fly down the coast to the frontline and rejoin the Equestrian Liberation Front. The other ponies spread out, sleeping on spare couches or chairs across the ghetto. Most citizens were happy to take in a freedom fighter.
Thorax agreed on the danger, but Flurry suspected they were delaying a return to avoid dealing with her. They promised to take her when the battle lines had moved far enough away, but Spike refused to define ‘far enough.’ The ELF had no ships or planes beyond what they seized from the Changelings; the ocean around the east coast was prowling with submarines to blockade the rebellion. The air above was filled with fighters and bombers.
Flurry was tired of being told to wait while her ponies died.
Spike slept on the couch below the map, snoring despite Flurry’s conversation and the radio. The dragon slept on Thorax’s couch most days, draped over the entire frame and sagging it to the floor. He joked that it felt like his old basket. The crystal ponies in Ponyville were ecstatic to see their knight again, and he was sleeping off some genuine Crystal cooking.
Despite his constant worry over Flurry Heart’s safety, Thorax looked healthier than he had in years with his oldest friend by his side. Thorax heard rumors of rebellion every year, but the actual uprising surprised him. The Changeling Governor Lilac grossly underestimated the strength of the resistance, or perhaps Chrysalis refused to send her critical support. Either way, Lilac was assumed dead when her building was bombed on the first day of the uprising. Resistance was growing across Equestria and the Crystal Empire for every day that Starlight still fought. The Changeling radio in Canterlot kept declaring that the ‘minor acts of terrorism’ would be suppressed soon.
And Princess Flurry Heart sat in her room. She wasn’t even allowed to go to the mountains to practice anymore.
President Blackpeak declared neutrality in the war. Spike and the Equestrians weren’t surprised, especially not after Flurry returned that night. They never asked her what exactly happened, but she figured Thorax had ways to find out.
He took the submachine gun away; Flurry didn’t ask where it went.
If the front reached the southern border of Nova Griffonia, Blackpeak would have no choice but to allow ponies to cross over and join the war. Ponies would do it without his permission anyway, and Flurry wouldn’t tell them to stand down. His only move in that case would be to send some of the militias funded on his payroll to secure the border, which would leave the coast vulnerable. He might even have to join the war properly in a defensive alliance with Equestria.
I don’t want to fight Grover for Blackpeak, but it might be the only way.
If Starlight took Canterlot, Spike and the soldiers would return regardless of where the front was; Flurry was confident about that. There were rumors that Twilight Sparkle was still alive and a prisoner of the Changelings, bolstered by the few times in the early occupation that ‘Twilight’ appeared on Changeling radio to urge ponies to accept their new overlords. The fake Twilight hadn’t appeared for several years.
Flurry Heart didn’t believe her aunt was alive, anymore than she believed her mother was alive.
But she had to keep up hope, for her Ponies if not for herself.
Thorax entered the room behind Flurry. She felt his stare on her back as he sighed. “Still looking, Flurry?”
“There was an update,” she replied.
Thorax slipped out of his brown jacket slowly. He was wearing brown pants and boots today, so he was busy actually working for the government. Sun Flare and Barrel Roller stared at Thorax from their spots by the window. All of the Equestrians were tense around her changelings. Flurry understood, and sympathized, but she hoped that her casual demeanor would set them at ease over time.
“What’s going on today, Uncle?”
“The Imperial delegation from the Reich is still making demands,” Thorax said.
The Reich had arrived three days ago with two destroyers, waving a white flag and an invitation for diplomacy. The Griffonian Reich still considered Nova Griffonia an estranged colony; they never issued a formal response to the declaration of independence. Some trade still flowed back and forth, though the old joke about Flurry’s letters became closer to reality with every month.
There were no more refugees from Griffonia. These days, it was easier to flee towards the Riverlands.
“Blackpeak can’t accept anything,” Flurry dismissed. She stretched her wings.
“No, and they met Kemerskai,” Thorax revealed, “or rather, Kemerskai met them.”
“I’m sure that was a fun meeting,” Flurry laughed.
Thorax buzzed his wings. “How would you like to storm up to Chrysalis and stab her again? I’m sure it was very cathartic for Kemerskai, and it sent a message to Blackpeak.”
Spike let out a snore and a puff of smoke. Flurry shoved the pencil into Spike’s nose with her magic. He snorted awake. Flurry managed to retrieve the pencil before he scorched it.
He rubbed his snout. “Please, Princess, have mercy and stop doing that.”
“You’ve slept off those crystal cupcakes long enough, hero,” Flurry answered.
“Oh, I was still dreaming about them,” Spike said, smiling. He smiled wider at Thorax. “Welcome back,” Spike said. “Glad to see the political machine hasn’t crushed you yet.”
“Despite all efforts,” Thorax laughed. “Blackpeak thinks the delegation is trying to send coded messages back to the Reich. We’ve been working with codebreakers to check.”
“Are they?” Spike yawned. He brushed his claws against the ceiling as he stretched. He didn’t cut a new groove into the ceiling this time.
“No, but it seems like they’ll be here a while. Chrysalis’ submarines aren’t discriminating on ships crossing the ocean.” Thorax trotted into the kitchen and picked up a cold pot of coffee. Flurry walked over and held her horn under it, lighting it with a bright spark.
“Gas out again?” Thorax sighed.
“Hot water, too. Took a cold shower this morning,” Flurry replied.
“Pointless requesting a repair,” Thorax remarked. “I’ll have Leaky Line search through the pipes, see if it’s on our end, or if they’re prioritizing downtown again and rationing.”
There was a sharp, two-toned whistle out in the street. Thorax immediately tensed and opened a kitchen cupboard with a rear hoof. He dragged out a belt with two pistols attached. Sun Flare and Barrel Roller took positions on either side of the window as Thorax slipped the belt on with magic. Spike crouched and retrieved the rifle under the couch. It looked small in his claws, but he checked the bolt with a careful claw.
Flurry didn’t go to the window; she stepped out into the hall and listened. Ponies rapidly cleared the street, or took cover in doorways and arches. After some rapid discussion outside, Jadis limped up the stairs. She saw Flurry in the hallway. “Night Flight spotted two military trucks with a lot of griffons headed down the road, Princess.”
“Are they certain they’re headed here?” Thorax asked, poking his head through the door.
“Dusty thinks so,” Jadis said, “and I agree.”
“It’s nearly dusk; it’s a good time for a raid,” Spike said from the room.
“Two trucks aren’t enough to flush out all of Ponyville,” Flurry said. “How long until they get here?”
“Two minutes,” Jadis guessed.
“Get to your room, Princess,” Thorax demanded.
“Please Uncle,” Flurry scoffed. “I can shield the entire block if they try anything.”
“You can do that from your room.”
Flurry opened her mouth to argue.
“Don’t argue, please?” Thorax asked.
Flurry slammed the door to her room closed and locked it with a spell. She paced from her desk to her bed, which was only about a body-length-and-a-half apart. She grew tired of it quickly and sat scowling up at the Wonderbolt poster.
Time passed by slowly.
Flurry heard hooves down the hallway, then down the stairs. The radio in Thorax’s room turned off. Flurry could hear low conversations through the floor.
“Princess Flurry Heart?” an amplified voice called out in Aquileian from the street. Flurry could hear it faintly from her room.
The ghetto was silent.
“I wish to speak to Princess Flurry Heart,” the voice called again. It was not a natural Aquileian accent; it cut the consonants off too harshly.
Like Herzlander, Flurry thought.
There was a long pause. Nopony replied.
“I know the Princess lives here,” the voice continued. “Bring her out.”
“That sentence,” Flurry shouted back in Aquileian, “is a very good way to get shot.” She was shouting from her room, using the Royal Canterlot Voice at half-power. It made the floorboards rattle and dust fall from the ceiling. Her ears rang.
Somepony pounded on her door. “Stop!” Spike shouted. “I’ll punch through the door again!” he threatened.
“I am unarmed and alone,” the voice replied.
“Like Maar!” she shouted back, using a griffon swear. “You brought two trucks full of griffon soldiers here.”
Spike punched her door. Flurry’s spell held and he staggered back, muttering curses. Flurry dispelled the lock and opened the door, glaring at Spike, who was shaking out his right claw.
“Aquileian ponies live here too,” she said. “Idiot is going to get himself shot in the middle of Ponyville.”
“I am Colonel Elias Bronzetail of the Griffonian Reich,” the voice said from outside. “May I speak with the Princess?”
Thorax groaned. “Oh, this is going to cause so much trouble with Blackpeak.”
“I’m going,” Flurry declared. “Is he actually alone?”
“The trucks stopped at the entrance," Barrel Roller called back from the window. "He’s the only one that got out. What’s he saying about you?”
Even if ponies didn’t know Aquileian, ‘Princess’ was the one word that was identical in every language, courtesy of Celestia.
Flurry ignored the question and summoned a small shield around her body. Walking down the stairs, she forced Spike and Thorax to follow her at a distance and the ponies in front to back away from her. Dusty Mark was at the door with a dozen ponies taking cover on the ground floor.
“He’s outside the building,” Dusty reported.
“Huh, means he knew where I lived,” Flurry replied. “You see if he’s a changeling?”
“No, I’m not sure if I want to cast a spell on him and start a firefight,” Dusty snarked.
Flurry waved a wing at the ponies at the door. “Step back and open the door,” she commanded.
“Let us go first,” Spike asked from behind Flurry. He pushed at her shield.
“Unless he’s actually a suicide bomber, I’m fine in here,” Flurry retorted. The ponies opened the double doors. The hinges creaked; the doors also needed a new coat of paint two years ago.
Colonel Elias Bronzetail stood in the street in a thick tan jacket and pressed leggings. He was a gray and black griffon by color, and his beak was light brown. His paws and claws were bare, but he wore a brown officer’s cap with a golden griffon pressed onto the peak. A yellow and orange armband with the black shadow of a roaring griffon wrapped above his right elbow.
Well, he certainly looks like a Reich officer, Flurry decided. She stepped into the doorway, still in her shield.
The Colonel looked up at her from the street and dropped the megaphone. He immediately blushed and covered his eyes with flared wings. The sudden movement caused everypony to aim at him.
Flurry ignored his response. “My friend will cast a spell on you to make sure you are not a Changeling,” she said in Aquileian. “Do you understand?”
The officer cap moved up and down in a nod.
“Lower your wings,” Flurry asked with an annoyed nicker.
“You are indecent, Princess,” the griffon stuttered. “Please, I will wait.”
Flurry blinked and looked down at herself. She was naked, as she usually was in the ghetto. The alicorn giggled.
“Many ponies here cannot afford luxuries like fine clothes,” she laughed in Aquileian. “I can fetch a potato sack if that will make you comfortable.”
The griffon twitched, caught between looking at the Princess and demanding she demean herself for him. “Your friend may cast her spell,” he answered, not responding to Flurry’s challenge.
Dusty did so, sitting on her flank and holding the revolver between her hooves. “He’s fine, Princess.” The gray unicorn considered her statement. “Maybe not fine, but he’s not a spy,” she conceded.
“Many Equestrians and crystal ponies do not wear clothes,” Flurry explained to the griffon. She looked for a holster and didn’t see one, unless it was hidden under his jacket. She reached out in her magic. She didn’t feel any weapon near him.
“He’s unarmed,” Flurry announced.
“How do you know?” Dusty asked, speaking from the side of her muzzle while she still aimed at him. “We’ll have to search him.”
“I used a spell."
“You know how to detect weapons?” Dusty asked suspiciously.
“Far Sight showed me,” Flurry deflected.
Dusty looked across the street towards where he lived. “I’ll have to ask him to teach me that spell,” she commented.
Bronzetail muttered something under his wings in Herzlander.
“What?” Flurry asked.
“I said, the Kaiser demanded I treat you with respect, Princess,” Bronzetail answered.
“That was a lie,” Thorax replied from Flurry’s other side. “Well, maybe not all a lie, but he’s hiding something.”
“Yeah, obviously,” Flurry answered. “My uncle says you’re lying,” she replied back in Aquileian.
The griffon took a moment. “I said, 'I don’t understand how Equestria was ever considered a beacon of progress with two nudists on the throne,'” he squawked.
“That’s true,” Thorax nodded.
“He’s telling the truth?” Flurry confirmed.
“Yeah, but he’s also right about Equestria. You know, changelings would have a much harder time copying a pony and all their outfits.”
“Rarity would love to hear that,” Spike said, “but I got no idea what this guy’s saying.”
“Come inside,” Flurry called out to the griffon. “Wait on the first floor. I’ll go put something on. Your griffons stay in the trucks.”
Flurry turned to Dusty. “Keep an eye on the trucks. If there’s movement, call out.”
“Yes, Princess,” Dusty saluted.
Flurry returned upstairs and fetched a blue skirt that covered her flank. She left the matching blouse in the dresser. She walked downstairs and paused on the landing before the first floor, looking down at the Colonel sitting in the open hallway. A few families stuck their heads out the door to watch.
“I’m disappointed,” Flurry began with a mocking tone in Aquileian, “that the Kaiser’s officers lack the discipline to not look under my tail.”
Only Dusty, Thorax, and two ponies at the door understood her. Thorax sighed and pressed a hoof to his muzzle.
Bronzetail risked looking up to glare at her. “I’m disappointed that a Princess shows so little care for her appearance,” he answered back.
“I’m also disappointed that the Kaiser’s officers think nothing of driving armed griffons into a pony ghetto,” Flurry said with more anger. “You understand how that effects your appearance, yes?”
Bronzetail took a deep breath as his wings twitched. “I apologize,” he said.
“I apologize for my appearance,” Flurry nodded. “We have no hot water today.”
Bronzetail looked to his sides at the guards and the ponies poking their heads through the doors. “I see,” he said slowly. “I wish to speak to the Princess privately.”
“Absolutely not,” Thorax answered in Aquileian. He nodded to Spike.
Bronzetail took a moment to register the large dragon and his tail lashed nervously. “I have something for the Princess that is for her eyes only.”
“What?” Thorax asked, frowning.
“A letter.”
“The letters from the Kaiser are public knowledge,” Thorax replied. “They are not secret, nor are her responses.”
“This letter is different,” Bronzetail declared. He reached slowly into his jacket with his left talon as he leaned on his haunches and raised his right claw into the air. He pulled out a sealed envelope very slowly. “This letter is for the Princess, directly from the Kaiser himself,” Bronzetail flipped it over and showed the wax seal on the envelope.
“We’ll check it first,” Thorax said.
“No, it is for the Princess, not a changeling,” Bronzetail sneered back.
“Poison,” Thorax hissed. “A wax seal means nothing. I could open it and reseal it with a candle.”
“It is the Kaiser's own personal stamp!” the griffon protested.
“I could fake that, too.”
“Of course you could, changeling!”
“Enough!” Flurry shouted, stomping a hoof on the landing. “Were you present when the letter was sealed?” she asked the griffon.
“The Kaiser gave it to me himself.” He lifted his head in pride.
“That’s not an answer.”
“No,” he frowned. “It was already sealed.”
“Give it to the changeling,” Flurry ordered.
“You don’t trust Grover?” Bronzetail asked, furious and a bit shocked, judging from the flared wings.
Interesting, Flurry considered. He called him Grover. “I trust Grover far more than I currently trust you,” the alicorn answered, “so please pass the letter over to my friend.”
He jabbed a claw out and thrust the letter towards Thorax. He took it in his magic and nodded to a pony across the hall. The pony burst into a flare of green fire before accepting it; Arex took the letter and walked towards the basement.
The Colonel’s tail lashed angrily. “You trust those changelings?” he squawked.
“His name is Thorax,” Flurry corrected, “and I’ve known him since I was a foal. His brother was killed by Chrysalis for his defection.”
She smiled at Thorax. “He’s my uncle now.”
She frowned at Bronzetail. “Watch your tone.”
“They control minds.” Bronzetail narrowed his bronze eyes.
“Chrysalis guards that knowledge jealously, as have all the Queens of the past. You think she would allow us something we could use on her?” Thorax asked.
Bronzetail frowned and glared at Flurry. “Your spell, it detects changelings?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“Always?”
“Yes. My aunt Twilight invented it.”
His gaze softened and he looked to the floor. “That would have been nice,” he sighed.
“What did changelings do to you?” Flurry asked.
“I lost a friend,” Bronzetail answered with another sigh.
“Everyone here has lost a friend to them,” Flurry said, consciously not using ‘everypony’ or ‘everygriffon.’
Bronzetail looked at the ponies peeking out of the doors again, then looked over at Dusty. He glanced at her revolver and nodded. He removed his cap and tucked it under a wing. "I understand your suspicions, and I am sorry for alarming your ponies. We mean you no harm."
Flurry nodded.
Arex returned, carrying the open envelope. “We could run more tests,” she told Thorax, “but it’s clear for all the basic stuff. Frost Fall picked it up with her muzzle and she’s not dead yet, so it’s probably fine.” Arex looked concerned and her wings buzzed. "It says some stuff-"
Flurry snatched the letter from Arex's green aura with her horn before she could pass it to Thorax.
She read the first line.
Princess Flurry Heart,
I am happy…
It was entirely in Herzlander. Flurry could pick out some words and names, but the letter was far more casual and complicated than she could deal with. She could tell it was written with the same claw as the others, the vowels had Grover’s normal loop and flair.
I think Grover overestimated my Herzlander.
Flurry could spend several days picking through the dictionary under her bed, or she could ask Thorax to read it to her. Flurry had to consider it for a moment while her wings twitched.
“Thorax, I need you to read it out; it’s in Herzlander.”
“I must ask that it be read in private,” Bronzetail begged, “and that I be present as it is read.”
“Do you know what it says?” Flurry asked.
“No,” Bronzetail said, “but I do not trust Thorax as you do. I must take your response back to the Kaiser as well.”
“Fine,” Flurry conceded. “Let’s go to Thorax’s room.”
“No,” Thorax cut in, “not while you have your map and notes up.”
Flurry huffed. Stupid, forgot about all that. She waved a wing towards Thorax and Spike. “Go to the street,” she ordered. “Back into the street, Colonel,” she said in Aquileian to the griffon.
All three stepped out and Flurry descended the rest of the way down the stairs and out the building before looking around at the onlooking ponies. Spike loomed over the griffon, who tried not to look nervous. He gave a signal to the trucks parked at the end of the street.
“A little privacy, please everypony!” Flurry called out.
“You heard the Princess!” Jadis shouted into the street.
Flurry summoned a large, round blue shield that covered the four of them. She concentrated and the bubble turned mostly opaque.
“Now, no one can see or hear us in here,” Flurry said. “Or shoot us. It would take artillery to break this shield.”
“If you try to attack the Princess,” Thorax warned Colonel Bronzetail in Aquileian, “I will order the dragon to eat you.”
“You say something about me?” Spike asked. “I thought I heard ‘dragon.’ I don't know much Aquileian.”
Bronzetail swallowed and raised his claws up. “I understand. I’m just bringing a message.”
Thorax lifted the letter in his magic and scanned over it with his blue eyes. “Princess Flurry Heart,” he recited, “I am happy to finally be able to write to you-”
“I do not know what he is saying,” Bronzetail cut him off. “I do not speak Equestrian.”
“Can you do it in Aquileian, uncle?” Flurry asked.
Thorax, impressively, rolled his eyes without pupils.
“Princess Flurry Heart,” Thorax recited in Aquileian, “I am happy to finally be able to write to you without tricks. If this letter has been opened, do not trust any message within.”
Thorax blinked. “Well, we couldn’t trust that statement either.”
“Please, no commentary,” Flurry asked with a snort.
“The war goes poorly, though my military tells me otherwise. We have taken Griffonstone, our most holy city, but it is a ruined wasteland of stone and misery. Our navy struggles off the south of Griffonia. Wingbardy will not fall until we take Karthin on the coast. My army has to go through mountains and swamps; our tanks are useless.”
“Clever little Kaiser,” Bronzetail hummed.
“When the Changelings recalled their embassy, General Thranx begged to remain with me. He was there when we met. He had been a good friend; he told me many truths about Chrysalis that Eros avoided. I took him under my wing and allowed him to stay. He served as a great commander and a friend. He died suddenly in spring.”
Bronzetail swished his tail and looked away.
“Chrysalis killed him. I have no proof, but I know it in my heart. My griffons lie to me and say he died peacefully, but they would not let me see the body. My loyal dogs guard my palace fiercer than most griffons, telling me my time will come. I am tired of lies and waiting. I am tired of seeing beaten griffons, my subjects, paraded by me in triumph. Things must change, and I will change them. I want to be different from my ancestors.” Thorax paused for a moment and licked his fangs.
“Princess Flurry Heart: I, Grover von Greifenstein, swear to the Gods that I will help you reclaim your throne when I come of age. If the Gods do not hear me, I swear it to Maar.”
“Lies! The Kaiser did not write that!” Bronzetail protested. He tried to snatch the letter from Thorax, but Spike clamped a claw around the back of his neck and hauled him up on his back paws. He twitched and waved his claws desperately around his sides to swat at Spike, more like a cat than a bird.
Thorax levitated the letter up to the griffon’s beak. He stopped struggling to read it.
His beak fell open in horror.
“You must destroy the letter,” he rasped. “The faithful love the Kaiser. He has committed foul blasphemy.”
“It’s just words,” Flurry replied.
“Maar is as real as any Nightmare,” Bronzetail rasped back. “Grover was chosen by the Gods to lead us. If he rejects the Gods, he rejects his crown.”
“This could make good blackmail material,” Thorax suggested in Equestrian. He floated the letter back down and took it in his hooves.
“Oh, we’re going to blackmail the most powerful griffon in the world?” Spike asked. “Can I set this guy down now?”
“I’ll destroy the letter,” Flurry promised to Bronzetail in Aquileian. She switched to Equestrian. “Please set him down gently, Spike.”
Bronzetail fell heavily to all fours and gasped for air. He pressed his back legs against the shield, moving away from Spike.
“I hear about your rebellion every day," Thorax continued, "and I pray to Boreas it succeeds. I even pray to Maar in my heart.”
Bronzetail made a choking noise and his pupils dilated. Spike stared at him warningly. “You’re going to have to explain what his deal is,” the dragon said to Thorax.
“Chrysalis is a threat to every Pony and Griffon. Archon Eros will not allow me to declare war. He will not allow me to send volunteers. Until I turn sixteen, I am not allowed to make my own decisions.” Thorax lowered the paper to look at Flurry.
Flurry met his stare evenly. “Continue.”
“Send your normal reply with Colonel Elias Bronzetail, I trust him. Do not trust any other griffon with the delegation, they are servants of the Archon. I believe I have found a way to respond in kind.”
Thorax stuttered, then continued to recite the letter. “May I have a lock of your mane? Only give it to the Colonel.”
Bronzetail frowned at Flurry, now more confused than agitated.
“You’re not doing that,” Thorax noted.
“Continue,” Flurry replied.
“I’m sorry that was creepy but I figured out the spell. I still have your crown.”
Flurry laughed; Bronzetail squinted at her.
“One day, I will see you in Nova Griffonia. Grover.”
Thorax lowered the letter. “That’s it,” he finished.
“Give it to the griffon,” Flurry ordered. She turned to Bronzetail. “Verify what the letter said, then answer my questions. If you refuse, you will not leave this shield.”
Bronzetail took the letter with a grimace, picking it out of Thorax’s magic. He crouched down and read through it while Spike loomed over him. He looked up at the changeling when he reached the end of the letter.
“It is accurate,” he squawked out. “It must be destroyed.”
“Not yet,” Flurry said. “Questions first.”
Bronzetail clutched the letter to his chest with both claws. “Ask.”
“Why does Grover trust you?”
“I served under General Thranx,” Bronzetail started. “I knew him well. The Kaiser summoned me to the palace before we left. He asked about Thranx and told me I was to be promoted to his position when I returned. He passed me the letter with the official papers. The Nova Griffonians can’t search through our documents.”
“I assure you that they can,” Thorax stated.
“It has not left my side for two weeks,” Bronzetail answered. “I sleep with the damn letter. There was another letter that was very insistent on what to do and the price of failure. I destroyed it on the boat.”
“Very convenient,” Thorax remarked.
“It was prudent,” Bronzetail argued.
“Who was Thranx?” Flurry interrupted. She remembered a muddy changeling left behind during her outburst with her fake mother; Grover had used the name during their private discussion.
“Thranx was a panzer commander with the Changeling embassy. Chrysalis gave the Kaiser a tank as a gift when he was eight and Thranx taught him to drive it. He was a good friend and a fair commander.”
Bronzetail laughed. “It was a rare trait during the early wars. After your ‘escape,’ the Changelings recalled their embassy a few months later, arguing we hadn’t done our duty in our alliance. Thranx begged the Kaiser to stay, going around the Archon.
“I was there. He said many things about Chrysalis that would warrant his death,” Bronzetail sighed, “and he said them before the Imperial court. His commander, Field Marshal Synovial, ordered him to be seized. The Kaiser intervened.”
He gave Flurry a wry glance. “Like with you.”
“What happened?”
“He stayed,” Bronzetail shrugged. “Eros couldn't publicly oppose his charge, only apologize. Thranx wore the form of a griffon well. There was some grumbling about allowing a changeling to order griffons to their deaths, but we knew he had the Kaiser’s favor. They spoke whenever he was in Griffenheim, and he shared knowledge with our spies.”
“Chrysalis would have never let him live,” Thorax sighed, shaking his head.
“She was far away on another continent. After the initial screeching on the radio, there was silence,” Bronzetail shrugged.
“He was poisoned in Griffenheim," Bronzetail said, "in his apartment. We think it was after a date.” Bronzetail closed his eyes. “It took him a long time to die. The holes on his legs cracked open and purple pus fell out. I don’t wish to speak of it.”
“Condensed Manticore Venom,” Thorax said. “Very rare.”
“Is there an antidote?” Bronzetail asked.
“Only for the first day.”
“We found him after two, so it would have made no difference.” Bronzetail waved a wing in dismissal. “His death was a humiliation and covered up. Chrysalis did not gloat over the radio, perhaps she was content in his suffering, or she hoped we would keep trading for rubber.”
“Couldn’t a changeling detect another changeling?” Flurry asked Thorax.
“Yes, unless he got careless.” Thorax hummed. “It’s more likely a griffon killed him for payment, then Chrysalis cut loose ends.”
Bronzetail clacked his beak, then deflated. “It is a dark time when a griffon will betray his Kaiser. I did not tell him the truth when we spoke. I don’t know how the Kaiser knows. I am ashamed.”
“Grover’s smarter than you think,” Flurry added.
“It is a dark time when a pony knows the Kaiser better than his own griffons,” Bronzetail huffed, but tilted his beak in a smile at Flurry.
“How do you know Aquileian? Your accent is Herzlander,” Flurry pointed out.
Bronzetail blinked. “I grew up on the border of the Duchy of Feathisia and Aquileia. Many griffons spoke both languages for trade.”
Flurry looked to Thorax, who nodded his confirmation. Well, he seems pretty devoted to the Kaiser. “You’re supposed to take my response back to the Kaiser?” Flurry asked.
“Yes,” Bronzetail answered. “I will meet him to be promoted and pass the message back. I will not read it or see it.”
“I’ll need you to read it, because I’ll need your help,” Flurry said. She stretched out her right wing towards him. “May I have his letter?”
Bronzetail hesitated, clenching it in his claws. “You do not understand the danger of proclaiming worship of Maar,” he said. “Maar is an evil god; any griffon that worships him is executed.”
“I know the story of Nightmare Moon,” Flurry said.
“It is not the same,” Bronzetail shook his head. “Maar opposes the Holy Trinity, especially Boreas. The regent is Archon Eros, the griffon chosen by Boreas to be his representative on this world."
“Eros will kill Grover for some words on a paper?” Flurry protested.
“More likely he’ll kill me for knowing about it.” Bronzetail extended the letter to Flurry. “The Kaiser ordered me to aid you, so I must aid you.” He closed his eyes.
Flurry took the letter with her wing, then lit her horn. The letter floated in front of her muzzle. She tried to pick out the sentence and commit it to memory.
Princess Flurry Heart: I, Grover von Greifenstein, swear to the Gods that I will help you reclaim your throne when I come of age.
Two years for the both of us, Flurry thought. Starlight and Trixie might not last two years. They might not last two months.
Flurry’s horn sparked and the letter burst into flame, burning away to ash in the time it took to blink.
“I’m not blackmailing my friend,” Flurry told Thorax. She dispelled her shield and looked around at the cleared street. One of Bronzetail’s soldiers awkwardly stuck his head out of the back of the canvas truck. Princess Flurry Heart turned to the griffon.
“My reply,” Flurry said, “depends on what you can do to help us right now.”
“The Kaiser is fourteen and still a cub by law,” Bronzetail said, nursing a cup of coffee at Thorax's table.
The handle had chipped off, so the Colonel had to wrap his claw around the mug. Thorax and Jadis brewed a fresh pot of coffee for their discussion, but it would hardly improve the taste. It was a terrible cup of coffee by any standard, Flurry knew.
But it was telling that he sipped from it with only a slight grimace and no complaint.
The griffon sat at Thorax’s kitchen table as the sun set, surrounded by Barrel Roller, Sun Flare, Spike, Thorax, Frosty Jadis, Dusty Mark, and the Princess. The room was unbearably crowded, even with the Equestrians leaning against the far walls and window. Spike sat on the floor.
“I’ll return with any letter you wish to write, but I cannot promise it will be acted upon.”
“The Archon has bowed to pressure before,” Flurry pointed out, “with me and Thranx.”
“Only to preserve the image of the Kaiser’s authority,” Bronzetail countered. “He won’t call him a stupid cub before the entire court. Archon Eros is loyal to the Kaiser, and will doubtlessly die in his service; he is an ancient griffon that plays a deadly game very well.”
“What if Grover declared it before the court?”
“Again, he is fourteen and still a minor. His words have weight, but not enough to declare war on his own. It will change when he is sixteen.” Bronzetail set the cup down.
“The Archon had to fight much of the nobility to be declared regent,” the griffon explained. “Their power is broken. The bureaucracy holds the power now, and many of their positions can be appointed by the Kaiser. When the Kaiser is coronated at sixteen, he can declare war with impunity.”
“You’ll need time to prepare first,” Thorax countered.
“We would have to mass forces on the west coast to cross the ocean. It would be noticed. Besides, we attempted coastal landings in Wingbardy and were badly defeated. Our navy is terrible,” Bronzetail scoffed. He grabbed the mug again.
He took a sip and hid his grimace behind a cough. “Even if we landed, we would leave the Herzland and our territory vulnerable to the Riverlands.”
“Would they really attack the Reich while you were attacking Chrysalis?” Barrel Roller asked.
“The River Republic believes it’s leading the last bastions of harmony and democracy,” Jadis said. “They can’t attack a country fighting Chrysalis.”
“To them, we are just as bad as the Queen, if not worse,” Bronzetail scoffed. “They sent volunteers to the fascists in Wingbardy just to weaken us.”
Dusty snorted and flicked her tail. “It’s the same in Nova Griffonia,” she spat.
“On that,” Thorax said, pointing a hoof at Bronzetail. “You need to leave soon. The Republicans will have noticed your arrival here. They already believe we are dangerous monarchists.”
“Have your guards knock out some windows,” Flurry suggested, “and shout some slurs in Herzlander.”
Everypony and one griffon stared at her. Flurry trotted across the room, squeezing past the Equestrians to look out the window to the Reich soldiers. They had left the trucks and gathered into a large communal card game once Bronzetail spoke to them briefly. They looked relaxed and happy, joking with one another. A few had their helmets off and looked quite young. Their rifles leaned against the trucks, left behind.
They reminded Flurry Heart of her ponies. “Make some statement that you came to demand an apology for our mean letters back and forth. Not everygriffon will believe it, but it will take some pressure off.”
“Sure, we’ll just tell everypony that the Princess ordered the griffons to be racist,” Dusty sighed.
“If you have a better suggestion, I’d like to hear it,” Flurry said to Dusty.
Dusty shrank down on her stool.
“It’s not like we don’t hear worse things everyday from the Nova Griffonians,” Jadis said. “Most ponies here don’t know Herzlander anyway.”
“That will make things harder on the delegation,” Bronzetail remarked.
“Are they going to make an agreement?”
“Gods, no!” Bronzetail laughed. “They’re only here to destabilize Nova Griffonia.”
“When will you invade us?” Dusty asked sarcastically.
Bronzetail took the question seriously. “The war in the south has to end, then we have to rebuild. It’s the same problem as attacking Chrysalis.”
“You’ll have retaken all of your core lands,” Thorax pointed out. “Will you really go to war over a poor colony?”
Bronzetail considered it, staring at his mug. “It will make a good landing point to invade Chrysalis, but that is an entirely different issue. Many griffons know nothing about changelings. The Kaiser can declare war, but the will of his griffons must be with him.”
“That’s later,” Flurry reminded him. “I want to know what can be done now.” Flurry shook her short curls and looked at Spike. “What do we need?” she asked in Equestrian.
“Everything,” Spike shrugged.
“Weapons, medical supplies, ammo, soldiers,” Barrel Roller listed with wing feathers. “We have no support, and we’re salvaging more from the retreating Changeling forces than producing ourselves.”
“Tanks,” Sun Flare stated, “we need tanks the most. The garrisons we’re facing are underequipped on-hooves units or trucks running out of fuel. Sooner or later, Chrysalis will send her panzers down on us.”
“We can’t ask the Reich to give us their tanks,” Thorax interrupted. “Ask for volunteers first.”
“Can you send volunteers?” Flurry asked the griffon in Aquileian. “We need soldiers to help train our ponies. We need weapons and medical supplies to arm them.”
“No,” Bronzetail shook his head, “the Archon will never agree to sending griffons across the ocean, and no griffon will volunteer to do it. Our weapons and equipment are going to the south for the front.” He shrugged. “Besides, your healing potions and magic are better than ours anyway.”
“We tried, Flurry,” Thorax said kindly. He placed a hoof over hers on the table.
Flurry jerked it away. “Tanks,” she blurted out in Aquileian.
The griffon curled his tail and leaned back, looking at the Princess warily. “You want us to ship our tanks across the ocean, praying to Boreas they don’t sink to a submarine, all to fight in a pony’s war?” he asked. His beak spasmed in confusion.
“Princess…” Thorax began.
Flurry batted a wing at him and sat up straight. “It doesn’t have to be your best tanks and we don’t need your griffons. We can figure out how to drive them on our own, right?”
“Princess, tanks built for griffons are different than tanks built for changelings or ponies,” Thorax explained in Equestrian.
“I know, but that can’t be worked around?” Flurry insisted in Aquileian. “We can sign a defensive pact in exchange, against the River Republic.”
Bronzetail opened his beak to respond.
“Princess!” Thorax shouted, slamming his hooves onto the table. “You are not proposing military alliances out of desperation!” he spat in Equestrian.
“I won’t sit here and do nothing!” Flurry shouted back. The mugs on the table rattled.
“You can sit here and trust Starlight!”
“She’s losing!” Flurry screamed.
The room was quiet. The ponies shared a look.
“Princess, you are young and do not understand the complexities of war,” Barrel Roller interrupted. “Starlight Glimmer is a great commander. The war may be long and costly, but it is far from over.”
“You don’t remember Starlight,” Spike said. “She’s a powerful mage and spellcaster. If anypony can pull this off other than Twilight, it’s her.”
Flurry closed her eyes. She’s running out of speed and running out of time. I can’t be the only one who sees it. Flurry opened her eyes and glared around the room. Everypony, even Spike, looked down at her like she was some stupid foal. She stared last at the folded up maps and notes, stuffed under the poor couch.
Bronzetail cleared his throat. Flurry fixed her glare on him.
“I’m not sure what that was about, but I can guess,” Bronzetail said in Aquileian.
“I misspoke,” Flurry answered. “I can’t promise an alliance against the River Republic.”
“I understand, but we can send tanks,” Bronzetail replied.
Thorax sat up and glared at him as his wings buzzed. “Liar.”
Bronzetail scoffed at him. “Funny, changeling, but that was no lie. We do have tanks.”
“You don’t have spare guns, but you have spare tanks?” Thorax questioned with a sneer.
“Not spares,” the griffon stated. “We started using a new heavy tank last year; the previous tanks could not be repurposed and sit in scrapyards, waiting to be stripped for parts. It takes much time and is very costly. There are thousands left.”
“And how do you know this?”
“I am a tank commander,” Bronzetail replied incredulously. “I drove them. They can punch through Chrysalis’ sorry excuses for armor, easy,” he boasted.
Thorax licked his fangs nervously and studied the griffon.
Flurry decided for him. “He’s telling the truth.”
“Yes,” Thorax hissed as he deflated. “But you cannot promise an alliance. You are not an adult. You aren’t a leader of the Equestrian Liberation Front.”
“I am a Princess,” Flurry replied. “Does my word as a Princess of Ponies mean nothing?”
“It means everything to the ponies here,” Thorax said, “but you don’t speak for Starlight or the Equestrian Liberation Front.”
“Then it’s a good thing we have an ELF leader right here.” Flurry jabbed a hoof towards Spike.
“Whoa, wait,” Spike held up his claws. “I’m not here to negotiate with the Reich.”
“You were here to negotiate with Blackpeak, what did you offer?” Flurry asked in Equestrian.
“I’m not agreeing to help the Reich fight wars or whatever you’ve been discussing.”
“Fine,” Flurry bit out, then turned back to the griffon. “Send over the old tanks. It’s a test, see how they preform against Chrysalis. Grover wants to go to war anyway with her.”
“The Kaiser does,” Bronzetail nodded, “but the Archon Eros does not. I can make that argument, and so can the Kaiser, but it will fall with flat feathers.”
Flurry growled and grabbed Spike’s head with her magic. She forced him to look down at her. “He’s offering to send tanks over to face Chrysalis. Tell me the truth: Do you think Starlight will win without help? There is no one else to ask.”
Spike pulled his head free, looking between Thorax and Flurry. He clenched and unclenched his claws. He twisted to look at Barrel Roller and Sun Flare at the window.
They didn’t meet his eyes.
“If the tanks are sent over, we will share what we know of the codes Chrysalis’ spies use in their transmissions,” Spike sighed.
Thorax hissed warningly. His wings buzzed as he stood up from his stool.
“It’s not your decision.” Spike raised a scaly arm and pushed him back down.
“Changelings died to break those codes. If the griffons muck it up, they will be changed and we’ll have to start all over,” Thorax whispered in Equestrian.
“It’s worth it,” Flurry said, and translated Spike’s offer to Bronzetail.
Bronzetail thought for a moment with his claws resting under his chin. “That’s powerful information, if it’s reliable.”
“It is,” Thorax said lowly.
Bronzetail stared at the changeling across the table, who also stared back unblinkingly. The griffon blinked first. “The Archon will cave to that. He may not want to start a war with her, but he also fears Chrysalis and her ambitions.”
Thorax slumped, but nodded resignedly. “It’ll take time to get everything set-up to travel. You will carry the papers at all times yourself, all the way to the Kaiser. You will follow my instructions to the letter.”
“You want to order me like the Kaiser, changeling?” Bronzetail squawked.
“If you don’t listen, I will kill you before you leave Nova Griffonia,” Thorax continued blithely. “Another changeling will wear your beak down to the dock and complete the mission themselves.”
“You know me so well,” Bronzetail mocked.
“There will be time for that,” Thorax said. “It won’t be the first time I’ve had to do this.” His voice was hard; his fangs protruded out from under his lips. Even at his angriest, he never spoke to Flurry in that hissing tone.
Flurry Heart sat on her stool and silently watched the exchange. Thorax looked like a different changeling, defeated and slumped on the stool. His eyes were dull in the light, but there was something in them that reminded her of the Crystal Empire, when she first met the changeling. Sometimes he'd lose control, hiss and snarl and she'd laugh at his scary face. Only later did she realize Thorax had been starving for most of his life before he met her family.
Thorax noticed Flurry’s look and swallowed, poorly hiding his fangs behind his upper lip. “We’ll give you a folder with our information in a code, along with the cipher to break it.”
“How will I know it’s reliable?”
“Trust.”
“I should trust you after you threaten to kill me?” Bronzetail questioned.
“You should trust that I will do anything for my Princess,” Thorax answered.
Flurry sat up straight on her stool and tried to look as authoritative as possible, flaring out her wings for emphasis. They nearly knocked Thorax and Dusty away from the table. The griffon flinched at the surprising wingspan.
“I agree,” Bronzetail nodded. “I will bring your proposal to the Kaiser, and oversee the first shipments myself.”
Flurry smiled triumphantly. “When do you leave?”
“I have no idea,” Bronzetail admitted.
Flurry’s smile died on her muzzle. “What?”
“The sea is rough and swimming in submarines,” Bronzetail explained. “We won’t leave for another two months, at least.”
“How long will it take to set-up the shipments?” Flurry asked.
Bronzetail flapped his wings in a shrug. “Once the information is verified, another month?” he guessed.
Too long, Flurry thought.
“What if you radioed ahead, or sent a message?”
“We can’t trust this to a radio, and a lone flyer traveling across the ocean is easily intercepted,” Thorax said to Flurry. “We need to wait.”
“No!” Flurry slammed a hoof on the table. “No more waiting! We do this now.”
“How?” Dusty asked.
Flurry chewed on her lower lip. “Can we send something that says we have an agreement, and to send the tanks in advance?”
“The Archon won’t agree-” Bronzetail began.
“Grover will! He can convince the Archon; he’s done it before!” Flurry spat. “He’s not some useless cub that wears a crown.” Before anypony could refute her, Flurry stood up and crossed the hall to her room, dispelling the lock and shoving aside the notes and documents on her bed. She retrieved her ink bottle and a quill from her drawer along with a blank piece of parchment.
Flurry pulled the door shut with her magic and locked it. She returned to Thorax’s room across the hallway and looked at her ponies. Thorax began to say something. She cut him off. “Everypony out, except Spike, Thorax, and Dusty.”
“Princess?” Jadis asked.
“Out,” Flurry repeated and lit her horn.
Everypony did leave. Bronzetail watched the display with a small frown and adjusted his officer’s cap. Flurry sat down in front of him and slapped the paper and writing materials down on the table in front of her. “Thorax, sit next to him and verify he’s writing what I say.”
Flurry Heart unbottled the ink and wrote in broken Herzlander:
Grover,
Princess Flurry help write you.
She set the quill down and slid the paper over to Bronzetail. The griffon took the quill in his right claw and blinked at the poor Herzlander. Thorax squeezed in next to him, scooching his tool uncomfortably close.
“Grover,” Flurry started, “I have made a deal for your old tanks. We will send our secrets about Chrysalis.” She waited for Bronzetail to write it down. He hesitated for a moment, but the changeling’s presence at his side encouraged him to write.
“I am sorry to hear about your friend. I do not remember him, but I remember Chrysalis’ cruelty. I ask that you trust me, as I trust you.” Flurry waited again while her wings fluttered.
“We need your help,” Flurry said. She shook her head at Bronzetail. “No, I need your help, write it down like that.” Bronzetail dipped the quill in the ink pot again and waited.
“Will Grover know the details about the tanks?” Flurry asked.
Bronzetail thought about it. “Probably not, but I can inform him myself.”
“This letter isn’t going with you,” Flurry said. “Write down what you can.”
He clacked his beak, but began mumbling and writing down a list of details. “They’re called ‘Thunderwings’ for their speed,” he remarked as he wrote. “The Kaiser loves our tanks; he will know that at the very least.” He set the quill down and made eye contact.
“Your griffon friend will return with our information on Chrysalis. I ask that you convince Archon Eros to begin sending us the tanks now, to Manehattan. They can go alone, as a lend-lease in exchange for our codebreaking. I look forward to seeing you once we’ve won. I won’t forget your help.” Flurry bobbed her head. “Sign your name.”
Bronzetail hesitated for a moment, then Thorax leaned over and stared at the page.
“I could fake your signature,” he offered with a fanged smile.
Bronzetail signed and set the quill down.
Colonel Elias Bronzetail of Feathisia
Flurry Heart lit her horn and dragged the paper and quill over. She signed her name and full title:
Princess Flurry Heart of the Crystal Empire and Principality of Equestria, Princess of Ponies
Flurry passed the quill to Spike. “You’ll sign as a representative of the Equestrian Liberation Front,” Flurry told him. Spike took a deep breath, but the alicorn's icy blue eyes made him take the quill. Spike grasped it delicately in his oversized claws, then signed under her name with a confused grimace. Flurry looked at his signature in Equestrian:
Spike Sparkle, Knight of the Crystal Empire and Ambassador for the Equestrian Liberation Front
Flurry leaned over and hugged him with her wings. He hugged her back with one arm. Flurry squeezed back hard, earning a wheeze and puff of smoke from the dragon. She turned to Dusty, who was leaning next to the door and keeping watch.
“Your turn, Dusty,” Flurry said. “Sign under Spike.”
Dusty looked startled. “Princess, I’m a nopony. I don’t represent anything.” She shook her head as her dark gray mane whipped around her horn.
“You represent the ponies of Nova Griffonia,” Flurry stated confidently. “You’re our general.”
“Princess, I was a lieutenant during the war.”
“You’re more than that to everypony here. It was already true; this just makes it official.”
Dusty still looked overwhelmed and didn’t approach.
“I won’t force you,” Flurry offered, “but you deserve it and I believe in you.”
The unicorn staggered over and gaped at the letter before grasping the quill in her magic. She inhaled and closed her eyes. The quill stopped shaking.
She opened her eyes and smiled at Flurry, putting the quill to the paper.
Dusty Mark, General of the Crystal Empire
“Uncle Thorax,” Flurry requested. “And use the title my mother offered.”
“That was never a serious offer,” Thorax countered.
“It will be when we win.”
Thorax picked up the quill and signed.
Thorax Vrakium, King of the Changeling Lands
“I wanted us to be a republic when I spoke with your mother,” Thorax sighed. “She said it would take generations to do.” He tapped the quill on the table. “I think she was right.”
The paper now sat in the middle of the table and the five stared down at it.
“Now what?” Spike asked and leaned back to stretch out his tail.
Flurry flared out her horn before leaning over and casting her special spell at the letter. There was a bright flash; Bronzetail squawked as he fell off his stool and thumped to the ground. She blinked away blue stars while the letters faded away, leaving a blank page behind.
Bronzetail stagged back to his paws and blinked, clutching his rumpled cap in a claw. “Is that why the Kaiser stares at blank pieces of paper?” he asked. “You hide messages to him?”
“You will tell no one,” Thorax demanded.
“The Kaiser’s secrets are mine,” Bronzetail swore and replaced his cap.
“It’s my turn to write,” Flurry said. She took a deep breath, drawing her foreleg to her barrel and pushing it out.
I have to do this.
“Spike?” she asked, “can you still send letters to Celestia?”
Spike blinked. “Yes, I told them about the rebellion.”
“Good,” Flurry replied absently. “Will the Reich accept a letter from Princess Celestia if it’s from me?” she asked Bronzetail in Aquileian.
“Only to mock it,” Bronzetail laughed, “she gets on the radio every month to speak about our destruction and suffering.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“She’s sent letters before,” Bronzetail remarked. He waved a claw. “It will get through, and probably published in the papers.” He squinted at her. “Your plan relies on her?”
Flurry ignored his question. She flipped the letter over and began to write in Equestrian.
Princess Celestia,
This is Princess Flurry Heart, your niece. Please send this message along to Kaiser Grover VI, the letter itself must get to Griffenheim. As you surely know, we exchange letters abroad. The uprising in Equestria has delayed our replies to each other. Spike has traveled to Nova Griffonia to ask for aid. Earlier today, some griffons from the Reich came to our side of Nova Griffonia to demand an apology for my previous letters. I refused, and they called our ponies many hurtful names in Herzlander. If this is the quality of the Kaiser’s troops, I am deeply ashamed of our cordial letters. Please send a reply to Spike once the letter is on its way. I am sure the Kaiser will be shocked by his soldiers’ attitudes…
Flurry continued for as long as she could, hoping to drown out her twisting stomach under false platitudes and naivety. When she was finished, Flurry grimaced at the admittedly weak cover letter, but she only had so much room on the page. She didn’t ask about their lives, nor did she explain why this was the first time she’d ever written to them in years. The letter wasn't really meant for them, after all.
I’ll explain everything once they do me this one kindness, she promised.
Flurry dried the ink with a quick spell, then passed the letter to Spike. Nopony said anything. Spike stood up and stretched, flipping the letter over several times before rolling it up. He held it before his mouth and inhaled. Spike hesitated.
“Send it,” Flurry said.
Spike exhaled slowly, not in a burst of fire, but a sigh.
“When I sent her the letter about the rebellion, she never answered.”
Flurry closed her eyes. “She’ll reply to me,” she said. She has to.
Spike breathed a gout of fire and the letter vanished into ash. The ash swirled around the room before flying towards the window and disappearing into a crack in the glass. Flurry Heart turned to the sole griffon in the room.
“It’ll take time for the letter to reach her,” she said. “You will get another letter to take with you with our information. Now, can you please tell your soldiers to start throwing bricks and swearing at us?”
“Of course,” Bronzetail answered with a slight smirk. “I trust your friendly changeling knows where the delegation is staying?”
“High Hotel, room 312,” Thorax said. “We’ll send somepony with our information and instructions later.”
Bronzetail chuckled to himself as he left, sparing a glance at Flurry that she couldn’t place.
Flurry watched from Thorax’s window as the griffon marched into the street and began squawking commands in Herzlander towards his griffons, who were still engaged in a card game. They staggered upright with flapping wings, clumsily grabbing helmets and snatching up rifles. A few looked confused as they turned to the trucks. Bronzetail screeched again, and a few griffons screeched half-heartedly back at the windows of the buildings around them. One kicked over a beaten garbage can with a rear paw. A few ponies stuck their heads out of the windows and shouted back in Aquileian. Bronzetail turned back to Flurry’s building and shouted a stream of curses at the bat ponies at the front door, who screeched back.
There was no violence, only words. It wasn’t an organized display, but it didn’t need to be one. There just had to be deniability. After a few minutes of disorganized shouting matches, the griffons backed their trucks out and left. Bronzetail climbed into the back last, ignoring a rotten apple smacking into his back from an Aquileian pony. Flurry turned from the window to Thorax, Spike, and Dusty.
Dusty and Thorax sat in the kitchen with the remainders of the coffee. Spike resumed sitting on the faded and frayed couch, sagging it down with his weight. Flurry floated a stool over and sat directly across from him. He avoided eye contact.
“How often do you write her?” Flurry asked.
“I give her updates,” Spike said, twisting his wings to get comfortable. He said nothing else.
“Does she write back?”
“No,” Spike mumbled. He studied the ceiling and the old scorch mark from Flurry’s outburst when she arrived. It never scrubbed out. “The last letter I got from her was an offer to come stay in the River Republic, but I don’t think they’re that friendly to dragons,” Spike commented.
“She asks me that every year.”
“Why don’t you go?” Spike turned the question around.
“My ponies are here,” Flurry answered immediately. Spike nodded thoughtfully and swished his tail. Dusty stood up, draining the last of the cold coffee from a used mug.
“I’d better check on everypony, make sure nopony is too rattled by those chickens,” she chuckled. The unicorn walked to the door to the hallway.
“Good luck, General,” Thorax called out as she passed through.
Dusty’s tail twitched irritably and she turned back with a blush and a smirk. “You too, your majesty.” Thorax’s wings chittered at the reply, but he laughed uneasily as she left. He shut the door with a wave of his horn.
Thorax trotted to the table in the living area, gathering the coffee mugs and bits of paper. He wouldn’t look at Flurry either; Flurry’s wings ruffled irritably. “If Princess Celestia cares about me,” she snorted, “cares about any of us, she’ll do it.”
Thorax nodded silently as he returned to the kitchen. He piled the mugs in the sink and began to rinse them in the already dirty water. Flurry waited on the stool.
They don’t think it will work. They think I’m just a foal.
“I won’t go without Twilight, and Twilight will never leave her ponies,” Spike finally said.
“I know,” Flurry replied.
The sun went down outside. She still does that at least, Flurry thought.
Spike laid down on the couch, still avoiding the alicorn’s gaze. He closed his eyes and began to snore as the lights turned off throughout the ghetto. Flurry stretched her wings out and resettled on the stool. Thorax left the room for a time, then returned with some folders. He passed by Flurry on the way to his small bedroom.
“Princess,” he whispered over Spike’s snoring, “we’ll wake you if we get an answer.”
“When,” Flurry corrected. “When we get an answer. Go to sleep, uncle.” She reached out with a wing and hugged him. “I love you.”
Thorax licked at his fangs and didn’t make eye contact before retreating to his room. He left the single light bulb on in the kitchen for Flurry. It cast long shadows over the living area. Flurry’s shadow stretched across the window. She reached up with a forehoof and touched the golden band under her mane, feeling the cold metal press into the fur.
Princess Flurry Heart sat on the stool until soft light filtered in from the window from the morning, hours later. She shut her drooping eyes against it, denying its existence and reality. That is her real job, isn’t it? The only one she cares about.
Spike coughed and sputtered, jerking awake from a deep sleep. He hacked a great jet of fire upwards. A scroll burst into existence from a rush of green flame that extended to the ceiling. Flurry lurched off the stool and snatched the scroll with her bare hooves, uncaring from the heat and fire. Spike rolled off the couch and grasped at her with one claw, but she flapped her wings and skidded away across the floor. The dragon crashed to the floor with a thud that rattled the window. Thorax kicked open the door to his bedroom and hissed before seeing Spike and Flurry.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. The changeling saw the scroll in Flurry’s hooves. “Princess, wait, it could be-”
Flurry summoned a small shield over herself that cut off Thorax’s entreaty. Spike slapped a claw against it from the other side. She concentrated and the shield turned opaque. Flurry looked at the scroll, wrapped in a simple gold string with no seal. It could have only come from one pony in the world.
Flurry pulled the string off and unrolled the letter.
Flurry Heart,
It is good to hear from you, finally! I feared your letters were lost amongst the griffons, and perhaps they were, as you never replied. I am sorry to hear of your troubles in Nova Griffonia and I will repeat my offer: You are welcome here at any time.
There was a space on the page before the letter resumed.
But I wish to talk about your real letter. Yes, we hear of your correspondence with the Kaiser in terms of foalish language and passive insults, but I see now that it hides a deeper connection. It may be lost to time, but Luna invented that spell to communicate discreetly with me.
Flurry, I’m sorry but Grover is not your friend. The Grovers have always been cruel. You cannot trust them, ever. I knew his every ancestor. They were cruel in different ways, but cruelty is ultimately all the same. The history of Griffonia is written in the blood of griffons and ponies slaughtered for the glory of one dynasty. Even now, the armies of the Reich carve the south with bloody talons and send maimed and frightened peoples streaming into the Riverlands. My heart bleeds for the ponies of Equestria, but I cannot in good conscience allow the fate of Equestria to depend on the charity of an evil griffon. I see Spike is with you, and you are welcome to write to us.
There was another space just before the end of the letter.
Spike, please inform Starlight Glimmer that I wish her luck, but my sister and I cannot risk the journey at this time.
Princess Celestia
That was it. That was all of it. The entire letter was just one page. Flurry flipped it over. There was nothing on the back. Flurry sank to her knees inside the shield and let the letter flutter to the ground from her magic. Her wings drooped by her side as she let the shield fade away in a fizzle of blue sparks.
Spike and Thorax were waiting. Spike sat the floor and Thorax had pulled a stool up to the shield. Neither of them said anything, but Spike reached out and gently took the letter from the floor. He read it quietly, then offered it to Thorax, who took it in his magic. Neither of them looked surprised.
They already knew her answer.
“Why?” Flurry asked. Sunlight began to creep through the window across the floor, distorting her shadow.
“Flurry?” Spike rested a claw on her foreleg as she laid on the wooden floor.
“I don’t understand why,” she admitted. “Why won’t she help? Why won’t Luna help?”
Spike squeezed her hoof. “They raise the Sun and Moon. They can’t risk their lives.”
“Celestia did Luna’s job for a thousand years,” Flurry said softly. “Twilight could’ve done it. My mother could have if she tried. One of them could have stayed.”
“Would it have made a difference?” Thorax asked. He took the letter in his hooves.
“No,” Flurry said. Her eyes hardened. “But one of them could’ve stayed anyway. One could come now. All I wanted her to do was send a letter,” she whispered.
"The Riverlands have always suffered due to the Reich," Spike said. "That's how the alliance was created."
"That's not their home," Flurry tried.
“It is now," Thorax sighed. "You’ve called them cowards for years,” he pointed out. He rolled up the letter and set it on the table. “So does Dusty and thousands of ponies here.”
Flurry looked at the letter on the table and shook her head. “I was wrong,” Flurry said. “That’s not why Celestia won’t help. Or Luna.” Flurry stood up and shook Spike’s claw off her hoof. “We need to draft a letter to give to Bronzetail. It’ll go with him whenever they leave.”
“With our information?” Thorax asked. “We’re relying on faith.”
“I trust Grover,” Flurry said. She stretched her wings out and touched the gold band under her mane again with a hoof. The metal pressed into her fur. “We need to get supplies, one way or another.” Flurry started to trot out with her head held high. Her ears pinned back against her short mane.
Thorax stood up as she passed by. “Princess, are you all right?”
Flurry hugged Thorax, wrapping him in her wings. “I’m fine, uncle. You were right. I don’t know what else I expected.” She yawned. “I was up all-night waiting; I’ll set an alarm for noon, then we’ll need to talk to Ponyville about the griffons from last night.”
“I’m sorry, Flurry,” Spike called out softly. He curled his tail around and held it in his claws, worrying with it. A memory came to the alicorn, of a young dragon with kind green eyes staring down at her while she laid in a crib.
“Not your fault,” Flurry dismissed. She gave the two of them a soft smile. “I’m sorry for worrying you. We’ll talk more later.”
Flurry Heart crossed the hallway, dispelled the lock on her door, and entered her room, closing the door behind her. She slumped against the door and let her wings droop once she was out of sight.
After a deep breath, she seized the crown off her head and studied the cheap, discolored gold. A baroness could’ve worn better, back in the days before the Pony Tribes unified. It had been a precious gift from her ponies, but it was also a joke to any griffon that noticed it. She flung the crown onto her bed, where it landed with a dull thump against the thin sheets.
Flurry moved the chair next to her desk aside and pulled open the drawer. She had left most of her writing supplies in Thorax’s room, leaving only a few spare pieces of parchment and a letter opener stuffed against the back of the drawer. Flurry pulled the letter opener out and held it in her magic. The metal edge was flecked with rust and fairly dull. She never had to use it; all of her letters had been opened and searched long before they reached her, either from the government or her own ponies. She had to rattle the drawer shut again.
Thorax, Spike, Dusty, Jadis. They all care. Celestia invited me, but nopony else.
She levitated the letter opener up to her horn.
Celestia and Luna call themselves Princesses, but they care more about each other than their subjects. They found new ponies to love them.
Flurry seized a clump of her mane in her magic and stretched out the hairs.
Not like mom.
Her horn sparked and the blade glowed with heat.
Not like Twilight.
The letter opener sliced into the extended strands.
Love is the death of duty.
She tucked the clump of hair into a folded piece of paper and set it on her desk with the letter opener. The alicorn walked into her bathroom and looked into the smudged mirror hanging crookedly on the wall. She shook her curls again and adjusted them with a hoof; the burnt ends disappeared into her mane. She looked into her reflection.
“High Hotel, Room 312,” Flurry whispered.
Princess Flurry Heart returned to her bed and put her crown back on her head. She slept wearing it.
Flurry Heart flew through downtown Weter after sundown, gently flapping her wings towards the High Hotel. It was named such due to its status as the second-tallest building in Weter, after the radio station. It was in the fancy area of downtown, far enough from the port to avoid the stench of the dockyards and far enough from the factories to avoid the smog. Unlike Ponyville, which was exactly in the right spot to have both.
Flurry rarely traveled downtown; the Capitol Building was two blocks away, and she was only welcome for photo opportunities or community outreach events. She had better places to go to anyway. Flurry drifted below cloud level and above any night fliers. There was little traffic on the roads below, and few of the griffons that could own vehicles risked them after nightfall.
Flurry glided around the tall building, squinting to check the room numbers on the balconies. Like most griffon architecture, the High Hotel was designed for a species that could fly up to their rooms from the outside. Unlike pegasi, griffons did not use clouds wholesale for design and texture. They preferred vertical architecture from the ground, built in solid materials with plenty of space in the interior.
Flurry circled the third floor twice, passing in front of armed guards in Reich colors on several balconies. There were more guards on the roof several stories up. The alicorn debated attempting to land and enter through the lobby and up the elevators, but there would doubtless be staff inside, and Flurry wasn’t that confident on her spellcraft.
The muffling spell was easy. The invisibility spell was harder. It took constant effort to maintain, and Flurry had forgone clothes on the cold winter night. The clothes would interfere with her spell; the folded letter in her mouth blinked in-and-out of sight on its own.
As far as anypony knew, she was in her bed for the night. It had been five days since Celestia abandoned her ponies again, and Flurry acted appropriately subdued and melancholy, accepting the sympathies of her friends and guards, but taking care not to worry Thorax too much. If he believed she was too depressed, he would have her watched too closely to slip out. Flurry made sure to put on a brave face and go to the soup kitchen and makeshift clinic, exhausting herself as usual.
Thorax knew she was hiding her true feelings, but he didn’t suspect her plan. He’d probably find out later, after it was too late, but that was a discussion for the future. Flurry finally spotted room 312, on the northwest corner of the building. It had a balcony guarded by a lone griffon on a smoke break. Flurry landed on the balcony above as softly as she could, then checked the surroundings. There weren’t any guards within eyesight, but a patrol drifted lazily above her and circled the building. Flurry debated announcing herself to the guard.
Grover said to trust his friend, and no griffon else.
Flurry made up her mind and clenched the letter between her teeth. She leaned over the balcony and dropped the invisibility spell and muffling spell. Her horn made a shimmering sound. The griffon on the balcony below her looked up just in time to take a bolt to the beak. His eyes drooped and he collapsed onto the balcony in a slump, asleep. The cigarette rolled off the balcony. Flurry hopped down and dragged the griffon to the balcony doors, out of sight.
Hopefully it’s too dark and the patrol is too lazy.
Flurry burnt out the lock on the double doors after checking for wards or security spells. Of course, there weren’t any; griffons didn’t have access to that kind of magic without a unicorn’s help. She peered through the glass on the doors to see into the darkened room. Her blue eyes lit up in a gold glow as she cast another spell for night vision.
In a word, the room was fancy. The chairs were engraved wood with cloud cushions, plus a polished glass table and an ice chest humming with an enchantment. There was a small radio on a shelf, better than anything her ponies could get their hooves on. The bedroom and bathroom doors were closed. Flurry pushed open the balcony doors and entered, sweeping with her magic. She felt a cold pit in her stomach at the thought that Bronzetail was out for the evening.
Then she sensed his pistol in the bedroom.
Judging from its location, Bronzetail was currently braced next to his bedroom door and waiting for it to open. He must have retrieved it off the nightstand next to his bed and clutched it in his right claw. He's probably expecting a changeling from Thorax, Flurry decided. She could also sense the guard’s automatic rifle still slung under his wing on the balcony, a new model and barely used.
Flurry Heart waved her horn towards the hotel door and locked it with her wards, then did the same for the balcony doors. She waved her horn across the whole room and the walls shimmered blue. She kept her eyes on the bedroom in case he tried to rush her. Flurry set the letter down on the table and summoned a shield in front of her.
“Bronzetail?” she asked. “It’s Princess Flurry Heart.”
There was no response from the bedroom.
“I want to talk,” she said in Aquileian.
“Guards!” Bronzetail yelled in Herzlander. He yelled something else that Flurry didn’t know.
“The room is warded,” Flurry replied. “No griffon outside can hear you.”
Bronzetail fired twice through the door. The bullets sparked off of Flurry’s shield and she gasped.
“Fine,” Flurry snarled and flared her wings, pawing at the floor. Her horn lit up and she teleported.
Flurry reappeared in the bedroom, about a hoof from Bronzetail. He swiveled from the wall to aim at her, but she seized his pistol in her magic and held the trigger in place. She seized his other claw when he tried to swing at her. Finally, she pinned him to the wall with her telekinesis after he tried to lunge at her with his beak.
She began to pry the pistol from his claw. “Let go,” she commanded, “or I’ll break your whole arm.”
He still struggled for a breath longer, but apparently realized he was actually dealing with magic and relented.
Flurry pried the pistol from his claw and ejected the clip. She felt it in her magic. He had fired it before in battle, killing two griffons at different times. She pulled the slide back and removed the other round before tossing the pistol on the cloud bed. She released him and the griffon slumped down against the wall. Flurry suppressed a chuckle as she realized he slept in a white nightshirt and a nightcap with his officer rank on it.
“Kill me changeling,” he rasped. “I expected it. What will you tell your Princess after you betray her like this?”
Flurry blinked. “I’m not a changeling,” she protested.
“Your eyes,” the griffon coughed, gesturing at her muzzle with a talon.
Flurry groaned and dispelled the night vision that turned her eyes gold. The room became much darker, only lit by her horn light. She squinted at Bronzetail, who squinted back.
“It’s a spell,” she explained. “Besides, most unicorns or changelings would struggle to seize an adult griffon in their telekinesis. I want to talk.”
“How am I to trust this is the truth?” the griffon asked.
“If Thorax wanted to kill you,” Flurry answered, “he wouldn’t give you a chance to talk.”
Bronzetail clacked his beak after a pause. “You were foolish to come here Princess,” he concluded. “You could have been shot.”
“You sound like Thorax,” Flurry chided with a smirk. She glanced at the holes in the door and took a breath to lower her heartbeat.
Bronzetail stood up and gingerly flapped his wings, wincing. Flurry stepped aside and let him cross over to a lamp on the bedside table. His eyes lingered on the pistol tossed onto the bed, but he made no move to grab it. He tapped at buttons that turned the electric crystals on. The room lit up in dim light.
Bronzetail turned around and squawked in surprise. He covered his eyes with his claws.
“What?” Flurry asked, wary.
“Please, Princess, you are naked!”
Flurry groaned. “Get over it,” she dismissed, and turned to walk into the main room.
“This is indecent,” he protested and made no move to follow her.
“We can either talk in your bedroom or talk out here,” Flurry challenged. “Where would you prefer a naked, underage alicorn to be in the dead of night?”
Bronzetail made a choking sound. “Boreas, give me strength,” he prayed and followed her. Flurry settled onto a cloud-cushioned chair with a sigh. It had been too long since she had enjoyed cloud furniture. Some of the pegasi in the mountains used it, but the clouds near Weter were too polluted.
Bronzetail tossed his nightshirt at her. He left his little hat in the bedroom.
“Now, you’re naked,” Flurry remarked, “and this will cover nothing.” She thought about it. “Actually, this would be worse if some griffon walked in while you were naked and I was wearing your shirt.”
Bronzetail’s eye twitched as he turned on another lamp. “For my own sanity, Princess, what little you and the Kaiser let me keep.”
Flurry shrugged and slipped it on. It was a tight fit to squeeze her wings through the holes, but did cover her flanks a bit. Bronzetail inspected the balcony and stared at the fallen guard.
“Did you kill him?” he asked.
“No!” Flurry replied, insulted. Her wings fluttered. “It’s a sleep spell! He’s fine!”
“How long will he be asleep?”
“A day,” Flurry answered. “Probably,” she amended.
Bronzetail nodded and rubbed a claw on his beak. “Probably,” he muttered. The griffon slumped into the chair across from her, muttering in Herzlander. “Why have you come, Princess?” he sighed in Aquileian.
Flurry chewed on her cheek. “Thorax will send you another letter, along with our codes from Chrysalis. You’ll have to take it with you to Grover and the Archon to arrange the shipments.”
“What about the letter to the Sun Princess?”
“She refused to pass it along. She knows about the secret message. She doesn’t want the Reich’s help.”
Bronzetail studied her. “And you do?”
“Yes,” Flurry stated, “she said the Grovers were always cruel, but she’s wrong about Grover. I know him better than her.”
Bronzetail was silent and didn’t reply. Flurry lit her horn and slid the letter across the table to the griffon.
“This is for Grover,” she said. “He asked for it.”
Bronzetail opened the letter and unfolded it, revealing the lock of her mane. He looked up at her. He still said nothing.
“There are many dangerous spells that could be used with that,” Flurry continued. “I am trusting Grover, and you, with this.”
Bronzetail folded the letter back up and stared at her. Flurry stared back.
“Your guards do not know you are here,” he guessed.
“Yes,” Flurry confirmed.
“You don’t trust them?”
“I trust them with my life,” Flurry countered, “but not with my decisions.”
Bronzetail nodded. “I will carry this letter on my person at all times until I reach the Kaiser. It will not be lost. I will not say anything about it to your changelings,” he swore. He clutched the paper in a claw.
Flurry nodded and stood. She removed the nightshirt, teleporting it away. It appeared in the bedroom with a crack.
“Wait, please,” Bronzetail asked. “Are your spells still in place?”
Flurry lit her horn warningly but gave a slow nod.
“We have time before the patrols circle around,” Bronzetail said. He clacked his beak and furrowed his brow. “Is there a hidden message here?” he asked, gesturing with the letter.
“No,” Flurry answered. “Just the hair.”
Bronzetail’s wings and tail twitched as he thought. Flurry scanned him to make sure he wasn’t a changeling, cursing that she didn’t check earlier. He didn’t notice the magic sweep over him. Flurry waited for him to speak, warily glancing over the room.
“Your letters,” the griffon finally stammered, “make Grover very happy.”
Flurry Heart didn’t know how to reply to that.
“He does not smile often,” Bronzetail explained in a rush, “and some of the palace attendants speak of him laughing and smiling at blank pieces of paper. It has been a rumor for years that he is mad. The Archon punishes the rumors severely in the press, but they still come up occasionally. The only fight Eros and Grover have truly had was when the Archon tried to have the letters stopped.”
“Only Thorax and Dusty know I send him hidden messages,” Flurry warned, "and they don't know what I tell him."
“I will say nothing,” he swore with a raised claw.
“Does he talk about me? What did he tell you?” Flurry asked, curious. Without Thorax, I guess I’ll have to trust he’s telling me the truth.
“He has made public comments on your rudeness in your letters, but that is clearly a ruse. He said nothing to me beyond the letters of instruction. It was a private meeting, but I imagine he feared eavesdropping.”
“He’s smart,” Flurry smiled. “I had to have help to break his code. The spell will make it easier to reply, if he’s found somepony to help him.”
“Perhaps the Aquileian ponies that tutor him,” Bronzetail guessed. “He wishes to learn the customs and traditions of all his subjects. He will be a good Kaiser, not like his father.”
“That was hardly his father’s fault,” Flurry protested. “The Republicans nearly kicked him off his throne.”
“They did kick him off; the nobility restored him, but they couldn’t finish the job and caused the Reich to fall apart.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Flurry asked, impatient. Her wings fluttered.
Bronzetail swallowed, making the effort to look at her. “A Kaiser has few friends and fewer equals. You are both.”
“Grover has friends,” Flurry said. “He has Eros.”
“Eros is not his friend. The Archon sees a symbol to unite us again. He is one of the oldest griffons alive; he remembers the Reich at its height. Griffonstone, where the Gods made us, is a ruin of stone buildings and poverty. Without the Idol of Boreas to unite us, the Kaiser himself must drive us to fly. The Archon is a good griffon, but Grover the Symbol matters more than Grover the Griffon to him.”
“Benito,” Flurry tried.
“Benito is his guard, not his friend. He is a good dog, from a line of dogs that are willing to die to protect the Kaiser’s family at any time. Grover cannot befriend a dog that could throw his life away at a moment’s notice.”
“He has to have friends other than Thranx,” Flurry said. She scraped a hoof on the floor.
“Who? Noble scions that would use him to further their stations? Subjects like me? Thranx spoke to him honestly because he had nothing to gain. He only wanted his life and safety in the Reich,” he squawked. “You are right. I do not know him, nor does the Archon; that is clear from his letter to you.”
Has he ever written about any friends? Flurry asked herself. She'd have to go back through the letters.
“His family is gone,” the griffon stated. “His father died of poor health after a lifetime of failure. His mother died giving birth to him. He has millions of griffons that view him as a blessing from the Gods, but that leaves him with nothing for himself. Nothing except your letters. When I saw your spell last week, I understood. You are similar.”
He narrowed his eyes. “We hear stories of your charity and tours in the Reich. I believed they were exaggerated. The griffons here,” Bronzetail gestured to the opulent room, “believe that it is an act, that you are still a bratty princess and tool.” The griffon’s light brown eyes softened. “You are not. I have seen where you live. You give everything, like the Kaiser, just in a different way.”
“I have friends,” Flurry stated.
“You have subjects,” Bronzetail corrected gently. “Subjects that wish you the best and love you, but still subjects all the same.”
“I can have friends and subjects,” Flurry said stubbornly.
“If they were your friends first, you would have told them your plans tonight.”
Flurry said nothing. She did not move to leave.
“I am not accusing you, Princess,” the griffon said. “You must do what you think is best for your ponies, even if it is contrary to their will.”
“What I say to Grover is nopony’s business but my own.”
“So, you sent him a lock of your mane.” The griffon blushed.
Flurry blinked, piecing together what he meant. Then she laughed, seeing Bronzetail’s point. I’m not courting Grover.
“It’s just for the spell. Griffons and pegasi share feathers for courtship. Unicorns use horn rings. Earth ponies bind their tails, and bat ponies share braids on their manes.”
“You are quite knowledgeable,” Bronzetail commented.
“I’m the daughter of the Princess of Love,” she boasted. “Grover and I are friends. We’ve never spoken of love.”
“It doesn’t have to be about love,” Bronzetail shrugged. “Most of the nobility did not marry out of love. My parents did not; my father needed to get out of debt.”
“I’m sorry,” Flurry said.
“Why? The marriage worked out in the end. They are happy and have a small home. I have two siblings.” The griffon leaned forward. “You lived in Aquileia. Have you heard of Guinevere Discret?” he asked.
“She’s in exile with my aunts,” Flurry answered.
Bronzetail shook his head. “No, that is Vivienne, the current false Princess of Aquileia. I speak of history. When Grover the Great died, the King of Aquileia rebelled the day his son was coronated Kaiser of the Reich. He believed that Grover II could not live up to the legacy of his father.”
“He was a great warrior and expanded the Reich,” Flurry summarized. “He died leading a crusade in the Riverlands. He gave shelter to the dogs that escaped from slavery.”
“But his first war was against Aquileia,” Bronzetail continued. “He shattered them; he led the armies himself. King Discret was captured and beaten to death by Grover on the floor of his palace. There are two legends about his daughter: I grew up near the border and heard both.”
Bronzetail stood and fetched a bottle of alcohol from the ice chest. He offered some to Flurry, but she wrinkled her nose and waved a wing. He shrugged and took a drink.
“The Herzlanders say that Grover demanded Guinevere’s claw in marriage after she pleaded for mercy for her griffons.” Bronzetail sat back down, still clutching the letter and bottle. “The Aquileians say she challenged him, swearing to fight on unless he accepted to marry her and end the violence; he was so taken by her fire that he agreed. I do not know which one is true, but both versions agree that she was the only griffon that could calm his rages, and he was never unfaithful. They had cubs together and ruled well, but it was not a marriage born of love.”
“I don’t think Grover has anger issues,” Flurry said. “You want me to marry him?”
“I think you might fit Grover II better than Guinevere,” Bronzetail chuckled. “But no, I doubt there is anyone on this world that could make you do something you did not want to do.”
“He promised to help me. I don’t need to marry him to save my ponies.”
“I believe he will keep his word, but what about afterward? The Princesses have always sneered at us from across the sea, and what the Kaiser suggests has never been done before.” He took another drink. “The war will be costly. Millions died in the Great War.”
“As long as I sit on the throne, Grover will have a friend on Equus,” Flurry promised. “We will need help to rebuild, and the Crystal Mountains are rich in gems and ore. All of Equestria is rich in resources, no matter how long the Changelings plunder it.”
“You are proposing materials we will desperately need, but that was not my question. Do you want to marry Grover?” he asked. “You are one of the few that could. The Archon has refused to discuss any marital matches with what’s left of the nobility. The Kaiser can pick any he wants when he comes of age. You are a Princess of Ponies, and of the same age. He looks at your letters more than any girl. Perhaps Boreas brought you together years ago…” Bronzetail trailed off.
Flurry glared at him and lashed her tail.
At fourteen, Flurry was old enough to begin having urges in the spring. It had been awful, and the intensity was probably inherited from her mother. Flurry spoke with colts her age in every village and town during her birthday tours, but she thought about none of them in her room, constantly casting a spell to clear smell out.
She reread Grover’s letters to pass the time. “I have a duty to my Ponies,” Flurry deflected.
“Marriage can be more about duty than love for some griffons,” Bronzetail said. “A marriage between a Princess and a Kaiser could be a symbol of unity.”
Flurry flinched. Bronzetail’s eyes widened and he lifted a claw with her letter.
“I do not mean to insult your mother,” he apologized. “Love is obviously important in any connection. I only mean that the two of you seem to be a good match. A marriage between the races could finally mend our old rivalry.”
Flurry ignored that he misunderstood her reaction. “I don’t know how many Ponies would accept it. Celestia, Luna, and Twilight spoke against the Reich.”
“I could say the same about griffons,” Bronzetail agreed, “but you are not the Sun Princess, and he is not Grover the Great. You and Grover will have to fight Chrysalis together. War is terrible, but it can forge new friendships in fire, even between griffons and ponies. I became Thranx’s friend during the war.”
“And now you hate changelings,” Flurry countered.
“I am sorry for my distrust of your uncle,” Bronzetail sighed. “I understand his paranoia and caution, all too well.”
“Speaking of which, I need to get back before they realize I’m gone,” Flurry said, relighting her horn. She paused. “Are you married, Colonel Bronzetail?”
“My name is Elias, Princess,” Bronzetail said. “I would be honored if you would use it. Yes, I am married to the daughter of a carpenter from my village.”
“Do you think we’ll win this time, Elias?”
The griffon was silent, blinking his bronze eyes in the light. He set the beer down on the table and clutched the letter against his chest. Flurry reflexively reached a hoof up to touch her crown. She didn’t wear it tonight; it wasn’t worth the hassle for the invisibility spell.
“No,” he answered. “Not without our help. I swear that I will see the first shipment of tanks through myself.”
When you leave, Flurry Heart thought. Whenever that may be.
“Thank you,” Flurry said. "I am sorry for frightening you." She dispelled the magic on the doors, then cast her invisibility and muffling spells. The alicorn opened the doors and stepped over the sleeping guard. The patrols were lazy and didn’t spot him.
“Good luck, Princess Flurry Heart,” Bronzetail whispered in Aquileian.
Flurry leapt off the balcony and slowly glided away into the night.
Flurry Heart stood on the mountainside and watched the distant smoke clouds drift towards her. They were hard to make out in the snowstorm.
Today was her fifteenth birthday. There was no tour of the countryside. A few armed ponies stood below her, looking into binoculars and reporting into a stolen military radio. Flurry pulled her blue jacket tighter and tucked her wings in against the cold. The metal crown on her head stuck to her fur.
There was a shout from the sky, then a response lost in the wind. Barrel Roller landed heavily among another group of pegasi. He had a bandage wrapped around his head, sticky with dried blood and frost. Ponies gathered around him. Flurry trotted down to listen.
“The group taking the north trail is stuck behind another rockslide,” the pegasus said, wiping the blood from his orange eyes. “The south trail is still clear. There are two more groups of nearly three hundred ponies.”
“Are they being followed?” one of the militia ponies asked.
“The Changelings broke off before the mountains. There’re some fighters still in the air, but the snow is helping.”
“Radio Duskcrest to sweep the south trail and Dusty to send some earth ponies down the north trail to clear the rockslide,” the militia pony said to the radio pony. She turned away.
“I can clear it,” Flurry offered.
The ponies ignored her, and the mare lifted the receiver back up to whinny orders to the other groups. Barrel Roller didn’t even glance at the alicorn before lifting back off and drifting south. Flurry trudged back up the incline and squinted against the snow. She could form a shield, but that risked being spotted at long range. Besides, the thousands of ponies along the Crystal Mountains didn’t have the luxury of alicorn magic today.
Two months ago, Vinyl Scratch with Manehattan Radio announced that a large portion of the Changeling army was encircled around Canterlot, cut off by the expanded Everfree Forest. The city would be retaken in a matter of days. Flurry had excitedly begun packing her best outfit with Spike.
One month ago, Vinyl reported that Trixie was surrounded in Neigh Orleans and Starlight was retreating from Canterlot to form a defensive line at the Green Fork River outside Manehattan. Spike and the ponies left Flurry and traveled back by wing power, crossing the border illegally in the night.
Three weeks ago, Vinyl reported Neigh Orleans was destroyed in a counterattack and the defensive line had fallen. Starlight was missing.
Two weeks ago, Vinyl gave her last report as the Changeling fleet began to bombard Manehattan. Most of the Equestrian Liberation Front was encircled on the coast. A few stragglers had broken out to the north and were running for the Nova Griffonian border. Most of the ELF was committed to a last stand to buy time.
There had been no radio announcements from Manehattan for twelve days.
True to his statement of neutrality, Blackpeak had announced the southern border was closed. He allowed Kemerskai’s militias to guard it, on the watch for any changeling or pony intruders from either side of the border. After the Reich delegation finally left, the Republicans were looking for any sign of disloyalty from the pony minority. Flurry hadn’t even tried to travel to the southern border. Ponies lived there, but they were too closely watched. Her presence would start violence and justify a crackdown.
The southern border was the easiest to cross, but the Crystal Mountains ran north and west through the frontier. They weren’t impassable to a creature with wings, but the frigid winds and constant snow deterred even the hardiest flier. The Nova Griffonian government didn’t bother trying to shift more militias to watch them. There were a select few mountain trails, not on any map, for the smuggling of goods and ponies from the Crystal Protectorate. Thorax and Duskcrest used them, and passed their location to Spike in a worst-case scenario.
Ponies were fleeing to those passes in the Crystal Mountains. Many would not make it.
Under the pretext of her birthday tour, Flurry Heart had taken everypony she could into the frontier to prepare. Towns and villages gave up what little space they could for new refugees and reinforced their border defenses. The towns on the interior coordinated messenger systems in case the government tried to intervene. Any crossings were illegal. Most of the influential politicians for the frontier were already bought off, Thorax assured her, but they could try to crack down on the smuggling routes to win support with Kemerskai’s Republicans. Some of Thorax’s changelings were disguised at the border to check the refugees.
Flurry had busied herself by reading over a tome of healing spells with Far Sight. She had been forbidden from traveling to the border, so she prepared to help the injured. Spike had arrived with the first group of ponies seven days ago, and Flurry sat in the makeshift medical tent while they were searched. They were frostbitten and malnourished, but otherwise healthy.
She realized that night the injured Ponies didn’t try to make the journey. They stayed behind.
Flurry instead helped serve the lackluster soup at the makeshift sorting center just past the border. Ponies would be checked and processed, then sent along the frontier to villages with room for them. If they had a useful special talent, they would be sent to where they were needed most. The intention was for ponies to wait and reunite with family, but nopony had any family to wait for. Most of the ponies she poured soup for were freed slaves from the plantations and mines that barely saw combat. Many were young, some younger than herself. When they saw an alicorn passing out bowls, they barely reacted.
She would rather they be angry at her. She wanted them to call her a failure and a fake princess, just like the others. She wanted to be slapped. She wanted to be spat on. She couldn’t offer words of encouragement; she didn’t fight beside them and had no idea what they lost. Instead, they looked at her with dull eyes and thanked her for the runny soup. Most called her Princess on reflex.
Flurry Heart had enough after a colt with a white coat and black splotches coughed out, “Thank you, Princess Cadance.”
Flurry Heart dropped the ladle into the soup pot. “What?”
The colt blinked his one good eye; his other was covered by an eyepatch. “I’m sorry, I thought you were Princess Cadance. Who are you?”
“My name is Flurry Heart,” the alicorn said.
“Oh,” the earth pony answered. “My name’s Sweetdrop.”
“Princess Cadance was my mother,” Flurry supplied.
Sweetdrop nodded, but clearly didn’t remember her. He lifted the soup bowl with his hooves and slurped from it. “It’s better than the mines,” he complimented. Flurry gave him an extra ladle. When he turned to find a place to sit in the tent, Flurry stared at the scar tissue on his back.
Flurry finished her shift at three in the morning, then teleported to a secluded spot and vomited.
All her life, Flurry Heart thought she was suffering beside her Ponies in her tiny room in the ghetto. She couldn’t have been farther away from them. Soup and spells couldn’t fix Equestria. All her magic couldn’t fix it. Flurry was useless to her ponies, so she watched the smoke clouds in the distance on her birthday. She watched her home burn again through the snowflakes and let the crown stick to her head.
Thorax appeared below her, shedding the disguise of a pegasus and approaching up the mountain. “I heard you were up here,” he shouted over the snow. Flurry didn’t shout back. He stopped a few hooves beside her and looked south with her.
“The soup kitchen’s being setup in Shortstop for the night,” he said. He adjusted his ugly brown winter coat. It was too long in the body, but short on the legs. His boots squelched in the snow.
“Is that what we’re calling it now?” she asked. She looked at her bare flank, covered by her puffy jacket. “Maybe my talent is naming things,” she laughed, but there was no joy in it.
“Happy Birthday, Flurry,” Thorax offered with a forced smile.
“If you got me a stupid present, I will scream.” Flurry shook her head. She grew her curls out and they stuck to her crown. “How many ponies so far?”
“Around four thousand, but Dusty has the count,” Thorax said.
“How many more?”
“Another thousand?” Thorax guessed.
Flurry closed her eyes and listened to the wind. So few. “Do we know how many tried to make it?” she asked. Her hooves were bare. Snow rarely bothered her, but standing in the snow all day was still uncomfortable. It might be the name, Flurry thought.
“No, Princess,” Thorax lied. Flurry let it go.
“I’ll be down later,” she promised.
“You’ve been here since dawn.” Thorax shuffled his boots.
“I’ll be down at dusk,” she replied.
Thorax watched the distant smoke. “This doesn’t help, Princess. Don’t torture yourself.”
“Nothing I do really helps, uncle,” Flurry snapped. “Half of those ponies don’t even know who I am. I can’t remove memories or scars.”
“Does that bother you?” Thorax asked.
Flurry sensed the disapproval and groaned. “Chrysalis is destroying our knowledge, our culture, everything about Equestria. In ten years, Ponies won’t know anything other than a Changeling hoof pressing down on their necks. It has to stop. I want to help.”
“You can help by being there. Show them a Princess that cares,” Thorax implored.
“Did Spike ever hear anything from Celestia?” Flurry changed the topic.
“He didn’t tell me if he did,” Thorax muttered.
Flurry heard a faint roar of a plane engine over the snow. She whipped her head back to the south and strained her ears. Thorax noticed her intensity and listened as well.
Another engine joined the first. Flurry squinted through the snow, trying to make out shapes in the sky. She flapped her wings and dropped down to the other militia ponies. Thorax followed her, buzzing his wings hard to keep up.
“Planes,” she warned in the Royal Voice. “At least two.” The pony with the radio began to speak rapidly into it. The others scanned the sky.
“We need to fall back, Princess,” Thorax said. “This could be the start of an invasion.”
“Over the Crystal Mountains?” Flurry snorted. “No, they’re looking for the mountain passes if anything.”
The engines were louder. There was a patter of machinegun fire in the distance to the south. One of the militia ponies pointed southeast, lowering her binoculars. “There!” she cried. “Low, just over the hills!”
Flurry squinted and spotted two approaching black dots. They circled each other several times, punctuated by bursts of gunfire. At this distance, they looked like little birds in a dance.
They got closer, then flew over the border, still weaving around each other. Finally, one banked hard and flew low towards the mountain they were on. Flurry summoned a shield over the group of dozen ponies on the mountain and studied the plane as it buzzed past them. It didn’t seem to realize they were there.
It was a Changeling fighter plane, messily repainted with the red, blue and white colors of the ELF along the wings, over the trident crown that Chrysalis used as her symbol. The nose was painted sloppily with every color of the rainbow. The left wing was pockmarked and trailing smoke. She couldn’t see the cockpit.
The other fighter pursued, screaming past a moment later. It didn’t bother with the group, clearly focused on its prey. The second plane was pristine, but looked like the same model. Flurry saw the unmarred black crown on the wings. There was another burst of machinegun fire that the first plane barely swerved to the right to avoid. Her ears pinned back at the intensity of the sound.
“The ELF must still have some fighters in the air providing cover,” Thorax assumed.
“They crossed over into Nova Griffonia,” one of the militia ponies stated.
“Will there be a response?” Flurry asked.
Thorax shrugged. “They’re turning back, but radar picked them up.”
“It’ll be over by the time any of the Nova Griffonian planes get here,” one pony commented. Some nodded and shuffled back to their positions.
“If they bother,” another snorted.
Flurry dispelled the shield. The first plane was slowing down, struggling to twist away. It used the mountains as cover, flying low and around them, but the wing dragged. The second fighter nimbly followed from above, waiting to line up the kill. The first plane headed back over the border, following the mountain range.
They’re going to die. Flurry pressed a forehoof against her crown. It was stuck by frost.
The first plane continued dodging sluggishly. "They must be outta ammo," one of the militia ponies commented. He turned back to the trails with his binoculars.
Flurry Heart took off her jacket and stretched her wings.
Only Thorax noticed. She glanced over at him. Thorax solid blue eyes locked onto Flurry’s icy stare.
“No,” he whispered. It was lost in the wind.
Flurry didn’t reply. She began to trot down the mountain, towards the south.
“No!” Thorax screamed.
Flurry galloped past the other ponies and flapped her wings.
“Stop her!” Thorax chased her, insect wings buzzing.
Flurry’s hooves left the ground and her wings flapped hard, away from Thorax’s desperate screams. She lit her horn and vanished in a crack. She reappeared further south, chasing the planes. She banked upwards, using her oversized wings to catch an updraft in the storm. Flurry leveled off above the planes, but deep into the storm.
I was named after a storm.
She took a breath of frosty air and cleared her mind. The plane engines were louder to the west. She teleported in that direction, then again to the south. She finally saw the planes weaving between the valleys in the lower mountains. She dived down and pursued. A pegasus would have to be exceptional to catch up to a fighter plane, but Flurry Heart was an alicorn. Let my stupid wings be worth something.
A laser would travel slowly, so she would need to lead her shot. Telekinesis was slippery on fast moving objects. Teleporting too close to the plane was too risky; it could bank suddenly and hit her before she could react. If she got close enough to land on it, she could probably just punch through the metal with her alicorn strength, but that risked injury if the fighter came apart.
Get in close, fire blast through the cockpit, Flurry decided. She lit her horn and extended her magic.
She was mildly surprised she could sense the planes like a weapon.
Of course, they are weapons. Just bigger.
That made them easier to track. She dared not try to discern more about the fighters and she caught the draft left by the pursuant Changeling fighter. There was another burst of gunfire ahead of her. She flapped harder and skimmed over the tree tops in a valley between two mountains.
Her mother was born a pegasus before ascending. Her aunt Twilight had been born a unicorn and was a horrible flyer. Flurry hoped she balanced out.
Flurry Heart spotted the tail of the Changeling fighter ahead and above her. She primed her horn and fired a bolt, trying to lead her shot. Her horn hummed with a spell, trailing blue fire through the falling snow.
The bolt passed between the right wing and the tail. It superheated the air enough to create a burst of water out of the snowflakes. The fighter began to climb and spin. Flurry fired again blindly. It was a clear miss.
The first plane banked low out of the valley and turned toward Nova Griffonia. Its left wing shuddered.
Flurry followed the Changeling fighter upwards, snarling and flapping her wings. She shook her head at the snowflakes and summoned a small shield in front of her muzzle to cover her eyes from the wind. She followed the sound of the engine up as it grew louder.
The fighter burst out of the snowstorm above, heading straight for her. It must have climbed and then turned into a dive. Flurry made out a changeling in the cockpit. She snapped away just as the machineguns fired.
She appeared behind and above the plane, then dove after it again. The plane spun and leveled off. Flurry didn’t see a tail gunner, but the fighter must have realized she was behind it, because it began to twist and fly low through the valley to throw her off.
Flurry snarled and fired another laser that the plane dodged. The blast hit the ground, uprooting several trees and kicking up a cloud of snow. The fighter began to climb again, seeking her pursuit. Flurry bit her lip.
She thinks I’m a foal that’ll fall for the same trick twice.
Flurry pursued upwards, giving chase. She noticed the engine fade, then grow louder as the plane dove again. She sensed the plane coming. It was diving straight towards her.
Flurry Heart flew up to meet it head-on.
A pilot would die attempting to ram their plane. A pegasus would splatter against the metal. Once Flurry saw the shadow in the snow, she lit her horn.
Flurry Heart summoned a bubble shield around herself and kept flying.
A burst of machinegun fire bounced off her shield, and Flurry adjusted her aim to hit it head on. Her horn glowed bright blue as she poured magic into her shield. Flurry grinned when she saw the pilot’s open, fanged-filled mouth through the cockpit glass. The changeling tried to veer away, but Flurry moved left to counter.
It wasn’t a clean collision; Flurry’s bubble crunched through the right wing and part of the tail. She felt a brief twinge of pain in her horn, but shook it off. She stopped mid-air and flapped her wings to stay level. Plane debris fell to the ground below her. Flecks of oil slid off her shield and mixed with the snowflakes. She took a deep breath and exhaled.
Flurry looked down from her bubble to watch the one-winged plane spiral into the valley below. It slammed into the trees in a fireball. There was no parachute or escaping figure; there wasn’t enough time.
Flurry dispelled her bubble shield and drifted down lazily into the valley. She didn’t hear any other plane engines. The alicorn landed in a small clearing a little bit away from the crash, then proceeded on hoof until she got to the wreck. There wasn’t much left of the plane, just mangled scraps of metal and burning fuel among broken trees. She didn’t see the body. She levitated a broken shard of cockpit glass towards her and tried to sense anything.
Nothing. She dropped the glass into the snow.
Flurry sighed and oriented herself north. She flapped her wings idly to shake snow free from her feathers. The alicorn stopped after a moment. She was south of the border, in the Crystal Mountains. She was in the Crystal Empire.
I’m home.
Flurry dug her hooves into the snow and extended her wings, letting the snowflakes land. She closed her eyes and listened to the swaying of the trees and the crackling of the fire. She smelled pine and burning fuel. She heard the hissing bits of burning and broken metal as they settled into the snow, where they would be buried by the snow flurries.
Princess Flurry Heart smiled, then flapped her wings again and flew north to find the other plane.
Flurry Heart found the plane on the other side of the border, back in Nova Griffonia. It had a hard landing in a deforested valley in the Crystal Mountains, about half a day’s trot from the border. A logging company had cut down most of the pines to transport the lumber to Evergreen, so the valley was relatively flat. The plane ploughed a deep gouge into the frozen ground that could be seen from the air.
The plane itself was intact, which meant the pilot could be alive. Flurry dipped her wings in a dive and landed hard, slightly shivering. She knocked the frost off her feathers and lit her horn up with an orange flame. The snow storm had begun to recede, but it was nearing sundown. Visibility would be poor in a few hours. If the pilot needed medical attention, Flurry would have carry them back; her teleport still needed work. She trudged through the snowfall towards the plane.
The left wing had buckled during the landing and a mound of dirt and snow piled around the broken propeller. The canopy glass was cracked and covered in snow. As Flurry approached, a hoof punched out some of the side glass.
“I got a revolver in here!” a raspy voice shouted out.
Flurry stopped and raised her wings up. “Are you hurt?”
“Stay right where you are!” the voice commanded. “Identify yourself!”
“Seriously?” Flurry groaned. “How many pink alicorns do you know?”
“Two,” the voice called back with complete confidence. The confidence shattered with a coughing fit.
Flurry summoned a flat blue shield in front of herself and approached. No shots were fired. She tested the tip of the left wing, and judged it safe to stand on and hopped up. The plane rocked slightly with her weight, but Flurry safely approached the cockpit.
The glass was a mess of cracks, dirt, mud, and snow. Flurry peered through the punched-out pane. The pilot, a blue mare wearing a flight cap and goggles, stared back. She wore a brown flight jacket and jumpsuit. The jacket was stained around her back and her lips were bloody.
“So, I lied about the gun,” the mare offered with a bloody smile.
“Are you coughing up blood?” Flurry asked. She looked for a latch on the cockpit.
“Nah,” the mare waved a forehoof with a grimace. “I smashed my muzzle against the stick and bit my tongue.”
“Any other injuries?”
“Old ones,” the mare tried to shrug, then winced.
“How do I open the canopy?”
“Already tried,” the mare explained. “It’s stuck. I gotta punch the glass out.”
Flurry seized the canopy in her telekinetic aura and wrenched it upwards. The entire plane went with it and her hooves scrambled for purchase on the wing. The glass cracked further and the metal frame warped around the middle. When the plane settled back down, Flurry could see the divide where the canopy could be pulled back.
The mare laughed nervously. “Don’t do that again, please?” she requested.
Flurry nodded with an embarrassed blush. “Is there a latch out here?”
“By your left hoof.”
Flurry scraped the snow away and tugged on the latch with her magic. It stuck fast, either because of her magic or the crash. Flurry stomped down and smashed through the metal. She pulled on the canopy again, trying to slide it back this time. It began to move slowly, then stuck again.
“Lower your head,” Flurry requested. The mare tucked her head down and covered it with her forelegs. Flurry reared up and punched through the glass, hooking her hooves over one of the metal bars that kept the canopy in place. She tugged hard, and the canopy crunched back, then ripped away entirely with a screech of metal. Flurry tossed it behind the plane and shook her hooves, checking for cuts.
The mare raised her head as Flurry settled back onto four legs. She brushed some glass from her fur, then tried to unbuckle herself. She tugged on the straps with both forelegs and coughed. Flurry grabbed the straps with her magic and tore them. The pilot looked up at her and gave a thankful nod, then began to climb out onto the wing. Flurry stepped down into the snow to give her room.
The pilot stood on the wing and pulled her goggles off, revealing bloodshot magenta eyes. As the pilot turned back to reach into the cockpit, Flurry noticed there was a lump under the right side of the jacket, but not the left.
“Thanks for the save, Princess,” the pilot said, “but if you found me, so could the changeling after me.” She gave a low chuckle. “He’s mad I got his friends.”
“He’s dead,” Flurry stated.
The pilot glanced over at her as she pulled out a saddlebag. “Damn,” she swore. “I wanted to get him. Would’ve too, if I had ammo. Some griffon shot him down?”
“I killed him.”
The pilot hesitated, then stepped off the wing into the snow. She moved towards one of the still-standing pines at the edge of the valley. Flurry followed past the tree stumps. The pilot sat under the branches to block some of the snow and chewed on her lower lip. Flurry sat against the tree.
“Are there other fighters chasing you?”
“Uh, no,” the mare said.
“I could teleport us,” Flurry offered. “If you’re not too hurt,” she amended.
“Pass,” the mare looked queasy. “I’m not up for it right now.”
“It’s a short flight to one of the temporary camps.” Flurry pointed a wing west. “It’s just over the valley.”
“Flying’s not an option,” the mare replied after a pause.
“I can send a flare up.”
“I don’t have any flares in the bag.”
Flurry rolled her eyes and tapped her horn.
“Right,” the mare coughed. “Yeah, that’ll work.”
Flurry trotted out from under the tree, and launched a pink firework into the sky with her horn. She returned to the tree and summoned a half-bubble to keep out snowfall. The mare had taken off her flight cap, revealing a severely short rainbow mane.
“You’re Rainbow Dash,” Flurry said dumbly. Idiot, she cursed in her head.
“Yep,” Rainbow sighed. She slumped against the trunk.
Flurry reflexively cast her detection spell.
Rainbow bristled. “Really?” she scoffed. “Twilight took me at muzzle value.”
“Sorry,” Flurry blushed. “I didn’t expect to see you. You’re a hero, the Element of Loyalty.”
“I didn’t expect to see a Princess,” Rainbow replied, “let alone get saved by one. Besides, the Elements didn’t mean a rotten horse apple during the war.” She studied Flurry and sized her up. “Last I saw, you were a foal with that stupid snail toy.”
“Whammy,” the alicorn provided.
“Yeah,” Rainbow said softly. “I think you’re taller than me already. How old are you?”
“Today’s my fifteenth birthday.” Flurry sat next to her against the trunk.
“Happy Birthday,” Rainbow coughed. “I got some good cider in the saddlebag.”
“I know healing spells, but if you’re bleeding internally, we need to go now. I can carry you back.”
“I got a concussion and a split lip, and I always hated Twilight teleporting me around,” Rainbow dismissed. “You need somepony bigger to carry me. I’ll wait for backup.”
“Waiting? Sounds like you’ve grown up too,” Flurry chuckled. "I read Twilight's Friendship Journal."
Rainbow laughed back and coughed. The pair watched the snowflakes slide down the shield and start to pile up. Rainbow shifted against the trunk and laid on all fours, while Flurry sat on her flank. The snow was cold, but it provided a bit of cushion.
“Are you all right?” Rainbow asked.
“Are you?” Flurry asked back.
Rainbow didn’t answer.
“The pilot chasing me…” she started. “Uh, you killed him?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
“I landed to make sure,” Flurry deadpanned. “Nothing but scraps.”
“You, uh, wanna talk about it?” Rainbow offered.
“Sure. I flew right into him with a bubble shield,” the alicorn chuckled. “The look on his muzzle was priceless.”
Rainbow was quiet for a minute. “Was he your first?”
Flurry had to think about what she meant. “Oh, yeah,” she said, “I guess so.” Guess that’s a good birthday present, she thought, but decided to keep that to herself.
“Uh, that’s a big deal, and I appreciate it,” Rainbow said awkwardly. She twisted her head to make eye contact with Flurry.
“I guess,” Flurry shrugged. “It’s fine. I wasn’t going to let him kill you, and he shot at me anyways. You’ve probably killed lots of Changelings, right?”
“Y-yeah,” Rainbow stammered. She broke eye contact and returned to staring at the snowflakes.
Flurry could tell she was uncomfortable. Is it because she thinks I’m a foal, or because I’m a Princess?
“Can you still fly that plane?” Flurry changed topics.
“Huh?” Rainbow rasped. “Nah, too messed up. It’s a shame; I really liked it.”
“I liked the paint on the front,” Flurry complimented.
Rainbow sat up straighter. “I did it myself, so the bugs knew who was coming for ‘em,” she boasted.
“I heard some pilots count their kills and make tallies.”
“I, uh, didn’t bother counting.”
Flurry stared at the plane and had an idea. She got up and dispelled her little shield, walking back towards the plane.
“Princess?” Rainbow called out.
Flurry waved a wing back and put a hoof on the left wing, feeling the plane with her magic. The plane itself wasn’t magic, but the owners left an imprint behind. Rainbow hadn’t had the plane very long, but it was drenched in confidence and bravery. She made good use of her short time with it. Flurry felt the aura around the plane.
27 Changelings, she thought. Rainbow hides it, but she felt pride with every kill.
She reached deeper and felt an imprint of the previous owner. It had been a changeling, a mare. This aura was older, but stronger due to the time spent with the plane.
She had been proud, happy to be selected. The happiness faded into homesickness. She wanted to be with her mate and grubs. She viewed the ponies as obstacles in her way to get home. After the war, she hated being posted in Equestria. She wanted to be with her family.
Flurry felt a burst of anger and ground her teeth. She killed four ponies. She felt nothing when she shot them down.
“Flurry!” Rainbow shouted. She fell into a coughing fit.
Flurry shook her head and opened her eyes. She returned to Rainbow.
“You were standing there for like ten minutes,” the pegasus rasped.
“Sorry,” Flurry apologized and sat down under her shield.
“What were you doing?”
“Just looking at the plane,” Flurry lied. “Where’d it come from?”
“Fillydelphia,” Rainbow answered. “We captured an airbase early on. I had a better plane during the war, but we had to make do with captures. No offense to Thorax, but I didn't keep the pictures of the creepy grubs in the cockpit.”
Flurry hummed and shook the snow out of her mane. “If you could know how many changelings you killed,” she asked, “would you want to know?”
“If this is about the pilot-”
“It’s not,” Flurry declared. “It’s just a question.”
Rainbow sighed and pawed at the saddlebag. “During the war, maybe, but after all the ambushes and bombs and stuff, I don’t know.” Rainbow raised a brow at her. “Why? There’s a spell to tell?”
“Nopony knows one,” Flurry deflected.
“Nopony knows a spell that can regrow a wing, either,” Rainbow muttered. “I asked Starlight.”
Flurry looked at the jacket with the large dull stain on Rainbow’s back. Rainbow saw where she was looking and pulled the jacket tighter with a hiss between her teeth.
“I can stop the bleeding.”
“It stopped bleeding weeks ago,” Rainbow waved a hoof at her. “I just need new bandages and stuff.” She leaned heavily against the tree again.
“Right,” Flurry nodded, “you said you were out of ammo?”
“Uh, yeah, ran out shooting down his friends. Made him pretty mad,” Rainbow chuckled. Her eyelids drooped lower. Flurry looked down in the snow to check for fresh blood drops, but didn’t see any.
“What were you doing?” she asked to keep Rainbow talking.
“I was trying to buy time for ponies to make it through the mountains. Figured it was better that they shoot at me than some poor ponies on the ground,” Rainbow coughed.
Flurry fired a sleep spell from her horn, catching Rainbow mid-cough. She dropped into the snow soundlessly. Flurry crawled over and pulled the jacket off Rainbow’s back. She recoiled. Rainbow had bandages wrapped around her barrel and her jumpsuit was cut away around her shoulders. Her left wing was a nub. It was bandaged tight, but the bandages were stained yellow with pus.
Flurry tore the bandages away and crinkled her muzzle at the stench. The amputation was a few weeks old, but clearly infected. The scar tissue wasn’t healing right, and whoever helped her didn’t remove all the fur around the wing joint.
If anypony helped her. This is beyond me.
Flurry bit her lip and looked up. She didn’t see anypony in the sky. She couldn’t carry the pegasus on her back through the air, and Rainbow was too big to hook around her forelegs safely. Flurry dispelled the shield around them and prepared a spell. She fired a laser towards the plane, blowing the chassis apart. She flung a shield up in case of ricochets. The sound echoed through the valley, but the explosion was far too small. Flurry ground her teeth, then left Rainbow to trudge up to the wreckage. The fire was too small to be visible from the air.
She was out of fuel, too.
Flurry screamed and fired a flaming beam of blue fire into the sky. She kept pouring magic into it until she felt blood drip from her nostrils onto her lips. She cut the beam off and stuffed her smoking horn into the snow. It instantly created a small puddle of water. She waited for her horn to cool off, then sent another beam skywards.
Flurry heard the distant roar of a dragon. She limped back to Rainbow and pulled the mare onto her back. Her horn sparked feebly and the alicorn summoned a tiny shield around them and waited in the clearing. She spotted several shapes flying low over the mountains from the west.
Spike, Thorax, Duskcrest, and two dozen pegasi and griffons landed, all armed and carrying rifles. A few more were circling the valley from above. Flurry cut the shield and approached. Thorax’s wings buzzed angrily.
“Everyone’s been looking for you!” he hissed. “The entire frontier probably saw that! The Nova Griffonians will investigate!”
Flurry jerked her head back towards the mare on her back. “She needs help,” Flurry coughed.
“We dropped everything. Ponies are stuck on the north trail,” Spike said. He folded his arms and his tail whipped angrily. He wasn’t looking at the pony on her back.
Duskcrest glanced at the mare, but glared at Flurry. “We had to shift our patrols.”
“It’s Rainbow,” Flurry explained. “Her wing’s gone and the stump’s infected.”
“You need to listen to me!” Thorax shouted. “All we’ve been trying to do is keep you safe.” He tossed his head back and snarled with his fangs bared. “And you fly off like an idiot foal with every stupid idea,” he spat.
“She needs antibiotics,” Flurry mumbled. She heard her heartbeat pounding in her skull.
“Ponies are going to die because you flew off!” Thorax accused. “They’re waiting in the snow while we look for you!”
“I didn’t ask you to do that,” the alicorn replied softly. He didn't hear her.
“I see the blood on your muzzle! You could have died!”
“I killed the pilot,” Flurry whispered. She shut her eyes.
“For what? One pony?” Spike snorted a plume of smoke.
Flurry opened her eyes and inhaled.
Her horn burned and she grabbed Spike with her magic. Spike’s eyes widened and he flailed against her grip, but she squeezed back and flung him into Duskcrest and Thorax. They landed in a heap of tangled limbs and rolled through the snow.
Flurry spun in a circle and tore the rifles from the militia members’ grips while her horn blazed blue. One griffon screamed as his arm broke from the force. Flurry spun the rifles around and aimed them at their owners.
Flurry Heart looked up and shielded the whole valley in a bright blue bubble. Her horn flared and she contracted the shield, crashing through the trees on the outskirts. The flying griffons and pegasi crashed against the shield and tumbled down into the clearing. One landed hard with a scream. A few dropped their weapons in surprise. Flurry snatched up their weapons as they fell and circled them around her. Once every creature was on the ground, Flurry looked around at the terrified and injured griffons and ponies being held at gunpoint with their own weapons.
Flurry exhaled.
Rainbow coughed in her sleep.
She dropped the weapons into the snow and marched over to Thorax, Spike, and Duskcrest. She pulled Spike up first with magic. He blinked at her and wheezed.
“Rainbow Dash,” Flurry snarled, “Twilight’s friend, since you didn’t recognize her or didn’t care. She lost a wing and it's infected, concussion too.” She levitated Rainbow over to Spike and nearly shoved the mare against him. “Get her to Shortstop.”
She pulled Duskcrest to his paws. He swayed, but stayed upright. “Get the patrols back to position, then take me to the blockage on the trail. I’ll clear it,” she commanded.
Flurry glared down at Thorax, who had rolled off his back and gathered his hooves under himself. One of his boots was missing. Flurry leaned down and locked horns with the changeling. She shoved his head back down and bore into his blue eyes.
“Rainbow had no fuel and no ammo,” she whispered. “She was going to die, and none of you were going to do anything.” Flurry didn’t blink. “I killed the pilot chasing her. He didn’t stand a chance, but he thought I was just a foal, like you.
“I’m not a foal anymore,” she hissed. “I am an alicorn, and I can kill everyone in this valley. I could turn the ground into glass.” Flurry Heart drew her head back and flared out her wings, standing over the changeling. Thorax stayed down and licked at his fangs. It was something he did when he was nervous.
“Are you hurt?” Flurry asked.
The changeling shook his head.
Flurry Heart looked around at the surrounding ponies and griffons, who hadn’t moved to retrieve their weapons. No matter what race they were, they looked at her in terror. Flurry remembered feeling guilty when the staff cringed at her in the Empire, but right now she felt nothing.
“I’m sorry for my outburst,” Flurry apologized. “If you’re hurt, step forward.”
No one did.
Flurry rolled her eyes and stalked over to a griffon clutching his right arm. He scooted back in the snow and whimpered. Flurry lit her horn and he curled into a ball, raising his broken arm in a plea.
Flurry cast a mending spell and the griffon cried out in pain and shivered. He bent his formerly broken arm and raised both claws up in surrender. “Who else?” she asked, turning away from the griffon.
The valley was quiet.
Flurry continued to walk through the snow and look at the militia. Her hoofprints left small puddles and a few sparks trailed from her horn. A few of the fliers were scraped or bruised, but most looked fine. For a moment, her stomach churned at the thought of killing one of her own.
“My wing broke when I hit the shield,” a green pegasus shouted out. Flurry crossed over to the older pegasus. Her right wing was limp.
“Your right wing?” Flurry asked to confirm.
The pegasus gave a slow nod. “I landed hard.”
Flurry cast the spell. The pegasus winced and bowed. “I’m sorry,” Flurry apologized. “I lost my temper.”
“Our fault, Princess,” the pegasus answered, but kept her head low in a bow.
“My fault,” Flurry corrected. “You’ll have to be careful for a few days before the bone fully heals,” she advised. The pegasus nodded, but said nothing else.
Flurry walked back to Duskcrest, Spike, and Thorax, then stared at the surrounding ponies and griffons. Flurry Heart dispelled the shield around the valley and gave Duskcrest a side-eye; he took the hint.
“All right!” he shouted. “Get your weapons and get back in the sky! If you’re hurt, see the Princess!” He flapped his wings and risked making eye contact with Flurry. “The north trail is still blocked. Where can I find you? Here?”
“I’ll teleport back to Shortstop,” Flurry answered.
“You’ll beat me there. Talk to Gavrillo. He knows the trails.” Duskcrest flapped away unevenly, shaking snow off his jacket and pants. Every pony and griffon followed him, scooping up their rifles. A few flew shakily, clearly bruised or hurt. Flurry shook her head.
Spike was still cradling Rainbow Dash, staring at the stump of her left wing. “One pony, huh?” Flurry snorted. Spike opened and closed his mouth, searching for words, then flared his wings out and took flight to the west. Flurry watched him leave, then walked over to the last one in the valley.
Thorax pawed at the snow, looking for his missing boot. Flurry helped him look, found it, then levitated it over to his muzzle. He accepted the boot and turned it upside down, shaking out the snow before slipping it on his hoof with a grimace. He stood up with a low hiss, and the pair stared at each other.
Thorax broke the silence first. “They’re all afraid of you,” he sighed.
“I don’t need to be a changeling to know that,” Flurry replied.
“They’re going to talk about this.”
“I don’t care.” Flurry lashed her tail. “I don’t care if they love me or fear me; I’m still their Princess.”
“Even the griffons?”
“If they’ll have me,” Flurry shrugged. She wiped the dried blood off her muzzle.
Thorax looked at the wreckage of the plane.
“Did you know that was Rainbow?” Flurry asked.
“I heard she escaped,” Thorax replied, but the non-answer told Flurry everything.
“You would have let her die,” Flurry accused.
“There wasn’t anything we could do,” he protested with buzzing wings.
“No, I could have done something and I did,” Flurry countered. “I saved her.”
“You could’ve died doing it. You think Rainbow would’ve wanted you to die for her?” Thorax’s fin stiffened.
“She doesn’t get to choose what I die for.” Flurry stomped a hoof. “Neither do you. I’m going down to the border to clear the way. I can clear an avalanche on my own. Don’t bother with the earth ponies. And if there are more fighters chasing my ponies, I’ll batter them down myself; I’ll use my shield.”
The valley was quiet except for the dying flames.
Thorax shuffled his boots. “You said you killed the pilot,” he stated.
“Yes, I chased him and landed after the crash to make sure he was dead.”
Thorax licked his fangs. “It’s terrible to take a life, Flurry. I should know.”
Flurry laughed. “Tell me how I feel about it,” she challenged.
“Nothing,” Thorax sighed, “and if you’re not hiding your emotions from me, that breaks my heart.” He trudged over and embraced her. Flurry stiffened and listened to a muffled sob. “This wasn’t the life any of us wanted for you.”
What did you want for me, uncle? Flurry thought. Did you want me to spend my life on the radio? Make speeches and serve soup? Become a good republican? Settle down and marry and forget my crown? What did my mother want for me? What did my father? Flurry wrapped her wings around him and returned the hug.
“I choose my life,” Princess Flurry Heart said, “and I choose this.” She tapped a hoof on her crown as she broke the hug. “Other ponies can serve soup, or cast healing spells.”
She narrowed her icy blue eyes. “Nopony fights like I can.” Her bare flank itched.
Flurry Heart collected the empty bottles and arranged them in a circle in the dirt. She had five, and waited for Rainbow to finish the sixth. Given how the pegasus chugged cider, she wouldn’t have to wait long. She braced the rifle against her shoulder and fired downrange again. There was a ping as she knocked a helmet off a stick.
“Damn, I could barely see that,” Dusty commented to Barrel Roller. “I’d have given a left hoof to have an infantry mare that skilled, no offense Rainbow,” Dusty laughed.
Rainbow stopped chugging her cider and belched in reply. She wiggled her wing stub. “Maybe the Princess takes interest?” she asked. “Hey, Princess Flurry! What’s your tax rate?” she called out.
Flurry would have taken the mockery poorly from any griffon, but Rainbow was always like that. Flurry wiggled her wings and stuck up two feathers on both. She didn’t look back at the pegasus, but she heard Rainbow snort and cough up some cider.
Dusty Mark, Rainbow Dash, and Barrel Roller sat on some old truck tires in the scrapyard outside Evergreen and swapped cold ciders in the early spring snow. Rainbow had discarded her jacket and sat on top of it, along with Barrel Roller. Dusty kept her green winter jacket on. Flurry laid before them against some sandbags, wearing a white camouflage jacket and pants. She had a submachine gun lying next to her with some empty clips that needed to be reloaded.
It was the one she stole from Blackpeak’s guard. Thorax had given it back, as a belated birthday present. She made good use of it: the helmets downrange were now more hole than helmet. This week was shooting practice; Far Sight would show up later.
When she turned sixteen in eleven months, Flurry Heart would legally be an adult. The Nova Griffonians would ask her to file for citizenship. They’d also probably ask her to renounce any claim to Equestria or the Crystal Empire and disown her title, but Flurry planned to refuse.
Blackpeak would bend before she did. The alicorn was confident of that. His reelection prospects were shaky. Alexander Kemerskai had already announced he was running against Triton Blackpeak on a conservative Republican ticket. He promised to bring jobs back to the griffons, mostly by passing labor laws against the cheap wages of the pony minority. Kemerskai’s election would be the ultimate feather in the eye of the Griffonian Reich. Blackpeak was running on his traditional campaign of a low tax rate and doing the bare minimum to keep her ponies alive, and sometimes not even that.
Flurry was tired of it. She wasn’t going to let either of them win.
Grover was going to turn sixteen just a few months after her, during the spring and before the election. He’d be coronated Kaiser of the Reich, and he’d be able to keep his promise.
Princess Flurry Heart: I, Grover von Greifenstein, swear to the Gods that I will help you reclaim your throne when I come of age.
That would certainly involve invading Nova Griffonia. She hadn’t gotten any letters from him, but she could launch attacks from the frontier when the invasion started, pinning down the militias on the coast. Nova Griffonia would fall quickly, then the Reich and her ponies could sweep south into the Crystal Empire and Equestria.
The Aquileians posed a problem. The Aquileian ponies would help her; they had lived in the ghettos for years and assimilated with the Equestrian and Imperial refugees. The New Marelanders, what few lived here, were in the same position. But the Aquileian griffons hated the Reich, and Grover by extension.
Flurry hoped to negotiate with Grover a few token concessions to placate them. They liked their ‘Little Flurry;’ the Aquileians were barely better than ponies to the native Nova Griffonians, and she had worked hard to maintain her relationship with the veterans. All Grover had to do was offer some pardons and reunite some families.
Surely, he’d agree to that for her help.
She hadn’t told anypony her plan. They’d spend the next year trying to talk her down if they knew. Thorax had enough problems trying to hide a few thousand new refugees in the mountains. Blackpeak turned a blind eye to the frontier and the thousands of unregistered illegal refugees. If Nova Griffonia was attacked, it wouldn’t matter there were extra ponies to take up arms and fight. Kemerskai might care, but his Republicans would be too busy fending off the Reich to send loyal griffons into the mountains to deal with monarchists.
Flurry fired the rifle two more times before reaching for another clip on her belt. Her hoof came back empty. She blinked; she’d been out here longer than she thought. Flurry pushed herself up into a sitting position, then pulled the submachine gun clips towards her. She also levitated over an old box of ammo. The bullets lifted up and began to slide into the clip.
“That’s cheating, Princess,” Rainbow called.
Flurry stuck her tongue out, but carefully gripped some bullets between her feathers and slowly reloaded while holding the clip between her front hooves. Her wingspan was enormous for an adult, let alone a fifteen-year-old. If she had been born a stallion, there was a crass joke about a pegasus with big wings. It didn't apply to mares.
While reloading by hoof, Flurry busied herself by firing lazy blasts from her horn towards a reinforced metal sheet to her right. The sheet was already glowing hot and half-melted. It was a convenient source of heat for the trio behind her.
“You keep doing that and I’m going to have to take off my jacket,” Dusty warned.
“What kind of Princess am I if I can’t keep my ponies warm?” Flurry joked back. “You done with that cider, Rainbow?” she called, keeping her eyes on her aim.
“Geez, I’m not that much of a drunk,” Rainbow hiccupped.
“I’ve known you for years, Rainbow, you are,” Barrel Roller slapped her side with a wing. He had lost most of his right ear during the push north and had a scar running down the side of his muzzle. His orange eyes were still cheerful and bright; they distracted from the scars.
Flurry finished reloading the clips, but stood up and stretched her wings. She walked back to the adults. Her crown was resting on a spare tire; Flurry didn’t like wearing it when practicing. She didn’t want her horn to heat up too much and damage the metal. She slipped it back on with her hooves and shook her head to readjust her curly blue and purple mane.
“You want one, Princess?” Rainbow offered her a cider bottle.
“She’s too young,” Dusty rebuked.
“Bah,” Rainbow scoffed. “Ponies in Ponyville drank younger than her.”
“That explains a lot about the stories of Ponyville,” Dusty chuckled.
Rainbow’s face darkened and she squeezed the bottle between her hooves.
Flurry saw an opportunity to step-in. “Thanks, Rainbow, but I’ll pass. I’ve been meaning to ask a serious question.” She glanced between the ponies.
Rainbow saluted with the bottle. “Your humble subjects are at your service.”
“Why’d we lose?” Flurry asked.
The trio looked away from her.
“You didn’t lose, Princess,” Dusty finally said after a pause.
“Don’t argue about words, we lost,” Flurry countered. “What happened? Spike wasn’t there for Canterlot, and he won’t talk about Starlight. Nopony knows anything about where she is.”
“Starlight’s dead,” Rainbow mumbled.
Barrel Roller looked alarmed. “You’re sure? The Changelings would’ve shown off her body. They never even claimed they caught her. I wasn't at her part of the front.”
“Last time they claimed that with a fake, Starlight blew up a whole garrison. Trixie had some fireworks show a big, fat Chrysalis gorged on love,” Dusty laughed.
“I don’t know, I guess,” Rainbow admitted, “but I saw her after Trixie got encircled, just before the front collapsed.”
“I heard the Changelings leveled Neigh Orleans to kill her,” Dusty commented.
“That was Trixie,” Rainbow shook her head. “She didn’t want her hometown to belong to the bugs, so she gave one Tartarus of a final show.” Rainbow swallowed a sip of cider. “Starlight looked real bad, like the fight just went out of her. Said she didn’t want to hide again. I was flying when the front collapsed. I led some of the planes north to provide support."
“And we’re grateful for that,” Barrel interrupted. “We wouldn’t have been able to break out without air support.” He took his own sip. “Speaking of Tartarus,” he changed the subject, “what’s left of S.M.I.L.E released most of the dangerous stuff to harass the Changelings. They got so fed up they collapsed the whole cave system with a massive bombing run.”
“Tirek?” Dusty asked with a grimace.
“Nopony was stupid enough to let him out.” Barrel laughed. “I hope he died screaming under a rock,” he whickered, then took a drink.
“Where’s Discord been? He could help, right?” Flurry asked.
“That’s a good excuse to start ignoring the idea of civilians,” Rainbow scoffed. “He said war was boring and didn’t want to get involved.” Rainbow blinked and looked melancholy. “I thought Fluttershy ran off with him after the war, but Zecora swears she’s seen her in the Everfree Forest.”
“Zecora’s still active, right?” Flurry asked.
“Yeah,” Rainbow brightened up, “she did some freaky Zebra stuff they got in Zebrica and riled the whole forest up years ago. It ate up Ponyville and ruined the view from Canterlot for Chrysalis. I hid out there for a while and helped out before the uprising. She retreated back to the forest after the ELF collapsed. I don’t know how many ponies are with her.”
“S.M.I.L.E’s gone as well,” said Barrel. “The Jaegers tracked down Sweetie Drops in Manehattan. Used her wife as bait.”
Rainbow snorted. “I heard Blueblood over the radio. Guess he decided to go down with the ship this time instead of running horn-first to New Mareland again.”
“New Mareland’s gone,” Dusty reminded the pegasus. Rainbow shrugged her one wing and took a drink.
Flurry sighed. “Who’s left?”
Nopony answered her.
Us.
“Rainbow,” Flurry began softly, “I’m sorry, but what happened in Canterlot? How'd we lose?”
Rainbow took a long drink. “We were doing okay, pushed up outside the mountain, but Chrysalis had her panzers lined up outside the Celestial Plain, west of Canterlot. We got our hooves nailed down trying to besiege the city; we tried an aerial landing and infiltration to get the mountain open. Starlight was sure that Twilight was being held there. I begged her for the chance to go in.”
Rainbow looked back at her missing wing. “We lost most of the Wonderbolts; I lost a wing to a bullet and a knife fight with a Jaeger. Scootaloo and Misty Fly dragged me down Mount Canterhorn. Chrysalis’ tanks pushed through our infantry and we had to retreat.” Rainbow sighed. "Starlight was sure that if we got to Twilight, ponies would rally everywhere. They'd stop being afraid."
"I should've been there," Flurry whispered.
"No, Princess," Barrel cut off, "the deal was to take you after Canterlot had been liberated, not before. If you'd been there during the retreat, there would be even more panic and chaos."
I could have helped. “You said something about tanks,” Flurry noted. “Would tanks have helped?”
“We got a ship with a bunch of tanks from the Reich in Manehattan, to the surprise of everypony. The griffon with them said we had you to thank for that,” Barrel raised an eyebrow at her.
“Yeah, but there was supposed to be more,” Flurry snorted. “A lot more. The blockade ruined everything. Did whatever show up help?”
Barrel struggled for a moment, but relented at Flurry’s stare. “We didn’t even get them to the frontline before it collapsed. I know Sun Flare really wanted them; he died with them during the last stand to buy time.”
“What if they got there earlier? Before they blockaded Manehattan?” Flurry hoped that Elias and the single ship managed to escape. The Changeling radio in Canterlot didn't boast about Griffonian tanks being defeated.
“Princess, please, don’t bother yourself about what-ifs,” Dusty said, reassuring the alicorn with a hoof pat to the wing.
“I’m not bothering myself about it,” Flurry replied. Celestia and Luna’s muzzles flashed through her mind and she ground her teeth for a moment. She shook her head. “That’s it?”
“It was a good try,” Barrel saluted with a wing and raised his cider. Dusty met the toast with her own bottle wrapped in her gray magic.
“No,” Rainbow burst out, “it wasn't. Starlight and Trixie fought over everything.” She waved the cider for emphasis. “We needed more ponies, but they only wanted volunteers. We needed to conscript. We needed guns and factories to make them.”
“A lot of ponies were too weak,” Barrel protested. “We were liberating Equestria, not bringing back sixteen-hour shifts.”
“A bullet can kill no matter who is firing it,” Rainbow retorted, “and we wasted time setting up camps.”
“It wasn’t a waste to stop and help ponies,” Barrel admonished. “The Changelings started draining towns and villages as they retreated,” he explained to Flurry. “They left ponies in the streets, barely alive. We had to stop to give them medical attention.”
“I wasn’t talking about those camps,” Rainbow muttered.
“Rainbow, ponies had to work with the Changelings to survive,” the pegasus said tiredly. Flurry sensed that this was a common argument.
“I didn’t!” Rainbow shouted. “I lived in the Everfree! I lived in sewers! I lived on a single cloud for a month!” Her wing flared out. “Rarity makes uniforms for them now!” the mare ranted. “She probably still does; she didn’t even fight in the Great War. She ended up in a camp with her boss.” Rainbow’s lone wing twitched angrily.
“And Applejack?” she continued. “I came to her after the Everfree swallowed up Ponyville. She was running some plantation, harvesting apples with a bunch of her neighbors as slaves. She refused to join us. She was going to relocate to Appleloosa and restart. Said she couldn’t join or the Changelings would kill her whole family,” Rainbow scoffed.
“That’s fair, Rainbow,” Dusty offered, but her gray eyes were looking far away.
Rainbow’s magenta eyes narrowed. “They hanged my dad for what I did.” She leaned towards Barrel. “I know they beat him before they did it. I thank Celestia that my mom died in the air attacks on Cloudsdale.”
She took another drink. “Then, Wind Rider got on the radio and said I wasn’t a true pegasus,” Rainbow snorted. “That prick got to lead some supremacy club in Manehattan and ride Governor Lilac for years!” she yelled. “Starlight saw all that and just locked him up, him and a thousand others. She posted garrisons to protect those traitors from getting lynched by all the ponies their hooves trampled on for years. Said it wasn’t the Equestrian way.”
Rainbow waved the bottle around. “He should have swung, and all his friends!” she shouted. “Everypony in those camps should’ve been shot. We wasted so much time on them, and now they’re right back to where they were, probably even worse.”
“And Applejack? And Rarity? Would you shoot them?” Flurry asked. She kept her tone neutral.
Rainbow drained the last of her cider and glared at the bottle. “She made this with the sweat and tears of her friends,” she commented with a scrunched muzzle. “She sells it all over Equestria; the bugs love sweet stuff.”
The pegasus’ eyes teared up. “Maybe she treats her workers better than most, but that’s not enough. Maybe she thinks it’s the right thing to do, but it’s not!” Rainbow whinnied and reared back to toss the bottle. She hesitated as the sunlight caught the glass and made a rainbow.
She deflated and her one wing drooped. “What does ‘loyalty’ even mean anymore? Friends? Country? Princess?” She glanced at Flurry Heart. “I would have died for them once. Now, I…I don’t even know anymore.” Rainbow let the bottle slip from her hooves. Flurry caught it in her magic.
“Starlight and Trixie were fighting to bring back the Equestria they knew,” Barrel commented in a low tone.
“That Equestria lost,” Rainbow muttered. “We lost.”
“What would you do, Princess? If you were in charge, how would you fight?” Dusty asked. Her gray eyes swept around the scrapyard at Flurry’s destruction before settling on the alicorn.
Flurry sat and fiddled with the bottle between her hooves. She moved it towards the other bottles with her magic and placed it in the center of the ring.
“Rainbow’s right,” Flurry summarized. “Forced conscription, seizures of gold and other valuable metals. Take weapons and equipment. Set a rule, like every collaborator that wasn’t enslaved has to have three ponies that worked under them speak in their defense. Hang or shoot them if nopony speaks up, then and there. Keep them for trial if somepony does.” Rainbow’s muzzle scrunched and Dusty hummed.
“That,” Barrel stammered, “that’s barbaric, Princess. Everypony has a right to a trial.”
“Too much time,” Flurry shrugged. “The faster we move, the less time the Changelings have to drain towns and villages. Even if they did, we keep rushing them. Cut them off from the next town.”
“A lot of ponies would die doing that,” Dusty remarked, her tone casual.
“Yeah,” Flurry conceded. “A lot of Changelings, too. No prisoners, not even civilians. They'll just use mercy against us. When we make it to the Changeling Lands, I’ll adjust my position on prisoners.”
“Princess, that’s not right,” Barrel protested. “That’s not what Equestria was about.”
“How many changelings surrendered?” Flurry asked aggressively.
Barrel’s wings twitched, but he rallied his courage. “Most fled, but there were a few-”
“None,” Rainbow cut off. “None worth anything. Chrysalis has a habit of ordering deserters shot if recaptured. Surrender isn’t accepted in the Changeling Hegemony. Any changeling worth anything joined Thorax a long time ago.”
“It would make the reprisals in controlled territory worse,” Barrel replied. He stood up from the tire and glared at Rainbow. Rainbow snarled back.
“They’re all dead anyway,” Flurry stated. The trio of adults quieted and stared at her.
“They’re killing us slowly, every year,” Flurry continued. “I hear about the Love Tax, but I don’t hear about programs to encourage ponies to get together and make more little ponies. Chrysalis doesn’t plan for the future; she doesn't have an heir. She can’t imagine a world without her and that tower in Vesalipolis. She will kill everypony and proclaim victory on the ashes.”
“The deer in Olenia are still around,” Barrel said uncertainly.
Flurry almost laughed. Olenia had been Chrysalis’ first target, a test site for the new method of tank warfare. Olenia was on a southern peninsula from the Changeling Lands and separated from Equestria by a narrow strait at Vanhoover. The deer never really got along with the Princesses, and Celestia had only dedicated token medical supplies to their defense. Ponies didn’t want to go to war back then, especially not her mother and father.
We could have broken Chrysalis early, before all of this.
Olenia had surrendered after three months of fighting while Celestia and her mother watched. Flurry vaguely remembered a sad and broken deer at a dinner in Canterlot. Celestia had given a speech on the radio and issued a note of protest. Flurry imagined that Chrysalis still kept the letter around to laugh at it.
“The deer in Olenia complied and look how well that went for them,” Rainbow challenged. “Hay, I shot a couple of deer. The Changelings threw them at us first. What do you hear about them now? Nothing.”
“Thorax doesn’t hear anything from the Olenian Protectorate,” Dusty noted.
“That’s not going to happen to Equestria,” Barrel said defiantly. “Sure, we lost, but Starlight and Trixie weakened the Hegemony. They lost a lot of equipment they can’t replace. A lot of tanks and aircraft. Chrysalis drafted a bunch of changelings, but she’s still overstretched; it’s worse than before. Southern Equestria is basically abandoned. She only won because she threw everything she had at us.”
“And that was enough to crush us,” Rainbow countered. “We need better equipment, and more of it, to launch an attack."
“Blackpeak’s got it in his armories,” Dusty said and took a languid sip of her cider.
“We start a civil war, and Chrysalis is going to dance across the border before we can even think about going south,” Barrel snorted, stomping a hoof for emphasis.
We end it quickly, when Grover attacks, Flurry thought. We go south. “Chrysalis and the Reich are going to fight each other eventually,” she said instead. “She can’t help herself. She’ll probably try to attack Nova Griffonia when the Reich does just to claim more territory and finish us off. We’ll have to pick a side, and the Reich is the only choice.”
“Weren’t they friends with the Changelings? The griffons might agree to a deal,” Rainbow commented with a frown.
Flurry shook her head. “No, he won’t. I know Grover,” she said with confidence. She fired another laser towards the reinforced metal sheet and punched clean through it again.
“I’ve read your letters,” Barrel remarked. “You don’t sound like friends.”
Flurry turned away from the smoking metal and stared at him long enough for his wings to twitch uncomfortably.
“I apologize, Princess.” He pawed at the dirt.
“Apology accepted,” Flurry said and fired a blast that melted the remainder of the metal. The four ponies basked in the heat for a moment.
Rainbow tilted her head and straightened a feather on her wing. She clicked her teeth. “My wing still itches,” she groused. “The one I left in Canterlot. How does that work?”
“Phantom pain,” Dusty replied.
Rainbow shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt. It’s just itchy.”
“There’s a pegasus that does prosthetics in Ambergleam,” Flurry said. “I’ve met her a few times on my birthday.”
“Yeah, Thorax told me,” Rainbow shrugged. “I’m waiting. I still got four hooves.” Rainbow looked Flurry up and down. “You got a plan when you turn sixteen?”
“You could join a militia,” Dusty offered. “Hay, most elect their captains. You could be in command of one out in the frontier.”
“Kemerskai would blow feathers,” Flurry chuckled. “No, I can’t do that.”
“What do you wanna do?” Rainbow asked.
“Fly,” Flurry replied. “I want you to teach me how to fly a fighter.”
Rainbow blushed. “That might be difficult. I’m not supposed to be here and I can’t exactly claim to be somepony else. Not many one-winged, rainbow-maned mares around.”
“It won’t matter once the war starts,” Flurry stated. “They’ll welcome a skilled pilot. And me.” Flurry pointed a wing at Rainbow’s side. “But you’ll need a prosthetic. I want you to be able to fly away if you get shot down.”
Unlike the ground forces, Nova Griffonia’s air force was centralized under the government. The navy was as well, but a lot of Aquileians served, including their best admiral, Josette Fierté. Jacques, her mailgriffon, already introduced Josette to Flurry Heart at her yearly veteran meetings.
The air force was the only branch of the military that was relatively pro-Republican; a lot of the griffons that escaped the Griffonian Republic joined the air force. The air force largely belonged to Kemerskai, but there were still air wings of native Nova Griffonians. If Flurry signed up immediately at sixteen, she might be able to sway more of the frontier-born pilots to side with her when the time came.
“You’ll need to learn the basics before you join up,” Dusty remarked. “Duskcrest’s got access to some old fighters. Good enough to learn the ropes.”
Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Fine, as the Princess commands. Why do you want all my empty bottles?” Rainbow pointed at Flurry’s circle of bottles off in the dirt.
Flurry stood up and brushed the dirt of her pants. “I’m working on a spell.”
“Did Far Sight teach you it?” Dusty asked.
“No,” Flurry replied, “its my own spell.” The alicorn missed the nervous glances between the adults. She trotted over to the sandbags and crouched behind them. Flurry took off her crown again and peeked over the bags at the bottles. Her horn began to glow. The adults behind her quickly stood up and backed away.
Flurry stuck her tongue out as she concentrated, narrowing her eyes. A little blue bubble formed over Rainbow’s empty bottle in the center of the ring. Flurry’s horn pulsed with energy. The shield flickered for a moment. Nothing happened for a few seconds.
Dusty Mark stuck her head out from behind a large truck tire. “Your shield spells are great, Princess,” Dusty called. Flurry heard the confusion in her tone.
“It’s not a shield,” Flurry whispered. Her horn glowed a brighter blue.
The little bubble buckled outward suddenly and exploded into a flurry of blue sparks. It sounded like a soap bubble popping. The glass bottles shattered and the shards flew a few hooves in every direction.
Flurry ducked to be safe. After a moment to breathe, she looked over the sandbag. The ground was scorched black in a ring and littered with glass shards.
The lone bottle in the middle sat untouched. Flurry picked it up in her magic and levitated it over, taking it in her hooves. It wasn’t hot to the touch and looked perfectly fine. Flurry smiled and replaced the bottle.
The adults emerged from their hiding places, looking embarrassed. Dusty the unicorn approached first. “I’ve never seen a shield like that before. Your father’s shields were solid, but you want yours to explode?”
“Like a grenade,” Flurry answered, “except anypony inside will be safe.”
“That’s a good spell to get somepony out of trouble,” Dusty nodded. “You’re practicing to cast it on other ponies?”
Flurry nodded. Teleport in, shield to draw attention, blow the shield out, teleport away. More time to charge means a stronger blast, so I need to balance between speed and strength.
Dusty stared at the scorch mark on the ground. “Did you know I was an archaeologist before the war?” she asked randomly. Flurry shook her head. Dusty sat and pulled her cargo pants down to reveal her cutie mark: a quill and chisel. “Ironically, I didn't want to look over old books and artifacts in a museum. I took my son with me when I traveled.”
She glanced back at Rainbow. “Always hated that Daring Do got all the attention raiding temples and stealing artifacts,” she smiled. Dusty pulled her cargo pants back up and walked towards the broken glass.
Rainbow rolled her eyes and grabbed the last cider.
“I lived here for several years out in the frontier,” Dusty continued. “I found some old ruins along the Crystal Mountains; found more on the coast. The Nova Griffonian government cut our funding and kicked us out. Then, the war happened.”
Dusty stepped around the broken glass and circled the lone bottle left standing. “Before any griffon ever came here, the entire north belonged to the Crystal Empire. It was sparsely settled, but we dug up some artifacts. When Sombra cursed the Crystal City away a thousand years ago, the outposts fell apart. A lot of the crystal ponies remaining moved south to the Princesses; their descendants lost their colorful shiny coats over the years. It left the north open for the Griffonian Reich to cross the ocean and settle some griffons centuries later. I was going to write a paper about it.”
“What’s your point?” Barrel asked.
“This was our land long before it was theirs,” Dusty closed, “maybe we should take it back.” She turned to Flurry. “You’re the heir to Princess Amore, the last Crystal Princess, the one who abdicated the title of Empress of the Crystal Empire to get closer to Celestia and Luna.”
“Cadance never claimed we were directly related,” Flurry stated flatly.
“A lot of ponies believed it, though,” Dusty chuckled. “They still do.”
“We’re outnumbered,” Flurry pointed out.
“Are we?” Dusty asked. She looked at the single glass bottle standing in a ring of shattered glass. The unicorn knocked it over with a flick of her horn.
“We can’t start a war over a thousand-year-old claim,” Barrel Roller admonished. “No griffon would ever recognize it.” Dusty shrugged and returned to sitting on her tire. She glanced at Flurry and smirked as she walked by.
“I didn’t know you had a son,” Flurry commented, knowing it was a bad idea.
“He died in the trenches outside Tall Tale. His name was Short Sell. His talent was never in archaeology, but he liked helping out. I don’t know if his father is alive.” Dusty settled on the tire.
“I’m sorry,” Flurry apologized, “for asking.”
“Never apologize for asking, Princess,” Dusty said. “Everypony has lost somepony. The only thing we can do is keep going and make the losses mean something.”
Flurry looked at the bottle laying in the dirt. She levitated it upright. She looked over her flank at Barrel, Dusty, and Rainbow. They decided to share the last cider between them.
Barrel will never agree to a war with Blackpeak. Thorax and Spike would agree with him. Some ponies would be too scared. We’d have to end it quickly.
Flurry Heart turned back to the cider bottle. Her little blue shield flickered into existence around it, then exploded with a flash. The bottle remained upright and unharmed. Little blue flames surrounded the bottle on the scorched ground. She continued to practice her new spell while the adults watched.
I’ll have to start it, Princess Flurry Heart decided. And end it. Myself.
Flurry Heart adjusted her headphones again. The ear pieces were meant for a griffon, so the headphones sat awkwardly atop her mane and scrunched against her ears. She had to fold her ears against her head to accommodate it; they twitched under the thin cushions and she could hear her heartbeat. She glanced over to the empty stool and the griffons in the control and sound room behind a glass window.
Flurry had been to Weter Radio countless times over six years to function as a propaganda mouthpiece, and they had never bothered to purchase an appropriate headset for a pony. Flurry snorted; the microphone in front of her picked it up. One of the griffons in the sound booth looked up. He tapped on the glass and held a piece of paper up for Flurry to see.
5 Minutes Flying Late
Flurry resisted snorting again. It took a special kind of arrogance for a griffon to be late to his own radio show, but it was an arrogance that Gavin Stormfront had mastered long before Flurry ever set a hoof in Nova Griffonia. Stormfront, a gray and blue griffon with beady eyes, had been Flurry’s interviewer for every prior occasion. He also interviewed Blackpeak and Kemerskai on his evening program, Nova by Night.
Stormfront claimed neutrality, but the Weter Radio Corporation ran advertising for Blackpeak’s weapons and armaments. He liked to report news of criminal ponies being violently confronted at the dockyards for smuggling, and avoided reporting on the weekly corruption probes on Blackpeak by the legislature controlled by Kemerskai’s Republicans.
Flurry hated Stormfront. She hated his smug, preening walk and the way he talked down to her during the interviews, as if she was a stupid foal in need of correction. Kemerskai hated how he took money from Blackpeak, so Stormfront was one of the rare areas that the two could find some common ground.
Discounting the jury-rigged ham radio operators on the frontier, Weter Radio was the only broadcasting service capable of reaching all of Nova Griffonia and overseas. If Flurry wanted to speak to all of Nova Griffonia, she had to do it through the fat griffon.
And today, on her sixteenth birthday, Flurry Heart needed to address her future.
Stormfront, quite literally, slammed the door open and stormed into the studio, adjusting his dress shirt and tie. He desperately tried to get his wings through the holes in the shirt. Only poor Nova Griffonians didn’t wear some kind of clothing. Flurry ran a hoof over the frills of her simple, white dress.
The griffon beamed at her. “You’re early!” he crowed. His neck bulged around the dress collar, indicating he put on more weight than the last time she saw him.
“I’m punctual,” Flurry shrugged. Her headphones almost slipped off again at the movement. Flurry wrinkled her nose and sniffed as the griffon approached the booth and entered.
The griffon settled onto the stool and grabbed his own headpiece and slipped it on. He turned and rapidly waved a claw at the sound room as the technical griffons scrambled to cut the music and begin the program. A red light came on as the music cut out.
“Welcome, welcome, welcome,” Stormfront began in his smooth baritone, “to Nova by Night. I apologize for the delay. We have a special guest this cold winter night,” he smirked at Flurry, “and we’re eager to hear from her.”
Stormfront snapped a claw. “But first, the weather! Our coastline is wracked by thunderstorms coming down from the Arctic Ocean. Stay safe and bundled up out there, cubs and chicks.”
Flurry Heart tuned him out and sat quietly as the griffon launched through several news stories and advertisements. He avoided any anti-pony stories today, probably aware that pony citizens would be tuning in this evening. Flurry refocused as he took a breath.
“Now,” Stormfront started, “I’m sure all the listeners at home are wondering about our guest. Well, wonder no longer! Weter Radio gives a warm birthday welcome to our newest citizen, Flurry Heart!” He gestured at Flurry to reply.
Flurry leaned into the microphone. “Thanks, Gavin. It’s good to be back here.”
“It’s been nearly a year, our little citizen,” the griffon chided, “but it’s good to hear you and see you in our studio again. Sixteen is a big number.”
“It is,” Flurry enunciated.
“You’ve been a refugee here for six years,” he summarized, “but this is the first year you’ve actually been in Weter on your birthday. You’ve made a tradition of touring the countryside on government money and speaking to the citizens taming the frontier.”
Our money, Flurry thought. Blackpeak gave us nothing. “The frontier is notoriously underserviced and underprivileged,” Flurry said instead. “I was happy to give back to the poorest of the community that took me in.”
“And they’ve been happy to welcome you over the years. At sixteen years old, you’re officially an adult and eligible for citizenship. I’m told you’ve already filed for citizenship and sworn an oath of loyalty to our great nation this morning,” Stormfront noted.
“Yes, I wanted to make sure it was done quickly and properly.” Flurry had traveled to downtown Weter without escort and marched up to the Capitol Building, where the legislature met. It wasn’t the right place to apply for citizenship, but Flurry knew a grand gesture would be received better than going through the mundane proper channels. She swore the oath in front of photographers; the papers tomorrow would have her on the sixth or seventh page.
“Does that mean you’ve renounced your titles?”
“Am I wearing a crown?” Flurry asked back and risked tilting her head.
“The only crown my guest is wearing is our headset,” Stormfront joked. “Is it difficult to give up on your dream?” he pressed.
“Not at all,” Flurry carefully replied, “and my dream is to continue to advocate for our pony citizens, who still suffer from unequal wages and longer hours.”
Stormfront hesitated and gave her a look. “Well, I’m sure some of our citizens appreciate their former Princess still speaking for them.”
Flurry didn’t reply.
“What are your plans for the future, Miss Flurry?” the griffon rallied.
“I’ve already asked to join the Nova Griffonian Air Force,” Flurry answered. “I’m prepared to swear the oath of loyalty to defend the Republic of Nova Griffonia against all aggressors.”
“I’m sure the air force will be proud to have a former Princess fly and fight for them,” Stormfront said. His tone was neutral enough that it could be taken as a gesture of support, or a joke.
Thorax had already bribed an official to ensure her entry into the Weter air wing, the only air wing on the coast that had pegasi and bat ponies flying. Kemerskai’s Republicans dominated most of the other divisions, and Thorax didn’t want to risk an incident.
It suited Flurry fine. Her goal was to win over some of the pilots and staff; Flurry could request a transfer to the frontier at her leisure, but the frontier was already practically hers. She had practiced with Rainbow Dash and Duskcrest for the past year out in the frontier, flying one of the old, early biplanes. A fighter would be very different, but Flurry had the basics down.
“I’m happy to bring my skill and my magic to the battlefield, should it come to that,” Flurry smiled.
“That brings us to our last news topic before the break,” Stormfront lowered his voice dourly. “The Griffonian Reich sits across the narrow strait. Rumors abound about the health of the regent, Archon Eros, and if he will survive to see the Kaiser crowned in a few months. There are whispers of discontent on the wind.”
Stormfront leaned in conspiratorially. “It is known that the Kaiser and you share a certain,” he paused and searched for a word, “connection in your letters. Do you have any comment on what is happening?”
“That’s a good way to say we argue and bicker,” Flurry laughed. “I haven’t seen a letter from the Kaiser for several years. I think he’s grown bored of me,” Flurry said with mock sadness.
“You don’t believe the stories that the Archon collapsed of a stroke?”
“I won’t comment on a rumor I can’t disprove,” Flurry said. “He’s been seen in public.”
“From a distance,” Stormfront countered. “A changeling could be impersonating him.” He forced more horror and uncertainty into his voice. “A changeling could be impersonating the Kaiser himself. How often have the citizens of the Reich seen their sovereign?”
Flurry played along. “Maybe that’s why I haven’t gotten any letters,” she worried.
The radio was strong enough to be picked up in northern Griffonia, where Kemerskai’s father and the Republicans made their last stand. The Archon had banned the radio station, but there was no reliable way to stop griffons from tuning in.
“We’ll pick that story back up later with comments from Queen Chrysalis,” Stormfront switched gears and resumed his comforting baritone. “Miss Flurry Heart, citizen and future flier: You have long made a habit of addressing our pony citizens after your birthday on my program.”
“And I am very grateful for your generosity,” Flurry replied, as she always did.
“Of course,” Stormfront laughed. “Do you have any advice or comments for them today?”
Flurry took a breath and glanced down at her little notecards on the table.
“You do not need a Princess to go on the radio and tell you how to feel,” she started. “Life has been hard for all of us, and we have lost much. When I travel, I am always proud to see how much we have contributed to Nova Griffonia. In the fall, Kemerskai promises to cut our wages and keep us down; he cannot believe we can be good, democratic citizens and fight for the Republic. I intend to prove him wrong.” She glanced up at Stormfront, who was fiddling with the rings on his claws.
Flurry’s wings twitched. “Blackpeak offers us crumbs from the table and tells us we should be grateful.” Stormfront’s head snapped up and he glared at her. “I will not offer empty platitudes,” Flurry continued hurriedly, “but I will make you a promise: I do not wear a crown today, but I will not stop fighting for your rights. As long as we live, we have not lost.”
Stormfront shifted to look over at the control room. The griffons inside moved frantically, but they failed to cut the alicorn off. The red light stayed on the whole time.
“Well, that’s quite a speech from Miss Flurry,” Stormfront offered lamely. “I’ll be back after this hit single from the Wind Walkers.” He slashed a claw across his neck and glared at window. The red light switched off.
Gavin scowled at her. “If your intention was to annoy Triton and Alexander, consider it accomplished. All you had to do was say, ‘I’m not a Princess,’ and ‘Vote for Blackpeak.’”
“I’m an alicorn,” Flurry deflected. “What’s that old griffon saying?” She flapped a wing in mock thought. “Ah, yes! ‘Words are Wind.’ I can’t change what I am.”
“And what exactly are you now?” Stormfront asked.
Flurry smiled softly and examined the gold and silver rings on his claws. “You’re pretty wealthy from all this, right?” she asked. “Does it feel good, selling your feathers to the highest bidder?”
“It keeps me out of Ponyville,” Stormfront rolled his eyes.
Flurry laughed and took off the clunky headpiece with a hoof. “How expensive is it to buy a headpiece meant for a pony?” she asked sarcastically.
Stormfront shrugged. “Why bother? You’re the only pony we let on, and you’ll be lucky to return after that stunt.”
“I see, that makes sense,” Flurry nodded.
“I’m glad you approve, Princess,” the griffon sneered, drawing out the last word.
Flurry stood up and stretched her wings. “By the way,” she said conversationally, “you should definitely keep ponies out of here.”
“Really?” Stormfront scoffed.
“Our noses are far better than yours,” Flurry stated, “and I can smell your secretary all over you.” Flurry rolled her eyes. “Quite an accomplishment, flying late to your own radio program from chasing tail. I’m sure your wife will be pleased.”
The griffon heaved himself upright, but Flurry lit her horn and he froze. Gavin sat back down, sweating and wings twitching. Flurry turned her horn and burned away the little pile of notecards on the table with blue sparks. It left a tidy pile of ash and a small wisp of smoke drifted to the ceiling. Flurry trotted and passed the sound studio and control room. One of the griffons offered a small nod, which Flurry returned. There was a rumble of thunder outside the building.
Flurry Heart stopped in the lobby and stared at the sheets of rain falling down. It was terrible weather to fly back to the ghetto. She could teleport back; her guards were absent today to solidify her image as a common citizen. A typewriter clacked along with the sound of the rain falling against the windows.
Flurry examined the front desk. The secretary, a young griffon chick barely older than herself, wasn’t there when the alicorn arrived at the building. She hadn’t fixed the feathers on her right wing, which were still out-of-place and rumpled. Her dress was slightly askew and one of the sleeves was torn.
There was a piece of paper with ‘Cerie’ taped over the nameplate on the desk. Last time Flurry had been there, the secretary was a young griffon chick named Avrilla. The current secretary had orange feathers and heavy mascara around the eyes. She tapped away on her typewriter, seemingly budgeting out expenses from several papers.
“Are you Aquileian?” Flurry guessed from the name.
The griffon blinked shyly and stopped fidgeting with her papers and typewriter. She checked behind her before staring at Flurry. “Yes?” she offered uncertainly.
“Did he promise you a raise?” Flurry asked in Aquileian.
“I-I don’t know what you mean,” Cerie squawked back. The griffon clacked her beak and her brown eyes darted about the room.
“I think he promised the last one airtime to sing,” Flurry continued in Aquileian. She gestured to the nameplate with a hoof. Cerie looked down at it, but smoothed out the paper with her name on it. Flurry’s tone softened. “You’re better off at the dockyards; it’s not as bad as the radio makes it sound. My ponies won’t force themselves on you, and most things aren’t about unloading crates. We could always use someone good with numbers.”
“I tried the dockyards,” Cerie admitted in Aquileian, “after my mother died. They wanted the same thing he wants. I don’t have anyone to help,” she said in a small voice.
“You talked to a Nova Griffonian,” Flurry dismissed. “Get in front of one of the unicorns around Pier Four, tell them I sent you. Keep repeating it; they’ll know if you’re lying. You’ll have a job by the end of the day if you can keep count. It’ll probably pay better, and nopony will ask you to stick your tail up.”
Cerie looked back towards the studios with a fearful grimace.
“No griffon here knows Aquileian,” Flurry said. “I know some Aquileians that have some spare rooms. I’m going to meet them tomorrow at the Veteran’s Hall. I can ask around,” Flurry offered.
Cerie twisted her claws. “He promised to help me.”
“He makes a lot of promises. He never keeps any of them,” Flurry snorted.
Cerie didn’t have an answer to that. She kept her head down and wringed her claws. Her wings fluttered nervously.
“I’m going to talk to my friends about you,” Flurry said, “and you’ll go down to the dockyards later and talk to my unicorns. You’ll get a job down there, and somepony will tell you where there’s a place to stay. It’ll be hard, but it’s better than this.”
The griffon shook her head back and forth. “I can’t leave,” she said. “I signed a contract. I have to stay.”
Flurry Heart narrowed her eyes. “I don’t care. He doesn’t either. He threw the last secretary out on the street once he was bored with her, contract or not. I’m going to look for you in a week,” she promised, “and I don’t want to find you here, okay?”
Cerie gulped and nodded.
Flurry nodded back and swished her tail. She paused at the doors to the street. It was raining even harder outside now. Flurry’s ears twisted as she heard the secretary sniffle. She chewed her bottom lip, then turned over her shoulder to look back.
“How old are you?” she asked in Aquileian.
The griffon wiped some mascara from her eyes. “Eighteen,” she lied. “Happy Birthday, Princess,” she offered with a trembling beak.
Princess Flurry Heart smiled back and stepped out into the rain. She didn’t bother with a shield; she let the rain slip between her feathers and smother her curls.
Grover will send me a letter. He’s meticulous; we’ll plan it out. He’ll keep his promise.
The alicorn stood on the street for a moment longer, then her horn lit up and she teleported away with a crack.
Flurry Heart stood at the end of the dock in a crowd of griffons and watched the limping boat pull into the harbor at Weter. Her brown flight suit chafed around her wings, but she remained focused on the struggling vessel. It was overloaded and listing heavily to the port side. It was an oversized pleasure yacht, clearly not meant for ocean travel across the strait. Some griffons must have stolen it.
Griffons packed the deck and a few had already taken flight to try to fly onto land. The fliers were being intercepted by Kemerskai’s militia and forced back towards the boat. A shot rang out above her as a griffon in brown fatigues discharged a shotgun into the air. A griffon carrying a young cub flapped awkwardly back to the boat, screeching insults in Herzlander. Her dress was blue. A few of the griffons on deck were clothed, but most were naked. Flurry supposed they literally sold the clothes off their back to afford passage.
Flurry looked at the other boats lining the docks, now abandoned after the journey across the ocean to Nova Griffonia. They lined every pier and dock in the harbor; no one had time to tow them out of the way, and no griffon claimed ownership of any of the repurposed fishing boats, personal pleasure boats, and in one case, a small freighter. The crews deserted with the passengers, desperately claiming asylum and refugee status.
“It’s like the Great War all over again,” one griffon in the crowd muttered.
“At least the ponies came over land,” a sailor squawked back. “These idiots barely know how to sail.” He gestured to the incoming boat with a claw.
Flurry saw the boat lean even more to the port side as griffons crowded the deck and tried get room to fly. A shoving match broke out on the deck. The alicorn could hear the screaming, but was the boat too far away to make out the words. The captain, if there even was one, was aiming at the dock she was on.
“Clear the damn dock!” a voice screamed in Aquileian. “Move, Maar damn you!”
Flurry twisted her head back to look. A few griffons in blue were heading up the dock, armed with batons and crowbars. They swept them at the onlookers and shouted insults. The dockworkers and sailors began to take low flight and move to another dock to keep watching. Flurry remained standing. Her horn stuck out above most griffons’ heads.
“Little Flurry!” Jacques called out. “Why are you on our dock?” the griffon approached with seven armed followers, but his eyes were friendly. He had changed his mail uniform for a blue militia coat that clashed with his light-yellow body and brown feathers. The griffons behind him relaxed and shouldered their blunt weapons.
“Flight practice was cancelled,” Flurry shrugged. “Swiftwing wants the experienced fliers in the air patrolling, just in case the Reich tries to make a bombing run to sink their ships.”
“I’m sure your ponies would be more comfortable if you were down at their docks,” Jacques noted.
“We’re already full,” Flurry replied. She pointed a wing down the harbor. “There’re only a few docks left with space.”
“I don’t suppose you could teleport the ships away,” the griffon suggested.
“I could,” Flurry laughed, “but I don’t think that will be appreciated. There’s good salvage on most of them. I don’t want to start a fight.”
“You don’t have to start anything,” Jacques rolled his eyes. “The Republicans are already attacking and looting some of the refugees.” He spat on the dock. “They believed they could liberate the Herzland from the Reich, but this is how they treat its griffons?” He shook his head. “These griffons would’ve welcomed them, had they won.”
Flurry remained silent and stared at the listing yacht.
Two weeks ago, Grover VI was crowned as an adult on his sixteenth birthday. The radio had broadcast an announcement from Griffenheim, in the heart of the Reich. Flurry heard his voice for the first time in years.
“My Griffons,” Grover had said over the radio; Thorax translated for Flurry. “Long have we suffered and fought to reclaim most of our land and sky. The wars were costly, but necessary to ensure peace on Griffonia.” His voice was still a bit squeaky. “But it is clear to me that the Reich cannot survive as it was; it must adapt to this changing world. I am your Kaiser by the will of our ancestors and grace of the Trinity, and I promise you that today is a new dawn over our nation.”
The next day, Archon Eros was reported dead of a stroke at the age of 102. Flurry remembered Bronzetail’s comment that he would die in the service of the Kaiser. Conspiracies suggested that he had been dead for some time, but Flurry believed the old griffon had summoned all his willpower to hold on until Grover was crowned. Protests erupted around his funeral in Griffenheim, led by Herzlander students. More protests began in Cloudberry to the north, then Aquileia, then Wingbardy.
Some of the griffons were allowed on the radio. “My father was drafted and died in his dumb wars!” a chick shouted across the airwaves. “We’ve spent our lives in school and university struggling to keep our grades high enough to avoid being drafted, and sometimes even that wasn’t enough. My brother was top of his class and dragged away to the Evi Valley. He returned a drunk, drinking away the pain from what happened there. The Archon said Boreas would forgive us, but there’s nothing righteous about war!”
From what Flurry could tell, there didn’t seem to be any clear demands, just a pained cry for change. Grover had begun a daily radio broadcast, something none of his ancestors ever attempted, to calm the protests. Flurry couldn’t keep up with all the reports. The Kaiser reversed many of Archon Eros’ proclamations as regent, legalizing all recognized languages and a few dozen religions across the Reich. There were some limits placed on conscription and an end to compulsory work in factories. The other Archons had their power limited.
The protests continued to escalate. A few hundred students broke into the Archon’s tomb in the Temple of Boreas in Griffenheim and defaced it. The radio claimed several guards were killed. “We demand that the Kaiser be held accountable to us, his subjects!” another student shouted. “We demand representation. The nobility doesn’t represent the common griffon, and neither does Grover!”
Grover allowed local elections, similar to the peasant marches from the early eras of the Reich. It still wasn’t enough. He invited several representatives to the palace in Griffenheim to discuss further concessions over the radio, openly promising that he wanted to hear the will of the common griffon. A dozen griffons flew to Griffenheim under the assumption that they would be shot, but the Kaiser welcomed them personally and allowed cameras. Flurry saw the photographs in the paper.
Grover had filled out; he wasn’t the awkward, scrawny griffon that she met in Aquileia. He was still lean, but wore an imperial sash and broad-shouldered ceremonial uniform. He had a heavy-set beak that was a spitting image of the statue of Grover I. He smiled broadly and even open-winged hugged some of the arrivals in front of the camera. The heavy crown actually fit on his head.
For days, the protests in the square outside the palace nearly devolved into rioting as the Reichsarmee stayed back at the Kaiser’s orders. Rector Mikusian of Yale University, one of the representatives, finally emerged and announced that no compromise had been reached. He urged griffons to remain calm as things were discussed in private with the Kaiser. A flock of students burned the yellow and orange Reich flag outside the palace. Grover did not go on the radio that evening.
The next morning, a battalion of heavy tanks arrived at the square outside the palace and rolled through the protestors.
The broadcasts from Griffenheim ceased. A few of the radio stations in the northern Reich were abruptly cut-off after reporting similar crackdowns by the army and secret police. There were rumors the palace had been stormed again and Grover had been killed.
Flurry focused on her training and ignored Thorax’s attempts at discussion. It was pointless to debate rumors. Nova Griffonia was on high alert. Kemerskai bullied his way onto Nova by Night to encourage an offensive while the Reich was weak. He had to leave Weter and fly north to the firmly held Republican cities to avoid an arrest warrant for a supposed assault.
The radio came back after three days; Flurry missed it. When she returned home from training, she demanded Thorax play a recording and translate. “My Griffons,” Grover’s voice said, “I come to you humbled by the experiences of the past several days. I spoke of change, and I knew change could be violent.”
Grover sighed over the radio. “So, I allowed my cities to be looted and monuments to be defaced in the name of change. I allowed rioters and terrorists to take to the streets and attack good, honest citizens. These were not protests, but the beginnings of another Republican revolution, a revolution that tore us apart and killed millions of griffons. I can only offer my apology that I allowed the madness to go on for so long. It ends now.”
Flurry had been quiet for a moment and processed the speech. “He’s still in charge?”
“It appears so,” Thorax had sighed. “I don’t have many contacts in the Reich, but they say the secret police have cracked down on the protestors everywhere.”
“Rioters,” Flurry corrected.
Thorax didn’t argue with her.
Flurry clung to her crown as she fell asleep that night.
It had to be done.
The first ship loaded with terrified refugees arrived the next day. They were fleeing the mass arrests and reopening of the reeducation camps. Grover had shut them down and released most of the political prisoners only two weeks before, but reopened them abruptly after his tanks rolled across the continent.
Flurry traveled to the docks to see the ship. It was a loaded-down fishing trawler crowded with griffons. These weren’t hardened Republicans; they were families and young students, selling everything they had for passage by smugglers to escape. A few army veterans joined them out of fear that their connections to the communist underground would be discovered.
More refugees arrived on stolen ships all along the coast, overwhelming Nova Griffonia’s immigration department within hours. A few rammed their ships ashore on a deserted coastline, or abandoned them against the shoals and flew the remaining distance. The refugees brought stories of night raids by black-clad special forces and torture for the names of associates. They reported that some griffons tried to fly by themselves and fell into the ocean, exhausted or overwhelmed by storms.
Most of the refugees were Herzlanders from the core of the Reich. Nova Griffonians hated them and viewed them as spoiled elitists finally reduced to their level. The Republicans didn’t want them; Kemerskai mocked them as ‘monarchists rightfully rewarded for their loyalty.’ The Aquileians largely didn't care.
Flurry's ponies were relieved. There was finally a class of griffon that rated lower than them.
Flurry came home one night and waited for Thorax. He arrived after nightfall and looked surprised to see her at his kitchen table with coffee, but he accepted the mug of cold coffee and downed it in one gulp. Flurry was still in her uniform, and so was Thorax. He was busy working double shifts decoding supposed secret messages.
“What’s going to happen to the Herzlanders?” she asked.
“You’re asking for the official stance from Blackpeak?”
“No, what will actually happen.”
“Ghettos, camps, homeless griffons, abuse and violence,” Thorax listed. “Everything we’ve had to deal with, but far worse.” He shifted on the stool and buzzed his wings.
Flurry stared down at her empty mug. “Spike’s still at the frontier, right? How are those new settlements going?”
Ponies had spread out through the frontier, using old trails and forgotten valleys to hide the refugees from the uprising. Over the years, new settlements, not on any map, had formed around a mixed group of frontier griffons and pony veterans.
“Okay,” Thorax admitted, “but Dusty knows more.”
“I’ve already asked her about them. They have room to grow and some empty space.”
Thorax was quiet.
“A lot of the griffons are students,” Flurry continued. “They could help with engineering, education, construction. We could use them.”
Thorax levitated the coffee pot over for a refill. He ignored that it was cold. “They might not want your help, Flurry. They know you’re close to Grover.”
“They know the official versions,” Flurry said. “They know I’ve argued with him.”
“That might not be enough.”
“Where else will they go?” Flurry asked. “Who will accept them?”
“You’ll need my help to smuggle them through immigration to the frontier,” Thorax sighed.
“How many are actually going through the process?” Flurry laughed. “They’re flying directly onto the coast. Will you help?”
“Of course,” Thorax stated, surprised. “Ponies might not be welcoming, however. Rations are stretched thin.”
“Tell anypony that asks that Princess Flurry Heart hopes that we can sympathize with fellow refugees,” Flurry said, “and I believe that our frontier gardens are literally bearing fruit.”
Thorax chuckled and swallowed another gulp of coffee. Flurry laughed with him.
“Kemerskai will come after us,” Thorax warned, but looked at her with a genuine smile.
“He already thinks we’re monarchist scum,” Flurry shrugged. “I’ll go to the dockyards to help out.”
“If he gets elected, he’ll use us as a scapegoat,” Thorax continued. "He's already planning on it."
“If it gets that far,” Flurry corrected.
“You don’t think the elections will happen?” Thorax asked, then his eyes widened in realization. “You’re counting on Grover to invade. To keep that promise to you.”
“Yes.”
Thorax’s wings buzzed as he thought. “When he does, do you think he’ll like you sheltering his enemies?”
Flurry bit her lip and looked away. “Not if we give some of them over.”
Thorax’s wings froze and he leaned back with wide eyes.
“Just important ones,” Flurry amended. “If we even have any. It might not matter; he let the ships go. He might not care.”
Thorax swallowed and exposed his fangs. “You want to open your wings to desperate refugees, then turn on them when it's convenient?” he hissed. “That’s your plan?”
Flurry shielded the table and the two of them. The shield turned opaque. “What did you think my plan was?” she hissed back.
“That you wanted to help!” Thorax flailed his hooves. He knocked the mug off the table.
“I do!” Flurry shouted. “We could use their help anyway. I just want to help my ponies!”
“And you’ll betray thousands of griffons to do it?”
“You wouldn’t?” Flurry challenged.
“This isn’t about me,” Thorax countered. “This is monstrous.”
“It might not even be an issue,” Flurry shrugged.
“And if it becomes an issue, you want to tell ponies to turn on their neighbors? You want to betray the Aquileians as well?”
“They hate the Herzlanders almost as much as the Republicans,” Flurry dismissed. “I can ask for some leniency.” She paused. “If we do a good job fighting against Nova Griffonia.”
Thorax blinked. “You’ve been planning this.”
“Yes,” Flurry admitted, “when Grover attacks, we’ll attack from the frontier. We pin the militias on the coast and clear the landings for the Reich. Nova Griffonia will fall in days, then we can move against Chrysalis together.”
“You’re asking ponies to kill their friends for you and Grover.”
“What friends? You mean Nova Griffonians? Or Republicans? The ones who spit on us, underpay us, laugh at us and make us live in ghettos? They aren’t our friends,” Flurry laughed spitefully.
“No,” Thorax said. He folded his hooves. “I’m not helping you. Not for this.”
“Oh, that’s great!” Flurry rolled her eyes. “The changeling finds his kindness after torturing how many griffons for stealing from his smuggling empire?”
“This isn’t about me,” Thorax insisted, voice slightly weaker.
“How many, uncle?” Flurry asked, leaning forward.
Thorax choked off a snarl and folded his wings. He looked away, but Flurry kept staring.
“Tell me how many,” she ordered.
The changeling was quiet. Flurry snorted.
“You’d make a good changeling,” Thorax muttered. Flurry knew it was an insult.
“We’re going to be fighting changelings, so I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said. “If he doesn’t attack by the election, we’ll figure something else out, but I bet he will.” Flurry dispelled the shield and stood.
“What if he breaks his promise to you?”
“He won’t,” Flurry said.
“What if he does?”
“He won’t,” she repeated forcefully. She opened the door and crossed to her room. “We need help to retake our home,” she called over her shoulder. “We don’t get to choose who it’s from.”
Several days after her talk with Thorax, Flurry found herself at the dockyard again and watching the listing yacht. Jacques stood beside her and clacked his beak at the sight. The griffons on the deck of the yacht had broken out into a brawl over something. The yacht hadn’t slowed down and was heading straight for the dock.
“It is going to flip over or crash into us,” Jacques observed.
Flurry continued to wait. The yacht suddenly tried to turn away, realizing it was on a collision course. The sharp movement caused the griffons on board to shift as one.
The yacht began to capsize. The griffons on deck started to scream and tumble towards the port railing. A few dozen took flight. One was pulled down by a paw as another griffon tried to grab onto them. The crowd was packed too tight for most to take off. There was a great shout of surprise from the watching griffons all over the harbor.
Flurry stomped her front hooves and ignited her horn. The yacht glowed blue and was lifted back into a stable position. The alicorn tilted her head and lifted the yacht out of the harbor to arrest its momentum. The propeller spun uselessly a few hooves above the water. The screaming onboard didn’t stop, but it took on a higher and more confused pitch. Flurry rolled her eyes and looked for a place to dump the boat. There was an empty spot on the right side of her dock.
“Cut the engine,” she shouted in Equestrian. Jacques flinched back from her volume.
“I doubt they know Equestrian,” Jacques chuckled.
“Stop the engine,” Flurry tried in Aquileian. The propeller still spun.
“Good effort,” Jacques muttered, "but I could have shouted that."
“Turn off the engine, please,” Flurry requested in Prench, mostly to annoy Jacques.
He clacked his beak at her pronunciation. “You are terrible, Little Flurry.” He looked up at the yacht. “Mostly Herzlanders,” he guessed. “How is your Herzlander?”
“I don’t know ‘engine,’” Flurry grumbled.
“One of the Republicans could translate,” Jacques suggested. “Here some come now, probably for a friendly discussion,” he said sarcastically and waved a wing back behind them.
Flurry glanced over her shoulder at a squad of four angry, armed militia griffons flying just above the dock, right towards her and the yacht.
“Do you mind?” Flurry asked Jacques. “I could stop them, but I’m focused on the boat. It’ll get messy.”
Jacques laughed and flared his wings. He whistled to the other Aquileians on the dock. “Let’s stop our nice Republican friends from harassing Little Flurry,” he shouted in Aquileian and took flight. The other griffons clutched their crowbars and flew up to swarm the militia griffons.
The Republicans sensed they were outnumbered and three flapped backwards, but one unslung his shotgun and aimed at the first approaching griffon. Flurry risked a small laser. The shot slashed between two of the Aquileians to melt the barrel. The griffon screeched in pain and clutched his right claw as the useless slag tumbled to the dock. He was clubbed over the head with a crowbar by one of the Aquileians a moment later. He dropped to the dock and was quickly surrounded and beaten.
Flurry turned back to the boat. The propeller was still spinning, but most of the griffons on the deck had already flown off and tried to land somewhere. No griffon tried to land near her or her dock.
I wonder if it’s me, or the griffon being beaten into paste behind me, Flurry laughed to herself.
Flurry wrenched the propeller off the boat and let it drop into the water. She set the yacht in the empty space, where it bobbed gently against the dock. Flurry snorted and wiped her nose. Her hoof came back clean and she smiled. Now that the boat was stable, a few griffons climbed out onto the deck. They gaped at the alicorn with wide eyes and open beaks, but quickly shrugged the shock off and flew away.
Flurry Heart flapped her wings and took flight, turning to go home for the day. Jacques and the Aquileians could handle themselves, but her presence was just going to encourage more violence with the Republicans.
“Thank! Many thank!” a griffon chick shouted out from the deck of the yacht, descending from the cockpit. Flurry looked down and landed on the mostly clear deck. She cast her detection spell as a precaution. A few of the griffons were spooked by the spell and retreated below deck again.
The griffon that shouted at her shivered, but remained on deck. She was wearing an oversized blue coat and a sailing cap about three sizes too large for her head. She had dark red wings and a light red beak. She blinked her golden eyes several times as Flurry approached. She had to be younger than the alicorn.
“Many thank, Princess!” she greeted and swept her wings in a bow. She abruptly straightened and circled her claws, making a show of twisting and turning an imaginary wheel. “Many hard,” she chuckled uneasily.
“Very hard,” Flurry corrected in Equestrian. “What is name?” she asked in broken Herzlander.
The griffon gasped and raised her claws to her beak. “Know Herzlander?” she asked in Equestrian.
Flurry nodded.
“Many good! Many good!” the griffon clapped. “Katherine Katerin,” the griffon stated and pounded a claw to her breast.
“Noble?” Flurry asked.
The griffon blushed and waved her claws. “No, no, Katherine live Katerin. Read book. Speak pony.”
Katerin was a landlocked province in Herzland. Flurry looked around at the yacht. “Why were you steering the boat?” she asked.
Katherine blinked and cocked her head.
“Why you?” Flurry asked in Herzlander. She sat on her flank and waved her hooves in an approximation of turning a wheel. The griffon gasped again in realization.
She lifted the oversized jacket’s sleeve up and stuck a talon through a hole in it. “Bang!” she shouted. “Kaiser die. Say I Kaiser. Can Read.”
“Kaiser?” Flurry asked.
Katherine tapped her captain’s hat.
“Captain,” Flurry offered in Equestrian.
“Cap-Tan,” Katherine tried. “Yes, yes, many good!”
“Why did she make you captain?” Flurry asked.
Katherine began speaking rapidly in Herzlander, then started towards the cockpit of the yacht. Flurry followed the energetic griffon, wary. The griffon flapped her wings instead of taking the stairs. Flurry followed up on hoof and looked around. There were a lot of stairs and a low ceiling on the cockpit for a griffon ship.
The griffon waved her wings towards the wheel and controls. The markings were in Equestrian, not Herzlander. Flurry looked over the wheel and saw a New Mareland registration, along with a registration for the River Federation. There was a picture of an earth pony couple next to the compass.
“Pony boat,” she realized and said in Herzlander.
“Yes!” Katherine said. “Pony boat. Griffon boat say many bits. Pony boat say no bits. Easy.” Katherine looked sad. “Griffon mad pony Cap-Tan say no bits.”
She smashed her claws together. “Pony win. Griffon die. Pony die. Boat Kaiser.” She tapped her hat again. Flurry was no expert on clothing, but her jacket was too short around her legs and back. Her wings fit awkwardly. They were clothes cut for a pony.
The captain was a pony. A smuggler, she guessed. They argued over what to charge and it got violent.
Katherine stared at the compass and stuck a talon out, tapping on it. “Can read, can numbers, Cap-Tan,” she smiled.
“Where pony?” Flurry asked.
“Dead,” Katherine responded, then made a splash sound.
Sailing across the ocean with one half-literate griffon on board is mad, Flurry thought. There must have been someone else on board to help.
While Flurry and Katherine were in the cockpit, more griffons emerged onto the deck and started to fly away. These griffons were naked and disheveled. Flurry looked back and saw a family of six griffons crawl out of the hatch and stand up.
“Wait!” Flurry called down. She left the cockpit and rushed down the stairs.
The griffons looked up together and the two adults rapidly ushered their chicks and cubs airborne, gesturing towards the docks. One of the young cubs needed to be carried.
“I won’t hurt you!” Flurry shouted.
The male griffon squawked back in Herzlander and reared up with his claws bared. Flurry stopped short, more surprised than actually threatened by the display.
“No hurt,” Flurry promised in Herzlander. She folded her wings and waved a hoof.
The griffon looked conflicted for a moment, but turned and jumped off the side of the boat, flying after his family. Flurry passed by the open hatch and glanced into the hold.
It was packed with griffons. They stared up at her, clearly terrified, and tried to move away. They stepped over each other.
Flurry backpedaled rapidly and bumped into Katherine, knocking her over.
“Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!” Katherine squawked. She dropped into a submissive bow and bent her wings. Her hat fell off.
“No, it’s fine, get up,” Flurry urged as her wings twitched.
“Forgive me, my lord,” Katherine replied in Herzlander and backed away with her beak down.
Flurry blinked. She was a servant, a peasant. What threat was she? Why is she here? She looked over her withers towards the hatch and her tail lashed. “Katherine,” Flurry stated firmly. The griffon stopped backing away and shook slightly. “Why you here?” Flurry asked in Herzlander.
Katherine kept shaking and repeating “Forgive me, my lord.”
“You’re not a student or a professor,” Flurry said. “Why you here?” she repeated in Herzlander again and swept a wing over the dockyards.
Katherine reached out with a claw and scratched two parallel lines across the wooden deck.
“Equalist,” Flurry guessed, “or Communist? Do you even know what that is?”
Katherine began to weep on the deck and mutter apologies. She clasped her claws together in a plea.
Flurry's stomach lurched and she shook her head. “No, no,” she waved her wings. “No hurt, no hurt. Help.” Flurry levitated the captain’s hat up and placed it on Katherine’s head.
“Help,” Flurry repeated.
Katherine looked up at the alicorn with tears in her eyes. “Help?” she asked in Equestrian.
Flurry nodded decisively.
Katherine sniffled and leapt towards her.
Flurry nearly seized her in her magic and crushed her head, but the lean griffon moved too quickly.
The smaller griffon embraced the alicorn in a hug and sobbed into her shoulder. A few of the griffons risked looking out the open hatch on deck to see Flurry's response.
She didn’t hug her back. She stood stiffly with raised wings and let the griffon cling to her.
Flurry Heart swallowed down bile in her throat.
A blue and gray griffon walked into Thorax’s room and kitchen towards the old pot of coffee and assorted mugs. He clacked his beak at the chipped mugs and proceeded to drink directly from the pot, pouring it into his beak. He shook his head.
“Well, she is indeed Katherine from Katerin,” the griffon said in Thorax’s voice. “No surname, worked for the nobility before unification, then for some bureaucrats afterwards. She cleaned the library and read books on Equestria.”
“You were gentle with her?” Flurry questioned. She sat in front of his window, looking at the street lined with griffons. Ponies had left their tenements to mingle with the griffons, and a crude sign language developed. Very few ponies spoke Herzlander, and nearly none of the refugees spoke anything else. Flurry would call it bartering, but many griffons had nothing to offer.
“Not sure why you care about it, but yes,” Thorax answered aggressively. “You said you wanted to recruit skilled griffons, but you brought us a bunch of farmers and servants.”
Flurry ignored his tone. “Why are they here?”
“They’re fleeing for their lives. Katherine’s entire family was arrested, along with half of her village. Her brothers were conscripted years ago and she hasn’t seen them since.”
“No, why?” Flurry asked. “What did they do?”
Thorax shrugged his wings. “Katerin was always a poor province and terribly managed by the nobility. It attracted socialists and communists, who preached to the villages about seizing the means of production and equal rights.”
“She’s a communist?”
Thorax laughed. “You think she’s heard of Caramel Marks? Or Steel Stallion or Starlight Glimmer?” He clacked his beak in annoyance. “Her family attended some meetings. The police found pamphlets in their home. That was enough, just like with Chrysalis and me.”
“Grover’s not Chrysalis,” Flurry said; she continued to stare out Thorax’s window.
“No, I suppose Chrysalis would’ve executed them instead of dragging them to work camps to be beaten and questioned,” Thorax said sarcastically. He dropped the griffon form in a flash of green fire.
“They’re alive,” Flurry defended.
“For now,” Thorax noted. “I should have shown up as a changeling. It was hard for her to trust me, but she doesn’t even know who Chrysalis is.” He trotted over to the window. “Your guess about the captain was right. Smuggler and his partner had an argument over taking poor peasants. I'm sure there's a lot of griffons trying to get out that could pay better. The pony won the knife fight, but couldn't stop the bleeding. Gave Katherine a crash course on how to steer and died after getting the boat underway.
"Katherine had never even seen a boat beyond pictures," Thorax snorted. "Miracle they made it. I bet for every ship that makes it to Nova Griffonia, three more are lost at sea.”
Flurry hummed in acknowledgement.
“The Aquileians and the Republicans are finally fighting it out in the dockyards,” Thorax kept going, “and the Herzlanders are being attacked all over the coast. Several stabbings and beatings have been reported. Blackpeak can’t send his militias in without risking open war with his rival, so we’re under curfew.”
Flurry looked up towards the roofs where sentries were stationed to warn of incoming armed griffons. Katherine managed to convince nearly six dozen griffons from the hold to follow her and Flurry across the city to the ghetto. There was enough chaos at the dockyard that no griffon tried to get in the alicorn’s way.
Thorax looked down towards the street. “We need to move them; they can’t stay in Ponyville. It’s almost sunset and we can start flying them out to the outskirts and get going,” the changeling planned. He raised a ridged eyebrow. “That is, if you want to move them, Princess.”
Flurry glanced to the side and made eye contact with Thorax.
“If we start offering safety in the frontier, refugees will flock there,” Thorax said. “It’ll take a bit for some of them to trust us, but they have nowhere else to go. This isn’t like when Equestria fell. Nova Griffonia can’t take anymore refugees; there’s not enough jobs to go around. No griffon’s interested in teaching a bunch of foreigners how to speak Equestrian and work an assembly line.”
“What about illegal jobs?” Flurry replied.
“Even illegal ones,” Thorax shook his head. “Too obvious and wrong skillsets. We can use the farmers on the frontier, and a few of them know construction work, but if you want to trade griffons for friendship points with the Kaiser, we should wait for better offerings.”
“I don’t need the tone,” Flurry warned. Her horn sparked blue.
“I’m just being pragmatic,” Thorax answered. “None of these griffons knew anything useful. They aren’t political leaders or veterans. They’re just normal griffons.”
“We help them,” Flurry said, “and word will spread amongst the other refugees. We’ll get some skilled help. No griffon here is going to give them a chance.”
“Okay,” Thorax confirmed with a slight sneer. “As you wish, Princess.” He left the room without saying goodbye.
Flurry followed him at a distance. He changed back into a griffon and spoke with several ponies on street level before wading into the crowd of griffons. Flurry stood on the stairs to the building, observing the mingling crowd. Despite the language barrier, everyone seemed to get along.
Katherine was still wearing her sea captain’s hat and regaling a combined crowd of ponies and griffons. She waved her claws around to pantomime steering. Flurry was too far to hear the words, but Katherine lifted her claws above her head and waved them about. A few ponies laughed and pointed to Flurry. Katherine waved enthusiastically after spotting her. Flurry waved half-heartedly back.
A bat pony carrying a rifle flew over Katherine's head towards the alicorn. A few griffons turned to stare at the unfamiliar pony.
They probably didn’t even know bat ponies existed.
The mare flapped her wings and dropped down to the sidewalk in front of Flurry. She nodded her head in a bow while sweeping out her wings. “Princess,” she greeted in a New Mareland accent.
“Nightshade,” Flurry nodded back. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t find Thorax in the crowd and Dusty’s out of town.” She frowned around her small fangs. “We have a situation. Jadis clocked some griffon flying erratically towards us. He wouldn’t stop, so we took him down. He’s fighting like crazy. Speaks Equestrian, but sounds like a Herzlander.”
“He’s armed?” Flurry asked.
“Nah, he’s naked and frothing like a yak at the beach. Had a little satchel with a letter. Went spare when we tried to take it. Says it’s for you.”
Flurry didn’t react openly. “Take me to him,” she ordered.
“You know there’s a process for this,” Nightshade remarked with a frown. “I was hoping you could take me to Thorax, or point him out. Crazy git keeps changing his face and expecting us to tell him apart.”
“I’m going with or without you,” Flurry challenged.
“Fine,” Nightshade sighed. “This way, Princess.”
The pair flapped their wings and hovered above the crowd before flying to the end of the block. There was a commotion and four figures on the last roof on the right side. Frosty Jadis’ blue coat glittered in the waning rays of the sun. The crystal pony spotted them and tucked her rifle into the crook of her bent leg to wave with her good hoof. The pair landed before the crystal pony and two bat ponies restraining a young griffon.
The bat ponies, stallion and mare, pinned the naked griffon down by his wings as he sobbed and thrashed wildly. His beak was tied shut with the strap from the satchel. The satchel itself was torn open, revealing an ornate letter that spilled out onto the roof. The stallion had a split lip.
Nightshade marched up to the stallion’s side. “Murky, what did you do?”
“Nothing,” the stallion answered defensively, “I just tried to open it.”
“Sweet Luna, me and sis definitely got all the brains,” Nightshade whinnied. “It could be poisoned, bro!”
“I’m not dead yet,” Murky offered.
“It could be slow-acting poison!” the other bat pony replied.
“Not helping, Echo.”
Flurry tuned out the argument and turned to Jadis. She saluted Flurry. The alicorn waved a wing in dismissal.
“Nightshade said you spotted him,” Flurry said, gesturing to the griffon with a hoof.
“Yeah, he was flying erratically, like he didn’t know where he was going,” Jadis reported. I alerted the trio over there,” she snorted, “not that they were much help. He actually stopped to ask me where you were before they piled on him.”
The griffon scrambled a claw out to reach towards the satchel. Murky stomped on it with a screech and pulled it back.
“Satchel’s empty except for crumbs and an empty canteen,” Jadis observed.
“He said he had a letter for me?” Flurry asked.
“Yeah, and he’s real insistent you read it." Jadis pointed to the letter with her twisted hoof. "Bird’s got an accent like the Reich delegation.”
Flurry studied the griffon struggling under the bat ponies. His wings were tattered and feathers askew; he’d been flying for a while. His rear paws were also bloody from walking. The griffon’s green eyes were deeply bloodshot and he looked like he was running on pure adrenaline. He seemed young.
“Get off him. I got him,” Flurry commanded. Her horn lit up.
The bat ponies stopped bickering and looked at Flurry before stepping away.
Flurry Heart levitated the griffon into the air and formed a bubble shield around him. The griffon dropped into the bowl and balanced himself. He immediately began clawing at the shield and trying to shout.
Flurry gestured to her muzzle and the griffon sliced through the cords around his beak.
“Princess,” he rasped with a high-pitched voice, “you must read the letter. You must.”
Flurry glanced down at the letter on the roof. Murky had a hoof on it to keep it from blowing away. Jadis followed Flurry’s eyes.
“We have to check it first,” Jadis told Flurry. “No exceptions, Princess.”
“No!” the griffon screamed. “It is only for the Princess!” He pounded on the shield. “Only for her! She must read it!”
“That’s more suspicious,” Nightshade snorted. Her sister laughed.
“Worst changeling ever or bird’s got a screw loose?” Echo chuckled.
“Who are you and what is the letter?” Flurry asked the griffon.
The griffon visibly struggled with the questions. “I am Fredrick,” he spat out rapidly, “and the letter is for you, from the Kaiser. It is secret, only for you.”
“What does it say?”
Frederick whipped his head back. “No! I do not know!” He jabbed a talon down towards the letter. “You see? You see the letter is sealed. I did not open it! No griffon opened it!”
“Why did Grover give you a letter?” Flurry asked, very suspicious. She didn’t cast her changeling detection spell on the griffon, and now didn’t want to drop the shield to do so. Jadis unslung her rifle and sat on her haunches.
The griffon slumped against the shield. His paws had started to bleed again and smudge the bottom of the bubble. “The Kaiser said I must find you,” Frederick panted, “in Weter. I know Equestrian; I learned it in university.”
“Who are you to him? He sent you alone?” Flurry shook her head. “No, I don’t believe it. Why you?”
The griffon teared up and pressed his beak against the shield to stare at the Princess. He opened and closed his mouth, searching for words. “Please,” he pleaded, “read the letter and give me your reply.”
“Nightshade, Echo, find Thorax,” Flurry ordered. “He’s the blue-gray griffon down there somewhere. Or find Falx or Arex or any one of the changelings.” She pointed a wing down off the roof. The sisters nodded together and leapt off the roof.
Frederick breathed deep, heaving breaths and his wings twitched in the bubble. His eyes struggled to stay open. “We’ll investigate the letter and check for poisons or magic,” Flurry promised, “then we’ll read it.” Murky shuffled around behind Flurry and Jadis.
“Don’t bother,” Murky laughed, “it’s blank.” Flurry turned her head to look. He had a rear hoof on the envelope and unfolded the letter in his front hooves.
“Why did you open it?” Jadis whinnied, wheeling around rapidly to glare at the bat pony.
“It’s too small to be a bomb and it wasn’t poisoned. I would’ve smelled something if it was,” Murky argued. “I talk to Arex; I know poisons. It’s a blank piece of paper. Something’s probably up with the griffon.”
“It could be enchanted,” Jadis countered. Murky rolled his eyes.
Their argument was cut off by the griffon.
“You lie!” Frederick screeched and resumed smashing his claws against the bubble. “You lie, you lie, you lie!” He slammed himself full-bodied against the shield and there was a sickening crack as a wing twisted.
Flurry and Murky’s wings fluttered reflexively. The griffon didn’t seem to notice and continued to pound on the blue bubble, leaving smears of blood that fizzled against the magic shield.
“Stop,” Flurry ordered. The griffon didn’t respond and continued to slam against the shield.
“He’s trying to break it.” Jadis aimed her rifle at the panicked griffon.
“He can’t,” Flurry stated. Frederick was breathing erratically now, and stopped to sway on his paws with his bloody claws braced against the side. Blood was beginning to pool at the bottom of the sphere.
Flurry swallowed. He’s going to kill himself. It could be a trick.
Murky flapped his leathery wings and flew up to the bubble, holding up the letter. “Look, dingo,” he snapped, “blank piece of paper. Stop bawling like a foal.”
Surprisingly, the griffon stopped weakly banging on the blue bubble to stare at the letter in open-beaked horror. His eyes flicked up and down rapidly. He sucked down a lungful of air and Flurry prepared to cast a silencing spell.
The griffon burst into tears and collapsed into the puddle of blood at the bottom of the shield. He was sobbing so hard he couldn’t breathe. Murky dropped to the roof and stepped away from the bubble, blinking in shock. The letter slipped from his hooves and began to blow in the wind towards the edge of the roof and past Flurry. The alicorn stomped a back hoof down and caught it. She glanced down at it.
Jadis turned around and scanned the horizon. “He could be a distraction for something else. We need to send up an alarm.” Flurry didn’t reply. The Crystal Pony slung the rifle strap around her neck and limped to the edge of the roof. She pulled an old road flare out of her saddlebags and took it in her teeth.
Thorax and the bat ponies landed right as Jadis moved to light it. Thorax was still in his griffon form. “What in Tartarus is going on up here?” he squawked angrily. He stared up at the sobbing griffon in the shield, who was now hyperventilating and curled into a ball. Blood was smeared all over his feathers.
“He’s not one of the refugees,” Jadis summarized. “We caught him trying to fly in to find the Princess. He’s said he’s got a letter for her.”
“He’s crazy,” Murky supplied.
“Where’s the letter?” Thorax asked and returned to his changeling form. The five ponies glanced around the roof, then stopped to stare at the alicorn.
Flurry Heart continued to look down at the letter crinkled around her hoof. Her mane bobbed slightly in the wind. Thorax trotted over slowly. His hooves were muffled by the sobbing from the shield.
Thorax followed her gaze down. “It’s blank,” he stated.
“No,” Flurry replied. “It’s not.”
Flurry Heart sat on her bed with an ice pack to her muzzle and ignored the muffled screaming. She pointedly looked up at her Wonderbolt poster and away from Thorax and Far Sight as they continued to shout at her through her shield. She muffled the sound to the outside, but that didn’t stop Thorax from slamming a bugbear paw against the shield in pure rage. Far Sight paced behind the changeling, but the room was too small to get much momentum.
The vibration made her horn shudder, but the shield held strong. It would take combined artillery to break it. Flurry could outlast the pair, but the letter she wanted was somewhere outside the shield, hidden by Thorax. Flurry sighed around the ice pack and dispelled her magic. The two adults glared at her.
Far Sight spoke to her first. “How did he reply?” he asked. The yellow unicorn continued to pull on the threads of his tweed jacket with his magic. “It takes something physical from the recipient to create a connection.”
“What did you do?” Thorax hissed and approached the alicorn again. Flurry lit her horn up in warning.
“I gave Elias a lock of my mane,” Flurry allowed. The ice pack muffled her speech.
“Who?” Far Sight asked.
“Colonel Bronzetail, with the delegation.”
Thorax’s eyes twitched and his horn lit up involuntarily.
“It was years ago,” Flurry protested, “so hitting me again doesn’t serve anything.”
“When?” he ground out.
“I visited him at the High Hotel after nightfall,” Flurry rolled her eyes. “It was fine,” she summarized, omitting the part where he shot at her in a panic.
“I knew that bastard was hiding something,” Thorax growled. “He was too eager to work with Gold Muffin when he left.”
“There is magic in the letter,” Far Sight said, “and I would guess that it’s the Marvelous Magic Letters that I taught you, but there’s a plethora of dangerous spells that could be tied to the written word. I can’t counterspell it to read it.”
“Too dangerous; we’re destroying it,” Thorax hissed.
“No,” Flurry said as her tail lashed.
“I will hit you again,” Thorax promised.
“You can’t take me in a fight,” Flurry challenged. “I want the letter.”
“Falx and Arex are busy dealing with the griffon,” Thorax dismissed. “Gold Muffin, Trochus, and the rest are busy with the refugees you brought.”
“You can’t keep it from me.” Flurry narrowed her eyes.
“No,” Thorax admitted, “but I can destroy it if you try.”
The pair stared each other down as Far Sight backed against the wall.
“Fine,” Flurry grunted. “Let’s get some answers from Frederick, then you’ll give me the letter.”
“No.”
“I’m not asking, uncle. I’m ordering you,” Flurry snapped. She levitated the crown over from her dresser and stuck it on her head, crumpling her mane.
Thorax licked at his fangs again. “You’ll read it to Far Sight and me; he’ll check for magical triggers,” he compromised.
“Fine.” Flurry rolled her eyes and stood up, discarding the ice pack. “Let’s go. Where’s the griffon?”
Thorax stared at her for a long moment. “Basement,” he finally answered.
Flurry brushed past him and out the door into the hall. The alicorn recognized that she was being petty, but her muzzle smarted from the unexpected sucker punch Thorax had given her on the roof. She had been so surprised she lost concentration and dropped the shield holding the griffon, who fell to the roof, still sobbing. The bat pony siblings had moved quickly to detain him, but Frederick remained a motionless, blubbering mess.
Flurry descended down the stairs and into the lobby before stopping at a side door with a small foal sitting outside it with some wooden blocks. “Is the griffon down there?” she asked.
“Yeah,” the foal nodded and answered with a dual-toned baritone. “He’s a wreck. Emotions are all over the place, definitely not a changeling.” He looked under her legs to spy Thorax and Far Sight before opening the door.
Flurry Heart, Far Sight, and Thorax descended down into the basement. Thorax’s changelings that lived in the ghetto slept down there. He had explained to Flurry early on that changelings preferred communal, cramped living conditions despite their predatory nature. It took a community to provide enough love and emotions to sustain changeling grubs.
Except there were no changeling foals in Nova Griffonia. Thorax admitted that their numbers were too few and they were too busy. Flurry never heard of anypony in a relationship with one of the changelings either. The war was too recent and raw.
Flurry poured some extra magic into the light bulbs lining the walls, which lit up brighter as they traveled. The walls and floor had been reinforced with wooden beams, but the atmosphere was still gloomy. The basement also functioned as a storage place for smuggled supplies. Part of the basement had been carefully dug out to provide extra storage space and a tunnel to the adjacent tenement in case of emergencies.
Flurry heard a retching sound before turning a corner around some stacked boxes. Falx was sitting out in the open with Jadis rubbing a hoof on his back. The changeling held a bucket between his hooves which he heaved into.
Frosty Jadis crinkled her muzzle at Flurry. “Are you all right?” she asked worriedly.
“Thorax hits like a colt,” Flurry shrugged. “I’m fine.”
Jadis glared over Flurry’s wing at the changeling before a fresh bout of retching from Falx distracted her.
“What’s wrong?” Flurry asked.
“I had to drain the griffon to calm him down,” Falx coughed. “Too much. I haven’t fed like that in a long time.” He coughed again and vomited a pink slime into the bucket. Flurry wrinkled her muzzle and winced at the pain. The bile smelled like flowers, strangely.
“We’ll store the love to ration it for the others,” Thorax said.
“That’s love?” Flurry asked, mildly revolted.
“It’s processed emotions from a changeling,” Thorax answered, “not the abstract emotion. Changeling troops could down some and run hard on the battlefield for days.”
“Until they dropped dead from magical exhaustion,” Far Sight continued. “Saw it happen a few times, or they get so starved and addicted they go feral.”
“Yeah,” Thorax sighed. He trotted over to Falx and nuzzled him, ignoring the bile. “You’ll be alright in an hour or so. Get some rest.” He wiped a hoof across his muzzle and took the lead into the basement. Flurry followed, sparing a sympathetic grimace at Falx, who smiled weakly back.
Thorax stopped at some piled-up crates that formed a makeshift side room. Frederick the griffon was slumped in a wooden chair, eyes glazed. He wasn’t restrained. Arex sat across from him, writing in a journal at a small table lit by an electric light. The changeling was still taking notes with a pencil.
“Thorax,” she greeted calmly, then raised a ridged brow at Flurry and Far Sight.
“What’d you get from him?” Thorax asked and studied the griffon.
“Nothing until Falx drained him,” Arex shrugged. “Too unstable and emotional. I used some compulsion spells afterwards to make sure he was telling the truth.”
Far Sight’s tail swished uncomfortably. Arex spared him a glance.
“I can tell you don’t approve, doc, but it’s our way,” she said and her wings buzzed. She returned to Thorax. “He’s Frederick Sharp from Yale in Herzland. He’s a cross-country flier. His father was a professor and part of the protests.” She stopped and looked at Flurry, who was listening intensely with ears raised.
“His father was arrested, then his family,” the changeling kept going. “He was dragged from the prison in Griffenheim to meet the Kaiser. They met privately and the Kaiser gave him a letter to take to Flurry. He flew here by himself.”
“Is that possible?” Far Sight asked.
“Sure, if you’re a good flier and take breaks. We do it sometimes while smuggling stuff,” Arex shrugged. She looked back at Flurry and paused again.
“Why are you hesitating?” Flurry asked.
Arex looked away from the alicorn. “He had clear instructions from the Kaiser. If he opened the letter, his family would be killed. If he didn’t return with a sealed reply from you, his family would be killed.”
“No,” Flurry shook her head. “Grover wouldn’t do that, and he wouldn’t trust a letter to one griffon, let alone an enemy.”
“He has leverage over him, and one griffon can fly under the radar,” Arex suggested. “It’s not like the Reich can send a delegation to you.”
Flurry shook her head again. “I want to talk to him. Can he answer questions?” She crossed over to the griffon before the changeling could answer. She stood in front of the slumped griffon and flared her wings.
“Why are you here? Who sent you?” Flurry ordered.
"Princess, you aren't going to get clear answers. His mind's basically soup right now," Arex advised.
The griffon opened and closed his beak several times before slowly replying in a monotone. “My father. My mother. My brother. My sister.”
“I don’t care about them!” Flurry shouted. “Tell me about Grover. Did you meet him?”
“He said he’d let them go,” Frederick whispered.
“Who?” Flurry asked and tossed her head back. The crown nearly flew off.
“Kaiser,” he muttered. “Said I could fly far and fast. If I did this, I would show loyalty.”
Flurry twisted away to glare at Thorax. “Tell me he’s lying,” Flurry commanded.
“Flurry…” Thorax started.
“Tell me it’s a lie,” Flurry protested desperately.
Thorax stared at her pityingly. “He doesn’t have the capacity to lie."
“He could still-”
“Princess,” Frederick interrupted. Flurry whipped her head back. The griffon’s eyes refocused on her, but were still cloudy. “Please reply. Please. Can’t be blank.” Tears leaked from his eyes and dripped down his beak.
“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no, no, no…”
Flurry stumbled back. “Let me see the letter. I know his clawwriting. I bet it’s a fake.”
“That’s more reason to destroy it,” Thorax pointed out.
"Not blank," Frederick mumbled. "No, no, no."
Flurry took a breath and held a hoof to her chest. She exhaled and pushed away. “Where?” Flurry asked.
Thorax sighed and nodded to Arex, who lifted her journal and revealed a folded piece of paper. “We haven’t checked it yet,” she pointed out.
“Read it out loud for Far Sight,” Thorax reminded the alicorn.
Flurry seized the letter in her magic and teleported to her room with a crack, cutting off Thorax’s swear. The alicorn tore the poster from the ceiling and pulled down some floorboards with her magic in her haste. The plaster and dust fell onto the bed with the hidden folders. The letters spilled out onto the floor. Flurry crouched and looked through them with her hooves. The new letter fluttered to the floor.
Flurry Heart, Princess of the Crystal Empire and Equestria, Princess of Ponies:
I am sorry for contacting you this way. How is my Equestrian? I hope it is good!
It was written in Equestrian, but the vowels still had Grover’s loops and swirls. That could be faked, Flurry dismissed.
I am sure you figured out the spell. This is so much better than code. Do not worry, the Aquileian unicorn that helped will stay silent.
What does that mean?
I remember my promise. I will keep it. On the Summer Solstice, we will cross the ocean and attack. We will land in Manehattan, Baltimare, and Nova Griffonia.
Speed will be essential. I know the Nova Griffonians and the Republicans have not been kind to your Ponies, so I ask if you can help. Pin their armies on the coast. You are a pilot now? Turn their planes against them. I trust you to make your war plans.
There was a pounding of hooves up to Flurry’s room. She cast a locking spell on her door. The door still nearly buckled at the weight slamming against it. There was a flash of green light and the roar of a bugbear outside. Flurry cast another ward on the entirety of the room. The hallway splintered and cracked, but Flurry’s magic held. She kept reading.
We can kill Chrysalis. I know this. She is weak and lazy. Your ponies must want revenge for their years of suffering, and my forces will fight beside yours. We discuss more together.
I will come once the front is secured.
I look forward to finally speaking beak to beak. (Or is that beak to muzzle?)
He made a joke. Flurry looked from the new letter to the old ones. The writing style was the same, although the language was different.
You can trust your reply to Frederick Sharp, the griffon who brought you this letter. Use your spell and seal the envelope. He has reason to help us.
I still have your crown. I am happy to finally return it.
Grover von Greifenstein, Kaiser of the Griffonian Reich and Kaiser of Griffonkind.
It was Grover. Flurry couldn’t deny it. He mentioned her crown in every letter. Someone would need to have deciphered all the previous letters to know to include its mention. The wall against the hallway started to shatter as Thorax clawed through it with an enraged bellow. Flurry Heart dispelled all her magic.
Thorax abruptly tumbled into the room and landed heavily in front of her, destroying her door and wall. Her letters were buried by scraps of wood and plaster. She kept a hoof on the most recent letter to keep it from being knocked away. The bugbear growled at her and changed back into Thorax. Flurry coughed and squinted through the dust to see that he had additionally destroyed the entrance to his room as well through his movements. The floor also buckled under the weight of a small bugbear, and the ceiling was coming apart.
Flurry stared at the changeling as he struggled back to his hooves. Thorax snarled and lashed forward, striking Flurry across the muzzle with a hoof. Her head rocked back and the crown tumbled off.
Flurry was silent.
Thorax struck her again and the alicorn fell back onto her wings from the impact this time. He snatched up the letter and hissed, changing into a gray Kirin and burning it away with a low growl.
Flurry sat back up and snorted blood out of her nose. Thorax burst into green fire and returned to his normal form, panting for breath. He raised a hoof to strike her again, but Flurry held his hoof back with her magic. He slumped down into the rubble after a moment's struggle.
“If violence is all you’ll listen to,” he panted, “so be it.”
Flurry dug the ice pack out the debris around her bed and chilled it with a spell. She placed it on her muzzle quietly and lit her horn up, waving it at the ceiling. The beams were pushed back into place and repaired. It wasn’t that great of a repair job, but the building wouldn’t collapse.
“The landlord’s going to be pissed,” Flurry remarked around the ice pack.
“I killed her years ago,” Thorax scoffed. “She was a bitter, old griffon that overcharged for everything. She owned half the tenements in Ponyville.”
“I’ve seen her around.”
“Changeling,” Thorax answered and coughed at the dust. Flurry summoned a shield around them to muffle the noise. There was shouting in the street and on the floors above and below.
“You kill any griffon in the government?”
“No,” Thorax answered. “Too risky. Why?”
Flurry hummed. “Grover’s going to attack on the Summer Sun Celebration. He’s going for Chrysalis and Nova Griffonia.”
Thorax blinked. “What?”
“It was in the letter.” Flurry removed the ice pack and gingerly touched her muzzle.
“That’s only a few months away,” Thorax protested. “There’s no way they’ll be in place in time to…” he trailed off and stared at the dust floating in the bubble.
He closed his eyes and sighed with a hoof to his muzzle. “The Reich has been moving troops to quell protests all over the empire. It’s an excuse to prepare for war.”
“They’re already in place,” Flurry stated. “Chrysalis won’t see it coming.”
“No,” Thorax admitted, “but Nova Griffonia is prepared. The River Coalition is federalized. He'd be insane to move his whole army to another continent and leave the east open.”
“He wants our help.”
Thorax laughed hollowly. “You planned for this,” he said. “If he’s doing it this soon, we don’t have time to waste with the refugees. What did he say about them?”
“Nothing,” Flurry shook her head. “He doesn’t care.”
“You’re guessing,” Thorax said, “and it doesn’t matter anyway. We don’t have time to help them.”
“I thought you wanted to help,” Flurry mumbled.
“We can’t prepare for a civil war and deal with a refugee crisis,” Thorax shrugged.
“You would rather help them,” Flurry stated.
“Doesn’t matter. We can’t stay neutral with Nova Griffonia. We’re either with Grover, or against him.” Thorax pushed around a broken board with a hoof. “If we’re with him, that means we’re against Katherine and Frederick and all of the refugees you brought with you today.”
“Don’t rub it in my muzzle,” Flurry snorted. “What other choice do we have? This is our chance to go home.”
Thorax looked around at the debris. “I’m done trying to control you, Flurry,” he sighed. “It’s pointless. If you back Grover, we’ll follow you and fight for you.” He picked her crown up off the floor and levitated it over to the alicorn.
Flurry bit her lip and accepted it. “What would you do?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not a Princess,” Thorax retorted.
“Chrysalis is your enemy too. She killed your brother.”
“I’ve done a lot of things I never wanted to do, but I won’t kill innocent creatures to avenge his death.”
“He won’t kill them.”
“Of course, Frederick’s family is probably fine,” Thorax said. “I’m sure Katherine’s family is as well.” He stood up and pressed a hoof against the shield. “May I leave, Princess Flurry Heart?”
Flurry glared at him but dispelled the shield. Thorax nodded and cringed at the damage to the building. There was a crowd of ponies in the stairwell at the end of the hallway.
“Are we under attack?” Jadis called.
“No,” Thorax answered. “Magic Feedback from one of Flurry’s runes. We need to check the pipes.”
“The griffons outside are spooked,” another pony shouted.
“Tell them everything’s fine. The Princess dealt with it.”
Flurry pushed the debris away from her bed. “Thorax,” she called out as the changeling left. He glanced over his shoulder at her.
“This is the right choice,” Flurry said.
Thorax didn’t answer.
Grover,
We will attack when your forces land. Ponies and Griffons will stand together and defeat Chrysalis. Once Nova Griffonia is defeated, we’ll move south. The border is lightly defended. Ponies will need to be reassured. The previous Princesses spoke frequently against the Reich.
Flurry groaned and crumpled the letter up in her magic before tossing it on the pile next to her desk. She missed in the dim light. The alicorn turned on the stool and added a bit of extra magic to the lamp on her dresser, causing the bulb to glow brighter. It illuminated the massive hole in her wall where her door used to be, now cleared of debris. Her writing desk was up against the far wall, and thus spared when Thorax crashed through.
Flurry Heart stared through the hole in her wall into Throax's room. He had smashed through his wall as well, but she could barely see into the living room and kitchen in the dark. He had returned late that night after planning the exodus of the Herzlander refugees out of the ghetto with Katherine, their unofficial spokesgriffon. The changeling didn’t say a word to Flurry, but nodded through the hole in the wall and went straight to his bedroom. The pink alicorn didn’t want to talk to him anyway.
The floor had been roughly patched up with spare timber from the basement, but most of the scraps had been dragged downstairs to the central boiler. It would function as kindling if the heat went out again during a cold front. It was mid-spring, but northern Equus was known to have abrupt cold fronts after the collapse of the weather patrols in Equestria. Flurry’s hasty repairs meant that the building was stable, if now a bit uglier. Her room was drafty with the extra holes; she kept her flight suit on.
Flurry dipped her quill into the ink pot and sighed. She’d rather write with a pencil, but that wouldn’t exactly be a formal response between two sovereigns, even if Grover was the only one to actually read it. She didn’t care for royal etiquette, but there was a system in place for a reason. It was the same reason she used a royal seal of her mother's cutie mark on her letters. Every Princess used their mark on their documents, but Flurry was still a blank flank. She tried to not let it bother her. Most ponies bloomed late after the war.
She brushed her soup bowl and empty mug to the edge of the desk and retrieved another piece of paper from the pile on the bed. The pile was significantly smaller than when she had started writing hours ago. She had more paper in the drawer anyway.
Arex had brought her a bowl of soup and a mug of water after nightfall. Her ponies had brought out the community pot and were making soup for the refugees in the twilight. Flurry could hear the noise from her room. A few griffons were singing Herzlander drinking songs. Arex had looked down at her draft.
“Would you like some help, Princess?” she had asked.
“No,” Flurry said tersely. “I’m writing in Equestrian. Grover knows it.” She accepted the bowl and cup in her magic and placed them on the desk. “Thanks,” she replied absently.
That had been several hours ago. Flurry forgot about the soup and ate it cold once her stomach started to growl. She made no progress on the letter. The princess knew what she needed to say, but she didn’t know how to say it or what else to ask. This wasn’t a negotiation. Grover couldn’t reply to her again. For the first time, she was writing as a Princess to the Kaiser, not between orphaned friends.
“I shouldn’t mention the previous princesses,” Flurry mumbled. “He already knows about it. This makes me look weak. Just a simple acceptance, no battle plan.” She raised an ink-stained hoof up and rubbed at her crown. Her mane was a tangled mess.
It would be a long flight to Griffenheim. There was always a chance the letter could be intercepted. Celestia could counterspell the magic and read it; there was a chance another could as well. This was important. She had to be vague, but committed. She had to make it clear that she was going to do her part.
Flurry coughed and lowered her hoof. Thorax didn’t understand. This was the last chance to save Equestria and the Crystal Empire. This was the last chance to regain her throne and finally go home. Her ponies had suffered enough.
The Aquileians were going to be a problem. They tolerated her relationship with Grover, but they thought it was foalish nonsense, a trading of barbed replies across the ocean. They wouldn’t like an alliance, but Flurry had a hard time imagining they would take up arms against her. Even if they did, the alicorn could deal with it.
The native griffons were also an issue. The mountain and frontier griffons had rebelled against the government once; they would never agree to rule from Griffenheim, far across the ocean. They would fight for Flurry against Weter, but they wouldn’t fight with Grover. Flurry had already discarded three letters asking about the status of Nova Griffonia. Dusty might have claimed it once belonged to the Crystal Empire, but Grover was the Kaiser of Griffonkind. The land and the griffons on it were a small sacrifice to save their home.
The light of Equestria will never die as long as we remember it.
Flurry leaned back on the stool and closed her eyes. “I have to do this.”
You must do what you think is best for your ponies, even if it is contrary to their will.
Flurry nodded. “I have to do this.” She picked the quill back up in her magic.
“Princess?” a voice called out from the end of the hallway. Nightshade peered through the broken wall. “Are you all right?” she asked. “I heard talking.”
“I’m fine,” Flurry called back softly. “I’m just talking to myself.” She waved a wing in dismissal and the bat pony crept back down the hallway. Flurry shielded and warded her room after the mare left, blocking the hallway. She needed to concentrate. She couldn’t afford distractions. The alicorn began writing a new letter.
Kaiser Grover,
I accept. We will gladly support your invasion. Some of the forces loyal to me are native Nova Griffonians and Aquileians. They will hesitate to fight for the Reich. I need assurances and pardons that the griffons under my command will not be harmed when the invasion begins.
“If he doesn’t agree, then we’ll…” Flurry struggled to think of something.
Griffons can leave if they wish; I will not cause my subjects more harm.
“No, he’ll agree,” Flurry said. “He’ll agree. I shouldn’t even mention it.”
Flurry tossed her draft into the pile next to the desk and restarted. She wouldn’t ask about the Nova Griffonians. They could discuss it afterwards together.
You play the game poorly, filly. Leave it to the adults.
“We don’t owe the Nova Griffonians or Republicans anything. We can fight them,” Flurry decided. “The frontier griffons will help, and the Aquileians. Some might not understand, but they don’t matter.”
Our Princess spends more time helping them like they're her own ponies, than any griffon from Weter.
“It’s not a betrayal. They’ll be fine,” Flurry reasoned. “Maybe some camps. It’s fine.”
Kaiser Grover,
We will support your invasion. The militias on the coast belong to the Nova Griffonians and the exiled Republicans. We can crush them quickly with support for your soldiers to land and move south against Chrysalis. Nova Griffonia will need to be garrisoned and controlled.
Flurry Heart set her quill down and glanced at the empty bowl of soup.
It’s better than the mines.
She knocked the bowl away and under her bed with a wave of her horn.
Flurry gasped and managed a chuckle. “No, no, not work camps. It's different. They were traitors.”
Her family attended some meetings. The police found pamphlets in their home.
“He needed to keep the Reich together. It doesn’t matter. He’s not Chrysalis.”
Everypony in those camps should’ve been shot.
Flurry crumpled the paper up and knocked it to the floor. Her magic reached over to her bed and grabbed at the bedsheets. She was out of paper. She tried to open the desk drawer to get another blank letter, but the drawer jammed again and rattled against her hoof. The alicorn yanked on it hard and pulled the entire drawer away from the desk with a crunch.
She dropped the drawer on the stack of discarded letters and retrieved a blank page. It was fine; the desk was always a piece of junk. Flurry dipped the quill into the inkpot and held it above the page, thinking about what to write.
Nothing came to her.
She roughly set the quill down on the page and rubbed her eyes with her forelegs. She yawned and struggled to inhale. It was late, but she had to do this tonight. The sooner she sent a reply, the sooner they could get to work. The Herzlander refugees needed to be dealt with as well.
Forgive me, my lord.
Flurry coughed a few more times and unzipped her flight jacket. The dust was getting to her and she was having trouble breathing. She stood up, shrugged off the jumpsuit, and started to pace around her room, flapping her wings to clear the air.
“Who’s left? There’s no one left,” Flurry said to herself as she walked.
There is no one left to appeal to.
“Dad was right. The Reich is it. The River Federation is a mess and Zebrica is full of warlords. What other choice do we have? Equestria is dying.”
He did what he could, when it counted.
“Equestria is dying,” Flurry repeated. “This is the only chance we have left. It can’t be for nothing. Everything we’ve went through has to be worth it.”
Everypony has lost somepony. The only thing we can do is keep going and make the losses mean something.
Flurry stopped and stretched her wings to work out a kink. Her wing span almost rivaled Spike’s. She preened an errant feather and shook out a rear leg. The light pink alicorn was taller than most stallions now, but the height was all in her legs and lean muscle. If Flurry was honest with herself, she wasn’t attractive like her mother; she was just an oversized teenager. She adjusted her little crown with a forehoof. It was starting to chafe under her mane.
Flurry coughed again and flapped her wings. She squinted in the light but couldn’t see any dust. She lit her horn and poured more magic into the lamp on the dresser. The bulb began to hum and burn so bright she couldn’t look directly at it. She looked around the room and cast a cleaning spell, the third one of the night. There wasn't any dust left.
She took a deep breath but her chest felt tight. “Why didn’t he say anything about the riots?” She couldn’t get it out of her head.
Things must change, and I will change them. I want to be different from my ancestors.
Her tail whipped against her leg. “He didn’t have a choice.”
I can only offer my apology that I allowed the madness to go on for so long. It ends now.
Flurry coughed again and gasped for air. She had difficulty swallowing; her mouth was dry. She trotted into her bathroom after grabbing the empty mug off her desk. It wobbled slightly in her magic. The bathroom had been spared the worst of the damage to her room, but the light was out. Flurry left the door open so the lamp on her dresser lit up the bathroom. She trotted to the sink and moved her toothbrush aside. The mirror above it was still crooked. She couldn’t see her reflection at that angle.
Flurry filled the chipped mug in the sink. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
How is my Equestrian? I hope it is good!
She gulped down the water and splashed some on her muzzle. She sighed in relief, feeling a little better.
I learn all the languages of my subjects.
Flurry choked and dropped the mug. It shattered onto the floor.
“No,” Flurry laughed. “No, Grover wouldn’t do that. He’s not here for that. He promised.”
Princess Flurry Heart: I, Grover von Greifenstein, swear to the Gods that I will help you reclaim your throne when I come of age.
“He promised,” Flurry nodded to herself.
She looked at the mirror and reached a foreleg up to adjust it and see her reflection.
Cerie looked back at her with watery eyes.
He promised to help me.
Flurry smashed the mirror with her hoof and backed out of the bathroom over the glass shards. Her wings spasmed against her sides and her tail. She coughed again and tried to take a deep breath. The crown was digging into the fur below her mane.
She stumbled against her desk and knocked the stool over with a wing. Flurry Heart kicked the stool away and it crashed against the bed. She coughed again and gasped for air. It felt like she was choking. She braced her hooves against the top of the desk and stared down at the blank sheet of paper. She had left her quill on top of the page and the ink dribbled off into big, round dots that ran down the paper.
Flurry blinked and the ink turned to blood. It pooled onto the floor below the desk.
The Grovers have always been cruel.
The crown tightened around her head. Flurry couldn’t breathe. Her crown was choking her.
They were cruel in different ways, but cruelty is ultimately all the same.
Flurry Heart grabbed at the gold band with both forehooves and tried to take it off.
You at your worst could not match Sombra. You have a kind heart, Princess.
It was stuck. She tugged wildly and stumbled away from the desk on her rear legs.
I cannot in good conscience allow the fate of Equestria to depend on the charity of an evil griffon.
The crown came free and tumbled out of her hooves. It fell to the floor with a light plunk and rolled on its side for a few hooves before falling over. The golden band sparkled in the light from her lamp. Flurry collapsed onto her side, staring at it. She opened her mouth to scream, but she couldn’t stop gasping for air.
Please reply. Please. Can’t be blank.
She held a hoof to her barrel to do the breathing exercise her mother taught her.
My family or my throne.
Her hoof shook; she couldn’t push it away. The crown glittered in front of her muzzle.
Love is the death of duty, Flurry.
“I’m sorry,” she choked out to her crown.
He has reason to help us.
“I’m sorry,” she thrashed her head against the floor. “I can’t.”
If he didn’t return with a sealed reply from you, his family would be killed.
She curled her legs and tail in and tucked her wings around herself. She wept and took shallow breaths.
I am proud to be your friend, Princess Flurry.
“I can’t do it,” Princess Flurry Heart sobbed and looked away from the crown.
The next morning, Flurry Heart found Thorax on the steps of the tenement, looking down the street. He wore his brown Nova Griffonian uniform and a saddlebag. Flurry sat down next to him with a sealed letter in her right wing. Her flight suit was zipped up and purple-pink mane cut short, per regulations for the flight helmet. She didn’t wear her crown.
The sun had just risen to the east and broken through the clouds. There were a few other ponies either keeping watch or returning from night shifts at the factories. It was shaping up to be a warm spring day. There would be patrols and flight practice. Flurry would be expected to attend.
Thorax glanced over at her, but said nothing. He held a coffee mug between his front hooves. This one still had a handle. He wedged it into a hole on his left hoof to lift the mug and take a sip.
Flurry extended her wing and revealed the letter. “How’s Frederick?” she asked.
“Still out of it,” Thorax reported. “It’d be better to have one of the changelings fly to deliver it.” He took the letter in his magic and inspected the wax seal on the envelope.
“Grover’s expecting Frederick,” Flurry replied. “We’ll send him. He won’t trust a changeling.”
“As you command, Princess,” Thorax answered. He tucked the letter into the saddlebag and took another sip. "He'll need time to recover."
Flurry stared out at the empty street. “Where’s Katherine and the rest of the griffons?”
“On their way to the frontier,” Thorax said. “There’s few enough right now that we can put them in one remote town to deal with when the invasion starts. They’ll probably just try to fly away again once it’s clear who we’re fighting for.”
“Where would they go?”
Thorax shrugged.
Flurry sat quietly for a moment and let the early morning light warm her exposed wings. “Are there other refugees still at the dockyards?” she asked.
“Yes,” Thorax answered, “but they’re being held up by the Republicans.”
“Get them out and to the frontier. Shore up the border against Chrysalis,” Flurry said.
Thorax shook his head. “We don’t have time. We need to plan, and they're a liability.”
“I told him no.”
Thorax set the coffee down and turned to face her. Flurry kept staring out into the street.
“And I said that if he ever cared about me,” Flurry sighed, “he would let Frederick’s family go.”
Thorax’s licked at his fangs and tried to respond. “Why?” he finally managed and scooted across the step towards Flurry.
“I don’t know,” Flurry admitted. The changeling leaned against her and she wrapped her wing around the smaller stallion.
“If this is about what I said…” he started.
“It’s not,” Flurry shook her head. “Not everything.”
Thorax paused and nuzzled her. “What do you want to do?”
“I’m a pilot,” Flurry responded. “I swore an oath to defend Nova Griffonia.”
“It’ll be a hard war,” the changeling sighed.
“Nova Griffonia has me.”
“I'm sure they'll like having a princess fly for them,” Thorax offered.
“I'm not a Princess,” Flurry said. “I’m just an alicorn.” She leaned her head atop Thorax’s, careful of his fin and horn. “I love you,” Flurry Heart whispered.
“I love you too,” Thorax whispered back.
“On your six!”
Flurry pulled her stick back and the fighter spun into the air, barely dodging the hail of gunfire that would’ve torn through the tail of the plane. She looked over her shoulder and lit her horn as the pursuing fighter gave chase, following her upwards. It was a standard Griffonian Reich fighter, painted gray and orange.
She smiled. The alicorn hadn’t blown her cover yet, not today. She spun to throw the fighter off and adjusted her flight cap and headset as snowflakes streaked across the canopy of her fighter. Her pursuer adjusted and leveled off to fire another burst.
“Anypony got him?” Flurry asked and prepared a shield.
“I got him, Falcon Four,” a raspy voice chuckled.
She twisted away as one of her wing mates stormed in from the side to rake the enemy fighter across his fuselage. The Reich plane burst into flames and began to spiral through the clouds and towards the ocean below. Her wing mate, a fighter painted with a hideous and poorly done rainbow mural, spun back into the fray below her.
“Good kill, Falcon Two,” Flurry complimented. She leveled her own plane off and fired a burst at another naval bomber that was readying for a dive. Its wing flared with black smoke and the bomber began to turn away, back to the east. Flurry pursued and lined up the stricken plane, dodging the tail gunner on the bomber. She pressed her right hoof down on the button on the stick.
Her machineguns gave a measly burst of four rounds and clicked dry. A warning light came up on her console, right next to the blinking warning that she was low on fuel. The naval bomber continued to retreat through the sky and Flurry scowled at it. She adjusted her laying position on the seat and moved to kick the lever to open the canopy. She caught sight of today’s chalk marks along the side of the seat.
Twelve kills isn’t bad, Flurry reasoned. She turned her fighter away from the naval bomber with a sigh and scanned the sky. Her wing mates were doing well, but the battle was stacked against them. Her fighter squadron was assigned to the ocean outside Nouveaux Aquila on the coast of Nova Griffonia. Today’s goal was to keep air supremacy and stop the Reich's air force from supporting the naval battle below.
The Griffonian Reich had already attempted one landing in late summer there, and had barely been beaten back with a vicious sea battle that left both navies crippled. Flurry had run out of ammo early that day as well, and had resorted to dive bombing the landing craft with her spellwork fired from an open canopy. She returned to base that night with a fighter whose nose and wings were scorched black with the heat from her spells and a half-melted glass canopy.
The melted slag of the landing craft still washed up on the beach, and no griffon had time to tow away the two heavy cruisers Flurry sank in the harbor. Instead of getting a medal for turning back an invasion, Flurry had been reprimanded for closing off the harbor by Colonel Skywatch.
Flurry grit her teeth and channeled her annoyance into her spell, summoning her bubble shield around her plane and flying towards a squadron of Reich fighters moving to intercept her air wing. Before they could react and disengage, her horn sparked and she teleported with a crack.
Flurry Heart and her plane reappeared just in front of the lead fighter and slammed into it. At her speed and velocity, she plowed through the fuselage like paper, and banked to catch another two of his wing mates behind him, taking a wing and tail. The remaining fighters spun away and began desperate evasive maneuvers. They were pursued by her wing mates in short order.
“Bowling Ball!” a voice called over her headset.
“No strike, only spares,” Flurry replied. “Falcon Four reporting: I’m out and low on fuel.” She stretched out her wing and carefully marked three more hashes with the nub of chalk between her feathers.
There was a chorus of agreements through the headset. Flurry looked around, but the sky was mostly clear. A few individual dogfights were playing out in the distance, but it looked like they had won this morning. Flurry allowed herself a small smile.
Thorax had been right; it had been a hard fight. Flurry sent the panicked and half-mad Frederick Sharp back to the Griffonian Reich with a sealed letter after he recuperated. He had no memory of the basement or the changelings. Thorax sold him a story that he collapsed on the roof and was nursed back to health, which was technically true.
Flurry had promised Frederick that the letter was not blank, but did not disclose its contents. He began sobbing again, but he didn't tell her about his family. Flurry guessed he wasn't supposed to. The griffon flapped away quickly and unevenly, back to the east with a satchel full of provisions and watery eyes.
Flurry Heart had no idea if he made it back. There was no announcement on the radio. Grover didn't send another letter. Thorax and the changelings decided not to try to inform the Nova Griffonian government; it would lead to too many questions. Besides, if her letter reached Grover, he would surely have altered his plans.
Flurry didn’t know what Grover knew; it seemed to her that she didn’t really know him at all. Perhaps he thought the letter never made it to her, because the Reich still launched a massive surprise invasion of the continent of Equus on the day of the Summer Sun Celebration. It had ceased to be a holiday years ago for the ponies, and the griffons never celebrated the solstice.
Nova Griffonia barely weathered opening assaults and attempted landings. The coastal cities were heavily fortified and defended with anti-air batteries, but the Reich had millions upon millions of griffons to throw at the poor colony and Chrysalis. The Reich planes were mechanically better than theirs, bolstered by half a continent's worth of industry, but the pilots flying their planes were subpar, and their endless replacements continued to decrease in quality as the war dragged on. The navy was enormous, but similarly stretched thin by the logistics of trying to supply multiple armies in Equestria and harass the Nova Griffonians to the north.
Flurry hadn’t heard the Changeling radio give any updates, and Thorax was much too busy with official work for Blackpeak and the code-breaking department to verify any rumors. Flurry knew based on the reports from Duskcrest and Dusty that the land border was poorly defended right now, which meant that the landings in Equestria had been initially successful, but there was radio silence from Baltimare and Manehattan. The broadcasts from Griffonia were obvious propaganda shills, with griffons with heavy Herzlander accents promising that they were coming to liberate Equestria and the Crystal Empire. Celestia had been quiet as well in the River Federation.
It had been several months of war, and Flurry Heart still had no idea if she made the right choice.
“Right,” the raspy voice of Falcon Two cut through, “that’s a wrap, fillies and chicks. Orders to disengage and return to base.”
There was an immediate chorus of protests and Flurry’s ears twitched at the swearing.
“I don’t make the rules,” Rainbow protested back. “I just pass them along. Navy’s falling back anyway. We’re done here.”
Flurry Heart rolled her fighter to the side to look down at the ocean and pulled off her flight goggles. The ocean was splotched black with oil slicks and burning petroleum. A few ships sat motionless and were rapidly disappearing from her view as they were swallowed by the waves. From her height, she couldn’t make out which ships were the Nova Griffonian’s or the Reich’s, but the alicorn hazarded a guess that the three small ships desperately running south were theirs, chased by two larger dots and one massive battleship that she could clearly make out.
“Is that the Reich’s flagship down there?” she asked and touched a hoof to her headset to stabilize it.
“Yeah,” Falcon Seven responded in a Herzlander accent, “the Artur from Skyfall.”
Flurry glanced down at the huge ship. “I’ll see everyone back at base,” she said.
The radio devolved into static as the pony and griffon pilots in the air wing whinnied and screeched encouragement over the radio. Flurry winced as they tried to overpower each other.
“Enough!” Rainbow shouted in her best Wonderbolt drill instructor voice. “Take care, Falcon Four, Thorax’ll kill me if ya don’t make it back. I’ll find you in the afterlife and haunt you forever,” she threatened.
“Acknowledged, Falcon Two,” Flurry answered.
“Watch your fuel, Princess,” the pegasus warned.
Flurry rolled her eyes, pulled her headset off and tossed it next to the flight cap by her withers. Her rear hoof kicked the lever and the canopy slid open to the chilly, late fall air. A few snowflakes drifted into the cockpit and nestled into her shaved-down mane. The sky was relatively clear as the fighters broke off to return home, all except for one little plane that looked down towards the ocean. Flurry took a deep breath and channeled her magic.
She jerked the stick down and began to dive.
She sped towards the ships while the wind whipped through her short mane and tail. She had to squint against the snowflakes and wind. Her goggles would have helped, but Flurry had learned the hard way that some of her spells were too hot for headwear.
Flurry summoned her bubble shield as the ships came into clear view. Two Griffonian heavy cruisers flanked the massive battleship that was easily double their size. The heavy guns on the front deck boomed as they tried to bracket the fleeing destroyers. One of the destroyers was lagging behind its comrades and listing to the side.
Time to dance. Flurry Heart adjusted her dive towards the battleship and the engine screamed. The first burst of flak ricocheted off her shield. Flurry unbuckled her seat straps and charged her spell as she closed in. She would have to drop the shield to fire. After several months of this, she knew what to expect, as well as her targets.
A griffon on deck would spot her and see the shield around the plane. They would panic and relay it to the captain. The captain would order evasive maneuvers and frantically call for any fighters in the vicinity to intercept. He would order every gun they had to fire at her plane as a last resort.
It was already happening. The battleship began to turn abruptly, forcing the heavy cruiser to its port side to turn to avoid a collision. The gun turrets began to ponderously turn up. Trails of machinegun fire joined the flak in the sky. All of it bounced off her shield, if it even came close to hitting her.
Flurry continued on her dive, screaming towards the aft deck under heavy fire. She was close enough now to make out individual griffons on deck. A few sailors had already taken flight around the ship and were deserting to the cruisers. A few griffons had taken out rifles and were aiming up at her plane. Flurry smirked and looked towards the empty ocean to the left, where the cruiser had twisted away.
Just before she slammed into the deck at full speed, she teleported with a crack. Her plane reappeared just above the waves and Flurry examined the broadside of the cruiser, picking a spot behind the command tower. She teleported between the cruiser and the battleship, and neither had adjusted their aim to account for a teleporting pilot. A skilled unicorn might be able to summon a shield around their fighter for a moment, but nopony could do that and teleport several times. She leaned out of the canopy to the right, letting go of the stick and shoving her horn clear of the glass.
She didn’t have time to charge her laser, so she settled for a low-powered shot. She released the spell, aiming just above the waterline. The blue beam warped the glass of the canopy and scorched the paint black on the right wing. It trailed above the water, creating a plume of steam from the residual heat that followed it towards the ship. The beam sliced through the plating with no resistance.
Flurry’s aim was true. The middle of the ship buckled and a great plume of fire erupted from the deck, scattering the sailors. The entire ship bucked into the air with the force of the explosion as Flurry’s laser ignited the ammunition stockpile. The griffons on board didn’t have time to evacuate; the ship nearly split in two from the blast and Flurry ears rang. She dropped back into the cockpit and pulled up, veering over the buckled command tower.
She resumed her shield as she plowed through the smoke. She collided with a flying griffon; he crunched against the shield and dropped listlessly towards the water. The alicorn turned in a wide arc around the sinking cruiser and looked back towards the battleship.
It still hadn’t adjusted its aim. The destroyers were essentially forgotten as the ship contended with the lone pilot. Flurry listened for any other planes above the screams and twisting metal, but she only heard her engine, begging to sputter with low fuel. She smiled. They were alone with her.
Flurry charged her spell and her horn trailed blue sparks though the sky as she closed in on the battleship. More griffons on deck jumped and flapped away as she flew low to the waves. A few began to fire at her with rifles and pistols. The bullets pinged off her shield, but most shots missed. She approached the side too quickly.
I might not punch through the armor, Flurry decided and pulled up. Her bubble crashed though the antennas behind the command deck as she barely cleared the battleship and took aim at the cruiser on the starboard side. It had stayed in position, but the guns were still trained on the retreating destroyers. She risked dispelling her shield and firing a long-range, wide beam from above. The air erupted with gunfire a moment after she released the spell. She teleported again, reappearing behind the battleship.
Flurry assessed the damage. Her shot was off-target, but she still punched a massive hole in the deck and cleaved through the armor. The ship looked like a kraken had taken a giant bite out of the side, near the stern. It was a crippling shot and the ship was already listing. Griffons were already abandoning the cruiser for the battleship and clogging the sky.
Flurry banked towards the battleship. It was turning again, away from the destroyers and towards Griffonia. Flurry checked the stern to see if they were flying a white flag. The roaring griffon on the Reich flag still blew defiantly in the breeze. She could see Artur spelled out near the rudder.
Katherine had told her several legends about the Reich during their joint language lessons. Artur the One-Winged and Roland the Righteous were heroes that joined Grover the Great on his conquests, leading his armies. Artur had been maimed in his service to Grover, but still pleaded to fight for his liege, sent away to recover and return when he was most needed.
You won’t be returning from anything, Flurry snarled. She fired a shot towards the rudder, blowing it apart. She aimed low and fired again, slicing through the water towards the propellers before resuming her shield. The Artur continued on its own momentum, but was now stuck in its turn. Flurry broke off and veered away, flying just above the waves. Her own engine sputtered frequently.
Flurry sighed. I have to end this. She circled back around towards the battleship and lit her horn, passing over the listing cruiser, which was now on its side. She had gained the needed distance to charge her spell. The griffons on board probably realized the same, because they either bailed and flew away or began to pour gunfire towards her plane.
The anti-air turrets couldn’t hit a plane flying this low; the sailors were relying on mounted machine guns and small arms. They were prepared for dive bombers aiming at the decks of the ship, not the highly armored sides. Nothing had the power to punch through talons-thick, reinforced armor plating.
Flurry Heart continued towards the broadside of the ship, leaning out of the cockpit for one last shot. For a brief moment, she took in the majesty of the silhouette in the morning light. The Artur cut an impressive figure on the waves, fearsome and mighty, painted with the orange, yellow, and black of the Reich around the massive turrets. There had to be thousands of griffons on board. Grover must be proud of it. He always complained that his navy wasn’t very good.
Flurry released her spell, aiming below the water. It wasn’t just one laser. She kept pouring magic into it, creating a continuous beam of fire that erupted into a cloud of steam as it made contact with the waves. The clouds obscured her little plane's approach and the gunfire went wide. One bullet pinged off her left wing, but most of the machineguns were firing too high.
Flurry jerked her horn up and her beam cut into the sky, trailing steam. There was a great roar, like that of a wounded beast, but it was obscured by the boiling clouds. Flurry dropped back into the cockpit and twisted away, rising though the clouds of steam and looking to the left to admire her work.
The battleship continued under its momentum, but now in two pieces, cut neatly in half. Flurry punched through the armor on both sides, cutting through the ship as if it was a slice of bread. The stern was already sinking into the waves and the bow section capsized as she watched, the heavy turrets dragging the ship under in less than a minute. The command tower disappeared last, with a few griffons leaping from it and flying to the east. Most would not make it to landfall. A few decided to fly south.
Flurry turned her plane south and looked towards the destroyers. The two able vessels had slowed to help their stricken friend, which was listing more severely and trailing smoke. Griffons were flying between the decks. Some were carrying wounded; a few carried ponies. Griffons with rifles and small arms stood at the sterns, waiting to intercept the Reich sailors that flapped towards them.
Flurry Heart flew low over the water and passed the destroyers while her engine sputtered in protest. The sailors on deck stopped to cheer. Flurry waggled the wings of her plane in reply, then climbed high into the sky above.
She prepared to teleport back to base, aiming to appear high in the sky above to avoid collisions. Before she released her spell, she wiped her nose on the sleeve of her flight jacket. Her sleeve was greasy and flecked with snow, but there was no blood. Flurry smiled widely and laughed. I’m getting stronger, better than last time.
Flurry Heart and her plane vanished in a flash of blue light.
The plane coasted to a stop halfway down the runway while the propeller turned slowly. The engine sputtered to a halt. Flurry sighed and glared at the warning light on the console, which dimmed as the alicorn glared at it.
I cut that close, Flurry thought and began to push the plane with her magic towards the parked fighters lined up next to the hangar. There was one empty space left next to Rainbow Dash, who lounged on the wing of her parked fighter with a can of paint. The slim mare updated her tally with a paintbrush clutched between her teeth. The rest of the air wing, forty-eight griffons and pegasi, cheered as Flurry pushed her plane up to the empty space and stopped.
The alicorn stood up and stretched her wings, stiff from stuffing them inside the cramped cockpit. She looked around at the airfield and hangar, grinning at another mission with zero casualties. The airbase was one of nearly a dozen outside Weter, and nowhere close to the best-staffed and maintained. Flurry had a suspicion that the Republican-dominated air command intentionally shorted them on fuel and ammo, but they hadn’t taken a single casualty for three weeks, which had to be a record.
Flurry stepped out of the cockpit and onto the blackened wing to examine the damage. The canopy glass was badly warped; the glass at the top, closest to her horn, had partially liquified and ran down the side of the cockpit. The bland, brown paint on the wing was stripped and scorched by the heat from her shots.
Rainbow spat out her paintbrush and adjusted her flight jacket. “Welcome back, Princess,” she called, turning around and greeting Flurry. She shifted to the side to let Flurry see her new tally. A couple of the lines were crooked, but Flurry counted them anyway.
“Twenty-three?” Flurry asked, incredulous. “No way.”
“Why? What was your count?” the mare said with a smug grin.
“Fifteen,” Flurry answered, “and two cruisers and a battleship.”
“Ships don’t count,” Rainbow scoffed. “And none of your messed-up alicorn magic.” She preened her wing and gave Flurry a side-eye. “It’s pure skill and experience, Princess.”
“All right, old mare,” Flurry snarked back. She blinked as Rainbow twisted her one wing. The flight suit on her left side was flat.
Flurry Heart scowled. “Where’s your other wing?”
Rainbow ceased strutting and looked to the side. “Already took it off.”
“No, you didn’t. You didn’t bother wearing it. Again,” Flurry groaned.
“It’s itchy and it’s too cramped in there,” Rainbow protested.
Flurry Heart stuck her own oversized wings out and gave Rainbow a withering glare.
“If you could take your wings off to squeeze into that cockpit, you’d do it,” Rainbow defended.
“No, I wouldn’t,” Flurry said and glared at the smaller mare. “I deal with the wing cramps like a grown mare, even if I could just teleport away if my plane went down.” She jabbed a wing at Rainbow. “Wear your prosthetic when you’re flying. We can’t afford to lose our best pilot because of her pride. Didn’t Twilight have a lesson about this?”
The crowd gathering around the two planes chuckled at Rainbow’s discomfort at being chewed out. Rainbow’s eyes narrowed and she puffed her chest out. “Did you forget who you’re speaking to, Private First-Class Flurry Heart?”
“No sir,” Flurry answered. She snapped to attention. “Consider my objection withdrawn, Lieutenant Rainbow.” Rainbow kept the stare up as the crowd quieted down and looked between the mares. The alicorn remained tense on the wing and Rainbow scowled up at her.
Rainbow snorted first and Flurry laughed with her. The crowd of pilots laughed a little uneasily. Despite her lax attitude, the pegasus could be very harsh when on a mission, a leftover from her time in the Wonderbolts.
“Fine,” Rainbow conceded. “I leave it in the hangar. I’ll wear it next time.”
Flurry nodded.
“Did you destroy the Artur?” a griffon with a heavy Herzlander accent asked and pushed forward. A few mechanics strayed from the hangar to inspect the planes and take notes.
“Yeah, Edmund,” Flurry addressed him. “I watched it go down. Split it in half.”
Edmund smiled and took off his flight cap, giving Flurry an elaborate bow. The crowed clapped or stomped their hooves on the ground in a round of applause.
“You’re making Admiral Fierté look bad,” Rainbow joked.
“She doesn’t care,” Flurry shrugged. “She’s grateful I’ve been saving her sailors.”
“At attention!” a griffon squawked from the hangar. Flurry recognized the voice and sighed. It was Colonel Skywatch’s adjutant, a thin gray griffon in a faded blue uniform.
“Why is he here?” Flurry whispered over to Rainbow.
“You,” Rainbow answered and jumped down from the wing. Flurry hopped down as well, joining the pilots in a line in front of the planes. Colonel Skywatch, a fat white griffon in a stiff brown uniform with an officer’s hat, landed heavily and waddled up the row. He stopped at Flurry and clacked his beak.
“Step forward, Private.”
Flurry stepped forward and remained focused on the skyline.
“This is the third time you’ve disobeyed orders,” Skywatch noted. He was a native Nova Griffonian, but had aligned quickly with Kemerskai’s Republicans. “You were ordered to regroup.”
“Sir,” Rainbow interrupted, “I gave her permission to engage.”
“Quiet, mare!” the griffon squawked and turned to glare at Rainbow Dash, further down the line. “You’ve done enough. You’re lucky to hold that rank!”
Rainbow was lucky that many of the air wing commanders had been shot down in the early fighting; she had been given the position, no questions asked, despite her status as a squatter and illegal immigrant. Rainbow had never become a citizen of Nova Griffonia. In fact, most of the ponies had joined the air force after the war broke out were ELF veterans that were smuggled across the border. In a rare moment of solidarity, Blackpeak and Kemerskai agreed to look the other way.
But that was before Blackpeak cancelled the election two weeks ago.
Flurry Heart understood why. It was stupid to attempt to have an election in the middle of an invasion, but nearly everything about the Nova Griffonian government was stupid. Kemerskai’s faction in the legislature attempted to impeach Triton Blackpeak after the announcement, but they were outvoted by loyalists or bribed representatives. In a rage, Kemerskai’s faction withdrew and resigned in mass, causing a complete breakdown of the central government.
Right now, the legislature had all but collapsed and Blackpeak was effectively barricaded in his mansion, surrounded by militias paid from his coffers. The Republican militias were defending their costal cities to the north, but had kicked out any loyalist garrisons, sometimes violently.
Flurry snorted. We’ll collapse into a civil war if Grover stopped attacking us for longer than a week.
“Is something I said funny, Private?” Skywatch asked.
“No, sir!” Flurry answered.
He tried to scowl at her, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that he had to crane his neck to make eye contact. He wasn’t a short griffon, but Flurry was still a head taller.
“This is the third time you have disobeyed orders,” Skywatch repeated. “This month,” he added. “I can order your arrest and court-martial, since you so clearly are working against the interests of Nova Griffonia.”
“I swore an oath to defend Nova Griffonia,” Flurry replied neutrally. “Everything I do is to fulfill that oath.”
“Are you saying my orders are wrong?”
Flurry hesitated. “I saw a chance to help.” She looked to the side along the line of pilots, who all stared ahead. She closed her eyes and made an effort to keep her wings and tail still. “I saved two destroyers and sank two cruisers and a battleship.”
“So you claim,” Skywatch rolled his eyes.
“I’m sure the sailors will agree,” Flurry protested.
“The Aquileians are hardly reliable witnesses,” Skywatch squawked.
“I’m sure you can find a Nova Griffonian that was on board,” Flurry stated. Her tail lashed behind her.
Skywatch took a step back. “Are you ordering me?” He clacked his beak. “Are you, Private Flurry Heart, giving me an order?”
Flurry glanced up and down the row of pilots. Rainbow shook her head subtly. The only reason I don’t kill you, you fat bastard, is because it will make their lives worse.
“No sir,” Flurry said and saluted. “I apologize, sir. I was only offering a stupid idea.”
“Because you are a stupid pony?” Skywatch asked with a smirk.
“Yes, sir,” Flurry admitted. “I am a stupid pony.”
Skywatch laughed and stepped back onto the runway. “A poor performance this morning,” he began. “I’ll expect better tonight: You are on bomber interception for Weter.”
“Yes sir!” Rainbow shouted. The air wing, including Flurry saluted and Skywatch basked in his authority for a moment before flying back toward the hangar. His adjutant followed and looked nervously back at Flurry Heart. The alicorn stared back, and he raised his clipboard to break the line of sight.
The pilots made a circle again and looked between each other. Herzlander refugees, ELF veterans, and native Nova Griffonians grumbled at each other over their new mission. Night raids by Reich bombers were a common occurrence. The anti-air defenses around the major cities weren’t enough to stop every plane, so pilots had to run interception missions before the bombers reached their target. It was risky and dangerous. The bombers were usually defended with a fighter escort, and the anti-air flak guns weren’t always picky about where they were shooting.
“I’m sorry,” Flurry apologized. “I lost my temper.”
“Nah,” Gabe, a native Nova Griffonian, scoffed, “he’s always been a prick in the feathers.”
“He’s only got that position because his brother owns that major cannery,” a pegasus grumbled. “You think he could squeeze that flank into a plane?”
The group was quick to offer further reassurances to Flurry Heart, but she still had a cold pit in her stomach. Rainbow leaned over and flicked her wing. “We’ll be fine. They gotta give us ammo and fuel anyway if we’re expected to go anywhere.”
“Princess?” a mechanic interrupted and pushed her way into the group. It was a dark green earth pony mare in stained overalls.
Flurry paused. “Yes, Gear Shift?”
“I need to talk to you about repairs,” she said and shrugged her front hooves.
“The canopy needs to be replaced again,” Flurry said. “And I’ll need another coat of paint on the wing.”
“Spice it up this time,” Rainbow advised. “Like my beauty.” She jerked her head towards her art-project disaster of a fighter plane. The rainbows she painted on the wings had uneven bands of color. She also didn’t have the color violet, and substituted brown.
“It’s meant to be generic,” Flurry countered. “I want to look like any other fighter.”
“I have never seen you not use your magic,” Rainbow said.
“It’s not about me,” Flurry answered. “If I look like any other plane, that means potentially any plane in the sky could be an alicorn to the Reich. I want them scared to engage everyone.”
“It’s about the wing,” Gear Shift interrupted again. “Your spell caused some internal damage. You should see it, Princess.”
Flurry swallowed and swished her tail slowly. “All right,” she nodded and followed the earth pony to her plane and away from the crowd.
Gear Shift stopped under the wing and turned around to face Flurry.
Flurry’s horn lit up and she seized the mare in her magic, throwing her upwards into the bottom of the wing. The mare wheezed, then Flurry threw her down to the ground and held her there with her horn. She summoned a shield around herself and the pony.
“You know,” Flurry said conversationally, “Gear Shift never calls me ‘Princess.’ She calls me ‘Bitch’ quite a lot for causing her so much repair work.” Flurry tried to sense any weapons on the mare, but there was nothing.
It could be a distraction, Flurry realized and looked over her shoulder towards the group of pilots. Her shield and sudden magic had caught their attention. Rainbow ran up and paced outside the shield, mouthing questions Flurry couldn’t hear.
Flurry cast her detection spell and Gear Shift began to burn away, slowly revealing a changeling in her overalls. “Did you kill her?” she snarled.
“It’s Falx,” the changeling groaned and tried to wave pitifully, but Flurry’s magic held him still. “She let me borrow it.”
Flurry waited until the disguise completely unraveled, then abruptly hauled Falx up to his hooves and dispelled the shield. The pilots and other mechanics had surrounded them, armed with spare tools and sidearms.
Rainbow growled at the changeling. “Really? You came all this way to die, bug.”
“It’s Falx,” Flurry said. “From the ghetto.”
Rainbow squinted at the changeling. “How can you tell?”
Falx hissed back at her, annoyed. “We don’t all look the same!”
Rainbow took in the black carapace, holed hooves, and blue eyes. “Yes, you do.”
“Head fin, holes in the legs, and the pattern on the wings,” Flurry told Rainbow. “It’s different for every changeling.”
“Wait, really?” Rainbow blinked, “huh.”
Gear Shift, the real pony and naked, pushed her way through the crowd. “Don’t destroy my overalls!” she cried out.
“Nice to know you care, Gear,” Falx groaned. “After all those years in the ghetto.”
“What are you doing?” Flurry ignored the mechanic. “I could have killed you.”
“Yeah,” Falx nodded. “I was trying to keep a low profile. Thorax needs to see you in Ponyville.”
“We have a mission tonight,” Flurry said. “What’s wrong?”
Falx looked at the crowd, then back to Flurry. “I can’t say. Right now. At your place.” His wings fluttered nervously. “You can’t say anything about this,” he addressed the combined crowd, then switched to a pegasus.
Flurry nodded to the group. “I’ll be back tonight. You heard him. Keep quiet.” She caught Falx looking at her worriedly before disappearing into the crowd.
The pit in her stomach grew deeper.
Flurry teleported with a sharp crack and appeared on an empty street. Ponyville, while a part of Weter, was on the outskirts and a low priority for any anti-air defenses. It was also a non-existent target for bombing runs, but bombers missed their intended targets all the time. Flurry glided over the large hole in the middle of the street, right in front of her tenement. As much as it made her giddy to think she was the intended target, too few bombs dropped on the ghetto to make her believe it.
There was a mandatory blackout on all the major coastal cities with a strict curfew. The ghetto had swiftly been evacuated to the frontier, and just about everypony able to serve was in a militia or working double shifts in the few inland factories. Flurry spent most nights sleeping in her plane or a rough mattress on the floor of a hangar with a few others. Her wing joints were starting to pop in the mornings.
Flurry entered the abandoned building and stopped, flaring her wings out and casting a life detection spell. She sensed four creatures above her on the second floor, in Thorax’s room. She tested the light switch in the entryway, but the lights weren’t working. Weter probably cut the power, so not too unusual, she admitted despite her suspicion.
Flurry Heart cast her invisibility and muffling spells, and ignored the resulting headache. Even with the spells, she crept up the central staircase and tried her best to see any traps or sense any wards. She couldn’t see anything. Her night vision would make her eyes glow, so she refrained from that spell. There was enough light coming in from the windows to almost see where she was going.
Thorax’s room was lit up with a dim, gray light. The door was open and the light spilled out into the hallway. Flurry slowly crept up and peeked around the doorframe.
Thorax, Dusty Mark, Duskcrest, and Spike sat around the table in the sparse living area, which had been moved against the old couch. Dusty and Duskcrest sat on the couch together and were still in their militia uniforms, looking haggard and worn-down. Dusty's horn shone dimly and provided light. Spike sat on the floor and absently pulled up shards of wood with a trailing claw. Thorax sat on a stool and stared ahead blankly, still wearing his official uniform.
Flurry pulled her head back. Thorax was in Weter with the government, but the rest of them had been in the frontier, all over the place. No way they were all in one room, Flurry decided. The alicorn swallowed down her anger and emotions to hide from the changelings.
She crept into the room and took position in the kitchen. None of them noticed her. Flurry grit her teeth and cast her changeling detection spell, sweeping it through the room and beginning to charge a blast.
The four occupants twitched, but only Thorax shuddered unpleasantly. “Flurry?” he asked and looked into the hallway.
Flurry dismissed her spells and stomped out of the tiny kitchen. “What the buck, uncle?” she swore. “What’s going on? I nearly killed Falx when he tried to get me alone. Now, you’re all moping around with no guards.”
“Did anypony see Falx?” Thorax asked, hopping off his stool and running up to Flurry.
Flurry’s opened and closed her mouth. “Yes,” she finally managed, “the whole air crew.”
“Skywatch?” Thorax pressed in close to her so urgently that she took a step back.
“No,” she shoved him back a bit with her magic. “He was there, though. Everyone will keep quiet.”
Thorax shared a look with Dusty.
Flurry shook her head to refocus. “What’s going on? Why are you all here? How?”
“Thorax sent us runners last night,” Spike said, grabbing his tail and worrying with it.
“I carried her for a bit to make better time,” Duskcrest added and gestured to Dusty.
“That didn’t add time?” Flurry tried to joke, but Dusty just shook her head.
They’ve always been at each other’s throats.
“Flurry…” Thorax started and took a deep breath.
Flurry sat on her haunches and stared at him. "Tell me."
“I have a griffon,” Thorax began, “in Blackpeak’s house.”
“When?” Flurry asked.
“Please,” Thorax pleaded, “don’t interrupt. It was after your visit.”
Flurry looked at the sunken eyes around the room and shut her mouth.
“She’s just a cleaning maid,” Thorax continued, “but she has access to all of his private rooms. She found a draft of a letter in the wastebin. It was an alliance offer for Chrysalis.”
Flurry took a breath to reply, but held it in at Thorax’s look.
“We checked with our border patrols,” Dusty said. “A few griffons already crossed over to the south on ‘official business’ two nights ago. They threatened to shoot it out when we challenged them.”
“I checked their identities. They’re all paid thugs for Blackpeak,” Duskcrest added.
“Where’s the letter?” Flurry asked.
“She left it in the bin in case it would be noticed, but I questioned her myself,” Thorax said. “She’s telling the truth.”
“He cancelled the elections. His power base is slipping away to Kemerskai. Nova Griffonia is running out of fuel and food. Chrysalis needs equipment, apparently, and she’s got spare oil and rubber,” Spike said.
“From slaves,” Flurry said.
“You think Blackpeak cares about that?” Spike snorted with a plume of smoke. "They're fighting the same enemy on the same continent."
Flurry closed her eyes. “What was his offer?” she asked.
“He gets to remain in charge and gives her equipment,” Dusty shrugged.
“And you.” Thorax stared at her. “Chrysalis gets you and everypony else.”
No.
“The border’s deserted right now,” Flurry pointed out. “We can attack.”
“Yes, it is, but for how long? She can send her panzers along the Equestrian border, near Stalliongrad,” Duskcrest said. “It’s flat there; we won’t have a chance.”
“If we charge across the border into the Crystal Empire and Equestria, we’ll be stabbed in the back by Kemerskai or Blackpeak or the Reich,” Dusty answered.
“The Reich is pushing south and west towards Canterlot, but they’re moving slowly. We'll run into them anyway,” Thorax completed.
“Then we…we move across the Crystal Mountains and take the Crystal Empire,” Flurry tried. “The Crystal Heart can protect the city.”
“Even if it still worked, we can’t evacuate everypony in time,” Spike said.
"Okay!" Flurry cried out. "What's the plan, then?"
“We need to get out of here,” Dusty said.
“You just said we couldn’t evacuate everypony.”
The four adults shared a look.
“We need to get you out of here, Flurry,” Thorax said.
Flurry laughed desperately. “Where?” she asked, pacing in the kitchen. “Where could I go? Zebrica is full of warlords. It’s not any safer there.”
“We’ll fly north around the top of Griffonia towards the River Federation,” Spike revealed. “It’s hard flying, but possible. Especially for an alicorn.”
“They won’t take me in,” Flurry scoffed. “I’ve killed thousands of soldiers from the Reich.”
“That’s exactly why they will take you,” Spike pointed out. “They’re prepared for the Reich to attack them.”
No, they’ll want me to sit on a radio with my aunts.
“You’re telling me to run,” Flurry stated. “What about you? What about everyone else?”
“The mountains are too rugged for tank brigades,” Duskcrest shrugged. “We can hold out for a time.”
“For a time,” Flurry repeated. “I run away and leave you all to die? That’s the plan?”
“It’s not a great plan, Flurry,” Thorax admitted, “but we have to do this.”
Flurry shook her head violently. “How much of an army do we have? We’re on the border; we’re not getting chewed up on the coast. How many griffons?”
“We’re still outnumbered by Blackpeak and Kemerskai, even if we include the Herzlanders,” Duskcrest summarized.
“And the Aquileians,” Flurry added.
Thorax and Dusty shared an awkward glance.
“They like you, Flurry, but they won’t fight for you,” Dusty said.
Let’s stop our nice Republican friends from harassing Little Flurry.
Flurry snarled. “You’re wrong, and Kemerskai and Blackpeak won’t fight together,” she stated. “They hate each other.”
“Maybe, but Alexander Kemerskai hates you too,” Spike reminded her.
“More than Blackpeak right now?” Flurry retorted. “I don’t think so. Where is he?”
“Kemerskai?” Thorax clarified.
“Yes.”
“Yarrow,” Thorax said, “on the northern coast.” He noticed the look in Flurry’s eye. “He hates you,” he sighed. “You’re the worst possible pony to go talk to him about this. He won’t listen to a word you say. Even if he believes you, we need to keep this quiet. A civil war will allow the Reich to land.”
“I’m the only pony he notices,” Flurry corrected, “so I am the only pony that he will listen to.” She stuck her wing out and counted down on her feathers. “With the Aquileians, the Republicans, the Herzlanders, and the frontier, we’ll have more than enough to defeat Blackpeak’s loyalists. He’s still in Weter. We surround and push him out of the capital.”
Duskcrest and Dusty leaned forward on the couch and considered the plan.
“How long do we have until that letter gets acted on?” the alicorn asked Thorax.
“Chrysalis is in the Changeling Lands, so maybe two weeks,” Thorax guessed.
“How long do we need to get everyone in place to take the frontier?” Flurry asked.
“It’s already ours,” Duskcrest scoffed. “We can get moving in a day.”
Spike leaned back. “What about the Reich? They’re not going to stop attacking us while we’re fighting Blackpeak.”
Flurry shook her head. “We’re not fighting him in the streets. We coordinate and do it in one night. Most of his militias will desert him.”
“They’ll probably crawl to Kemerskai,” Dusty snorted.
“That’s a problem for later,” Flurry shrugged. “I’ll convince him to help us now. Meet me back here tonight.”
“Even if we overthrow him, Chrysalis could use that as an excuse to invade,” Thorax remarked.
“She had the chance to invade when we were both attacked. Chrysalis didn’t take it,” Flurry answered. She looked around at the downcast adults. Thorax and Spike looked absolutely dejected, while Dusty and Duskcrest seemed more subdued.
“What do you know that I don’t?” Flurry challenged. “I know we have supply caches. I know we have smuggled weapons. I know we have more Ponies and Griffons in the mountains than Weter thinks we do. I know half of the Aquileians are in the navy, and I know that basically all of them owe me their lives at this point. I know the border is deserted, and I know that Blackpeak is a coward. We can do this.”
“Even if we do, we’re going to have to fight the Reich and Chrysalis,” Spike warned. “They’re the two most powerful armies in the world.”
“This is the plan,” Flurry ordered. “We’re doing it. I will not run, and you can't make me. Not anymore.”
The group of four creatures nodded slowly.
“We need to get to Evergreen,” Thorax interrupted. “Everypony else is set up there.”
“I’ll meet you there tonight,” Flurry promised and lit up her horn.
“We won’t make it there by tonight!” Spike protested.
Flurry rolled her eyes and teleported.
A unicorn, a changeling, a dragon, and a griffon fell onto the roof of the small grocery store on the main street of Evergreen, far into the frontier. They groaned and struggled not to vomit from disorientation. An alicorn flapped her wings above them and wiped her nose on her sleeve.
No blood. Flurry smiled to herself. “I’ll come check on you later!” she called down, then looked northeast and teleported away with a sharp crack.
Flurry Heart landed on the outskirts of Yarrow and brushed some sleet off her flight suit with a wing. Yarrow was a decently large coastal town, once known for its fishing trawlers that braved the icy sea to the north. Now, it was part of the bunker network that stretched along the coast and the fishing boats were scrapped for extra metal and wood. Their hulks were abandoned on the outskirts of the town.
No wonder rationing is getting so bad, Flurry thought as she approached on hoof. Nova Griffonia depended on fishing to make up for the lack of trade. Without either, it was only a matter of time before they ran out of food. Flurry had already heard rumors and fear-mongering from ponies that the griffons were keeping them around as livestock. Which was absurd, Flurry snorted to herself. She couldn’t find a single verifiable source in history of a griffon eating a pony, and she spent three weeks looking through the public library in Weter when she was younger.
Flurry noticed a wall of sandbags at the end of the street she was approaching. The single-story brick houses were similarly boarded and reinforced at the large windows. Like any city, the outskirts were the poorest. A few griffons lounged on the roofs and peered through binoculars.
A griffon screeched on a roof and several heads poked up with rifles from behind the sandbags. “Halt!” one squawked in Herzlander. “Identify yourself!” An anti-tank gun stuck out from an opening in the sandbags.
Flurry stopped a decent distance away, next to one of the boat hulls. “Flurry Heart,” she answered in her amplified voice.
A few of the helmeted griffons disappeared behind the sandbags for a moment before one stuck his head up. “Leave!” he shouted, “or be fired upon!”
“I need to speak with Kemerskai,” Flurry retorted. “It’s important.”
“Leave!”
Flurry sighed and summoned her bubble shield. Five bullets pinged off it in the time it took to blink, causing small blue ripples along the shield. Flurry took a breath and stepped forward.
The anti-tank gun fired, roaring into the mid-day.
The round ricocheted off her shield and blew the hull apart, covering the area with wood shrapnel and dust. Some of the griffons at the barricade screeched in alarm. Flurry observed all of it with detached interest and flapped her wings. Her shield, now a proper bubble, shone through the clouded air and attracted more gunfire as she flew lazily above the sandbags and landed behind them in the street.
She looked over her shoulder at the dozen griffons crouching behind the sandbags, looking back at her in shock. A pair were reloading the anti-tank gun. She gave them an unimpressed look. “You know you’re facing the wrong way,” she said in Herzlander. She stuck out a wing and pointed east. “The Reich is that way.”
One of the griffons screeched, lunged forward, and fired his rifle point-blank against her shield. The bullet bounced back and struck him in a rear paw. He screamed in pain and dropped the rifle, falling back with flailing wings and cradling his bleeding leg. Another miltia griff dragged him back.
“Should I wait here, or keep going to find Kemerskai?” Flurry asked conversationally. A few soldiers alternated between raising and lowering their guns while looking between each other.
“I’ll keep going,” Flurry decided. She waved a wing at a griffon with a radio pack. “Let him know I’m here.” The alicorn flapped her wings and proceeded down the street without being shot at again. The chapels to the Trinity worshipped by the griffons were tolling their bells in alarm in the town, and a few griffons dropped from the sky and took shelter along makeshift fortifications or inside their homes. Flurry passed them by without issue and ignored the fearful and hateful stares.
These weren’t her griffons, the ones she helped or fought for. These were the coastal griffons, the relatively privileged and well-fed, that had only seen ponies when they built the fortifications along their coast for piecemeal pay. Flurry flew by a fully-crewed anti-air battery on the roof of a grocery store. The crew oriented the gun towards the alicorn.
“Don’t,” she warned in Herzlander. “It’ll bounce off.”
The crew didn’t fire. Flurry continued past a few more anti-air batteries and noticed a large following of armed griffons behind her. She landed near a fountain in front of a larger church with tolling bells closer to the middle of town. The griffons circled her from above, and no griffon landed. The bells ceased and Flurry heard a truck engine approaching.
A military truck turned a corner from the west and stopped in the street. A few griffons leapt out of the back, armed with submachine guns. A griffon with a launcher across his back leapt down last and unslung it, aiming right at her. Two griffons broke from the group and approached.
Flurry recognized Alexander Kemerskai Junior. The brown griffon was wearing a green uniform, but had added several medals that hung loosely on the opened jacket. He had upgraded from a standard green cap to a white officer’s cap with flared ridge. Flurry resisted snorting.
The other griffon was an older, white-furred griffon with an eye patch and brown suit. Flurry vaguely recognized him as Schnabel Sunglider, the former President of the Griffonian Republic after the elder Kemerskai finally allowed elections. The pair stopped a healthy distance from Flurry, and Kemerskai gestured with a wing towards his griffons. They circled her bubble with guns ready.
“We need to talk,” Flurry called out in Herzlander.
“We have nothing to discuss,” Kemerskai answered.
“Blackpeak,” Flurry shrugged.
“You're here to make me an offer for that chicken?” Kemerskai laughed. “Tell him that Maar spits on his ancestors.”
“He’s our enemy, too,” Flurry countered.
“Really?” Kemerskai feigned shock. “And after all those years you’ve been kissing up to him.” He pantomimed wiping a tear away from his eye.
“The situation’s changed,” Flurry said.
Kemerskai narrowed his eyes. “Tell me,” he commanded.
Flurry looked around at the gathered griffons. “We should speak in private.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” he sneered.
“I’ll go somewhere with you,” Flurry sighed.
Kemerskai seemed surprised by her deference and spoke quietly with Sunglider. Sunglider waved a wing at the church and the other griffon nodded. He gestured to a church with the wing. “In there, wait out here until summoned.”
Flurry nodded and sat next to the fountain. She kept her shield up. The griffons took up defensive positions and aimed everything they had at her.
Kemerskai entered with several of his soldiers and kept Flurry waiting for nearly an hour. No griffon left the church, even from the windows, so Flurry concluded it was a power move. A few other griffons in high-class uniforms arrived by flight and entered while she waited, sparing Flurry a vague glance before being checked at the doors. The griffon with the launcher yawned and set it down, shaking out his claws and pulling out a cigarette from a pocket. The griffon was yelled at by an officer, so he lazily pulled out his pistol and vaguely pointed it at Flurry's shield as he smoked.
Flurry Heart decided she liked him the most.
“Alicorn!” one soldier finally squawked from the doorway. “Enter.”
“Can I drop the shield?” Flurry asked sarcastically.
“No,” the griffon answered with a hard beak.
Flurry blinked and studied the doorway before lighting her horn and shrinking down the shield. It barely fit around her and she had to shuffle up the stairs and through the open doors. At the very least, the guards stepped aside for her to enter, but that might have been just self-preservation; she wouldn't have hesitated to knock them over.
The church wasn't a church; it had been converted into a supply depot, definitely long before she arrived. The pews were stacked against the windows and any artwork had been removed. Ammo crates, spare rifles, and an artillery piece were stacked up against the walls. Kemerskai and nine other griffons were waiting for her where the altar used to be, replaced by a long table. Armed griffons watched her from the wings of the chapel.
Flurry slowly shuffled forward and extended the shield slightly to improve her gait. “May I drop the shield?” she requested in Herzlander.
“It would be better if you did not,” Sunglider responded. “We feel more comfortable with your magic visible and contained. I am told you injured one of our soldiers.”
“He injured himself,” Flurry responded. “The shot ricocheted off the shield.”
Sunglider nodded and accepted her explanation, but Kemerskai looked upset. “Your Herzlander is very good,” Sunglider complimented to defuse the situation.
“I learned from the refugees you shunned,” Flurry replied. The alicorn stopped before the raised platform and looked up at Kemerskai. On even ground, she was taller than him, but he seemed to relish looking down at her.
“Why are you here?” Kemerskai asked. “You insult us and rile up our town.”
Flurry scanned over the assembled griffons. “You trust every griffon in this room?”
“The only one I don’t trust is you,” Kemerskai answered and held a claw on his holster.
Flurry took a breath. “Blackpeak is making a deal with Chrysalis. He’s already sent messengers.”
“I know nothing about this,” Kemerskai said.
“You’ve pulled out of Weter. They crossed over to the south two days ago.”
“Or perhaps you are lying, hoping that I attack Blackpeak and justify a war for him. You are nothing but a dog for him, after all,” Kemerskai spat. “What proof do you have?”
“If you want to wait for proof,” Flurry said, “it will be tanks crashing through the border. My ponies can’t hold them.”
“Your ponies,” Kemerskai seized on her word choice. “Is that why they chose you to come to me, Princess? I thought you turned away from your crown.”
“Shut up about the crown,” Flurry replied, exasperated. She jostled her short-cut curls with a raised hoof. “Do you see a crown? I threw it away months ago. I’m here to ask for your help.”
Kemerskai raised his beak and laughed. “I have no reason to help you.”
“If we combine our militias, we could take out Blackpeak’s loyalists without risking a prolonged civil war.”
“Or weaken the coast for your friend to finally land. We’ve held him off.”
“Grover’s not my friend,” Flurry growled. “And you’ve done nothing. You’re sitting behind sandbags and waiting to die.”
Kemerskai clacked his beak and the other griffons rustled their wings. “I will not suffer your insults,” he squawked back in a low voice.
“How many Reich soldiers have you killed?” Flurry asked smugly.
“I fought on the front lines for my father during the war. We would have won if the Aquileians pulled their weight.”
“I’ve killed thousands,” Flurry smirked. “I’ve roasted them in their landing crafts and burned their ships. I’ve taken down their best fighters and sent them screaming to Maar. You’re mad if you think I’m working with him.”
Kemerskai looked at her flight suit, ruffled and dirty. “You claim a lot, Private.”
“You’re not that deluded." Flurry shook her head. "You know that I’m part of the reason this country hasn’t fallen yet.”
“You’re part of the reason this country is in this position,” Kemerskai stated. Flurry blinked, momentarily shocked before he continued. “You shilled for Triton for years and allowed him to corrupt the Republic.”
It was already corrupt, Flurry almost said, but instead replied, “This is the chance to fix that.”
“As if you care about the Republic,” Kemerskai scoffed, clacking his beak.
Flurry paused and assessed the situation. She was losing the argument. She was never going to convince him with platitudes, so she settled for the truth.
“You’re right,” she admitted. “I don’t care about the Republic, and I don’t care who’s in charge. If you want to be president, fine. I don’t care, as long as Chrysalis doesn’t come across the border.”
“Blackpeak cancelled the election because he knew I would win,” Kemerskai said and preened a wing. “And you could be lying about Chrysalis.”
Your father ruled as a dictator over the Griffonian Republic for thirty years, Flurry thought. He cancelled elections, too.
Flurry instead said, “If I am telling the truth, Triton is going to be reinforced. You can’t beat him then, once the tanks get here. When they’re done with the frontier and the south, they’ll move down the coast. You’ll be stuck between the Reich and the Changelings.”
“You’ll be dead,” Kemerskai remarked.
“You’ll die, too,” Flurry replied. She sighed. “Look, I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to ask you for help, and I have no idea what I ever did to make you hate me so much.”
Kemerskai leaned down and sneered at her. “You paraded through this country for years, lording over your ‘subjects’ and making a mockery of the principles of equality and fairness. You still do it,” he pointed at her with a claw. “You defy orders, secure in the knowledge that your position affords you shelter.”
“I’m a citizen of the Republic,” Flurry stated, “and I’m an alicorn. I can do more. It's not my fault no one realizes that.”
“And are you a Princess? You never dismissed your title…” Kemerskai trailed off.
Flurry closed her eyes. “I’m just a pilot.”
“A non-answer,” Kemerskai clacked his beak. “No true Republic would let you sit and sow dissent in their borders, like that sham of the River Federation. If they were a strong state, they would attack the Reich now, while it’s distracted, instead of waiting.”
“Like you’re waiting for Triton?” Flurry asked, knowing it would upset him.
Kemerskai’s feathers ruffled and he leaned back. Before he could snap at her, Sunglider pulled him aside. The pair turned back and the other griffons circled around them, speaking quietly. Flurry sat down and waited, feeling where the crown used to rest against her fur.
She didn’t remember where she put it after that night. The night she composed her reply to Grover felt more like a nightmare than real life sometimes. She searched all over her room a few days later, but never found it. Sometimes she wished she could wake back up in her cloud bed in the Crystal Empire and try everything over again.
Kemerskai and Sunglider broke from the griffons and approached the end of the platform. Flurry stood and looked up at them. “What is your plan?” Kemerskai asked in a subdued voice, still cautious.
“We have two weeks, maybe less,” Flurry answered. “We have the frontier and the south. With your help, we can surround Weter to the north as well.”
“My griffons will take Weter,” Kemerskai responded. “We have loyal griffons there, and Blackpeak is weak. I will be sworn in as the rightful President of Nova Griffonia and Triton Blackpeak will hang.”
Flurry nodded.
“The ponies and other refugees may stay in the frontier,” Sunglider added. “They can fortify the border in case of attack. We need to coordinate with the frontier militias to decide who attacks Blackpeak’s griffons, and where and when.”
“We’re based in Evergreen,” Flurry said. “I can teleport four griffons with me there. Anymore than that and it gets unpleasant.”
“Teleport?” Kemerskai asked.
“You want to get this done quickly or not?” Flurry challenged.
Alexander Kemerskai looked down at her with unreadable brown eyes. “There is one condition.”
She rolled her eyes. “Name it.”
“Your first act once I become President will be to publicly renounce your crown and affirm your loyalty to me and the Republic.”
Flurry hesitated and tried to swallow.
“You are correct,” the brown griffon admitted. “You have done much to help the war effort. I will promote you to Captain and you’ll be given command of an air wing. But you will answer to me. If you cannot do that, you will leave Nova Griffonia.”
“What about the ponies here?” Flurry deflected.
“They will be my citizens and I will protect them,” Kemerskai responded.
"You campaigned on a platform that called us all monarchist scum," Flurry retorted.
"Yes," Alexander admitted, "and they are. I know very well that they will never love me as president, but you will be an example to them, like you were an example for Blackpeak. All I expect is that you do your duty as a citizen to the best of your ability. As a commander, you will have leeway to fight battles the way you want to fight them." Alexander paused. "Unless they conflict with my orders."
Flurry closed her eyes and her wings drooped. “Fine,” she said softly.
Kemerskai didn't smile at her capitulation. Sunglider cleared this throat.
“I will go with her,” Sunglider volunteered, but didn’t look very thrilled. “We’ll take some long-range radios and report back.”
Kemerskai waved a wing in acknowledgment and turned back to his griffons.
“I can leave whenever they’re ready, but I have to fly tonight,” Flurry added. She turned to leave and wait outside.
“Don’t worry about that,” Kemerskai remarked absently over his shoulder. “Another air wing will deal with the bombers.”
Flurry Heart stopped and looked back, but Kemerskai had already stalked over to his commanders.
Blackpeak’s voice rang in her head. You play the game poorly, filly. Leave it to the adults.
Flurry Heart waited outside, still in her shield; she ignored the glares from the soldiers. The smoking griffon waved the pistol at her in greeting. Flurry actually smiled back at him, and the young griff blushed.
After another hour, Sunglider and three griffons emerged, one lugging a heavy backpack radio and headpiece. Sunglider adjusted his eyepatch. “I apologize for the wait,” he said. “It was hard to find volunteers.”
Flurry nodded absently and dispelled the shield. “Get in closer,” she requested, “and be ready to flap your wings. You’ll be above the roof of a grocery store on main street.”
“You’re that accurate?” Sunglider asked.
Flurry teleported instead of replying, taking them with her.
Flurry Heart laid on the roof of the grocery store, looking up at the stars above. Katherine sat across from her and looked through an old, battered telescope. Flurry had changed out of her flight suit and was nude. Katherine wasn't bothered by it; she was from a peasant family that couldn't afford clothes. The brisk autumn air blew through the town, and the moon shone gently down on the alicorn. For a moment, she wondered if Luna still commanded the heavens. She certainly never appeared in any nightmares anymore. Flurry had enough of them to certain.
The trio of bat pony siblings, Echo, Murky, and Nightshade, kept watch around the roof. Sunglider, Duskcrest, and Dusty Mark were in the hotel with some command staff, now turned from a refugee haven to command tent. Heartsong and Barrel Roller would arrive tomorrow before moving to their assignments. Flurry didn’t know where Thorax was, other than a vague ‘around’ from Dusty.
Flurry sighed and Katherine turned away from her telescope. “What is wrong, Princess?” she asked in Equestrian. “The stars is beautiful tonight. No bombers out here.”
“The stars are beautiful,” Flurry corrected.
Katherine opened her beak and stuck her tongue out. “Bleh, you understand. Your Herzlander is not the best, you know.” The griffon flapped her wings and laid down next to Flurry and waved her claws at the stars. “They are beautiful,” she sighed wistfully. "I saw many stars from my village every night. A good comfort in Katerin, to know the Gods watch us."
“I’m thinking about the battle,” Flurry admitted.
Katherine turned her head and looked at the pony with narrowed eyes. “We will fight for you,” she promised. “You have given us homes and shelter. Griffons repay their debts.”
“It’s not that,” Flurry said. “I sat around the table for hours while they talked and planned things out, but I was just taking up space.”
“You have good generals,” Katherine approved.
“I don’t understand logistics,” Flurry sighed.
“What is that?” Katherine asked. "What do you mean?"
“I’m not good with numbers,” Flurry clarified. “I don’t know anything about battle plans, or troop counts, or how much food and water and fuel we’ll need to storm the coast. I tried to pay attention and help, but…” she trailed off.
“I’m not there,” Katherine pointed out. “I lead the Herzlanders, but Edvald stands at the table.”
“You lead them because they respect you.”
“I lead them because I am your friend,” Katherine corrected. “And because I could steer. That is not so bad.”
“I was useless at that table." Flurry flailed her hooves. "How can anyone trust me enough to fight a war if it’s clear I don’t know what I’m doing?” she asked. Far Sight had always struggled to teach Flurry advanced mathematics and statistics. The alicorn suspected she would’ve flunked out of class in old Equestria.
Her father had been great with numbers. Shining Armor planned battles out weeks in advance, calculating what everypony needed and organizing the supply lines, all while maintaining a shield for the front. Shining always credited Ogres & Oubliettes from his colthood. Flurry couldn't make sense of the books, and neither could her mother, though she did her best. Her mother once admitted she never understood all the dice and fudged her rolls at the dinner table, and it was the only time Flurry had ever seen her parents fight.
Flurry Heart had enough shortcomings as it was. She was an awkward, long-legged teen with a mane and tail that was too curly. Her wings fluttered and she glared at them. Don't get me started on you, she thought.
“I see,” Katherine nodded and switched to Herzlander. “You wish to be Grover the Great instead of Grover the Second,” she remarked.
“What?” Flurry asked, also switching languages.
“Grover the Great had a great mind,” Katherine explained. “He outwitted his enemies on the field from his tent or from a cloud in the sky, and had trusted generals lead his battles.”
“Like Artur and Roland,” Flurry interrupted.
“Just so,” Katherine nodded and propped her head up with a claw, twisting to lay on her belly. “I read much in the library about the legends and stories," she spoke to Flurry. "The earliest versions speak of his commanding presence and the Idol of Boreas, but they do not say he carried the Idol into battle. Only later do they claim he fought beside his knights.”
Flurry glanced towards the hotel. “I trust them,” she defended.
“Grover II was not a great mind,” Katherine continued, “but his stories speak of his own skill on the battlefield. He trusted his knights to plan his campaigns, and his wife to manage his empire. He led from the front; he was a great warrior that commanded respect and fear.”
“The stories the ponies have paint him as a butcher,” Flurry remarked.
Katherine shrugged her wings. “How many Reich soldiers have you killed so far? Every great victory is butchery.”
Flurry didn’t respond.
“That is not my point.” Katherine waved a claw. “Leadership comes in many forms. Grover the Great trusted his knights, but Artur was maimed and sent away. Roland was caught on a scouting mission by the Wingbardians. Roland chose to blow his horn and alert Grover of an ambush, but he died after revealing his position. Grover II completed the conquest of all Griffonkind and the dream of his father; he achieved more than his father ever did.”
Flurry paused. “Didn’t Grover II die in the Riverlands? He got speared by a pony.”
“Yes,” Katherine admitted. “He was very old, but still wanted to lead his warriors into battle.” The griffon smirked. “I do not think you have to worry about a spear,” she laughed, “or growing old. You are an alicorn.”
“I don’t know about growing old,” Flurry said and stretched her wings out on the roof. “Nopony can tell if I’m like my aunts or my mom. She aged like anypony else.”
“What about Twilight Sparkle?” Katherine asked. One of the books she had read in Katerin was the published Friendship Journal. Flurry always thought that was strange because it had been banned by the Archon after Twilight spoke against the Reich’s early conquests, but Katherine maintained ignorance of its origins in the library.
“Nopony has seen Twilight in years,” Flurry said, “so we have no idea.”
Katherine hummed. “An immortal Grover II would be terrifying. He would have conquered Griffonia, Equus, and Zebrica.”
“Is that what you hope I’ll be?” Flurry asked with a choked laugh.
“What do you want to be?” Katherine replied seriously. “Grover the Great’s knights died for him, but Grover II died for his knights, in a way. For all his flaws, he did not ask his subjects to do something he would not do himself.”
"Except plan wars," Flurry joked.
Katherine laughed. "Oh, there are stories of him getting angry enough to split the table in half with his greatsword during briefings. Every griffon decided it was best he not attend."
Flurry looked up at the stars. I’ve been trying to live up to my family, but I don’t have to follow in their hoofsteps. “I guess I can be a battering ram,” Flurry said, “and trust that I’m pointed in the right direction.”
“Just so,” Katherine said and rolled back to look up at the stars.
They laid there for a time before Nightshade approached. “Thorax is back, Princess.”
Flurry sat up and nudged a yawning Katherine with a wing. “Don’t fall asleep up here. I’ll see you at the hotel.”
Katherine nodded, collected her telescope and flew unevenly back to the hotel. “Goodnight, Princess!” she called back in Equestrian.
Thorax approached, having ditched his uniform. He held two coffee mugs in his magic and offered one to Flurry. She accepted it and wrinkled her nose at the smell of bitter, awful coffee.
“Nopony knew where you were,” she said and took a deep gulp from the mug.
“Making up an excuse in Weter, then checking our stockpiles of equipment,” Thorax answered. “A little privacy?” he requested and motioned at her horn.
Flurry cast her changeling detection spell as a precaution, but Thorax was indeed Thorax. He nodded happily at her paranoia as the bubble shield came down. “If you were suspicious, you shouldn’t have tried the coffee,” he rebuked.
Flurry spat out her mouthful of coffee back into the mug. She hadn’t swallowed it.
Thorax laughed. “All right,” he said. “It’s watered-down coffee, but it's not poison. Rationing is awful.”
“What’s the shield for?” Flurry asked.
“I set some ‘lings up to tail the Republicans,” Thorax revealed. “Sunglider’s a good griffon. He was a pretty fair president, if claw-picked by Kemerskai senior as his successor.”
“Do you know him well?”
“Not very,” Thorax shrugged. “He said you convinced Kemerskai, but was a little leery on the details of the meeting. Said you agreed to give Weter over and make Kemerskai president.”
“Yeah,” Flurry said and shuffled her hooves.
“Anything else?” Thorax’s tone remained neutral.
“After he’s president, I renounce my claim to the throne and swear fealty to him. Or I leave.”
“He probably wouldn’t put it like that,” Thorax guessed.
“Doesn’t matter how Alexander would put it,” Flurry grumbled. “He’ll make me a captain and give me an air wing.”
Thorax fluttered his wings. “That’s actually pretty generous.”
“Don’t tell me you trust him,” Flurry accused.
“Of course not,” Thorax shrugged, “but he’ll need you to keep everypony out here from rioting. His beak spat a lot of vile stuff about everypony.” He chittered. "You're definitely due for a promotion after everything you've done."
Flurry looked through her shield to the stars. “I don’t trust him. He made the deal too easily. He hates me too much.”
“You don’t like him, either.”
“He knew about my air mission tonight,” Flurry said. “He had Rainbow and the others reassigned. I checked; Skywatch cancelled the order.”
Thorax licked his fangs.
“Kemerskai’s been shorting us on ammo and fuel,” Flurry continued.
“There’s shortages across the country, Flurry.”
“He still shouldn’t have known about the order, or been able to cancel it.”
“No,” Thorax admitted. “The Republicans still dominate the air force. What do you want to do?”
“Why are you asking me?” Flurry asked, surprised.
“This is your plan,” Thorax said mildly. “I didn’t even think you’d convince him to help.”
Flurry was quiet and stared back up at the stars as she thought.
“What has Sunglider said? Has he lied about anything?” she finally asked.
“He’s been pretty honest about available soldiers and supplies,” Thorax summarized, "but he's holding some information back. It's the first night, and the Republicans will never fully trust us."
“Ask him about Kemerskai’s war plans after he's president. Ask him about me.”
“We can’t expect him to tell us everything,” Thorax chided her. “There’s been a lot of bad blood.”
“I didn’t mean to ask him nicely,” Flurry said.
“We shouldn’t argue on the first night of the alliance.” Thorax shuffled his hooves. "I have some disguised changelings close enough to tell he's mostly genuine."
“You don’t get what I mean,” Flurry nickered. “How long do you need to watch somepony to get a measure of how they act?”
Thorax looked around the shield. Aside from the distant bat ponies, they were alone. “Princess, just tell me.”
“I am telling you,” Flurry sighed, “to kidnap Sunglider and beat or drain the answers out of him. He’s part of Kemerskai’s inner circle. They spoke for an hour before meeting me, and an hour afterward. He knows things. Watch him until some 'ling can accurately replace him, and the other three griffons.”
Thorax stepped back and bumped against the edge of the shield. “T-that won’t last forever,” he stammered. “He reports back frequently, and he’s Kemerskai’s second in command. Any changeling would be noticed in a day.”
“The Republicans don’t have any unicorns,” Flurry dismissed.
“Flurry, if you’re wrong, you’ll cause a war. We can replace Sunglider and the griffons out here,” Thorax admitted, “but they’ll be found out when they return to the Republicans. We can’t get enough information about how they act in a week.”
“Kemerskai’s planning something else,” Flurry said. “I know he is.”
Thorax was quiet and looked at the sky. “We're planning to march on Weter in six days. Sunglider agrees with Duskcrest and Dusty. Heartsong and Barrel Roller can be filled-in when they arrive, then spread out to the militias. We need the Republicans.”
“Kemerskai’s insistent that the Republicans take Weter,” Flurry said.
“If he’s going to be President of Nova Griffonia, it has to be his griffons on the steps of the Capitol Building,” Thorax explained.
“Then I'll need to talk to the Aquileians tomorrow and get them up here,” Flurry retorted and fluttered her wings. "If it comes to it, they won't fight with him."
Thorax licked at his fangs again. “Flurry, please. If we do this and you’re wrong, it will destroy the alliance after Blackpeak’s dealt with.”
“If I’m right, there won’t be an alliance anyway after Kemerskai wins.”
“If Kemerskai wins, we win. Sunglider’s a kind griffon,” Thorax pleaded. “I don’t want to do it.”
“You don’t want to, or you won’t?” Flurry asked.
Thorax swallowed. “As your advisor, and your friend, and your uncle,” Thorax hissed desperately, “I am begging you not to go down this path. If you're wrong, civil war will be inevitable.”
Flurry closed her eyes and sighed. She stood in the bubble and thought for a minute.
“Watch them for a few days and prepare to take them. Tell me when you're ready, then do whatever it takes to get answers. We’ll send replacements back. I trust that they can maintain their cover for a day. We need to know before the attack.”
Thorax shook his head with an agonized grimace.
“Now I am ordering you,” Flurry Heart said and glared at the changeling.
The next morning, Flurry Heart arrived at Nouveau Aquila just after dawn. The port city to the south of Weter had actually been named that before the Aquileian refugees settled there; a holdover from the time Nova Griffonia had been a poor loyal colony for the Griffonian Reich. The Aquileian refugees, a few hundred thousand in total, dominated the southern coastline.
They didn’t have the numbers or influence to form their own coalition like the Republicans with Kemerskai, and the Aquileian ponies were firmly split between the Equestrian refugees and their Griffon relatives. They had a few representatives in the legislature, but they had to cut deals with the native Nova Griffonians or the Republicans to get anything done.
Most served in the navy or in their own local militias. Flurry Heart had known the most influential leaders for years from her visits during her birthday tours. Due to their fence-sitting in politics, the southern coast wasn’t as well-funded or guarded. The worst fighting and attempted naval landings had occurred there.
Flurry drifted above a half-destroyed apartment block; a remnant from last night’s bombing raid. Griffon architecture favored large balconies and high towers. It made buildings accessible by flight, but one good hit could collapse the structure down to the foundation.
A few dust-covered griffons in blue uniforms were digging through the rubble. One had an excavator pushing a pile of bricks aside. Flurry landed next to a griffon with a shovel and beak-covering mask.
“What’s going on?” Flurry asked in Aquileian.
The griffon chick pulled her goggles up and tugged the bandana away from her beak. “There was an anti-air emplacement on top of the building,” she explained. “Took a hit.”
“Was anyone inside?”
“They were sheltering in the basement,” the griffon nodded. “We’re trying to get to them without collapsing the rest of the building.” She gestured to the left half of the apartments still standing. “Progress has been slow,” she coughed, “and they’ll run out of air.”
Flurry shuffled her hooves on the destroyed brickwork and glanced at the side of the building. Several of the rooms were exposed by the partial collapse. “I’m better at destroying things than building them up,” Flurry admitted with a shrug of her wings. “Would it help if you didn’t have to deal with what’s left of the building?”
The griffon looked between the apartments and the alicorn. “I would prefer,” she swallowed, “not to add more rubble to dig through.”
“I won’t,” Flurry promised. She took a few steps back and her horn sparked. “Back up,” she shouted in warning to the others. The griffons ceased digging and the excavator was quickly shut off as the Aquileians flapped their wings and flew behind her. “No one’s in there, right?” she called over her shoulder and a few of the workers nodded.
Flurry reached out with her telekinesis and probed around the ruined building, feeling for weak points. There were a lot, so she would have to move quick. Her horn burned a bit brighter as she closed her eyes and concentrated on her spellwork. The building began to sparkle blue as she tentatively surrounded it with her magic.
“Please, don’t strain yourself,” one of the griffons called out from behind her.
Flurry snorted and stomped her hoof. The ruins were ripped upwards from the foundation, causing a wave of dust to envelop the crowd. Flurry stomped her other hoof and her magical grip contracted, forming a bubble of steel, brick, glass, and wood. Her ears pinned back at the grinding shriek as the materials crunched inwards, but she poured magic into the bubble and continued to shrink it down.
The bubble glowed bright white as the shield heated up and burned away the rubble. Flurry’s horn tip sparked and dripped blue fire that ran down her horn as she grit her teeth. The shield rippled with waves of white-hot flames while the air around it shimmered from the heat. The bubble continued to shrink, now about her size, when she abruptly cast a wave of ice at the orb to cool it and let it drop to the rubble.
Flurry Heart and the griffons stared at the pony-sized obsidian orb wafting smoke, sitting on the foundation where half of a five-story building used to be.
Flurry nodded at it. “Right.”
The griffon from the excavator approached and offered her a canteen wordlessly.
She waved a wing at it. “Thanks, but I’m not thirsty.”
“Your horn is on fire,” he deadpanned and gestured up to it.
Flurry took the canteen with her front hooves and splashed it on her head. There was a brief sizzling noise and she smelled the acrid smoke of her burning mane. She scrubbed a hoof at her curls, feeling how charred they were.
I’ve done worse. “I was due for a mane-cut anyway,” she shrugged. “Thanks,” she nodded to the griffon.
“Cecil,” the griffon nodded back. “We know where the basement is. Are you just here to help, or…” he trailed off and gestured with a claw.
Flurry shook her head. “I’m looking for Admiral Fierté, or Commander Altiert and Eagleheart. Are they in the field?”
Cecil looked to the side and wiped his head with his bandana. “The Admiral is at the harbor overseeing repairs. I’m not sure about the others.”
Flurry flapped her wings and lifted off the ground. “Do you need help here?”
Cecil looked over at the smoking orb for a moment. “We have it covered,” the griffon shook his head. He pointed a wing to the harbor. “You should know where the harbor is.”
Flurry smirked and flew a few blocks to the harbor, passing over several more anti-air flak guns setup on rooftops and a few more teams digging through debris. She stopped briefly at each one, but they waved her away.
Flurry arrived at the dockyards with the sun rising before her, and slowly flew above the small destroyers parked against the piers. Dozens of griffons, and a few ponies, paced across the decks while welders flapped their wings and inspected the armor plating along the sides. She landed briefly and received directions from a repairpony, then flew to a heavily damaged destroyer, propped up by floatation devices.
One of the light guns had split apart form a direct hit; a crane on the dock was removing it. Flurry dodged around the crane and spotted a griffon standing before a small crowd standing at the end of the dock. Flurry Heart landed on the railing at the end and hooked her forelegs over it to balance herself.
Admiral Fierté turned around to look at the alicorn perched at the railings. The storm-white griffon’s feathers turned gray around her head, and her uniform was unbuttoned. Her right eye was covered with a white eyepatch, and her left wing was in a sling. She had been speaking to the crowd of sailors, but smiled at Flurry’s abrupt entrance.
Fierté waved a claw at Flurry for the crowd. “Little Flurry, our lightning bolt from the Gods!” she crowed in Aquileian. “She turned defeat into victory yesterday, destroying the new pride of the Griffonian Reich!” The sailors screeched approvingly and clapped. Flurry looked over her shoulder and spied the two heavy cruisers sunk at the harbor entrance before replying.
“I’m just doing my job,” Flurry said in Aquileian, shifting in her flight suit, “and I think I’m taller than you.”
“Maybe so,” she chuckled, “but you will always be Little Flurry. I remember when you shook President Gaudreau’s claw.”
Flurry Heart suppressed a smile. “I need to talk to you,” she said seriously, “and the militia commanders. There’s a situation.”
Fierté clacked her beak and regarded Flurry with sudden intensity with a narrowed blue eye. She turned and snapped her claw at one of the griffons in the crowd. “Get Eagleheart and Altiert,” she squawked. She turned back to the alicorn. “There’s a café on the corner of 9th Street. Should be still standing. Wait there.”
Flurry took flight as Fierté pushed her way through the crowd and squawked orders while griffons scrambled to the air. A few nodded and waved at the alicorn as they spread out. Flurry left the harbor, looking over her shoulder at the wrecked cruisers one last time. They had tried to support the landing.
Rainbow warned her that she might have nightmares after battles, and that it was okay. “Twilight told me that violence weights heavily on a pony’s soul,” she had snorted. “I’m not much for egghead stuff, but that stuck with me for some reason.” She had placed a reassuring hoof on Flurry's withers. "We're here for you if you need to talk about it," she had promised.
Flurry Heart didn't need to talk about it. She didn’t dream about her battles, or any of the griffons she had killed. Her only nightmares were about the plantations and mines in her home, where ponies died in slavery resenting her, if they even remembered she existed.
The café’s windows and name had been boarded over, but the old griffon outside ushered Flurry Heart in with beckoning wings. He even smiled as she checked if he was a changeling and offered her some bread. There were two armed miltia griffs inside that glanced at her and peeked through holes in the boards.
Flurry waited at a table lit by a gas lamp and chewed on a stale baguette, surrounded by stacked tables and chairs while the old griffon and his wife cooked something for her in a wood oven in the back. She tried to tell them it wasn’t necessary, but swiftly realized that she would have to restrain them in her magic to make them stop trying to pamper her.
It wasn’t worth the effort, so she settled for tearing off chunks of the baguette and sharing it with the guards. After a few hours and two bowls of undercooked pasta, three griffons and one pony entered the café. The owners grabbed chairs and swiftly set them up around Flurry’s table with more pasta bowls.
Sophie Altiert was gray griffon and militia commander, still in uniform. Eagleheart was an Aquileian unicorn with a gold coat, also wearing a blue officer’s uniform. The Admiral, Josette Fierté, limped after them, followed by an unexpected griffon in slacks and a stained white shirt.
“Little Flurry!” Jacques cried out. “I am saddened that you did not ask for me.” He wiped a fake tear from his eye.
“I thought you ran the union in the dockyards,” Flurry replied in Aquileian.
“I do many things,” he preened. “Do I not have command of your heart, Little Flurry?”
“No,” Flurry scoffed.
The admiral slapped him with her good wing. “He should be here,” Fierté said. “He’ll never admit it, but he was an operative for the Second Republic. He does a lot for every griff.”
“Lies and slander,” Jacques coughed with a claw to his beak.
Flurry blinked. “Right,” she shrugged. “Is every griffon here trustworthy?”
“It depends on what you have to say,” Jacques quipped as his eyes lingered on the guards and Altiert for a beat. He waved a claw at the guards and owners. “Please, step outside for a bit.”
Once they did so, he looked at Flurry. “Perhaps some extra protection?”
Flurry cast wards around the room and the walls shimmered blue.
Jacques looked around and nodded, then took a seat. He grabbed the bowl greedily and ate the pasta with his claws, much to the disgust of the others. The Aquileians seated themselves around Flurry.
“Blackpeak is making a deal with Chrysalis,” Flurry cut to the point. “We’re overthrowing him, and we need your help.”
Eagleheart set her spoon down in her magic. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Flurry nodded. “We have less than two weeks; we're planning an attack in a few days.”
“That’s not much time to work with.” Altiert wrung her claws.
“The land border is clear right now,” Jacques muttered around a stuffed beak. “We can move quickly.”
“You’re the highest-ranked naval commander in Nova Griffonia,” Flurry said to Fierté. "How much support would we have?"
“There’s not much of a navy left,” Fierté squawked and rubbed at her eyepatch. “I though this was about Hellcrest.”
“What?”
“Admiral Hellcrest was aboard the Artur,” Jacques mumbled. “He didn’t go down with the ship and was taken captive. He’s being held in Weter.”
Fierté sighed and looked askance with her eye at Jacques. “How do you know that? It hasn’t been announced.”
“I eat, and I know things,” Jacques replied, with a noodle falling from his beak. "He's useless as a prisoner."
Flurry refocused. “I’m not asking about the ships, but the sailors. How many will fight with us against Blackpeak?”
“All of them,” Fierté spat. “All that’s left. Every ship still floating owes you, one way or another.”
“And we’ve been treated just as bad as the Equestrians,” Eagleheart remarked. “The Nova Griffonians don’t see a distinction between us.”
“We have the coast to the south of Weter,” Altiert added, “but the Republicans aren’t going to just sit on their wings while we take the government.”
“I already spoke to Kemerskai,” Flurry said. “He’s on board.”
The Aquileians looked at each other, wary.
Jacques set the bowl down. “You went to him first?” he accused. Fierté also crossed her arms, slightly offended.
“I knew he would take more effort to convince,” Flurry explained.
“His ego’s the size of the Reich,” Eagleheart snorted.
“He also blamed Aquileia for losing again,” Flurry continued. All four Aquileians leaned back and groaned.
“You want us to work with him?” Altiert sighed, and rubbed her eyes with a claw.
“He has rallied a lot of Nova Griffonian support,” Jacques rebuked his fellow griffon. “Alexander even got the griffon supremacists and the communists with Redtail to form a coalition, and they shot at each other in the mountains for years.” He reached over to Fierté’s bowl, which she had left untouched. “You don’t mind, do you?” he asked as he dug his claw into the noodles.
Fierté’s lone eye glared at him, but she shoved the bowl over. “Well, if he’s on board, we’ll easily outnumber Blackbeak,” the admiral remarked to Flurry Heart.
“What did he want?” Jacques mumbled. “He had to want something.”
“He wants to be president,” Flurry shrugged.
“Kemerskai will reinstate the elections?” Altiert asked.
“Doesn’t see the point,” the alicorn snorted. “Thinks he would win.”
There was a round of swearing and more groans.
“He was always such as asshole,” Altiert chuckled.
“His father was too, but he had some charisma,” Fierté retorted.
Jacques set his second bowl down and slurped up a noodle hanging from his beak. “He’ll ask for other things, once he’s in charge,” he burped. “Do you trust him, Little Flurry?” he asked genially, but there was something in his eyes that made Flurry consider her answer.
“No,” Flurry replied. “I’m hoping he hates Blackpeak more than me or you.” She wiped her muzzle with the tablecloth. “We’re based out of Evergreen. I can teleport some griffons with me back. Our militia commanders are coordinating from there, but we only have a few days. Can I count on your help?”
“Of course, Little Flurry!" Jacques slapped the table.
Altiert scowled. “That’s not much time.”
“We’re already on high alert,” Eagleheart shrugged. “It won’t take much effort to swing the militias around. I'm in.”
“I’m in, but I'm more concerned about the Reich launching another landing attempt while we’re fighting,” Fierté commented. “We’ve been barely holding them back.”
“That's why we need to do this before Chrysalis sends reinforcements or accepts his offer,” Flurry replied, “and we need to end the fight quickly. Surround Weter and the coastal armories and cut him off."
"I have ships docked in Weter," Fierté stated. "My sailors can take the harbor."
"I will go,” Jacques proclaimed and eyed Eagleheart’s half-finished bowl. She snorted and shoved it over to him with a hoof. "I know every griffon worth knowing, and they know me."
"Because you're a spy?" Flurry guessed.
"Because I delivered their mail for years," Jacques replied with a shrug.
“I have to stay,” Fierté said, casting an apologetic eye to Flurry. “I can’t just up and leave inland, not without it being clear something is wrong.”
“We’ll fill you in when we return,” Eagleheart nodded. “I’ll go.”
“You’ll need a radio,” Flurry advised. “We have some, but the Republicans brought their own.”
“They don’t want you listening in on their transmissions,” Jacques explained. “Sophie should go too,” he said and pointed at Altiert with a claw. "She commands several of the coastal militias."
Altiert paused but nodded her agreement. “Of course. Let’s meet up here in an hour and you’ll teleport us?” she asked with a bit of hesitation.
"The teleport will be disorienting," Flurry warned and dispelled the wards around the shop. Eagleheart took to her hooves with Altiert and the pair left.
Fierté stood up, but paused to look at Flurry. “We lost a lot of ships yesterday,” she said in a low voice, “but the only thing any sailor is talking about is how you came from the sky and saved our griffons.” She gave Jacques an a withering glare. “Don’t harass her. Don't you have anything you need to get?”
“I’m all set,” he said proudly and patted at his pants. His eyes widened and he tugged out some lint out of his pocket. "As long as I don't have to bring any money."
Flurry laughed.
Fierté suppressed her own laugh and left, still trying to scowl at the messy griffon.
Jacques set down his third empty bowl and gestured to Flurry’s. “You have hardly touched your pasta,” he complained.
“I had two bowls waiting for you,” she answered.
The griffon leaned across the table. “I know it is undercooked,” he whispered. “We do not have much rations here. The old couple outside are very poor. They once ran a similar place in Aquila and sheltered our meetings before the revolution. Their sons died fighting for us. And replace your wards.”
Flurry scooped some noodles into her mouth with a wave of her horn, disguising the shimmer along the walls for a brief moment.
Jacques nodded with approval and retrieved Altiert’s half-finished bowl. “Do not think of it as a waste, but a small kindness,” he said at a normal volume. “You went to Kemerskai yourself?”
Flurry nodded and chewed.
“What did he ask of you?”
Flurry swallowed and raised an eyebrow.
“He must have asked something of you.” Jacques waited patiently with clasped claws.
“I swear loyalty to him and renounce my crown,” Flurry said.
“Right there?” he asked, surprised.
“Once he’s President of Nova Griffonia,” she clarified. She swished her tail as she spoke. “He’ll make me a captain and give me an air wing.”
“Generous. Did you agree to it?” he asked with a flippant tone.
“Yes,” she sighed and waited for the next accusation.
Jacques studied her. “Do you think he believed you?”
Flurry blinked. She was caught off-guard, but she didn’t have to think about her answer. “No.”
“I would not believe you either. You are a threat to him.” Jacques examined his claws. “We have few heroes left, few great figures to rally behind. Blackpeak is scum,” he spat and waved his claw at Flurry. “There is you, and Alexander. Your submission would do him good, but great generals win more popularity than great presidents in war.”
“Do you think he’ll risk a civil war or try to kill me?” the alicorn asked.
“I think he’s already tried to kill you,” the griffon replied with a shrug.
“They shot at me when I entered the town and had me keep a shield up,” Flurry summarized, “but I don’t think they were goading me to attack them. They have to know it's suicide.”
“Your air missions are dangerous,” Jacques chided. “You are sent over the ocean frequently, to face three or four times your number. We are outnumbered, true,” he admitted, “but you are sent out too frequently.”
“We haven’t taken a loss in three weeks,” Flurry boasted, “and I’m an alicorn. It makes sense I'm in the thick of the fighting.” She scooped more cold pasta into her maw and gagged slightly.
“And you haven’t been awarded or promoted. Your victories are credited to others,” Jacques answered and slurped up his own bowl. It was almost impressive how well he could speak with a beak full of food. “The Republicans own the air force, and Kemerskai is not stupid; he knows you take risks. If he makes you captain, he will place you in the thick of the fighting and hope for the best. Your death will serve more than your life.”
“He’ll be disappointed,” Flurry snorted.
Jacques lashed across the table and punched Flurry Heart hard across the muzzle. She twisted partially and raised a hoof to block, but didn’t react quickly enough. The alicorn took the hit and flung him back with her magic. He skidded across the floor.
Flurry rubbed her nose. It stung, but nothing was broken. She glared at the griffon sprawled out across the floor. He had spilled noodles on his trousers.
“One mistake,” Jacques coughed. “One bullet. That is all he needs.”
“I don’t trust him,” Flurry growled. She double-checked her spells. “I have Thorax watching Sunglider. I think Skywatch shorts us on fuel and ammo when he's not insulting me to my muzzle. You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.”
“Good.” Jacques sat up and picked a noodle off his pants. He sniffed it before dropping it into his beak. Flurry crinkled her muzzle in disgust and sat his chair back upright. She spread the bowls out on the table to look like everyone had eaten their fill, and levitated some of the spilled pasta over to her muzzle.
Flurry stared at it for a moment before burning it to ash. She blew the ash away with a breath.
“I forgot you could do that,” Jacques sniggered and clutched his stomach.
“I can do a lot of things,” Flurry echoed. “Tell Thorax what you told me.”
“You have a plan?” he asked with approval.
Flurry nodded.
Jacques didn't ask what it was.
Flurry Heart sat on the bed in her commandeered hotel room in Evergreen and looked at the rising sun. Her wings rustled against the fabric of her flight suit. Rainbow Dash and her air wing had been redirected to the frontier last night, along with a few other loyal pilots. Sunglider had arranged it with Kemerskai. Rainbow Dash was downstairs with the coalition officers, probably bored out of her mind.
Sunglider was missing. So was Thorax. The guards and officers Sunglider brought with him didn’t seem bothered by it, so there was no cause for alarm. One offered Flurry a subtle nod as she trotted by this morning. She didn’t bother casting her detection spell.
After the meeting this morning, the conspirators would spread out and prepare their militias. They would attack tonight, using the blackouts and nighttime bombing raids as cover for their movement to the coast. Coordination would be difficult, but bat pony scouts had already volunteered to report between the militias.
They couldn’t wait any longer. Jacques assured Flurry that the Admiral had rallied her loyal sailors to take the ports and drive out Blackpeak’s militias on the coast.
It was going to be a long, bloody night.
And it would be a bloody morning when Kemerskai realized what they had done to his second-in-command. There would be no forgiveness.
Flurry did her breathing exercise while she waited to see if she was wrong.
There was a knock at the door, a pattern of four.
“Princess?” Jadis asked. “Crystal Hoof is here to see you.”
Flurry dispelled the lock and her wards, opening the door with her magic. Two crystal ponies stood in the hallway: Jadis, in her purple uniform, and a naked, gray crystal pony with sad eyes. He walked in wordlessly with his hooves dragging on the carpet. Jadis gave him a worried look before Flurry shut the door and replaced her spells.
Crystal Hoof glanced at her blankly before slumping onto the bed. His body slowly faded away in green fire. Thorax stared at the wall instead of the window. His wings chittered against his side.
“Is it done?” Flurry asked, her own wings twitching.
Thorax nodded.
“What did they know?” Flurry’s stomach twisted into a knot.
“We got the passphrases from the other griffons for the radio,” Thorax said softly, “but they didn’t know anything else.”
“What about Sunglider?” Flurry grit her teeth. “Stop stalling.”
Thorax was quiet for a moment. “I know he’s a father of two,” he finally said. “I know he dotes on his youngest daughter, and grieves for his wife. She died in Cloudbury. I know he has reservations about Kemerskai, but followed him out of loyalty to his father.”
“I don’t care about that.” Flurry lashed her tail angrily. “What was the plan? I know he was hiding something.”
Thorax glanced over at her before returning to the wall. “Kemerskai doesn’t think you’re loyal to Nova Griffonia. He discussed partitioning the mountains and the frontier with the Changelings.”
Flurry let out a breath. I was right.
“Sunglider and some of his officers disagreed,” Thorax continued.
“I was right,” Flurry said aloud.
“It was just discussed. He didn’t send a letter,” Thorax insisted. “They haven’t been trying to kill you, or shorting you on fuel and ammo. Kemerskai ordered that Skywatch give you a hard time,” he admitted, “to try to force you out of the air force. He’s jealous. That’s it.”
Flurry laughed. “I was right!”
“Sunglider disagreed,” Thorax hissed. “If Kemerskai tried it, he would have told us.”
“When?” Flurry replied. “After Kemerskai was president, after they were entrenched?” The alicorn shook her head. “You can’t possibly think he would have chosen us over the son of his friend.”
“We’ll never know. He’s dead.”
Flurry narrowed her eyes. “What is wrong with you, uncle? We know; we can do something.”
“War’s inevitable now,” Thorax answered listlessly from the bed. “Falx replaced Sunglider. He’s our best actor. He might get through tomorrow, but they’ll find him out once the chaos dies down.”
“We’ll fight it out now, on our terms,” Flurry insisted and nickered, tossing her head back. “You’ve done this before. Why is this time different?”
“Because I don’t want to do it anymore!” Thorax screeched. His hooves curled around the bedspread as he heaved.
Flurry flared her wings out and stared at him coolly. “You don’t want to help me anymore?” she asked in a low voice.
Thorax stared back at the wall. The wallpaper was a tacky yellow with little trees. “I never explained to you,” he said after a breath, “what being a changeling is like.”
“We need to figure out a plan,” Flurry interrupted.
“We sense emotions like you sense magic,” he continued like he didn’t hear her. “We’re predators and it’s how we sense prey. It’s everywhere, all the time; we're taught to shut it off and ignore it when necessary.” His wings buzzed. “During training, we’re taught push it away. We have to master it.”
Flurry listened with a tapping hoof.
“If you don’t, the emotions will overwhelm you during a fight. You feel the fear, the hate, the anger. The best changelings can push through the storm and drain their victims. But that was during the old days, before the rifles and tanks.
“But during war like that?” Thorax sighed and kneaded his hooves. “When you’re clearing a trench or a house and ducking between bullets, you forget. You feel the fear and hate of your enemy and the despair of your dying squad mate and it chokes you.
“Changelings broke more than ponies, especially once Chrysalis started drafting the nymphs. They got training on how to hold a rifle and march, but they weren’t told how to shut their sense away. After a few weeks, they would tear off their uniforms and stagger out of the trenches during an assault, or break down in the middle of a raid, hissing and sobbing.
“Chrysalis tried shooting them for cowardice, but there were too many cases. The officers dealt with it by ordering increased love rations. Overdosing on love dulls your senses,” Thorax explained. “We won the war because our officers who could control themselves led our drugged-up young who couldn’t.”
“What was the point of that history lesson?” Flurry snorted.
“You can’t close off your emotions when you’re torturing someone,” Thorax stated, his tone vacant. “You have to keep yourself open and dig past all the fear and pain to know if they’re still hiding something. We’re good torturers because we can tell where the line is, when the pain gets too much and they’ll tell you anything to make it stop. There’s another line, though, every creature has it. Do you know what it is?” he looked over at Flurry with dull blue eyes.
“No.” Flurry looked away.
“It’s when they realize you’re going to kill them no matter how much they tell you. You can’t trust any information from them after that.”
Flurry approached the bed.
“Don’t,” Thorax hissed. “I don’t want your pity hug. You don’t feel bad at all.”
“No,” Flurry admitted. “I can’t trust that Sunglider might have done the right thing later. He had days to tell us, and he said nothing.”
“If you were so certain they would betray us, what was the point?” the changeling asked bitterly.
“The point was now we know when they’ll try something,” Flurry stressed.
Thorax was quiet.
“I need your help,” Flurry stated.
“It’s your plan. The changelings are disguised at the meeting,” Thorax muttered. “I need to be alone.” He rolled over on the bed and faced the wall.
Flurry stood up straight with her wings flared, but deflated after a beat. She trudged out of the room and stopped by Jadis. The crystal pony saluted her, rifle against her side. “Keep an eye on Thorax,” Flurry requested. “He’s on the bed.”
Jadis nodded and turned to enter the doorway, but Flurry stuck out a hoof. “Leave your rifle and pistol,” Flurry requested, “and keep anything sharp away from him.”
Jadis’ eyes flickered between the door and the alicorn. She took a deep breath and nodded. “I understand.”
Flurry nodded back and walked down the hall to the staircase. Halfway down, she stopped in the stairwell and closed her eyes, thinking for several minutes before continuing to the ballroom of the hotel. The guards outside the doors, a squad of armed unicorns, scanned her before letting the alicorn through and shutting the doors behind her.
The modest ballroom was now a makeshift command center. Maps and notes were scattered across several tables with benches and chairs placed haphazardly around them. Radio equipment was setup against the far wall with wires running out a window and up to the roof. The electric lights were off; the crystals inside the bulbs unlit.
Unicorns provided orbs of light to drift up to the ceiling so the room was well lit. The electrical grid was never great out in the frontier, and the telegraph lines and antennas for the radios pushed it to the limit. The room was packed with ponies of every tribe and griffons. Most of the griffons were native Nova Griffonians from the frontier or Herzlander refugees.
Flurry passed by Rainbow Dash, who was slumped over a map and holding her head up with a hoof, looking bored. A pegasus and griffon across from her were in a passionate argument about fuel reserves. Her metal wing dangled at her side, occasionally twitching. Rainbow had shaved her namesake mane into a mohawk.
“I’m glad to see you’re wearing your wing,” Flurry offered.
Rainbow yawned. “It itches,” she groused. “It’s the only thing keeping me awake.”
“Where are we at with the air force?” Flurry asked.
“We have planes,” Rainbow said and jabbed a hoof at the map, “but they’re old crop dusters and we’ll be outnumbered. Doesn’t matter anyway. The war council,” she snorted, “says we’re prioritizing fuel for the ground-pounders to move to the coast. Sunglider says the Republicans have the sky covered.”
Flurry looked over her shoulder to the main table. The war council was the highest ranked or most regarded commanders she had. Sunglider sat among them in his suit and eyepatch, calmly discussing logistics with Dusty. He looked like the same griffon.
Chrysalis looked like my mother, but she didn’t act like her.
“Air power won’t be a priority until we’re at Weter,” Flurry said, “but we could use some weather skill.” She jerked her head towards the council. “Come with me to the main table.”
Rainbow perked up and flexed her prosthetic wing, following the alicorn through the crowd. Duskcrest noticed their arrival and moved his chair to the side to make room. Flurry and Rainbow stood and looked down at a scale map of Nova Griffonia peppered with markers and drawn battleplans. The Republicans had a lot of markers in the north.
Flurry looked around the round table, scanning over her commanders. Duskcrest controlled most of the griffon militias on the frontier. Dusty Mark did the same for the ponies. Heartsong was the highest-ranking crystal pony to escape the fall of her home and aided Dusty. Barrel Roller commanded the small force of ELF veterans. Edvald, a burgundy griffon and former Reich officer with communist sympathies, led the Herzlander militias.
Spike sat on the floor. Even then, he towered over everyone, including Flurry. He was the only one at the table not wearing a uniform. He didn’t command anything, but he had enough organizational skills to be an asset to everyone. The Aquileians, Eagleheart and Sophie Altiert, sat together. Jacques sat to their left. He had cleaned himself up, in a sense that his shirt wasn’t stained and his pants fit.
That left Sunglider, sitting alone. The other Republicans sat near the radio equipment, speaking into their own radio and making notes. He offered Flurry a vague look and a wave of his claw. Flurry nodded back.
“Get Katherine,” Flurry told Edvald in Herzlander. “She should be here for this.”
“She won’t be part of the assault,” Edvald replied, slightly confused.
“She should know the plan,” Flurry insisted.
Edvald nodded and beckoned a Herzlander over with a claw, speaking in a hushed tone. The griffon hurried off.
“All right,” Flurry sighed in Equestrian. “Fill me in. We attack tonight.”
“I thought you wait for Katherine?” Edvald asked in heavily-accented Equestrian.
Flurry Heart gave him a look and he clacked his beak shut.
“We’ll use the curfew and blackouts as cover,” Dusty began and moved a poker chip across the map with her magic. “It’s a cloudy night and the bombing raids focus on the coast. We’ll have no problem moving undetected.”
“Blackpeak has some garrisons outside Weter, and some in the south,” Duskcrest said. “The ones in the south are focused on defending their homes. They’ll fold quickly as long as we don’t sack their towns.”
“You are certain?” Altiert asked dubiously. “They do not like us.”
“As long as it’s my griffons that approach first,” Duskcrest replied readily. “There might be a few skirmishes, but we’ll make good time.”
“We can push north from Nouveau Aquila,” Eagleheart added. “The admiral is in Weter and briefed. She can take the harbor and some of the Industrial District.”
Sunglider cleared his throat and moved a chip down along a battle line. “We will sweep down from the north and link with your advance to take Weter. Blackpeak’s strongest and most-equipped garrisons hold the city itself.”
“We’ll take the outer towns and encircle the city,” Dusty finished. “It’s doable in one night, but the fighting will get worse the closer we get to Weter, let alone inside the city.”
“We’re not going inside the city?” Flurry asked.
“A storm of ponies and mountain birds will encourage more resistance,” Sunglider interrupted. “Kemerskai is certain that the fighting will stop with Blackpeak’s capture and surrender. We have already selected griffons to scout ahead and trouble him.” His bluntness earned a few scowls, especially from Rainbow Dash, but Duskcrest nodded tiredly.
“Many Nova Griffonians still remember Highhill’s coup attempt,” Duskcrest sighed. “We can’t be seen repeating it. Kemerskai has more support along the coast than us.”
“It is difficult to encircle a city made by creatures that can fly,” Spike pointed out. “You think he won’t try to run?”
Jacques leaned forward and jabbed a talon at the map. “He is still in his house, surrounded by guards. The militias inside Weter are more mercenary than militia. They fight for his money. They will flee and go home at his capture or death.” He waved a claw in the air. “Even if he was to escape, he only has offshore accounts he can’t access. Where would he go? Chrysalis?” the griffon clacked his beak in a laugh. “No griffon will continue to fight for him.”
“How’s the land border and the mountains?” Flurry interrupted.
“We’re leaving a token garrison along the frontier and the mountains,” Duskcrest replied. “The snowfall is picking up with winter arriving soon. The Changelings can’t cross even if they had forces ready.”
“The southern border is still poorly garrisoned,” Barrel Roller tapped a hoof on the map along the Equestrian border, “but we will be exposed as badly as the Changelings. As soon as the Republicans take Weter, we need to move our forces back.”
“How about the Reich’s navy?”
“It’s out there and we’re stuck in port,” Jacques shrugged. “They’re still focused on the landings in Equestria.”
Flurry looked past the southern edge of the map and imagined Equestria. “How is the Reich doing with the landings?” she asked. It had been nearly half a year of occupation. Manehattan Radio occasionally broadcast a griffon pledging to liberate Equestria, parroting Reich propaganda from across the ocean, but actual military information was scarce. Grover was quiet. He hadn't even been on the radio to announce the invasion; Elias Bronzetail had announced it on the Kaiser's behalf.
“That would be a question for Thorax,” Heartsong answered and looked around. “Where is he, anyway?” Flurry ignored the question and gave Sunglider a side-eye.
“As far as we know from our contacts,” Sunglider coughed, “the Reich landed at Manehattan and Baltimare. They seem to be stalemated after linking up their armies. We overheard a garbled radio broadcast proclaiming the Ponies Republic of Baltimare last month, so only Boreas knows what’s been going on in the south.” His information earned an odd look from a few of the griffons at the table.
Katherine arrived and stepped up next to Edvald, dragging a stool over and hopping on top of it. “Okay!” she cried out happily. “I have my war beak on!” She tried to scowl, but she looked more like an angry cub than a warrior.
“I can fill her in,” Edvald offered Flurry in Herzlander.
“No,” Flurry shook her head and tapped a hoof on the table. “What happens to Weter?”
“Tomorrow morning Kemerskai will arrive with his coalition and proclaim the restored Griffonian Republic on the steps of the Capitol Building,” Sunglider continued. “He will declare Triton Blackpeak a traitor and order him hanged, if we manage to take him alive.”
Impressively, no one rolled their eyes at the pronouncement.
“You’ll be there?” Flurry asked.
“As long as the capital is secured,” Sunglider amended. “Redtail, Silverwing, Ironclaw, the whole coalition. The legislature is fallen, so we need to appoint new members.”
“Do we get a say?” Dusty interrupted.
“And us?” Jacques asked pointedly.
Sunglider looked nervous and adjusted his eyepatch. “It hasn’t come up, but we are grateful for all your support. I’ll be sure to ask Kemerskai when I leave.”
“Yeah,” Rainbow interrupted. “Your lackey Skywatch makes us feel real loved.”
“Okay.” Flurry brushed a wing against Rainbow’s side. “When is everyone leaving to prepare?”
“As soon as we’re done,” Dusty replied.
“I have a long flight to Yarrow,” Sunglider said.
Flurry turned to Rainbow. “We aren’t relying on planes tonight. We have cloud cover, but could you help?”
Rainbow squinted at the map. “Yeah, I could get some of the former weather pegasi to cook up some fog. It’ll help.”
“Good. Focus on the north.”
“That’ll make it hard for the Republicans to link up with us,” Duskcrest remarked and stared across the table at Sunglider.
That’s the point, Flurry thought. She cast wards around the room and locked the doors. They shimmered blue and a few of the nearby tables noticed. The open window with the wires glowed blue; the radio operators pulled off their earphones and turned around.
The room quieted down as everyone focused on Flurry Heart. She stood up straight and lifted her wings. “Tonight, we are attacking Blackpeak and ending his rule over Nova Griffonia,” she announced in Equestrian. Her voice carried across the room.
There was a chorus of claps and stomps. Flurry stuck her wings out.
“Quiet,” she belted across the room. The applause abruptly stopped.
She lowered her volume. “There’s a situation. Earlier today, Thorax confirmed that Alexander Kemerskai and his officers are conspiring to partition the frontier with Queen Chrysalis and the Changeling Hegemony.”
Everyone in the room turned to stare at Sunglider, who gulped and blinked up at Flurry. The three griffons at the far table looked nervously at the surrounding creatures.
“Where’s Thorax?” Spike asked, standing up. He was the only voice in the room that could match Flurry for volume.
“He’s in my room on suicide watch,” Flurry replied.
Rainbow tried to launch herself across the table and hit Sunglider, but Flurry held her back. A few pulled out knives or pistols and advanced on the Republicans. They held their claws up in surrender.
Gold Muffin, an undisguised changeling, pushed forward. “Wait!” he screamed, but his voice was lost in the rush.
Flurry Heart stomped her hoof and cracked the laminated floor, sending a wave of magic across the room and staggering the crowd. “Enough.” The chaos lessened into general disorder.
“What happened?” Spike growled, changing targets to Sunglider.
“I ordered Thorax and his changelings to torture Sunglider and the Republicans to death,” Flurry answered. “That’s how we know they plan to betray us after they’ve taken Weter.”
The room instantly went quiet and whipped over to gape at Flurry. She stared impassively back at a crowd of confused, fearful faces. Sunglider lifted up his eyepatch to reveal a perfectly functional eye. He waved a shaking claw at the crowd.
“Hello everyone,” he said in Falx’s voice. “Some of you don’t know me, but I’m Falx, a friend of Thorax.” He motioned to his eye. “Scars are difficult to copy. I’d drop the disguise, but that’ll ruin the suit.”
Falx pointed over at the table of Republicans. “That’s Arex, Phasma, and Deimos.” The griffons in the corner flashed nervous smiles as their eyes flashed green. “They’d drop their disguises,” Falx explained, “but that would ruin their uniforms.” The changeling coughed awkwardly. “We, uh, confirmed that Kemerskai is open to signing a deal with Chrysalis after he’s in power, surrendering the frontier to the Changelings.”
There was a great, fearful inhale across the room. Flurry wasn't sure if it was at the information or at her.
Duskcrest looked down at the map. “This will change everything.”
“It changes nothing,” Flurry stated. “They don’t know that we know. We stick to the plan. We attack tonight and allow Kemerskai into Weter.” She motioned down to the map. “We wait until he brings his main force inside the capital, then we attack on all fronts tomorrow morning. Ambush them, hit them hard, then demand their surrender.”
Flurry looked down at Falx. “Make sure he brings everyone in, like he planned. Does he suspect anything?”
“They don’t trust you,” Falx summarized. “They’re wary, but they don’t think you’ll betray them.”
“I’m only betraying them because they’re planning to betray me,” Flurry countered.
“We outnumber them two to one,” Dusty remarked.
“They’re veterans of the Griffonian Republic,” Duskcrest retorted. “They’re better fighters than us.”
Flurry Heart turned to the changelings at the far table. “Do your best to position the militias in bad positions for tomorrow morning. We’ll need to coordinate a combined attack. Our advantage is that they don’t expect it.”
“Maybe we wait?” Edvald suggested. “You have your changelings pretend and we make plan.”
“The longer we wait,” Flurry countered, “the more time Kemerskai has to entrench himself in Weter.”
“I’m not going to be able to convince him for long,” Falx added. “Neither will the others.”
Altiert flared her wings. “You did this without any of us,” she accused. “You and your bugs ruined us.”
“The decision was mine,” Flurry stated. “I suspected Kemerskai would betray us. I was right.”
“If things don’t go to plan,” Jacques said quietly, “we won’t be in position. There will be a three-way war for Nova Griffonia.”
“Things will go to plan,” Flurry assured him.
“Even if we push them back to the coast and encircle Weter, we’re leaving ourselves open for too long for the Reich or Chrysalis,” Dusty interrupted and moved chips around the map.
“He knows that too,” Flurry answered. “He’ll have to surrender.”
“You’re counting on the most stubborn griffon in Nova Griffonia to surrender to the most stubborn pony?” Jacques asked with a laugh.
“I know it’s a long shot,” Flurry admitted, “but the alternative is to let him stack the government against us and win over the cities.”
“What will happen with the government?” Eagleheart asked in accented Equestrian.
“If we set up elections after Kemerskai surrenders, it’s a guarantee that the Republicans would win,” Dusty remarked. “We’d have to execute him to prevent it, and that’ll cause a rebellion.”
Flurry looked at Dusty. “There won’t be an election. The government failed. It’s been corrupt for years, and nothing will change that.”
The room held its breath.
“What’s the plan?” Dusty asked with dawning realization. Her ears pinned back.
Flurry took a breath and flapped her wings, rising to the air. “I am taking control of Nova Griffonia and dissolving the government. This land belonged to the Crystal Empire once, and I am reclaiming it by right and by birth.”
The crowd stared at her with a mix of shock and horror. Flurry stared back at the sea of faces, trying to see if any approved. Even the ponies looked hesitant.
“I know what I am asking,” Flurry began. “I am asking you to fight and die for me tonight. I am asking you to betray an alliance tomorrow morning.” Flurry licked her lips. “I promise to protect you with my life. I will defend this land,” she motioned to her flight suit, “like I have already done.”
“You are asking us to overthrow a republic,” Jacques asked mildly. He remained sitting, but Eagleheart and Altiert stood up.
“Nova Griffonia is not a republic,” Flurry dismissed. “It’s a fiefdom run by Blackpeak. If it wasn’t him, it would be another griffon that bought or bribed their way forward. Kemerskai will be no better.”
“We reform it, not destroy it,” Eagleheart interrupted. Her horn sparked in anger.
Flurry Heart scowled down at the unicorn. “I read the Nova Griffonian Constitution when I became a citizen.” She swept her hooves across the crowd. “It promised equality, but are you paid equally? Are you treated equally? It’s just words on a paper. Every vote after it was written corrupted it, wore it down to pure profit.”
“Are we to bow down to you and call you Princess?” Altiert sneered.
“I don’t care if you bow or what you call me,” Flurry answered steadily.
“Good, because I fought for the Aquiliean Republic!” Altiert shouted. Jacques gave her a dark look, but remained seated.
“No griffon from the coast will support you,” Duskcrest warned. “They make up half the country.”
“We make up the other half. I don’t need their support,” Flurry answered, “just their submission. They’ve mistreated us for years, cut our pay and given us nothing. The government has been solely about them for years.”
There was a grumble of agreement from the crowd.
“So, you’ll do the same to them?” Jacques spoke up and studied a claw.
Flurry paused before answering. “No, most don’t deserve it,” she admitted. “They didn’t force us to work unsafe mines and dangerous forests, or send our foals and cubs to work in assembly lines.”
“Oh,” Eagleheart scoffed, “I didn’t know you worked in a mine. You don’t speak for all of us.”
“Flurry Heart fixed my legs after a collapse!” a pony shouted out.
“And my wings!” a pegasus replied from the other side of the room.
“She saved my son from feather flu!” a griffon called out.
The room erupted in a defense for the alicorn, ranging from mundane offers of help to life-saving spells.
Eagleheart backed away and her tail swished nervously. Altiert moved a claw towards her holster.
Jacques remained sitting. He looked over his shoulder to the glowing door, then met the alicorn’s eyes evenly. “If we refuse to help you, will you order us killed and replaced like Sunglider?”
Flurry swallowed and looked down at Falx. He looked up at her worriedly with Sunglider’s face and swished his wings.
“No,” Flurry said. “Anyone who wishes to leave may do so.” She switched to Aquileian. “I only ask that you fight for me like my father fought for you.”
Altiert responded before Jacques. “Bah!” she spat. “You will hold that over our heads forever!” She turned to leave, followed by Eagleheart. “The Admiral will never fight for you!” she called over her shoulder.
Jacques remained sitting. He didn’t stare at Flurry. He instead stared straight ahead as his claws dug into the wooden table. After a breath, he wrenched his talons free and stalked after the other Aquileians. He squeezed in-between them as the grumbling crowd parted to let them pass, still speaking with each other.
“I think,” he said conversationally in Aquileian, “the Admiral will pay the debt she owes Little Flurry. After all, Flurry is the reason she survived with one good eye and only a crippled wing.”
“If you want to stay with the royal, go right ahead,” Eagleheart whickered.
Jacques clacked his beak and punched her at the base of her horn. Eagleheart dropped to her knees. While the unicorn fell, Jacques turned and spat in Altiert’s eyes before slamming his other claw into her throat. The griffon fell to her side, gasping for air. Jacques ripped the pistol from her holster, and revealed a snub-nosed revolver from his pockets in the other claw. He leveled both pistols at his fellow Aquileians.
The crowd rapidly armed themselves and aimed at him. Flurry summoned a small shield around herself during the display, still hovering above the table. “I don’t want them killed!” she called out. “They are free to leave!”
“Not before I have my say,” Jacques replied in Equestrian. He glared down at Eagleheart, who was rubbing her horn in pain while it sparked.
“Why the rush to be a good republican now, Eagleheart?” he mocked. “You want us to forget how you were a royal guard for Discret, like all your ancestors? Your father helped put down the first revolution. You only joined us once it was clear we would rise up again and win.”
“I proved my worth,” Eagleheart replied in Aquileian, spitting on the floor.
“Is that why you wrote your mother to plea for a royal pardon from the Kaiser?” Jacques chuckled. “You wanted her to claim you were a spy.”
Eagleheart froze and the field around her horn winked out.
“I read your letters,” Jacques hissed. “You should be more careful with your mail.”
Altiert sat back up and coughed. “You’re one to talk about loyalty,” she choked out.
Jacque’s talon tightened around the trigger, but he held himself back. “I betrayed many griffons for the cause,” he agreed, “but you are the worst of us, Sophie.” Jacques jerked his head at Flurry. “Tell Little Flurry,” he ordered.
“Tell her what?” Sophie Altiert coughed.
“You’ve come to every meeting at the Veteran’s Hall,” Jacques said with a snarl. “You listen to Little Flurry speak about our home and thank us for our kindness.” He wiggled the pistol at the griffon. “You sat and basked in the praise, but you never shared your story about her father.”
Altiert paled.
“Yes,” Jacques hissed. “I know. Tell her or I will.”
“The line couldn’t hold,” Altiert mumbled in Aquileian. Flurry had to strain her ears to hear it.
“In Equestrian!” Jacques shouted, but Altiert pinned her wings to her side and refused to turn around and face Flurry Heart. “She was the commander on the front line next to your father,” Jacques began. “She couldn’t take the pressure and fell back without orders. She’s the reason your father was encircled in Flowena. She’s the reason he died.”
Flurry Heart dropped her shield.
“No!” Altiert squawked. “I told him we had to fall back!” She twisted around to stare at Flurry in absolute terror.
“And Shining Armor knew that it would collapse the front line,” Jacques countered.
“It was already collapsing! We didn’t have magical shields!”
“Is that why you flew away so fast you didn’t tell Shining?” Jacques asked. He looked up at Flurry. “Your father didn’t realize she was retreating until she was already gone. He stayed in position and drew fire with his shield. She didn’t tell him on purpose as a distraction.”
“No!” Altiert protested.
Falx hissed at her. “Liar.”
“You shouldn’t lie in front of changelings,” Jacques chided the griffon.
“It’s not a lie!” the griffon squawked desperately. “I told him we couldn’t hold anymore. We were already overrun. I had to save my griffons!”
“The truth!” Jacques screeched, “or I blow your head off right now!”
“I didn’t want to die!” Sophie screamed.
She flung herself onto the floor before the table. “I don’t want to die,” she sobbed. “Please, I have a husband,” she pleaded to the alicorn.
Jacques lowered his pistols. “I did not want to die either,” he admitted. “That is why I am here. All the good republicans died with the Republic.” He turned and looked at Eagleheart. “Do not claim you are making a stand for your ideals. We already failed at that years ago.”
Eagleheart looked down at the floor scuffed a hoof against the wood.
Jacques turned back to Sophie, who was still sobbing. “You are running away again. If Little Flurry said she would order us killed, you would have sat at that table quietly until you could fly away.”
Flurry swallowed and focused on not crying. In a small voice, she asked, “Why haven’t I heard about this?”
“Orders were confused,” Jacques shrugged. “The front was falling apart. I always suspected something was wrong with what happened, but I didn’t have any proof.”
Flurry landed and stared down at Sophie. Jacques motioned to her with his revolver.
“Did you tell my father you were going to fall back?” she asked.
Sophie kept sobbing, but managed a reply in Aquileian. “We argued over the radio,” she squawked. “I didn’t tell him, but he knew I would. He knew. We were being torn to pieces by the tanks. He had a shield over the city. He didn’t know what it was like outside it.”
Flurry closed her eyes. The room was quiet, except for the sound of sobbing. Flurry Heart reached out and focused on Jacques’ pistol; he was aiming at the back of Sophie’s head. He had killed with it before in the same way, and he was ready to do so again. If she gave the word, he would execute Altiert and avenge her father’s death.
Flurry opened her eyes and breathed in. “My father,” she said clearly in Equestrian, “did not believe in the Republic. He did not fight for its values. He fought because we were given a home. He fought for his soldiers. He never promised me he would come home that day.”
She looked down at Sophie. “My father could teleport. He could have formed a shield around himself and barreled through the encirclement on his own. My father made his choice to stay.” Flurry’s horn lit up and she dispelled the wards and locks on the doors. “You can make yours,” she spoke to the room. “Anyone who wishes to leave may do so. I only ask that you stay silent and stay neutral.”
The crowd shuffled around the room, but no one moved towards the doors. Flurry did her best to make eye contact, but griffons and ponies alike avoided her eyes. Jacques tucked his pistol back into his pocket. He kept Altiert’s in claw and looked around at the gathered crowd.
“I’m in,” Jacques chuckled, “but I don’t command a militia.” He glanced down at Sophie. “You think Vivienne Discret would have spared you after we killed her father?”
Sophie wrung her claws and sniffled in response. She didn’t look up.
“You don’t have to ask, Flurry,” Spike said. “I’m with you.”
“Damn right you don’t have to ask!” Rainbow shouted. “We’re with you!”
“We will stand with you,” Barrel Roller nodded.
“Now and always,” Dusty Mark swore.
“You are our Princess,” Heartsong pledged.
The ponies in the crowd began shouting support and stomping their hooves. Flurry heard accents ranging from New Marelander to Aquileian. The crowd was now divided between supportive ponies and reluctant griffons. Beside Flurry, Duskcrest looked down at his holster and the silver-plated pistol inside it.
“Fuck it,” he sighed, then flapped his wings and took to the air. “We followed Highhill, and he didn’t do half of what the Princess has done for us!” he screeched to the crowd. “Are we gonna sit back and let the ponies fight?”
The griffons in the crowd roared back.
Katherine leapt up onto the table and scattered the figures on the map. She grimaced apologetically for a moment before roaring out in Herzlander, “When we were cast out, the Princess welcomed us! We pay our debts!”
“We fight!” Edvald screeched, and the Herzlanders echoed him.
The doors burst open and the unicorn guards stared in utter confusion at the crowd.
Oh, I lowered the spell.
“Will ya fight fer Flurry?” a bat pony mare near the door screamed at guards with a thick New Mareland accent.
“We already are?” a unicorn stallion replied after a pause.
The bat pony leapt at him and kissed him on the lips.
Flurry Heart smiled to herself and relaxed, slumping against the table.
“You should leave,” Falx suggested nervously. “Things will just get crazier while you’re here.”
“Where will you be tomorrow?” Flurry asked.
“I’ll make sure Kemerskai’s at the Capitol Building,” Falx promised. “I can’t just sneak out. I’ll find an opening.”
Eagleheart pushed forward through the chaos with her ears pinned back and tail tucked between her legs. Rainbow and Falx narrowed their eyes at the unicorn.
“I would fight for you,” she said quietly, “if you would have me.”
Flurry had to strain to hear her over the crowd.
“I will have you,” Flurry smiled. She craned her neck and tried to see where Sophie Altiert was in the crowd.
Jacques stepped back to the table beside Eagleheart. He acted like she wasn’t even there. “Sophie left!” he shouted.
“Good,” Rainbow snorted.
“She commanded several militias,” Flurry rebuked.
“I can take them,” Eagleheart offered. Rainbow gave the unicorn a severe glare, but Jacques shrugged.
“Come with me, Little Flurry,” Jacques requested and took flight.
Flurry flapped her wings and soared above the crowd, following Jacques out of the ballroom. The crowd roared in approval as she flew over. The noise was overwhelmed by Spike’s roaring for order as the doors shut behind them.
Sophie was slumped against the outer wall of the hotel. The griffon laid on her side, blue uniform and claws speckled with mud. Flurry realized it was the same spot where she had given that homeless colt her bowl of soup.
A lifetime ago.
Sophie cringed in fear at the alicorn, then cringed again at Jacques. Flurry waved a wing at her companion and he backed away. The alicorn approached and sat on her flank next to the griffon.
“I wanted to tell you for years,” she whispered in Aquileian, “but you were always so damn nice at the meetings. Your father was nice, too.”
“I don’t blame you,” Flurry offered.
“You should. Please forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Flurry insisted.
Altiert was silent for several minutes.
“Go home,” Flurry ordered and got up to leave.
Altiert reached out with a claw and grabbed her foreleg. Flurry almost reacted with a spell.
“I would like to fight,” Altiert requested.
Flurry stopped and looked down at her. Sophie made eye contact for the first time.
“I failed your father. I will not fail you,” she promised.
Flurry Heart nodded and trotted over to Jacques. He was fiddling with Altiert’s pistol.
“Give the pistol back and give her a claw,” Flurry requested. “She’s in.”
He raised a feathered brow at her. “You actually trust her to fight?”
“I just asked a roomful of creatures to trust me,” Flurry answered evenly, “so I can offer some trust myself. And it’s your fault she’s here anyway.”
“How so?” he laughed.
“You pressured her into coming,” Flurry said, “probably to set her up for that show.”
“What show?” he asked, still laughing slightly.
Flurry gave him an unimpressed look. “I’m not stupid,” she scoffed. “Give me some credit.”
Jacques shrugged with a smirk. “I only trusted Altiert to act like a coward, and Eagleheart to act like a prideful idiot. This war has always been about you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You are the one who brought us together. This was always going to end with Little Flurry in charge, even if some didn’t want to admit it.” His smile died. “Chrysalis will never allow you to claim control. We cannot fight the Reich and the Changelings.”
“I have a plan.” Flurry flicked her tail.
“Oh?” Jacques preened. “Do tell.”
“I’ll tell you if it works,” Flurry answered. “I need to check on Thorax and Jadis, then I’ll help prepare once things calm down. There’s something I need to do tonight. Let everyone know.”
“Your help could be useful,” Jacques nodded, “but flashy shields and lasers aren’t exactly subtle for night fighting and ambushes.”
“Something else,” Flurry said vaguely. “I’ll tell everyone goodbye and good luck." She paused. "I have two questions for you.”
“All right, Little Flurry,” Jacques laughed.
“Why do you care so much about me?” Flurry asked.
Jacques stopped laughing and began to shrug. He stopped mid-shrug and sighed. “I need a cause to believe in,” he answered. “You are a better choice than most.”
Flurry bit her lip. “Thank you.”
Jacques looked away with a slight blush. “What is your second question?”
“Where is Admiral Hellcrest being held?”
Jacques blinked. “The jail in downtown Weter,” he answered.
Perfect.
Flurry Heart drifted above Ponyville in the dark. She could see the flashes from the flak guns placed on the roofs in downtown Weter, but the ghetto itself had no protection. Weter itself was in a mandatory blackout, along with every city on the coast. Dark shadows of bombers drifted in-between the clouds high above her, chased by smaller dots of fighter planes.
The tenement two buildings away from her old home had taken a direct hit and completely collapsed. Fires still smoldered in the rubble. By dawn, the entire ghetto would likely be charred husks.
Flurry looked up and down the street, her eyes glowing with her night vision spell. There was no sign of any firefighters, although her ears perked up at the distant air raid sirens and alarms coming from the Industrial District and the Harbor. The alicorn flapped her wings above the smoke and fires as her horn glowed a pale blue. The smart decision would be to leave it to burn and not draw attention, Flurry thought.
She sent a wave of frosted air and ice downwards with a strong flap of her wings as she released her spell. The sudden gale snuffed out the spreading flames, leaving frost to cling to the brick and wood. The flash of her horn faded quickly into the night. Flurry landed next to the crater by her building and entered through the open doors, ears perked for the telltale whistle of a falling bomb.
She hopped the stairs with extended wings and quickly entered her room. Her horn provided a dim, blue light as she retrieved a piece of paper, a discarded quill, and a bottle of ink from her saddlebags. She tossed the empty saddlebags on her bare mattress before sitting in front of her desk.
She raised a hoof to her head and aggressively rubbed at her curly mane. “This is stupid,” she whispered. I could have written this in the hotel room. I didn’t need to come here. Flurry dipped the quill in the ink and stared at it for a moment.
Flurry Heart had tried to write this letter in her hotel room, several times, but failed to even start it. Jadis had taken a sleeping Thorax away to her own room, and the alicorn had a few short hours of privacy before everyone left to enact the plan. Her plan, she corrected herself. Even if they don’t know all of it.
Flurry settled for a few restless hours of sleep before quietly wishing everyone luck as they left to their positions. Altiert had gone willingly with Eagleheart, and Falx-as-Sunglider nodded self-seriously and flew north with the other fake Republicans.
Flurry promised to join Dusty and the Weter-bound militias in the morning, deflecting any questions about her business tonight. She knew it would look bad to be absent during the start of the war, but Jacques had made a good argument. Her presence would be noticed in combat. Flurry didn’t like the idea of ponies dying for her while she wasn’t with them, but she couldn’t be everywhere. And if everything went well, she would save a lot of lives tonight.
Flurry checked the watch on her foreleg and grimaced; she had less than an hour before the attacks started. She picked up the quill in her magic, watching the ink drip off the end with pensive eyes. She sighed and shook her head, causing the orb of light above her to wobble and cast shadows throughout the room.
The light from the orb glinted off something underneath her dresser.
Flurry noticed it out of the corner of her eye, put the quill back, and stood up. Her dresser had been knocked away from the wall, probably from the impact of the bombs. The drawers were open and empty from when she left with the others. The wood had needed a coat of paint when she moved in, and the years of alicorn magic had continued to be unkind to the cheap carpentry. Flurry bit her lip as she shoved the dresser to the side with a hoof.
And looked down at her thin, golden crown.
Flurry Heart blinked at it, then looked over at the toppled dresser suspiciously. I looked for it for hours. I lifted the dresser. I lifted all the furniture a hundred times. She narrowed her eyes in disbelief, and cast her changeling detection spell on it, remembering that skilled changelings could disguise themselves as inanimate objects.
The spell passed over the crown harmlessly. The band was covered in a fine layer of dust and grime, as if it had laid there on the floor since the night she turned away from it. Flurry took it in her front hooves and glared at it. I would have seen it. I would have found it. The alicorn blew the dust off with an exhale.
She turned the crown over in her hooves and found the groove where she had flung it against the wall and dented the metal. She brought her orb of light closer and found the scorch mark where she had forgotten to take it off before casting a firebolt. It wasn't a replica.
Flurry lifted the crown above her horn and set it down on her head. It was a tight fit and stuck to her fur. The crown had been made for an eleven-year-old filly, not a sixteen-year-old mare.
But it still fit, and she suddenly knew what to write.
Flurry Heart trotted over to her desk and picked up the quill in her magic. Her tail swished as she worked. When she was finished, she cast a spell on the letter and watched the words fade away before folding the letter and picking it up in her mouth. She left her room and felt the crown settle under her mane as she trotted to the cracked sidewalk outside, splintered by the crater. She stretched her wings to fly, looking towards the streaks of tracers from the anti-air guns firing downtown.
The crown would make the next part difficult, but she didn’t dare remove it, not after it found the way back to her. She glanced back at her bare flank, then gripped the letter tighter between her teeth and flew towards downtown. Her horn sparked as she disappeared from sight, but the alicorn maintained her current course towards the prison.
Nova Griffonia hadn’t taken many prisoners during the war, something that was partly Flurry’s fault. Her magical attacks didn’t tend to leave many survivors. Most of their prisoners were downed pilots who managed to bail from their planes, or sailors that escaped their sinking vessel. As far as she knew, the Reich hadn’t taken any prisoners at all, at least none worth bragging about.
I wonder if they’d try to take me prisoner again, Flurry thought. They probably wouldn’t; she had killed too many of their sailors and pilots. I shouldn’t have played along in Aquileia. I should’ve melted the ring off my horn and blasted my fake mother across the room.
Flurry Heart banked around the dome of the Capitol Building and the anti-air guns placed on the roof. Her ears pinned back at the constant stream of fire as they fired up at vague dots above. She continued past the High Hotel, now abandoned and turned into a barracks for Blackpeak’s militias, then the spire of Weter Radio before flaring her wings and diving towards a nondescript gray-bricked building laced with barbed wire.
Prison design for a species that could fly meant either high walls and wing restraints, or a completely boxed-in prison. The old labor camps in the frontier had tried the former and caused a rebellion. Weter had built the latter, a nondescript, high-roofed concrete box, which meant that most guards patrolled the tight hallways inside. Flurry drifted over a pair of guards watching the anti-air guns fire on a nearby roof and landed silently. Her invisibility and muffling spells covered everything except the letter between her teeth and the golden band on her head.
She approached a barred skylight and peered inside. The lights inside the prison were off, and the guards carried flashlights. She gripped the letter tighter in her teeth and walked along the roof, checking the skylights as she went. Hellcrest would be in a solitary cell, but she had no idea where those cells would be. She stopped in front of another skylight.
I should’ve asked Jacques, she grumbled. Flurry raised an invisible hoof to check her watch, then realized that she had left it in her room. I don’t have time for this. She exhaled between her teeth and punched through the reinforced glass at the skylight. She saw a light beam at the end of the hallway wobble and turn around at the sound.
Flurry Heart put her hooves against the bars on the window and pushed them aside, making an opening just wide enough for her to squeeze through. Nova Griffonia built prisons for griffons; maybe they could fly up to a skylight, but they couldn’t get through reinforced glass and steel bars. The alicorn dropped through into the hallway and flared her wings to stop midair as a guard approached her.
The griffon girl in a brown uniform swept her flashlight over the invisible Flurry Heart and completely missed the crown catching the light, instead seeing the bent bars in the skylight. She turned her head and opened her beak to yell.
Flurry clamped her beak shut with magic, then flew down and shoulder-checked the guard into the bars of a cell. The flashlight shattered. The griffon inside the cell squawked and fell off the bare mattress. Flurry clamped his beak shut as well and pushed him against the cell wall with another flare of her horn.
Flurry Heart dispelled her invisibility and stood on top the guard. She transferred the letter to a wing to speak.
“Where’s Admiral Hellcrest?” Flurry asked softly, leaning down to whisper above the guard’s head. “I’ll cave your head in if you yell,” she warned, and released the griffon’s beak for her to reply.
The guard inhaled deeply, probably to scream, and Flurry fired a sleep spell point-blank into the back of her head. The griffon immediately fell unconscious, and would probably remain so for more than a day. The alicorn turned her attention to the prisoner. “Same question,” she whispered and released the prisoner from her magical grip.
The prisoner glanced down at the guard’s head. Without the light, he couldn't tell if she was breathing. “I-I don’t know,” he stammered. “Solitary with the others?”
“Where?”
The griffon pointed a claw east. “Basement, down the hall.”
Flurry stepped off the guard and noticed her commotion caused the neighboring prisoners to wake up and peek through the bars. This cell block was apparently full. She glanced back to the prisoner and reared a hoof back.
He flinched.
Flurry punched through the lock on his cell door. “There’s an opening in the skylight.” She jerked her head up to the skylight then trotted down the hallway. Her horn lit up as she prepared to cast her spells again.
“Pony!” a voice hissed. Flurry turned towards it and spotted a white griffon leaning through the bars of his cell. “Break us out,” he hissed again. “We’ll fight for you!”
Flurry considered it for a moment. “Later,” she replied noncommittally.
“Fine!” the griffon squawked louder and inhaled to screech.
Flurry Heart fired a laser blast that slid between the bars and went through the griffon’s chest. His screech died on his beak as his lungs cooked from the inside. The griffon slumped against the bars, clearly dead. Flurry heard the other prisoners rapidly back away from their own doors and whisper prayers. Her ears twitched as she cast her invisibility and muffling spells again before moving on.
Flurry Heart passed through the other cell blocks and into the basement without incident, following the guards and going around the patrols at a brisk trot. Her hoof steps were muffled, and no guard was alert enough to spot the floating crown and letter in the poor lighting. Flurry came to the locked gate to solitary and wrenched it open. The guard next to the door had time to blink in surprise before her sleep spell struck him on the beak.
She entered the solitary wing and sneered at the conditions. The basement was cold, dark, and damp. There was visible rust on some of the doors. This place is a nightmare for an avian race. Flurry peaked through the narrow slots in the doors, still invisible. She had no desire to release some murderer or rapist.
The yellow griffon wearing a dirty blue naval uniform seemed almost too obvious. He looked like he was in his early fifties with a bald spot on his head. He was awake and slumped against the wall. Flurry almost reconsidered her plan, but she was too committed at this point.
“Admiral Hellcrest?” she asked through the slit.
The griffon slowly looked over at the door. “I have nothing more,” he answered in Herzlander. “I have told you all I know.”
I figured he was a coward. I can work with a coward.
“I’m here to break you out,” Flurry said in Herzlander. “Stay where you are.” She turned around and shook out her hind legs, becoming visible again.
The griffon squawked a laugh. “Really?”
Flurry bucked the door. It flew off its hinges and smashed against the opposite wall with a great crash of metal against stone. It only missed Hellcrest because he was sitting on the floor. He screeched in pure terror.
“Really,” Flurry snorted and stepped into the cell. She looked down imperiously at the griffon.
Hellcrest stared at her blankly.
Flurry stuck out her hoof. “Come with me if you want to get out of here.”
Hellcrest continued to stare. An eye twitched.
Alarms began to blare throughout the prison and Flurry’s ears spasmed at shouting and stomping on the floor above.
Flurry wiggled her hoof. “Now, please.”
“You’re naked,” Hellcrest answered numbly.
Flurry sighed and grabbed the griffon in her magic. He squeaked as she teleported, dragging him with her.
Flurry Heart and Hellcrest reappeared high above the prison. The alarms still sounded below them. Hellcrest immediately began to fall before desperately flapping his wings to stay aloft. When he leveled back off, Flurry jabbed the letter into his stomach with her magic. He took it in his claws.
“You know Grover?” she asked aggressively.
“The Kaiser?” he replied, still numb.
“That letter is for him,” Flurry continued. “Take it to him.”
He looked at the letter and his eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Because I said so,” Flurry answered. “You know who I am.”
“You’re the mare that sank my ship and killed thousands of my griffons,” he answered with an attempted glare.
“Yeah,” Flurry nodded, then cast her changeling detection spell on Hellcrest.
Hellcrest felt the spell wash over him and his feathers ruffled. He almost dropped the letter. “What was that?” he demanded.
“I tied your life to that letter,” Flurry lied. “If it fails to reach Grover in seven days or if anyone else reads it, your heart will explode.”
“What?” he squawked in terror.
“Your heart will explode,” Flurry repeated. “Grover has to read the letter by the end of the month to break the curse. You’ve met Grover, yes? He knows who you are?”
“Yes!” Hellcrest screeched. “I’ve met him! I’m his best admiral! You can’t do this to me! He’ll bring the entire fleet down on you for this!”
Flurry shrugged her hooves. “You’ll need to make it to him first.”
Hellcrest looked to the east with wild eyes. “I-I can’t fly back on my own; I’ll never make it to Griffenheim!”
Flurry rolled her eyes and teleported them again.
They reappeared high above a featureless ocean and swayed in the wind currents. Hellcrest almost dropped the letter.
Flurry pointed a hoof east towards a distant coastline. “You’re over halfway across the ocean now. You can make it to land. Catch a train, a plane, a truck, whatever. Doesn’t matter, but only Grover can read the letter.”
Hellcrest gaped at her with an open beak.
Flurry Heart summoned a small crackling arc of lightning around her horn. Her eyes lit up with her night vision spell as she frowned.
Hellcrest squawked and clung to the letter like his life depended on it. He began to flap away unsteadily, but with vigor.
Flurry dropped the other spells. “Seven days!” she called out. “Pace yourself!”
She sighed as she teleported back towards Weter, reappearing over the harbor and skimming above the water. She spied a few sailors moving about on the piers and ships. The Admiral was apparently here in the harbor with her griffons. She would lead them herself shortly.
Flurry Heart expected Hellcrest to be healthier. There was a chance he would drop dead of a heart attack trying to make it to Grover. Even if he did make it, Hellcrest would probably spend the entire flight screaming about a letter that was meant to be somewhat confidential.
Then again, Flurry considered, he might think I’m trying to kill Grover with a letter. A brave griffon would open it, or refuse to deliver it. She smirked. A brave griffon would go down with their ship. He loves his life too much. He’ll make it, and he’ll keep his beak shut.
Flurry cast her invisibility spell again and flew towards the mansions and the leisure district. She easily slipped between the loose patrols and anti-air crews in her way. She remembered flying this path years ago with a bloody nose. She wiped a fetlock against her muzzle and the spell flickered.
Flurry Heart set her crown in the grass outside the gate to Blackpeak’s mansion. She eyed the guards on the street. Nothing made Nova Griffonia’s corruption more apparent than the fact that Blackpeak’s private residence had more guards than the prison. All of the griffons were dressed in brown uniforms and had a pistol and submachine gun. Their patrols moved in pairs, swiftly and efficiently, even in the late hours of the night.
They weren’t prepared for an invisible pony. Flurry hopped over the gate with a gentle flap of her wings, careful to not make any sudden turns or movements as she glided towards the house. Even if she was invisible and muffled, the alicorn still displaced air and could collide with something.
The lights looked like they were off inside, but Flurry realized that the wide windows had heavy curtains draped over them. More guards were on the balconies with binoculars, scanning over the sky and the ground. The alicorn noticed there were no anti-air batteries nearby. The nearest were quite a few mansions away.
Probably would make it a target.
Flurry Heart could teleport inside, but that risked appearing before some guards and causing a scene. This needed to be done quietly, and she couldn’t be seen. Flurry slowly circled the house, looking for a way to enter. Worst case, she could force her way through one of the doors on the ground floor, or an unguarded balcony.
Just as she picked a balcony to land on, one of the servant’s doors in the back of the house opened as a guard and a female griffon in a maid outfit snuck out towards Blackpeak’s opulent garden in the backyard. Flurry risked diving towards the door and catching it with a hoof. The couple were too distracted locking beaks to notice it didn't shut behind them. She peeked inside and thanked her luck. The door led into an empty kitchen.
Flurry crept through the hallways and past several portraits and marble busts of griffons. She resisted snorting upon realizing that most of them were Triton Blackpeak. Guard patrols marched around the central staircase. Flurry risked a running leap and flap of her wings to clear the stairs and reach the second-floor landing. One of the guards at the top of the staircase flapped his wings and frowned, but proceeded on his patrol after a moment of hesitation.
Flurry paused in an alcove to consider the layout. She knew where Blackpeak’s study was, but he probably was in his bedroom. Flurry decided to check the opposite side of the house first. She slunk past a few stationary guards in the hallway, holding her breath as she passed on light hooves.
A female griffon in a gilded silk nightdress abruptly opened one of the doors the alicorn was creeping towards and headed down the hallway at a brisk pace. Flurry backpedaled as quickly as she could to avoid crashing into her. The alicorn reflexively swallowed as she managed to twist to the side and shelter behind a cabinet and let the griffon pass.
The female griffon scowled at the guards and moved towards the study with agitated, twitching wings. Flurry followed her at a distance. The griffon muttered under her breath as she walked, and Flurry strained to hear what she was saying. The griffon approached the study and threw the doors open with a crash. The guards on either side of the doors made no move to stop her.
“Triton!” she screeched. “I can’t take anymore of this!” The griffon entered the study, leaving the doors open. Flurry followed her inside.
The study hadn’t changed in the intervening years. It was the same bookshelves lined with fake books, the same oak table, and the same bluish griffon in the same plush, high-backed chair. Flurry wasn’t certain, but Triton might have even been wearing the same nightshirt.
“Triton, did you hear me?” the griffon asked angrily and swatted some papers on the table. “These guards are insufferable!”
Blackpeak scrambled to grab the papers and glared angrily. “Yes, Maar damn it, I heard you!” he squawked. “You complain about them every other night.”
“I have to drink myself stupid to fall asleep while they’re pounding about,” the griffon complained. She must be his wife. Flurry had never met her before and didn’t recall her name.
Blackpeak muttered something and his wife leaned over the table with narrowed eyes and flared wings. “What was that?” she asked.
“Nothing, dear,” Blackpeak replied quickly. He cupped her beak with a claw and tapped her beak in a kiss. “It’s temporary, I promise.”
“Can’t you just arrest Kemerskai?” Mrs. Blackpeak asked, standing back up and moving away from the table. Flurry Heart stood in the corner, next to the door.
“There’s a war going on, dear. I can’t risk starting another one,” Blackpeak explained patiently. “We just need a little more time. Trust me.”
Mrs. Blackpeak sighed and folded her wings.
“I’ll tuck Elise in,” Triton promised with a raised claw.
“She’s been asleep for hours,” Mrs. Blackpeak scoffed. “Don’t you know what time it is?” She jabbed a talon at a clock on the bookshelves.
Flurry checked the time with Blackpeak. The attacks have started, Flurry realized. She was making good time, but she needed to act soon.
Blackpeak removed his reading glasses, lowered his head into his claws, and rubbed his eyes. “I’ll be in bed shortly. I need to review these reports.”
Mrs. Blackpeak clacked her beak with her head held high and strutted out of the study. Flurry stayed behind and watched her leave. Once she was far enough down the hall, the alicorn pushed the doors shut with an invisible hoof. The guards outside didn’t turn to look, thinking Blackpeak had shut the doors himself.
Blackpeak glanced up from his chair and frowned. He grabbed a glass of alcohol on his desk and took a sip.
Flurry Heart dropped her illusions. The air shimmered as she suddenly appeared before Blackpeak’s desk. The griffon flinched back and coughed, spitting into his drink. The doors glowed blue as Flurry sealed them shut and warded the room before he could recover.
Flurry Heart stared at Triton Blackpeak silently with blank blue eyes.
Triton Blackpeak blinked his golden eyes at her and cleared his throat. “Miss Flurry?” he asked in greeting.
She nodded.
“Private Flurry Heart!” Blackpeak said again, loudly. He set the drink down on the table. “How…surprising to see you at such a late hour. You should make an appointment,” he laughed and raised his left claw in mock reproach. His right claw drifted behind his desk. Flurry watched it impassively.
“I need to understand something,” Flurry said softly.
“You’ve come into my house at night to ask a question?” Blackpeak scoffed. As he scoffed, there was a click as a drawer opened in his desk. He kept his eyes on the alicorn with a brittle smile.
Flurry pretended not to notice and kept her ears from twitching. “You have a family,” Flurry noted.
“Yes,” Blackpeak narrowed his golden eyes. "What about them?"
“How?” Flurry asked. “How can a griffon as greedy and selfish as you have a family?”
“Did you come all this way to threaten my family?" he asked, confused and offended. "Don’t you have a plane to fly?”
“No,” Flurry shook her head. “I know you’re making a deal with Chrysalis.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Flurry Heart,” Blackpeak said with a raised voice. He looked over her shoulders at the door.
“Chrysalis’ cruelty makes sense,” Flurry continued. “She only loves herself. She doesn’t have a family, or anyone else she really cares about. It’s always been about her.” She blinked and flapped her wings in agitation. “You did nothing to help us for years, exploited us in your factories, then went home and tucked your cub into bed. Do you think you’re a good griffon?”
“I am the griffon that welcomed you here, despite the protests of the legislature,” Blackpeak responded.
“And you’re the griffon planning to sell us all out to the Changelings.”
“Did that wretched changeling of yours tell you that?” Blackpeak asked. “Have you considered that he might still be working for her? A civil war will allow the Queen to invade.”
“She doesn’t need to invade. You invited her.”
“What proof?” he asked with a screech. “Do you have any proof of this accusation?”
“By the time I get any proof, it will be tanks rolling across the border. Does your wife know? Does she even care about how you treated us?”
“You will not speak about my wife!” Blackpeak squawked desperately.
The room was quiet. Blackpeak opened his beak again to yell.
“They can’t hear you,” Flurry said absently.
Blackpeak clacked his beak shut and stared at the glowing doors.
“I warded the room,” Flurry explained. “They can’t hear anything in here.”
He met her eyes for the first time with genuine fear and anger. “Did you come here to scold me for something you’re not even sure I did? Or did you come here to threaten my family?”
Flurry shook her head. “I was just curious. That’s not why I came here.”
There was a muffled pounding on the doors. Flurry looked over her shoulder and away from Blackpeak. She heard him lunge forward. Triton took the bait and raised a pistol in his right claw from the desk drawer.
Without looking back at him, Flurry seized the griffon in her magic and forced him back into the plush chair. Her magic pinned him down and wrapped around his beak; she felt him try to struggle against her grip, but she was too strong for any griffon. Flurry Heart kept his beak shut as she dispelled her sound wards.
“Sir!” a guard shouted. “There’s attacks all over the frontier! The harbor’s overrun!”
“Triton!” Mrs. Blackpeak screamed. “Kemerskai’s on the radio! Open the door!”
“Unlock the door!” another guard shouted and the pounding increased. Flurry kept the lock warded. The wood buckled, but the magic held strong.
Flurry Heart clicked her tongue. Good timing. She turned back to Blackpeak with a grim smile. She had so much more she wanted to say to him, but it was better this way. She approached the desk and leaned in to stare at the pistol.
Blackpeak had it in his claw with a talon on the trigger. He couldn’t let it go; Flurry’s magic kept him holding it. She sensed that he had never fired it before. It sat in his desk for years, as a precaution. Flurry Heart checked to make sure the safety was off then looked him in the eyes. They were the only thing he could freely move. The pupils were dilated.
“Thank you,” Flurry whispered, “for making this easy. I’m glad your wife left the room.”
There was a thud as some griffon kicked the door. “What’s wrong with the lock?” a guard shouted.
“Triton! Open the door!”
Flurry Heart’s horn glowed as she bent Blackpeak’s arm inwards. He tried to drop the pistol. Then he tried to pull against her. There was a dry snap and his beak spasmed as his arm broke from the strain. Flurry tucked the pistol under his beak and took a few steps back.
Blackpeak kept taking short, nasally breaths, trying to open his beak to say something or scream in pain. His entire body quivered in the chair, glowing faintly blue from her magic. Flurry focused on his claw, particularly the talon on the trigger.
Flurry Heart made eye contact as she forced him to pull the trigger.
The bullet entered under his chin and exited from the top of his head. The chair’s high back was soaked red in an instant from the exit wound. Blackpeak’s eyes rolled up into his head; he died instantly. Flurry released her telekinesis and let the body flop to the table with the pistol still in his grip.
There were screams outside in the hallway. Flurry stepped into the corner next to the doors and dispelled the lock. As the doors finally flew open, she cast her invisibility spell. The griffons ran towards the desk and didn’t notice the flash in the corner of their eyes.
Mrs. Blackpeak gave a wordless screech of agony as she rushed the desk and grabbed her husband’s head. Uncaring of the blood, she tried to rouse him, shaking the body repeatedly with wordless sobbing.
“By Boreas!” one of the guards exclaimed. He looked around the room, passing over Flurry without reaction.
“He shot himself?” one of the other guards asked.
A guard with an armband, an older griffon, gaped at the body for a moment before shaking his head. “We’re finished. The entire frontier is coming to kill him.” He looked over a wing and pointed a claw at a griffon in the hallway. “Signal the others and let’s go! We’re getting out of here!”
“No!” Mrs. Blackpeak screeched. “You can’t!”
“He’s the one that paid us, and he’s the one they’re coming for,” the guard replied dismissively. “We’re not sticking around to fight for a corpse.”
“I can pay you!” she replied through her tears.
The guard shook his head. “Not worth it. We’re getting attacked everywhere. Kemerskai’s coming in from the north, the harbor’s on fire, there’s a prison break…” he trailed off.
“What about us?” she screamed in reply. "He paid you to protect us!"
“What about my family?” the guard retorted. “I’m going home.”
Mrs. Blackpeak flung herself at the guard with outstretched claws and a screech. Her silk nightdress fluttered as she grabbled with him. The other guards backed away, but the older griffon clubbed her with the butt of this submachinegun and shoved her back against the table. “Get off!” he spat and turned to leave.
The slam against the table knocked the pistol out of Blackpeak’s claw and onto the floor. His wife saw it with misty eyes and grabbed it from the pool of blood. She stood up on her hind legs with wings outstretched.
She raised the shaking pistol with both claws. “S-stop right there!” she screeched. “You’re going to stay and-”
There was a gunshot. Mrs. Blackpeak crumpled against the table and fell heavily to the floor. The pistol tumbled out of her claws. She gasped for breath as the silk turned red around her chest. Flurry was so startled she nearly dropped her illusion. She turned to her right and stared at a young orange guard with a smoking pistol.
The older guard whirled back around and saw the dying griffon. He clacked his beak and glared at the younger guard. “What in Maar’s name did you do?” he roared.
“She grabbed the gun,” the younger guard protested.
The older guard looked again and gave a long, drawn-out sigh. “Stupid,” he muttered. “We need to get out of here.”
“W-what about the cub?” one of the other guards asked.
“You wanna shoot her too?” the older guard replied shortly.
“No, I, uh, what do we do?”
“Leave her.”
The guards departed down the hallway, still arguing. Flurry heard crashes and breaking glass, then muffled shouting throughout the house. Flurry shook her head to focus and looked towards the fallen griffon.
Mrs. Blackpeak stared right at her, unblinking. She had bled out.
Flurry Heart left the room as the blood soaked into the rug. The hallway was already being ransacked by eager guards. One smashed a painting of Blackpeak against the floor and pulled the golden filigree off the picture frame. Flurry trotted by without notice.
One of the balcony windows at the end of the hallway had been broken. The invisible alicorn moved towards it, dodging fallen statues and shelves. She flapped her wings and took flight, carefully squeezing through the broken window and avoiding the shards of glass.
Through all the chaos, a small voice called out, “Hello?”
Flurry’s ears twisted to hear it behind her. Against her better judgement, she looked back. A small griffon cub in a cotton shirt stumbled down the hall, looking confused and terrified. One of the guards stepped around her and fled down the staircase with an armful of bottles. The cub stared up at the broken window, inadvertently making eye contact with Flurry Heart.
She has her father’s eyes.
Flurry Heart flapped her wings and twisted away, flying back to where she had left her crown. Her plan had worked. News of Blackpeak’s death would spread throughout the night, and his militias would melt away, back to their homes. Kemerskai would take Weter basically unopposed, if disappointed that his rival shot himself. He would name himself president at the Capitol Building, with all his important griffons there to witness his triumph.
The cloud Flurry Heart rested on offered a great view of Weter and the coast during the night, and the columns of smoke from the frontier to the west. Flurry’s cloud was high enough to get a good view of the city, but low enough to not get torn through by a plane. She had snuggled deeper into the soft, pillowy texture, mostly to hide herself from any passing griffons. The cloud was caked in ash and industrial byproducts, like most clouds outside a major industrial city.
The damage to Weter appeared to be mostly superficial and contained to the fancier districts or downtown. Word had spread quickly about Blackpeak’s suicide within the city, and the militias that had been contracted to protect the rich griffon’s investments turned on their employer and scattered back to their homes and families with armfuls of loot. The disorder snowballed into general rioting and panic in less than an hour.
Flurry had retreated to the sky late last night, debating whether to try to find the approaching militias or stay out of the fighting entirely. The harbor and surrounding blocks fell quickly to the Aquileian sailors and dockworkers. She decided to stay out of it; her presence in the city or during the advance would draw to much attention. The anti-air batteries remained operational throughout the night, so the chaos couldn’t have been too bad.
Flurry decided to rest for a few hours and restore some energy; she had been running on only a few hours of sleep and expended a lot of magic with her illusions. It was a grimy cloud, and offered only a brief, restless sleep punctuated by occasional gunfire from the city below.
Flurry woke up feeling worse than before.
The good news was that she woke up in time to see the Republican columns enter the city from the north, virtually unopposed. The Republican vanguard put down any resistance swiftly, judging from the scattered gunfire, and Flurry shifted the cloud away from the city upon several flocks of flying, armed, uniformed griffons getting a bit too close while scouting. She let the cloud drift away from the coast and towards the frontier for a bit before shaking away the cumulus and flying away from the rising sun.
Flurry Heart encountered scouts from Dusty’s army with Weter still in view, less than half an hour’s flight away. The pegasi were shocked to see the grimy, naked alicorn drifting towards them, and held her at gunpoint as a precaution.
She was escorted down to the ground and patiently waited until a unicorn squad arrived on hoof and verified her identity with the detection spell. One of the scouts, a pegasus mare only a year older than Flurry, swiftly apologized and fetched a small, scraped-together raincloud. They were near a looted estate and some ransacked country club that was close enough to Weter to not be classified as the frontier.
Dusty arrived in a truck as Flurry finished scraping all the grime off her crown. She still had streaks of dirt in her feathers and along her fetlocks. The pegasus on the cloud above the alicorn kept stomping to eke out the last droplets of water, but the cloud was dry enough to come apart.
“I’m clean enough!” Flurry called up to the pegasus. “Thanks!”
“We can get another cloud, Princess!” the mare offered desperately.
Flurry placed the crown back on her head and walked to Dusty, lazily waving a wing back at the pegasus. Dusty approached in a dirty uniform with loose pockets. She had clearly done some fighting herself through the night, and her gray eyes were weary. A few soldiers circled the pair as they faced off.
“I didn’t believe the scouts," Dusty snorted. "Where the hay have you been?”
Flurry gestured up to her crown with a hoof. “I was looking for it.”
“You went to a city in the middle of a warzone to look for your crown?” Dusty shook her head in disbelief, but was too tired to argue further.
“How are we doing?” Flurry asked. “What are our losses?”
Dusty squinted at her. “Been too busy to listen to a radio, huh?” she scoffed. “Blackpeak shot himself once the fighting started. That asshole on Nova by Night reported it hours ago, probably shitting himself that his check bounced.”
Flurry hummed and nodded. “You’re here early,” she said neutrally.
“Yeah,” Dusty acknowledged. “The first push went well, only a few casualties. We started to face some heavier resistance once we closed on the coast, then word spread about Blackpeak and most griffons up and left. Duskcrest offered pretty generous terms to the local militias, ‘lay down your weapons, then pick them up and go home.’ Most took it.”
“How many casualties?”
Dusty shrugged. “A few hundred, maybe a thousand. We don’t have a count yet. The Aquileians had an easier time in the south. The north is divided between us and the Republicans.”
Flurry frowned and rustled her wings.
“These are good numbers, Princess,” Dusty added. “Better than we could have hoped for.”
“Then why don’t you look happy?” Flurry replied.
“The Republicans rolled over every griffon in their way,” Dusty stated. “They took a lot less casualties than us. We needed them to take a beating against Blackpeak’s militias. It would make them easier to deal with.”
“Is everyone in position for that?” Flurry asked vaguely, glancing at the surrounding ponies and griffons.
“Technically, yes, but the Republicans are way ahead of schedule. We have a few ambushes set up by some of Thorax’s secret changelings, and Eagleheart and Fierté have given their signals.” Dusty bit her lip and swished her tail nervously.
Flurry waited for her to continue, unblinking.
“We don’t have the numbers,” Dusty revealed at Flurry’s stare.
“We outnumber them,” Flurry responded. “Two-to-one, at least.”
“Yes,” Dusty said, “but their soldiers are better and mostly unbloodied from the fighting. They brought in a massive number of griffons into Weter. We can encircle them, but they’ll stage a breakout, easy. I’m worried about Barrel Roller and Heartsong in the north.”
“Where’s Kemerskai?” Flurry asked and picked some dirt off a primary feather.
Dusty openly glared at the alicorn now. “He’s was on the radio,” she said slowly. “He brought the coalition in an hour ago. He’s probably at the Capitol Building by now. What have you been doing?”
“Sleeping in a cloud,” Flurry dismissed. “It wasn’t very comfortable. Are we still attacking at seven?”
Dusty grit her teeth. “Yes,” she hissed. “That was the plan.”
“What time is it now?”
Dusty lifted a hoof and brushed a sleeve back. “6:17.”
Flurry Heart looked up at the sky. It was a cloudy morning and would snow later. She looked over her shoulder to Weter and the east, picking out the rising sun struggling to break through the clouds. Nearly winter.
“Okay,” Flurry nodded. “Stick to the plan.”
Dusty opened her mouth to respond, and judging from her narrowed eyes, it wasn’t going to be a kind response. The unicorn visibly recomposed herself before replying, rubbing a hoof through her mane. “What,” she asked with gritted teeth, “would you like to do, Princess?” She drew out the last word like a swear.
“I’ll go talk to Kemerskai and ask for his surrender,” Flurry said blithely.
Dusty blinked. “What.”
“He’s surrounded in Weter. He has to surrender,” Flurry insisted.
“Have you not been listening to a single word I said?” Dusty nearly shouted. “We can’t hold him. We don’t have the numbers.”
“I was listening,” Flurry shrugged. “It won’t be a problem. I’m confident we can beat the Republicans. Tell everyone to plan to meet up at Weter Radio this evening.”
Dusty stared past Flurry Heart, completely overwhelmed by the alicorn’s lack of concern. She sat on her flank in the dirt.
“Dusty,” Flurry requested, “look at me. I’ll be fine. I have my shield if he refuses. I can just leave.”
Dusty continued to look past the alicorn towards Weter, imagining the battles to come.
“Dusty,” Flurry’s tone hardened, “make sure the attack starts at seven. We have to do this, and we have to do it now. Do you understand?”
“You don’t understand,” Dusty finally snapped back, shaking her head. “You don’t understand what war is like. You think it’s some game, don’t you? You fly around above all of us and laugh, casting your spells.”
You don’t understand. You hear about the pilot, but you only see the filly giving out cake at birthday parties. Flurry stood up to her full height and glared down at Dusty. She was the tallest one in the group, a head above most ponies and a hoof above the griffons.
“I am giving you an order as your Princess,” Flurry commanded.
Dusty's eyes hardened, then she suddenly deflated and nodded, resigned. “As you say, Princess.”
Flurry leaned down next to Dusty’s ear. “Blackpeak underestimated me,” she whispered, “until I shoved the pistol under his beak. Kemerskai will too.”
Flurry Heart turned around and flapped her wings before Dusty could respond. The flight back to Weter was short, and Flurry arrived earlier than she expected, pumping her wings with annoyance and a bit of rage. She stopped to do her breathing exercise before she entered downtown.
A Republican patrol stopped her near Weter Radio.
“Halt!” a voice screamed in a rough Herzlander accent. Flurry glanced behind her to see three armed griffons flying up towards her. The soldiers obviously recognized the alicorn and slowed as they approached. One slung his rifle around his claws and stared at her suspiciously.
“What are you doing here?” he asked warily, torn between hostility and confusion.
“I heard the broadcasts,” Flurry answered. “I’m here to see Kemerskai. We need to get everything set up.”
“Like that?” he squawked.
For a moment Flurry thought he meant the crown on her head, but he gestured to her body. Flurry looked down at her grimy, pink fur and shrugged with her forelegs. Right. Herzlanders and their clothes.
“I’ve been busy,” she deflected. “Fighting a war and stuff.”
The griffon squawked out a laugh. “Fine, follow us. We’ll take you to the Capitol.”
The soldiers escorted Flurry the rest of the way to the Capitol Building. The streets below were teeming with military trucks and armored cars. Griffons were stationed along the roofs of the surrounding buildings, and Flurry counted twice the number of griffons on the Capitol roof than were there last night.
The street around the building was cordoned off by trucks. Sandbags were piled on the steps of the building, with griffons setting up barricades and machineguns. They’re preparing for a siege, Flurry thought. Is it for the citizens, or for us?
The group landed in front of the main entrance on the steps. The griffons outside the building were jubilant at their victory, celebrating and dancing along the sandbags and in the street. Some were openly drinking with a bottle in one claw and their gun in the other, with the few responsible soldiers screeching for discipline. These griffons haven’t won for a long time, Flurry realized. They lost to the Reich years ago, twice.
A few nearby griffons regarded the alicorn with open amusement. Her mane and tail dried into a stringy mess from her fast flying. Combined with the dirt in her fur, her awkwardly long legs and oversized wings, Flurry Heart knew she looked absolutely ridiculous. No one noticed her little crown. Flurry took the looks in stride and followed her escort up the steps and past the barricades.
A female griffon with several armbands and an officer's hat walked down the steps to meet her halfway. Her amber eyes swept over the alicorn with bemusement. “What are you doing here, citizen?”
“I would like to see Kemerskai. I heard Blackpeak’s dead,” Flurry answered.
The griffon clacked her beak and huffed. “Yes, the coward shot himself when we attacked. But what business do you have with the President?”
“We need to discuss the alliance and new government?” Flurry offered.
The griffon looked up to the roof, where the Nova Griffonian flag had been replaced by the tricolor of the old Griffonian Republic. Flurry resisted rolling her eyes.
“You came alone?” the griffon remarked with a suppressed chuckle.
“Yeah,” Flurry shrugged her wings. “I did last time too, and it worked out fine.”
“Flurry Heart!” a griffon shouted from the doors. Sunglider descended with flapping wings in a civilian suit. He adjusted his eyepatch as he landed and regarded the alicorn with open confusion.
“What, what are you doing here?” he stammered. “You never said you would come here.”
“The coalition’s here, isn’t it?” Flurry said with a smile. “I’m ready to talk about getting ponies in the government, like we discussed.”
Sunglider blinked and recovered. “True,” he clacked his beak thoughtfully, “but perhaps we should wait for Duskcrest and Dusty Mark…”
“No!” Flurry whined nasally. “I can tell them later. Kemerskai’s not getting all the fun.”
The guard and her escorts laughed under their breath.
Sunglider glanced to the side with his functioning eye. “Of course, Flurry Heart. Come with me. I’ll take you to Kemerskai. He’s in the rotunda.”
Flurry smiled widely. “We couldn’t have done this without your help,” she said sincerely and reared up for a hug. Before Sunglider could pull back, Flurry wrapped her forelegs around the griffon's shoulders and pulled him into her embrace. Flurry made sure to rub her dirty forelegs on the sleeves of his suit.
The officer openly laughed at the display.
“Leave,” Flurry whispered into Sunglider's ear.
Flurry Heart let Sunglider go and smiled apologetically at the stains. “Oh, I’m sorry!” she apologized in a shrill voice. “Go get cleaned up. I know the way.”
Sunglider paused and adjusted his sleeves, shooting a glare at the laughing guards. “I should escort you in,” he said after a pause and waved a wing at the escort. “I’m expected back.” Flurry Heart followed Sunglider up the steps and into the Capitol Building, followed by a pair of armed griffons.
The guards cleared the doorway to let them past. The hallways were full of griffons in a variety of militia uniforms, along with a few naked griffons that had worked in the building. Most stopped for a moment to look at the disheveled alicorn. Flurry ignored them and peered through open doors as she trotted past.
Kemerskai’s not wasting time. The offices are already being set up.
“There are a lot of griffons here,” she commented to Sunglider.
“We took the city easily,” Sunglider boasted over his shoulder. "Kemerskai thought it important to get every griffon here."
“Really? Who’s here?” Flurry asked casually.
“Besides myself and Kemerskai?” Sunglider laughed. “Ironclaw, Silverwing, Redtail,” he extended some feathers to count as he walked, “everygriff except the Aquileians. Fierté is still in the harbor, getting the fleet ready. The Reich is still out there.”
“I guess I represent everypony,” Flurry commented nervously. She ignored that he left out the frontier griffons.
“Hardly an unfamiliar concept.” He looked over his shoulder to make eye contact. “You’re welcome to wait outside. The city’s pretty quiet.”
“You’re welcome to go get your suit cleaned up,” Flurry replied.
“I should introduce you first,” Sunglider answered and they entered the rotunda. It was the official seat of the legislature for the Republic of Nova Griffonia, a circular room surrounded by desks with one grand desk in the center on a raised platform.
The platform had room for microphones and space for reporters and cameras to sit below it. It hadn’t been used for over a month, not since Blackpeak announced the election was cancelled and the mass resignation of Kemerskai’s Republicans.
Flurry looked around the room. A quarter of the desks were occupied, and most of the standing griffons were casually armed. She spotted a few griffons in civilian clothes, probably Kemerskai’s loyal representatives and a few Nova Griffonians. The rest of the griffons were officers and commanders. Several meetings were in-progress around the room, with maps and charts setup on tables. The chamber looked more a war council than a government. Officers were gathered around their leaders; Flurry could clearly make out the ideological divides from the militia uniforms.
Redtail’s communists were marginalized to a few desks, and on the opposite side of the room from Ironclaw’s fascists and griffon supremacists. Silverwing’s clique was seated with the Republicans, but they looked bored. She didn’t see any of their gray uniforms included at a meeting. Most of the griffons were too busy arguing with each other to notice her entrance.
Alexander Kemerskai Junior sat in the elevated desk at the center of the chamber, speaking down to three militia commanders in green fatigues. Flurry immediately saw he had replaced his white officer's cap with another gaudy brown officer’s cap stamped with the tricolor of the Griffonian Republic. The brown griffon sat up and extended his wings in a greeting upon noticing Sunglider’s approach.
“Schnabel, you brought us a guest!” Kemerskai beamed. “I was wondering where you went.” He waved a claw at the trio of griffons dismissively and they departed towards the surrounding desks.
Flurry checked a clock on the round wall. 6:57.
“I’m here to talk,” Flurry interrupted in Herzlander. “We had an agreement, and I want to discuss pony representation in the government.”
“Of course, they can fill out the forms and run for election like any other candidate,” Kemerskai said bluntly and looked down to some papers on his desk. “Was that all you came here for?”
Flurry blinked.
Kemerskai glanced back at the alicorn and squawked at her indignant expression. “I’m joking,” he laughed and waved a claw. “Ponies in the frontier will be represented. Even the Aquileians, whenever they get here.”
“The admiral is preparing the fleet,” Sunglider reminded his friend.
“Right,” Kemerskai sighed, “we’ll deal with the Reich shortly.” He looked Flurry over with a mild frown. “Where have you been? I thought you’d be in the air during the night.”
“I was,” Flurry replied evasively. “I didn't want to make a scene. I was also looking for this.” She gestured up to the gold band under her short, stringy mane.
Kemerskai frowned at her and clacked his beak. “Why,” he said after a pause, “were you looking for your crown?”
“I lost it, and I figured it would look better for our agreement.” Flurry sat on her flank and took the crown off with her forelegs. She held it between her hooves. “I didn’t expect for you to take Weter so quickly.”
“Ah,” Kemerskai’s eyes softened slightly. “Our agreement. I didn’t expect-” he caught himself and coughed, “I didn’t think you would show up so quickly.”
Flurry shrugged. “Neither did I.”
He preened a wing. “Our swift victory was assured with Blackpeak’s death. His militias simply went home once word spread their master was dead. A griffon fighting for money will always lose to a griffon fighting for ideals.”
“We should talk about blanket pardons,” Sunglider added.
“Not this again,” Kemerskai groaned. “They had their chance, and they chose to take his money.”
“We don’t have time to go around and arrest griffons,” Sunglider pressed.
“Let’s get this done,” Flurry interrupted again. “If the Reich realizes what’s happened, they’re gonna take advantage of the chaos. I need to get back to my plane.”
“Alexander, you are not president yet,” Sunglider implored, “and perhaps it would be best to allow Flurry to clean herself up as well.” He gestured to Flurry with a stained sleeve.
“I’m already president,” Kemerskai scoffed. “A judge can swear me in anytime.” Kemerskai leaned down and looked Flurry over from his high chair. He smiled again, but his eyes were unkind.
“She looks perfectly fine for this,” he remarked. Kemerskai flapped his wings and hovered above the desk, gesturing to Flurry to follow him up. Flurry flapped her own wings and looked around in confusion, stopping slightly below the brown griffon.
“We have done it!” Kemerskai shouted in harsh Equestrian. The crowd ceased their business and looked up to the griffon in the center of the rotunda. “We have taken Weter and liberated it from Triton Blackpeak! Today is a new day,” he continued, “not just for Nova Griffonia, but for the Griffonian Republic! When the griffons of the Reich hear of our victory, they will know that the Republican cause is not lost! Grover is weak! We will return!”
The Republicans in the rotunda roared in approval. The native Nova Griffonians cheered with them, but with less energy and enthusiasm. Redtail looked miserable. Flurry glanced down at Sunglider and jerked her head towards the doors. Sunglider took the hint and began to back away.
Kemerskai noticed his friend’s movement. “Schnabel, please, come!” he waved a claw down to him. “Come! Get in the photograph!”
Flurry turned and spied a griffon setting up a large camera on a tripod between some desks, angling it to get both Flurry and Kemerskai in frame. Flurry tucked her tail between her hind legs; it was cut short and wouldn’t hide much.
Sunglider looked over to the doors to the rotunda, then slowly flapped up beside Kemerskai. He made brief eye contact with Flurry, then subtly checked his watch.
“Flurry Heart,” Kemerskai addressed the alicorn directly. “You are a fine pilot for Nova Griffonia, and you were the one to approach me to defeat Blackpeak. You have more than earned a promotion for your duties.”
“Thank you,” Flurry nodded.
“But,” Kemerskai continued, “you are also a Princess and a citizen. Triton Blackpeak did not require you to renounce your crown. He used you as a puppet to control the pony population. Where does your loyalty lie?” he prompted.
Flurry took a breath and checked the clock. 7:09. “I came to you because Nova Griffonia needs strong leadership,” she began, speaking loudly for every griffon to hear. “Blackpeak was only interested in lining his pockets with stolen wealth.”
Flurry turned the crown over in her hooves. “This crown was given to me by ponies desperate to believe in something greater than themselves. It is the only gift I’ve ever kept since I arrived here, because it meant more to them than it did to me. It’s just a band of cheap gold.”
Kemerskai nodded.
“I come to you today,” Flurry Heart said calmly, “to ask for your surrender.”
Kemerskai opened his beak and his wings flapped unevenly for a beat.
Flurry Heart summoned her bubble shield around herself. Sunglider and Kemerskai flinched and landed heavily on the desk below. Flurry stayed in the air as the shield crackled, her horn sparking with blue energy.
Kemerskai glared up at her and unholstered his pistol from his belt. Sunglider backed up again, looking panicked.
Run, Falx. Get out now.
Kemerskai whirled around and glared at the retreating griffon. “You said she was fine!” he squawked. “You said everything was under control!”
“Nopony said anything about this!” Sunglider protested. “She’s not even supposed to be here!”
“You’d think I would tell him anything?” Flurry snorted, drawing Kemerskai’s attention back to her. The room had erupted into chaos as griffons grabbed their weapons and took cover behind desks. A few griffons circled around her in the air, keeping shotguns trained on her shield. “Nova Griffonia needs strong leadership,” Flurry sneered, “but not from you.”
A griffon above her fired his shotgun. The pellets smashed against the shield and ricocheted off in every direction.
“Don’t shoot, fool!” Kemerskai screamed. “She has to drop the shield to attack!”
“Nova Griffonia is mine by right,” Flurry announced, overpowering the shouts from the crowd of griffons. Her horn glowed brighter.
“What right?” Ironclaw challenged from the ground. “This is griffon land!”
“Before any griffon ever flew here, this land belonged to the Crystal Empire,” Flurry answered. “I am the last scion of the Amore dynasty. This land is mine by birth and blood.”
“No griffon will ever recognize that claim,” Kemerskai spat. “Nova Griffonia has existed for centuries. You’re delusional, just like every monarch.”
“So are you!” Flurry laughed. “You think that griffons will rise up to fight for you in the Reich? You spat on the Herzlanders that came here.” She jabbed the crown at him. “I welcomed them! You blamed the Aquileians for your father’s failures, and I thanked them!” She glared down at Kemerskai. “You’re surrounded in Weter by an army you created.”
The griffon glared back up at her unflinchingly. “We’re prepared. Those defenses outside aren’t just for show. I knew you’d try something.”
“I’m not trying anything,” Flurry replied. Her horn sparked and she looked for Falx.
Sunglider was halfway to the door, but the doorway was filled with armed guards. A griffon from the hallway pushed her way through, but the guards closed the gap and glared at Sunglider as he stepped towards them.
The griffon skidded to a halt at the scene in the Rotunda, overwhelmed by the chaos.
“Report!” an officer squawked at the new courier.
“There’s reports all over the radio!” she screeched. “The Aquileians are attacking from the harbor! Attacks everywhere!”
The room fell into anarchy. Many of the Nova Griffonians panicked and made for the doors. Kemerskai screamed orders in Herzlander and the Republican guards formed a line and pushed back. He fired his pistol into the air and the shouting stopped.
“Quiet!” he screamed, then turned up to Flurry with enraged brown eyes. “I should’ve had you shot when you walked through the door,” he squawked and raised his voice. “When she drops the shield, shoot her! I want every griffon in the room to shoot her until she’s a smear on the floor!”
“Surrender,” Flurry repeated. Her horn glowed bright blue and the shield rippled.
“No,” Kemerskai replied. “You have to drop your shield to use your magic on us. I’ve read the reports.” He glared at the surrounding griffons, particularly the ones crowding the doorway.
“She’s not invincible!” he yelled. “She’s flesh and blood, like all of us! She's here because she knows her monarchist scum will lose! Guards, stay and keep your guns on her! Officers, get to your defensive positions! Everygriff spread out!”
The guards at the door parted to let griffons out of the room. The militia members stationed around the room kept their weapons trained on Flurry, taking cover behind overturned desks. A dozen griffons circled from above, training their weapons on her head. A few of the guns were shaking.
“Get the artillery up to the harbor! Shell the Aquileians into dust!” Kemerskai ordered.
No. Flurry spotted Sunglider in the crowd of griffons near the door. Sunglider looked around at the crowd, and pushed back against a panicked griffon. He stared up at Flurry with his good eye. He was trapped in the crush.
Sunglider took a deep breath and nodded to the alicorn. Flurry shook her head desperately back. Get out. Please.
Kemerskai followed her gaze into the crowd. His eyes hardened in realization.
“Wait!” Kemerskai screeched. "Wait!" The guards stepped back into the doorway and fired a burst from a submachinegun into the air to force the crowd back.
Alexander Kemerskai turned away from Flurry and to the crowd at the doors. “Schnabel!”
Sunglider stepped out from the crowd and faced Kemerskai.
“This stupid cub planned all of this without you realizing?” Kemerskai asked loudly. He waved his pistol in the air.
Sunglider looked past Kemerskai to the floating alicorn. Get out.
“She doesn’t plan anything,” Sunglider replied. “We kept to ourselves, like you asked.” He shook his head. “I did my best, but I warned you that they didn’t trust us.”
“So, you had no idea they planned to betray us?” Flurry couldn’t see Kemerskai’s expression, but the tone was utter disbelief and anger.
“No,” Sunglider said evenly. “Why are you even asking me that?”
Kemerskai took a deep breath. His wings twitched with latent rage. “I sent you because you were my loyal friend,” he growled, “and despite your reservations. You’re observant, yet you said everything was fine.”
Sunglider stared at Kemerskai for a long moment.
Flurry hovered above them in her shield. Change, Falx. Change into a Breezy, or a bird, or anything. Get between the guards and get out. Griffons in the crowd muttered. A griffon near the door tried to bribe a guard and was struck with the butt of the submachine gun for his trouble. The crowd was armed and began to ready their weapons at the guards, but no griffon wanted to start the bloodshed.
“My reservations?” Sunglider asked slowly. “You mean my reservations about your idea to sell the frontier to Chrysalis!?” he shouted into the room.
The crowd, mostly Nova Griffonians, erupted into shouts of anger directed at the Republicans. The Republican guards looked surprised themselves, but rallied against the natives. The Nova Griffonians in the crowd began to openly swing at the Republicans blocking the door.
“You told them,” Kemerskai stated numbly. “You actually told them. You chose them over us.” Flurry’s ears flicked as she strained to hear him over the yells.
Griffons pushed at the guards again. There was a scream and a griffon reeled back into the crowd clutching her bloody throat.
“You’re no better than Blackpeak,” Sunglider spat. “He had the same idea.”
“You betrayed us over a stupid cub wearing a crown!” Kemerskai shouted back. "You betrayed me! You betrayed every ideal you ever fought for!" His wings flared and he raised his pistol, aiming at Sunglider.
“No!” Flurry shouted. She fumbled and almost dropped her crown. Her horn flickered.
Kemerskai looked over his shoulder at the alicorn with a confused grimace. The crowd ignored the alicorn and the two griffons standing below her.
“I never said he told us willingly,” Sunglider pointed out in Falx’s dual-toned voice.
Kemerskai’s head snapped back to his friend.
Sunglider took off his eyepatch and blinked with relief, revealing a perfectly functional eye. “He never had the balls to tell you,” Falx chuckled, “but he thought you were a narcissistic asshole. You’re not even a quarter of the griffon that your father was.”
“Falx!” Flurry screamed.
“You thought you could make a deal with Chrysalis, but you don’t know the first thing about changelings,” Falx laughed, high-pitched and chirping, but with Sunglider’s smile. “He died days ago.” He took a step towards Kemerskai with raised wings.
Kemerskai took a step back and raised his pistol.
“I enjoyed killing him!” Falx hissed, and Flurry knew he was lying.
Kemerskai screeched and emptied his pistol into Sunglider. The griffon fell back and erupted into green fire, revealing a changeling wearing a bloody, ill-fitting suit. Falx struggled to raise his head off the ground and look at the alicorn.
“Do it!” Falx coughed.
Kemerskai reloaded and fired another shot into the changeling’s head.
Flurry’s horn burned with blue fire at the tip. The shield crackled with energy and flames raced across the surface. Flurry Heart didn’t do anything; she stared down at the corpse of her friend, blinking away tears. She sniffled and held onto the crown.
Kemerskai turned back to the alicorn, tears in his own eyes, and fired recklessly at the shield. Griffons screamed as the bullets bounced off. A few in the crowd finally forced their way past the guards and into the hallway; gunshots rang out and the crowd surged again, overrunning the guards. One guard unleashed his submachine gun into the crowd as he was trampled.
Some of the Republicans broke and joined the rush, only to be shot in the back by their comrades. One of Ironclaw’s militia joined one of Redtail’s communists and pulled a Republican down from the air, taking turns stabbing him. Ironclaw himself was dead; some griffon took the opportunity to bash his head against a table.
Kemerskai didn’t notice as his army fell apart around him. He only looked up at Flurry.
“You bitch!” Alexander squawked with a ruined voice. “Was this your plan!? You want to turn my griffons against me while you watch behind your shield!?” He reached into his jacket to reload.
Flurry clutched her crown to her chest and stopped crying. “No,” she spat back. “My plan was to get you all in one fucking room.”
Flurry Heart blew out her shield as Kemerskai aimed up at her.
The force of Flurry Heart’s explosive shield depended on how long she poured magic into it. She seldom used it outside of the scrapyard; she had to stay stationary and focus on charging it. It wasn’t any good for dogfighting in a plane.
He didn’t have time to fire. No griffon in the room had the time or reflexes to pull the trigger.
The shield burst through glass, wood, brick, concrete, flesh and bone. It vaporized everything it touched. Alexander Kemerskai Junior did not have the time to realize he was dead, nor was there anything left of him.
Falx’s body vanished with him and all the others.
The griffons in the rest of the building didn’t have time to react. They stared at the panicked griffons streaming past them from the rotunda, or were readying weapons for the attack before they were blown away by the expanding wall of blue fire.
The building itself did not explode in a shower of debris. It simply ceased to exist in the time it took to blink.
The Republican Tricolor flag was blown into the sky, reduced to ash.
The griffons on the steps and in the street had time to hear the sound of something like the world’s largest soap bubble popping before they were vaporized with their trucks and guns. The sandbags and barricades on the steps meant nothing.
The Republican militias and citizens a block away had the time to turn around before their shadows were scorched into the walls and pavement. Most buildings collapsed from the wave of force and fire that erupted from the Capitol, if they were not entirely flattened. The griffons in the air were tossed into the sky, trailing blue fire and ash as their bodies came apart from the wave.
Flurry Heart opened her eyes and flapped her wings gently above a shallow crater made of glass. There was nothing else alive. Ash fell from the sky and mixed with snowflakes. A cold morning wind blew from the ocean. The alicorn snorted and a drop of blood trickled from her nose.
The few buildings still somewhat standing were at the very end of the block. All of them were on fire, but the flames had a magical, blue sheen. They couldn’t be put out with water, but also couldn’t spread very far. The magical charge would fade in a few hours and the flames would dissipate.
Flurry Heart clutched her crown tighter to her chest and flew two blocks over. The griffons on that street were picking themselves off the ground. A few had clearly fallen from the sky with broken legs and wings. Screaming was coming from the stores and shops; all the windows were shattered. Several trucks had been overturned from where they blocked the street; one had been thrown through a wall and crushed several griffons.
Flurry stopped before a squad of Republicans in ash-covered uniforms. She landed on three hooves, still holding her crown with a foreleg. Her bare hooves melted the asphalt when she trotted forward.
The Republicans struggled to stand up. The leader, a female griffon with blood coming from her beak, coughed and gripped her rifle with both claws. She blinked and swayed on her paws while Flurry emerged from the ash and snow with a smoking horn.
Flurry Heart summoned her shield around herself. “Surrender or burn,” she said in Herzlander.
The griffon dropped the rifle and stepped back, looking at the alicorn with pure terror. The others followed her example and dropped their weapons.
Flurry nodded and glanced down the street, spotting another group of Republican soldiers. She flapped her wings and flew towards them to repeat her offer. Some probably won’t take it, Princess Flurry Heart admitted to herself, but most will now.
The ashes fell and mixed with the snowflakes on the ground.
“What?” Flurry asked absently.
“They’re gathered at Weter Radio!” the radiomare shouted over to the alicorn. The unicorn was crouched behind a car, ducking under the bullets flying from the grocery store across the street. Her squad of four was with her, taking shelter from the storm of gunfire.
Flurry Heart stood in the middle of the street, looking very bored, with a flat shield in front of her. The bullets ricocheted off the shield and back into the store. Flurry could see the Republicans through the transparent shield; they had taken up defensive positions along the aisles, using the store shelves for makeshift barricades. There couldn’t have been more than twenty or thirty of the griffons.
“Who’s at Weter Radio?” Flurry called over her shoulder. She extended the shield slightly to cover the entire front of the building.
The radiomare stuck her head out. “Everyone, Princess! The commanders!”
Flurry hummed and looked up at the sky. We’re making good time, but this could be going better, she reflected. “Is this the last group?” Flurry asked out loud.
Another mare stuck her head out from behind the car. “Yes!” she yelled. “They refused to surrender! We have the building surrounded from the back!”
The firing from the store stopped as the griffons inside realized it was useless to keep shooting at the shield. It now blocked the entire storefront.
Flurry seized the opening. “Surrender.”
“I’d rather surrender to Maar!” an old griffon shouted back from somewhere in the empty bread aisle. His balding head ducked out of sight again.
“I can arrange that,” Flurry replied. “Everypony pull back.” The squad of four ponies behind her immediately fled down the street. Flurry had done this routine enough times today for word to spread of what to do. She took her crown off and held it between her forelegs.
“We have ponies in here!” the old griffon threatened, but Flurry immediately called their bluff. If they had hostages, they would’ve shown them off the moment I landed out here.
A few gunshots came from the store, but this time it was one or two shooters, not the hail of gunfire from before. Flurry smirked and said, “You have ten seconds. Leave with raised claws.”
Flurry flapped her wings, hovering above the building and out of the immediate line of fire. She dispelled the shield and prepared a laser, charging her horn with a blue, crackling pulse of magic. The grocery store wasn’t quite in downtown Weter, but the store was on a crowded street. Flurry would fire through the roof and bring the store down, hopefully limiting the damage to the neighboring buildings. They hadn't been evacuated.
Her ears perked up as a fierce argument erupted in the store. Too many voices overlapped for her to pick out any words in Herzlander. There was one gunshot and the screech of a griffon, followed by a burst of submachinegun fire. A few scattered gunshots rang out afterward with screeches of pain, then the store fell silent.
Right as Flurry finished counting, an unarmed griffon climbed out of a broken window and into the street. Another griffon was draped over her back, bleeding heavily, judging from the large stain on their uniform. She raised her claws and looked up, spotting the hovering alicorn.
“We surrender! Please, my brother’s been shot!” the griffon spoke in Herzlander. A few other griffons emerged slowly, claws raised and balancing on their hind legs. The ponies swiftly moved in from down the street as the griffons raised their claws higher. Flurry only counted thirteen griffons.
Flurry snorted and landed hard in the street. Her horn winked out and she summoned her bubble shield. She waved a wing back at the squad of ponies and they halted and took cover along the sidewalk.
“Where are the others?” the alicorn asked in Herzlander. “Where’s the old buzzard?”
“Dead,” the female griffon replied quickly as she set her brother down. “He shot my brother for trying to surrender and I shot him. We shot the others that refused. Please, help my brother,” she begged.
Flurry scanned over the griffons; they were all young, some younger than her, including the bleeding griffon on the ground. His breathing was labored with a sickly wheezing sound. The red stain on his jacket was centered around his chest, and it was growing too fast. His eyes were already glazed over as he panted with ragged gasps.
Must’ve hit a lung.
Flurry sighed and waved the ponies forward. She dispelled her shield. “I can’t remove the bullet without causing more damage. The best I can do is a spell to slow the bleeding,” Flurry assessed in Herzlander.
“You can heal him! You have magic!” his sister protested.
“Magic doesn’t work like that,” Flurry shook her head and cast the spell. “It can’t close wounds instantly.” If it did, we wouldn’t have lost.
The griffon’s claws trembled and she struggled not to lean down to her brother. Flurry looked over to the radiomare, who was lining a few of the griffons up against the storefront. The other ponies were sweeping through the store. “Is there a medic in your squad?” Flurry asked in Equestrian.
“No, Princess,” the mare replied and shot a grimace at the dying griffon. “Even if we did, we’d prioritize our own.” She tugged on the straps of her bulky radio pack. “Do you want to radio for one?”
Flurry shook her head and turned back to the siblings. She gestured with a hoof for the sister to put her claws down. Flurry put the crown back on her head with her other hoof. The sister clasped claws with her brother and sat next to him as he lay dying in the street.
“I’m sorry,” Flurry apologized.
“No, you aren’t,” the sister muttered. “You were going to kill us all.”
The squad leader emerged from the store and slung her shotgun by her flank. “Nine dead Republicans in here!” she called out; she didn’t keep the mirth from her tone.
Flurry nodded in acknowledgement. The mare sidled up to the alicorn with a smug trot. “You know,” she said conversationally, “when I radioed for backup, I didn’t expect the Princess herself to show up.”
“I’ve been going block by block,” Flurry replied. “I haven’t been listening to the radio.”
“Well, with this block clear, we’ve taken downtown and the industrial district,” the leader said. “Most of the fighting’s done now.”
Flurry listened for a moment. She didn’t hear gunshots, but she heard screams a block away, distant shouting, and the slow wheezing of the griffon in front of her. “Take them to 17th Street,” Flurry ordered. “We’ve gathered most of the prisoners on this side there. Confiscate any weapons and supplies. We’ll need them.”
“Sure, Princess,” the mare bowed. She shot a grin at the crying sister with her brother. “I love it when they do our job for us,” she quipped.
“Maar take you,” the sister muttered, but kept her head down and cradled her brother.
Flurry flapped her wings and left without another word.
When Flurry Heart landed at the doors to the occupied Weter Radio building, she took a moment to shake the ash from her coat. Flurry stood on the sidewalk in the evening light, thoroughly exhausted from a long day of traveling. The guards, two crystal ponies, shouldered their weapons and saluted at the Princess.
Flurry was too tired to properly salute back. She yawned. Flurry’s spell devastated about three blocks in total, wiping out most of the hardcore Republican militias. Virtually every griffon in the city heard and felt the explosion from the Capitol Building, and word spread quickly about who did it. True to her guess, most of the Republicans in the city surrendered once the alicorn arrived at any fighting.
Most, but not all.
Flurry torched another two blocks of downtown in the early morning, those times with a simple oversized fireball. The Republicans formed a hardpoint around two of the anti-air stations. The fighting would be room to room in some of the buildings, and Flurry Heart knew it would be too costly. They didn’t see her coming. She teleported above the buildings, flung a gout of fire down, then teleported away.
Most Republicans fled or surrendered after two more demonstrations of her power. The ones that fled probably broke through the encirclement, but Flurry didn’t care about them. They would fly back home and take their stories with them.
Flurry entered the building and Cerie the former receptionist waved a claw in greeting. She was sitting atop her old desk, cradling a rifle. Her blue uniform was slightly ruffled and her cap was askew.
Gavin Stormfront, the host of Nova by Night and her former boss, was tied to the receptionist’s chair with a gag stuffed in his beak. He had been beaten badly.
“Hello, Little Flurry,” Cerie greeted in Aquileian.
“Cerie,” Flurry answered with a bob of her head. “How are things at the harbor?”
“Easy,” Cerie shrugged. “Many of Kemerskai’s thugs surrendered after the explosion this morning. We have the factories.”
“Good.” Flurry looked at Gavin as he started to wiggle. “What’s up with him?”
“He said he could be useful,” Cerie scoffed, “but a lot of his staff flew out on him, including his secretary. I caught him trying to leave,” the griffon smiled, “but he is so fat and flies so slow.”
“Does the radio tower work?” Flurry asked.
“It should,” Cerie answered. “I can help; many who stayed remember me.”
“Please,” Flurry requested and briefly bowed. “I appreciate it.”
“Of course!” Cerie blushed, then looked pensive. “What about him?” she gestured to Stormfront.
Gavin Stormfront tried to talk to Flurry, but the gag muffled anything he wanted to say.
Flurry considered the desperate, fat griffon. “I don’t need him,” Flurry stated. “He’s yours.”
Cerie clacked her beak. “Are you sure?” she asked and moved her rifle to poke Stormfront in the chest with the barrel. “I kept him for you. He made a good argument.”
“I’m sure he did,” Flurry replied, “and I think he would say whatever I wanted him to, then fly away the moment our backs were turned.”
Gavin struggled in the chair, protesting with muffled screams.
“I told you she would refuse,” Cerie laughed to her captive. “The Admiral and the others are on the second floor,” she spoke to Flurry Heart.
“Make it quick,” Flurry said. “I need the radio.”
Cerie nodded and Flurry left the room. As the alicorn left the stairwell on the second floor, the sharp crack of a rifle sounded below her. The guards outside the stairwell, a unicorn and a griffon, jumped. Flurry shrugged her wings.
“It’s fine,” Flurry dismissed. “Stormfront’s dead.”
“I, uh, I need to scan you, your highness,” the unicorn stammered.
“That’s a new title,” Flurry hummed and waited while the spell swept over her. The stallion looked more nervous afterwards.
“The commanders are in the lounge, second door on the left,” the griffon advised. His eyes never left her horn. Flurry smiled and passed between them. They shifted against the walls to avoid her wings.
The second floor was full of activity. Griffons and ponies of every tribe were pinning maps to a wall, or taking inventory. Several tables with radio packs were occupied by teams of griffons and unicorns making notes and updating the soldiers in the field.
As Flurry trotted by, conversations halted in her wake. Creatures stopped what they were doing to stare openly at the alicorn. When Flurry made eye contact with an earth pony carrying some folders between her teeth, the mare physically cringed back and dropped the folders.
Flurry stopped and lit her horn; her ears twitched as she heard several gasps. The alicorn picked up the folders in her magic and held them out to the mare. The mare fell to her flank and took the folders back with shaking hooves.
“Do you think I’m going to hurt you?” Flurry sighed.
The mare licked her lips to buy time. “No, Princess,” she said in a near whisper.
I don’t believe you. “Get back to work. We have a city to secure,” Flurry ordered in a loud voice, addressing the room, then trotted briskly to the lounge. Everyone bristled and rushed to fulfill her command.
Flurry passed through another checkpoint at the door to the lounge. The unicorn mare took two tries to cast the spell correctly while a pegasus fumbled with the griffon-style doorknob. Flurry avoided eye contact with them and entered.
Duskcrest, Dusty Mark, Spike, Thorax, Rainbow Dash, Fierté, and surprisingly Jacques hunched around a map with several folders and reams of paper. Spike was farther back and hunched over due to the low ceiling; he was the only one naked, except for two bandoliers. The rest were wearing mixed uniforms.
Flurry looked herself over. She was naked, lanky, and her feathers were askew. Her flank, still blank, was flecked with ash. Despite her crown, she looked the least professional out of all of them. As one, Flurry’s commanders looked up from the table and stared at the alicorn as the door closed behind her. They regarded her in silence, and Flurry stared back with pale blue eyes.
Thorax’s pupilless eyes were unreadable. Spike looked utterly crushed. Rainbow swallowed but stared back with hard eyes. Duskcrest and Dusty looked guarded. Fierté was openly horrified, but Jacques glanced at Flurry and looked back down at the map.
Flurry snorted. “You’re worse than everyone out there.” She trotted over to the table and wedged herself between Dusty and Thorax. It was a map of Weter, roughly marked with zones of control. There was a wide circle in downtown that looked like a coffee stain. There were two more black marks where she had destroyed the anti-air batteries. The Leisure District, the unofficial title for the mansions and high-class neighborhoods, was roughly scribbled over.
“What’s going on there?” Flurry asked and tapped her hoof on the scribbles.
“What have you done?” Spike asked in a low growl.
Flurry ignored him.
“Do you have any idea how many griffons you killed?” Spike continued.
“No,” Flurry shrugged. “Several thousand, at least,” she guessed.
“We don’t know,” Spike said, “because you didn’t leave any bodies. Your spell vaporized them.”
“Makes cleanup easier,” Flurry shrugged again.
Spike snarled and reached across the table, grabbing Flurry by her horn and hoisting her up to his muzzle. “You slaughtered thousands of griffons!” he growled. “Good, honest citizens. Griffons that had never done a thing to hurt you.”
“Oh, like all-out war wasn’t going to kill any civilians,” Flurry scoffed. Her rear hooves dragged on the table while she dangled by her horn. “You think shelling and encircling Weter would’ve been bloodless?”
“You don’t get to march in here and pretend this is what we agreed to,” Spike replied. “Nova Griffonians will never forgive you for this.”
“They wouldn’t have loved me anyway,” Flurry retorted. “Put me down, Uncle Spike.”
“You don’t get to call me that,” he spat back with a plume of smoke.
Flurry punched him in the chest. Spike stumbled back and released her. Flurry landed on four hooves on the table and scattered some of the papers. Her horn ignited and she cast a silencing spell on the room.
“I can melt ships at sea and kill thousands and that’s fine!” Flurry whinnied. She whirled around the table as she spoke, looking everyone in the eye. “I can blast planes out of the sky and melt landing crafts, but this is too far!” she exclaimed. “It’s too far to end the war in a day!”
“There’s a difference between outright murder and war,” Dusty said.
“War is cruelty,” Flurry replied. She glared down at Dusty. “You told me this morning that we couldn’t win this.”
“And you said you killed Blackpeak last night,” Dusty added. “We found his body in his mansion. He shot himself.”
“I helped him along,” Flurry admitted. “I knew his death needed to happen once the attacks started to break their morale.”
Flurry looked over at Duskcrest. “You said it yourself, most of his militias were fighting for money. Resistance collapsed and Kemerskai brought his entire party into Weter to celebrate. All of them in one place.”
“You planned this,” Thorax muttered. “All of it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?” Spike pleaded. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Why should I?” Flurry answered. “So you could talk me out of it? So you could tell me how wrong it was to kill all of the Republican leadership in one sweep?”
She twisted around on the table. One of her hooves landed on the black circle on the map.
“I saw the looks,” Flurry accused. “When I confessed to ordering Sunglider tortured, I saw how everyone looked at me, like I was some sort of monster."
She turned to Spike. "What would you have done if I told you I was going to sneak into Blackpeak’s house and kill him?"
Then Duskcrest. "What would you have done if I said I would kill Kemerskai and all of his leaders?"
Then Dusty. "Would you have followed me? Who would have agreed?”
“They’re all afraid of you,” Thorax said. “Ponies and griffons out there, they’re all afraid.”
“How many?” Flurry asked. She shuffled through the scattered papers. “How many losses today? How many have we lost?”
“Under two thousand,” Spike supplied. “Killed or wounded. Most wounded.”
“How many did we expect to lose?” Flurry snapped. “No one told me that number.”
Spike looked away from her. No one else spoke up.
“I don’t care if they’re afraid. As long as they’re alive to be afraid,” Flurry finished.
“You’re lucky I wasn’t there,” Thorax hissed. “You lied to everyone at the meeting.”
“You told me this morning that you were going to tell Kemerskai to surrender,” Dusty accused.
“I offered it,” Flurry countered. “He didn’t take it.”
“You were always going to kill him,” Thorax flared his wings and bared his fangs at Flurry. “Don’t lie to yourself.”
“Of course I was going to kill him,” Flurry snapped back and glared at Dusty. “You said it yourself at the meeting; he’d be more trouble as a prisoner!”
Dusty reared back.
“I didn’t run from my home just to serve another Chrysalis!” Thorax hissed.
“She won,” Flurry snarled and stared down at the changeling with extended wings. “She beat us and she beat you. If you had any balls, you would have blown her up instead of running to my mother. Maybe your brother would still be alive.”
Flurry immediately regretted saying it. Thorax flinched back at her words as if he was physically struck and slumped against the table. He curled his head to his chest. Flurry’s lip trembled, but she pressed through her guilt. “We can’t afford a long war. We need to get the factories and anti-air batteries running.”
“We lost two anti-air batteries downtown,” Duskcrest said with a grimace. “Some of the guns in the Leisure District aren’t operational.”
Flurry hopped off the table. “What’s happening there?” she repeated at a normal volume.
“Some of the Republicans retreated there and clashed with the remnants of Blackpeak’s griffons,” Duskcrest summarized, pointing a claw at the area. “All of the wealthy griffs are dead or scattered. We’re having a hard time restoring order.”
“A lot of our militias are looting themselves,” Dusty added.
“Let them,” Flurry shrugged. “No rape or murder, but we’re going to need all the gold and silver we can get. I’m sure a lot of the mansions are hoarding food as well.”
“That’s not going to endear the Nova Griffonians to us,” Duskcrest remarked.
“I don’t care about the rich ones, but the everday griffon will appreciate food distribution,” Flurry countered. “The High Hotel is still intact. Open it up for housing.”
“The owner is a surly bird. He won’t agree to that.”
“Shoot him,” Flurry stated simply.
Duskcrest clacked his beak.
Flurry turned to Rainbow. “How’s the sky?”
“Clear of planes,” Rainbow said slowly. “The Reich’s not big on day bombing, but the snow will clear during the night. We don’t have enough fuel or planes to cover all of Nova Griffonia.”
“Only cover the cities that have surrendered or are garrisoned by our forces,” Flurry answered. “I’ll cover Weter tonight.”
“Alone?” Rainbow managed a laugh.
Flurry gave her a look and rolled her eyes. She tapped her horn. “I can blow up a city almost as well as I can shield it. The Republicans have planes too. Are we fighting?”
Rainbow stopped laughing and her metal wing twitched. “No, we took most of the airfields by surprise. We caught Skywatch and a few of Nova Griffonians, but Air Command was at the Capitol.”
“I didn’t see them,” Flurry shrugged. “Who else was there?”
“You are the only survivor, Little Flurry,” Jacques answered quietly. “You tell us.”
“Kemerskai, Silverwing, Redtail, Ironclaw, a lot of the lower officers,” Flurry summarized. "I didn't get a good look at the whole building."
“There are many griffons missing,” Jacques remarked doubtfully. “It will take months to get a full account.”
“Republican command has completely collapsed in the north,” Dusty sighed. “We’ve pushed them to the coast, but the towns are fortified. Barrel Roller and Heartsong need reinforcements to take them. There are reports of fighting between the Nova Griffonians and the Republicans, but we can’t verify them.”
“The south is ours,” Fierté added. “We’ve taken every city along the coast. From the Equestrian border to Weter, we have total control.”
"We have the frontier and the mountains," Duskcrest finished.
“The Reich will take advantage of our infighting,” Jacques warned. “We must take the north quickly.”
“We need to shift reinforcements to the border,” Dusty countered. “Chrysalis might launch an attack before winter hits.”
“The border,” Flurry interrupted. “The border is the priority. I’ll make an announcement on the radio. Every city has until dawn tomorrow to surrender, or the city falls.”
“We need reinforcements,” Dusty reminded the alicorn. “The Herzlanders are up there, and they’re fierce fighters, but it’s not enough.”
“I’ll deal with it,” Flurry said casually. “How many prisoners do we have in Weter?”
There was a moment of silence.
“Several thousand,” Duskcrest finally answered with a worried expression.
Spike leaned forward and uncrossed his arms.
“Confiscate their weapons and supplies. Release them and tell them to go home.”
Spike sighed in relief.
“Is that wise?” Jacques asked. “Surely, they have caches and stockpiles. We’ll just be returning soldiers to fight us.”
“We don’t have the time or supplies ourselves to deal with thousands of prisoners,” Flurry stated. “We let them go, and they’ll spread the word about what happened in Weter. They know they can’t fight me.”
“You should not count on a griffon to be rational,” Jacques laughed. “We are creatures of chaos.”
“Maar lover,” Fierté muttered to Jacques reproachfully.
“I’m not,” Flurry replied. “I’ve already seen some infighting. If it comes between a last stand and keeping their families alive, let’s see what they choose.”
There was a moment of silence as everyone processed Flurry's brutal logic.
“Some will choose to fight,” Duskcrest warned.
“And I’ll deal with them,” Flurry repeated. “Dawn tomorrow. Anything else?”
“There was a prison break last night,” Fierté said sulkily. “Admiral Hellcrest escaped, maybe a few others.”
“Not many,” Flurry shrugged. “I broke him out.”
Fierté gaped at Flurry with an open beak. “Why!?” she finally squawked with ruffled feathers. “Why in Maar’s name would you let him go!?” She slammed a claw on the table.
“I needed him to deliver a letter to Grover,” Flurry said patiently. “He has until the end of the month to withdraw his fleet and air force.”
“That’s in six days,” Spike said doubtfully. “What happens if he doesn’t?”
“I fly to Griffenheim and burn it down,” Flurry revealed.
Everyone looked at each other with weary eyes. Thorax remained slumped against the table, and Flurry avoided looking at him.
“The Kaiser can’t back down from a challenge like that,” Jacques remarked with a snap of his claw. “Ask any of the Herzlanders.”
“That’s why it’s a letter that only he can read,” Flurry replied. “I won’t call him out in public.”
Jacques hummed. “That’s a long flight, one way. Griffenheim has strong anti-air defenses.” He waved a claw above his head like it was a little bird. He dropped his claw to the table with a loud slap. “You’ll be shot down.”
“I doubt they’re rated for an alicorn.”
“You won’t return,” Jacques said bluntly.
“Probably not,” Flurry admitted. “I’ll make sure to kill him before I die.”
Jacques flicked his wings and looked down at the map.
Spike licked his lips and leaned away from the table.
“I know it's not a great plan," Flurry muttered, "but we can't fight the Reich and Chrysalis. I’m going to make a radio address." She gestured with her horn towards the glowing doors. “Focus on getting the Republican prisoners released and don’t talk about the letter,” she stated and removed the spell.
“Oh,” Flurry turned to Rainbow with a whicker, “shoot Skywatch and any of the useless Republicans in the air force. They might not have been important enough to be at the meeting, but we don’t need them. We’ll talk about the new government tomorrow, after I’m done.”
Rainbow flinched, but gave a slow shrug with her wings. “Okay.”
As Flurry reached the door, she hesitated and turned her head back to Thorax. The changeling was still slumped at the table. “Thorax, can I see you on the roof after dark?”
Thorax didn’t reply.
Flurry Heart stood at the door and waited. She stood silently for nearly a minute.
“Yeah,” the changeling said softly.
Flurry left the room without another word.
In the radio room, Flurry adjusted her awkward headpiece and looked at the crown on the desk in front of her, just in front of the microphone. She turned to Cerie and a few other griffons in the sound room. Cerie nodded through the window and motioned for Flurry Heart to start. The red light flickered on above the window to the sound studio.
Flurry took a breath and settled her wings. “Good evening,” she began. “Many of you have heard my voice, but my name is Flurry Heart. I am the daughter of Shining Armor and Mi Amore Cadenza of the Crystal Empire. I am broadcasting from Weter Radio.
“For many years, I have lived in Nova Griffonia under the talon of Triton Blackpeak. I witnessed how he grew rich on the suffering of poor griffons and ponies alike. I told my ponies to vote for him because the alternative was Alexander Kemerskai, who spoke hate for us instead of simple apathy. I told myself that it was for the best.
“Several weeks ago, I discovered that Triton Blackpeak planned to offer Queen Chrysalis hegemony over Nova Griffonia after he cancelled the elections. He was desperate to stay in power. I allied with Alexander Kemerskai to stop his plans, only to realize that Kemerskai planned to cede the frontier to Chrysalis after seizing power.
“It is clear that the Republic of Nova Griffonia is irredeemably corrupt. It was founded on the promises of liberty and equality, but I have seen little of those virtues while living in a small, cramped ghetto. Votes are bought and sold on vague promises and outright lies.
“The government has failed. It has failed to provide for the griffons of the frontier. It has failed to provide for the refugees it accepted from Griffonia and Equestria. It has offered only low pay, long shifts, and early deaths from easily preventable diseases and overwork.”
Flurry took another deep breath and glanced at her crown.
“Before any griffon ever settled here, this land was territory of the Crystal Empire. The Empire once stretched across the entire north, but fell to time and the wicked magic of King Sombra. When it returned after a thousand years, the Crystal Empire was a hollow shell, just one city in a frozen wasteland. But the crystal ponies within it were determined to reclaim their home. They were my mother's subjects, and she believed in their dream.
“With the Crystal Empire’s return came the discovery of oil in the frozen plains and rare minerals in the Crystal Mountains. It was my parent’s hope to rebuild the north as a haven of acceptance and progress. They encouraged immigration from every country. My mother believed love could blossom between anyone. The Changelings crushed that hope, and replaced it with frozen labor camps.
“My mother was heir to the Empresses of the old Crystal Empire and the fallen Princess Amore. As the daughter of Princess Mi Amore Cadenza and the last of the line of the Amore dynasty, I lay claim to the lands of Nova Griffonia, by blood and birthright. The government of Nova Griffonia is henceforth dissolved. As of now, this territory is once again the Crystal Empire, and I am your Princess.”
Flurry risked a glance at Cerie and the griffons in the sound booth. Cerie offered a small nod.
“I swear, here and now, that I will defend this land and my subjects with my life. I already have, for many months, fought as a pilot against the Reich and won great victories. For many years before that, I have traveled the frontier and offered help with my magic for your injuries and illnesses. But it was never enough.
“Nova Griffonia needed to change, and that change unfortunately required bloodshed. I have done my best to minimize casualties today, even if it required horrific methods. For many of you, especially my griffons, it is my hope that your lives will now only improve. I am already taking steps to correct the unequal distribution of wealth and power set in place by Triton Blackpeak and his corrupt regime. Many of you do not recognize my claim and will not call me Princess. That's fine. I don’t care if you bow to me.
"But we are at war, and war demands unity. All hostile militias are ordered to stand down by dawn tomorrow and surrender to my forces. If you do so, you will pick your weapons back up and defend your homes under my leadership. I am offering blanket amnesty to any griffon that wishes to take it. We will face the Reich and Queen Chrysalis together.”
Flurry paused.
“If you do not, I will consider your cities in rebellion. I cannot allow the Reich free landing zones, nor can we afford to be divided. I will deal with any rebellions personally. I have ordered the griffons we’ve taken prisoner in Weter to be released. They are to return home. I urge any reluctant or angry griffon to listen to their stories about what happened here.”
Flurry’s tone hardened and she switched to Herzlander.
“This is a message to the Republican militias fortifying the north. Triton Blackpeak is dead. Alexander Kemerskai, Schnabel Sunglider, and the rest of the Republican leadership is dead, by my hooves and horn. You have no one to turn to and nowhere to fly. If you value the lives of your friends and families, you will peacefully surrender tonight. If you have not surrendered by tomorrow morning, I will fly to your cities in the dawn’s early light and raze them to the ground. There is nothing you can do to stop me.”
Flurry switched back to Equestrian and relaxed her tone.
“The anti-air defenses of Weter will not be functional tonight. You may disregard the curfew on lighting, but I request that my subjects stay safe and indoors until the city is completely under our control. I will be personally shielding the city."
Flurry jerked her hoof across her throat. The red light switched off and Cerie motioned for the alicorn to remove the headset. Flurry exhaled on the stool and blinked slowly. She picked the crown up in her hooves and turned it over, watching the reflection of her pale eyes in the gold. Cerie stuck her head through the door.
“You didn’t want to sign off, Princess?” she asked in Aquileian.
“Too long,” Flurry muttered in reply. “What should I say? 'This was Flurry Heart, Princess of the Crystal Empire, Princess of Equestria, and Princess of Ponies?'” She stuck her tongue out. “Sends the wrong message.”
“Are you Princess of Griffons now?” Cerie asked. “Am I your subject?”
“You live here, so yes,” Flurry replied lightly. “I don’t know if I can claim that title. Isn’t Grover the Kaiser of Griffonkind or something?”
“What if I don’t want to be your subject?” Cerie needled.
“You’re still my subject.”
“What if I take up my rifle and call you a whore?” Cerie said flippantly. She leaned against the doorway and scuffed her claws on the carpeting.
Flurry chuckled and stood up. “You can call me what you want,” the alicorn allowed, “but I can’t let you fly about shooting at my ponies. I’ll have to stop you.”
Cerie clacked her beak. “An improvement over Vivienne Discret,” she admitted. “I think you’ll do fine. Most Aquileians will just swear at you if they’re angry about it.”
“I don't know about that. I lived in Aquileia,” Flurry reminded her. “The favorite game with the Aquileian foals was ‘The Evil King and the Republicans;’ they changed the title to ‘Evil Queen’ for me. It usually ended with a pillow case on my head, kneeling against a soapbox while somepony smacked me with a wooden sword. Sometimes I got to do it instead, but everypony complained I didn’t sound mean enough.”
“Sounds like Aquileia,” Cerie said wistfully. “Didn’t getting whacked with a wooden sword hurt?”
“Alicorn,” Flurry shrugged. “I had a headache for a few days the time a sword broke over my head, but the filly was very sorry about it and I didn’t tell my dad.”
Cerie laughed and stepped aside.
“Thank you for your help,” Flurry said as she brushed past her.
“Thank you for caring about me,” Cerie said sincerely. “The docks were hard work, but better than being under Gavin.”
Flurry Heart smiled and trotted through the building to the roof. Like most griffon architecture, the roof and top floor was the nicest part of the building. The top floor was another lounge, decorated with ugly pink curtains and a mini-bar. A bed was in one of the side rooms with dirty sheets. Flurry wrinkled her nose and ignored it to go to the roof. She waved a hoof at the patrolling guards along the edge and stopped under the large radio antenna. It was almost dusk. The lights were going out throughout the city, despite her radio address.
“Have the prisoners been let go?” she called over to one of the guards.
“I saw a couple flocks of griffons flying north an hour ago, Princess,” the griffon guard called back. “That was the last of them.”
Flurry set her crown down on the roof and braced her hooves. “Don’t look at my horn!” she shouted in warning as her horn burned bright blue. Flurry wrenched her head to the sky with a shout and released the spell.
A transparent, bright blue plate appeared over Weter; it shimmered and crackled with energy. Arcs of lightning flashed across the surface. Flurry’s horn flared as she adjusted the size. The plate slowly bent inwards and formed an umbrella over the city. Once the shield stabilized, Flurry flew up to her shield and looked down at Weter.
I can never understand how my father did this from the ground.
The shield extended downwards to form a proper bubble around Weter. It was lopsided due to the harbor and coastline. She stopped the shield before the edges touched the ground and left about a hundred hooves worth of open space.
Flurry briefly flew in a circle around the top and checked to make sure the edges wouldn’t pass through any buildings on the outskirts; she made minor adjustments as her horn flared and dimmed. Satisfied, she sent one last, great pulse of energy across the shield and extended it to the ground. In the harbor, the shield stopped just below the water line. It was a little uneven, but perfectly functional for the night.
Flurry landed and picked her crown off the roof. She observed her work with a weary smile.
One of the griffons broke his patrol to approach her. “Are we, uh, are we stuck in here?” he asked and fluttered his wings nervously.
Flurry considered her answer. “Yes.” She placed the crown back on her head.
“Oh,” he clacked his beak. “That’s fine,” he offered hurriedly with a raised claw.
“The shield needs to be tough to withstand bombs,” Flurry explained and shook her mane. “I can’t make it weak enough for anyone to fly through. A shield like that will only keep out wind or rain.”
“Right,” the griffon answered slowly. He has no clue what I'm talking about, Flurry realized.
“If you really need to leave,” Flurry sighed. “You can swim under the edge by the harbor. Hold your breath.”
“I’m good,” the griffon waved his claws. “Thanks, Princess!”
A few of the other guards snickered when he flew back to the patrol.
I should definitely talk about the shield spell tomorrow night, Flurry noted to herself.
The Reich bombers arrived an hour after sunset. Flurry noticed their shadows passing under the high clouds.
They absolutely pounded the shield. If Grover or the Reichsarmee heard her radio address, they seemingly took it as a challenge to test her shield spell. Orange flashes and fireballs sprayed across the surface of the bubble roughly every minute. The explosions lit up the city below the shield, and the blasts reverberated downwards with dull roars mixed with the chimes and crackles of her magic.
The bombers would turn back to the east when depleted, then new bombers would appear and continue the process. Flurry’s shield made a compelling, bright blue target in the dark. The shield visibly shuddered when waves of bombs crashed down on it at once, and a great reverb sounded through the city like a gong.
The guards stared up transfixed at the sight, like a firework show from Tartarus. The night shift of bat ponies arrived to replace them, but the griffons and ponies ended up standing together on the roof, staring upwards in awe. One griffon put on a pair of sunglasses to avoid squinting. A few times, both bat pony and griffon would look over nervously at Flurry Heart.
Flurry dragged a cushioned chair out from the top floor and slouched in it on the roof, waiting to see if the shield needed to be reinforced. Her horn vibrated when the bombers coordinated and dropped their deadly cargo all at once, but the alicorn didn’t get a nosebleed. She fell asleep to the vibrations from her horn and snored louder than the dull roars of the bombs above her.
That reassured the guards more than anything the Princess could ever tell them.
“Flurry…” a dual-toned voice whispered softly next to her ear.
Flurry Heart snorted in her sleep.
“Flurry,” the voice said louder and the alicorn felt a nudge.
Flurry batted the hoof away and rolled over, snuggling into the chair.
“Flurry!” the voice hissed in her ear.
Flurry Heart jolted awake. With pinned-back ears and wide eyes, she lurched backwards in the chair and tipped it over. The alicorn sprawled across the rooftop with flailing wings, hacking up spit.
Thorax leaned over the side of the overturned chair. “Are you all right?” he asked calmly.
“What,” Flurry coughed and wiped a hoof across her muzzle, “what are you doing here?” Her hoof came back crusty with dried drool and she grimaced.
“You wanted to see me,” Thorax said. “We have some time before another wave hits, at least judging by the radar."
“I wanted to see you hours ago,” Flurry protested and gathered her legs under herself to stand up.
“I’ve been here for hours,” Thorax replied. “I wanted to let you sleep.”
Flurry blinked crust from her eyes and looked up to check her shield. It was still in place, shimmering blue in the city lights.
Lights? Flurry paused. She turned to gaze across the rooftop at downtown Weter. The High Hotel was fully lit up, along with most of downtown. There were a few conspicuous absences, the crater was dark, but the city seemed more alive than it had been in weeks.
Flurry's ears twitched and she gasped at the sounds of partying in the streets below. She trotted to the edge and Murky motioned for her to look, setting down his rifle.
“Evenin’ Princess,” the bat pony stallion drawled. “Mostly our lot, but some Nova Griffs have joined in. Need an excuse to party.”
Flurry stared down at the mass of creatures in the street. Ponies and griffons mingled together, daring the Reich to bomb them. It looked like a music store had been ransacked; a few of the griffons had started an impromptu band that missed every other note.
“Some of the militias liberated a couple of hidden stores of alcohol from the mansions,” Thorax explained. “We’re sharing it with the citizens for the night. The shield seems to be keeping everyone awake.”
“We shouldn’t be drinking,” Flurry yawned. “Bad things happen. The city’s occupied.”
“Not everyone,” Thorax replied. “The armories and night guards are staying out of it. There’ll be some violence, but this will build more goodwill than it hurts. The shield helps.”
“I’ve sworn not to drink a drop,” Murky volunteered with tortured eyes. “My sisters are down there somewhere, partyin’ it up.”
Flurry leaned over and nuzzled the bat pony. “Thank you for your sacrifice,” she said sarcastically.
Murky blushed and waved a leathery wing. “Worth it, now they'll be jealous.”
Flurry walked back with Thorax and righted the chair in her magic. She motioned for Thorax to sit in it with a foreleg, and she sat on the hard roof across from him. Thorax sat down with a chittering sigh. His brown uniform was unbuttoned and hung loosely around his body. He looked thin.
He always looks thin.
Adoptive uncle and alicorn stared at each other for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” Flurry said. “I shouldn’t have said that at the meeting. It was cruel.”
“It’s fine,” the changeling offered.
“No, it’s not,” Flurry said harshly. “You’re not a coward. You’re the bravest person I know. It was cruel and selfish and I didn’t mean it.”
“You did,” Thorax said softly.
Flurry recoiled. “No,” she repeated, “I was just angry and tired. I didn’t mean it.”
“You did,” Thorax repeated himself. “You were speaking from the heart. You meant it.”
“No!” Flurry nickered and stamped a front hoof. “I didn’t!”
Thorax smiled sadly. “I’m a changeling. I know when someone is telling the truth.”
Flurry shook her head in denial and opened her mouth.
“Can I speak?” Thorax interrupted.
Flurry snapped her mouth shut and glared at Thorax, then looked away, ashamed.
“It’s alright,” Thorax said mildly. “Some of the other changelings talked about killing her in the early days." He settled into the chair and looked across the skyline. "This was just after I met you, after Chrysalis failed at your parent’s wedding. I came back and saw how she had brought guns and tanks from Griffonia. She was determined to use force since subtlety failed.
“I never considered killing her,” Thorax admitted. “I thought if I convinced enough changelings to share and work together, we could unite and overthrow her. Sometimes I even thought she would change her mind.”
Flurry held her tongue. Thorax could tell.
“I know,” Thorax said with a sad laugh. “It was stupid, but I didn’t want to kill her. If we killed her to seize power, what made us any different from her? She brought down any queen that rose up to challenge her. I wanted to be different.”
“I understand,” Flurry said.
“No,” Thorax answered sharply. “You were wrong about one thing. My brother wouldn’t have survived. I would’ve had to kill him with Chrysalis.”
Flurry blinked. “Your brother loved you. You said he died for you!” she exclaimed.
“Pharynx was her biggest supporter,” Thorax continued. “He loved terrorizing ponies; he loved draining them. He loved the new tanks. I know he would’ve tried to stop me. Even if I somehow avoided killing him, he would have fought me afterwards in her memory. If I killed her, I needed to kill him too, and all the other changelings that supported her.”
Thorax sighed. “So, I waited. I spread leaflets and infiltrated the army and worked to subvert Chrysalis’ commands and modernization. I waited until her spies and infiltrators burst in and executed most of us. I’ve always wondered what Pharynx would’ve done if I had been caught with the others.”
“Your brother loved you,” Flurry repeated.
“And I loved him," Thorax said, ashamed. "Because I did, thousands of changelings died.”
“What?”
“I made up an excuse, Flurry," the changeling lectured. "I said to myself that I would be no better than her, but every time I thought about trying to kill Chrysalis, I was really thinking about my brother. I was afraid to fight him. I was afraid he would die. I could have started a war. I could have tried to kill her before all of this.”
“The war isn’t your fault,” Flurry insisted.
“It’s Chrysalis’ fault,” Thorax hissed, then closed his eyes, “but my brother died anyway. And he ended up dying for me.”
Flurry opened her mouth to reply and reassure him, but her mother’s voice echoed in her ears. Love is the death of duty, Flurry. She scooched across the roof and leaned against Thorax, wrapping her wings around the chair.
“You’ll have to kill her,” Thorax muttered as Flurry’s muzzle bent his head fin aside.
“Chrysalis?” Flurry guessed.
“It won’t end until you do,” Thorax whispered. “She’ll come after you now. You'll have to kill her and all the changelings that enabled her war machine.”
“If Grover accepts the ceasefire, we’ll move south. We’ll take back the Empire.”
Thorax nuzzled her back. “I know you offered Grover something else,” he whispered. “You were holding something back.”
“I did,” Flurry admitted.
“What was it?” Thorax pressed.
“Nothing."
The young alicorn closed her eyes.
“Everything,” she amended.
“Will you tell me?”
“Only if he accepts. It won’t matter if he doesn’t.”
Thorax hummed with a low chitter and hugged her back. “Can I ask about Falx?”
Flurry kept her eyes closed and swallowed. “I was wondering when you would,” she managed.
“The others reported back this morning; they setup some good ambushes in the north. I know he was at the Capitol.”
“I didn’t kill him,” Flurry said urgently. She opened her eyes and stared at Thorax.
Thorax answered neutrally, "Okay."
“I didn’t,” Flurry insisted. She twisted her head to look him in the eye and kept speaking in a jumbled rush of words. “I gave him time to get out, but Kemerskai started yelling and Falx yelled back and revealed himself and Kemerskai shot him." Thorax stared at her, unblinking.
"I gave him time," Flurry said again. "I gave him time to get out. I was going to wait.” She wrapped a wing around the top of the chair as the words tumbled out.
“Okay, Flurry,” Thorax said after a moment.
“You believe me?” Flurry asked desperately.
“Yes, I’m a changeling. I believe you.”
The bombing resumed above them, but the alicorn and the changeling stayed together on the roof. Flurry relaxed and leaned on the chair again. The roof lit up in a dull glow from the explosions above them.
“Do you know why everyone is afraid of you?” Thorax asked suddenly. “Dusty and Duskcrest and even Spike?”
“Because I’m violent and powerful,” Flurry muttered. “I know why."
“They’re afraid of the world you’re going to create,” Thorax mumbled into her ear.
Flurry didn’t know what to say to that.
“I don’t want to live in a world where murdering a griffon in his home saved lives,” Thorax admitted, “or where blowing up a building ended a war before it ever started."
“We don’t get to choose what world we live in,” Flurry answered.
“No, but we all remember a kinder world,” Thorax yawned.
“I don't. I barely remember what Equestria was like. I remember the war."
“I know,” Thorax whispered. “You’re proof that things won’t go back to the way they were. They can’t go back. No matter how much we want them to.”
Flurry horn vibrated as another carpet bombing occurred above them. She heard distant cheering from the street and the roof lit up again in a dull orange glow.
“Uncle?” Flurry asked softly. “Are you afraid of me?”
Thorax didn’t reply.
Flurry stepped back. The changeling’s eyes were closed; he was breathing deeply, asleep in the chair. Flurry carefully walked away. She offered her crown to Murky as he checked the skyline for incoming fliers.
“You’re on crown duty,” Flurry stated bluntly. “I need to check the shield. I’ll be back shortly.”
Murky blinked and accepted the crown with careful hooves. “Let me scrape an escort together for ya, Princess,” he urged and waved to the other patrols.
“I’ll be quick. They won’t be able to keep up.” Flurry flared her wings and leapt off the side of the roof, catching an updraft and flying up to the shield. She flew under the explosions and inspected where the magic crackled and chimed due to the impacts. The shield held fine; Flurry just wanted to fly.
What world would I create? Flurry wondered with a snort. A world where we weren't enslaved.
As she drifted over the Leisure District, her nose picked up the smell of smoke. A fire would be trouble under the shield. The smoke would gather at the top and Flurry’s shield wasn’t that permeable. She dove down towards the smoke and recognized the mansion.
Blackpeak, she thought with a smirk, then her stomach dropped.
His daughter.
Flurry accelerated the dive and pulled up short before the mansion. The gate at the end of the driveway had been knocked aside and the fountain’s stone base was shattered. There were puddles all over the front lawn.
The mansion was aflame. Smoke poured from the second story windows and balconies as the first floor burned. The fire was spreading quickly. Flurry galloped up the driveway, charging a spell. She stopped at the open front doors and reared back from the intensity of the flames. Flurry grit her teeth and fired a wave of frost from her horn that overwhelmed the tongues of fire in the lobby.
Smoke poured out from the doorway; Flurry crouched low and coughed, flapping her wings to clear the air. Her powerful wing beats made an air pocket. Guess I should be more thankful for them. She entered the charred house and cast another wave of frost at the remaining fires in the entryway, then went room to room, horn chilled with ice.
The first floor was a total loss. The building had been looted and charred. Some of the rooms looked like they were about to collapse. Flurry didn’t want to risk the burnt staircase and flew to the second floor. She continued to cast low intensity frost spells on each room.
Flurry entered the study. The floor was charred, but the bodies had been removed. She carefully moved down the hallway and stopped at the door across from Blackpeak’s bedroom.
"Hello?" she called out and struggled to think. What was her name? She placed a hoof on the closed door, didn’t feel any heat, then kicked it open.
The bedroom had been ransacked, but it definitely belonged to a preteen cub. The wallpaper was too flowery, even when blackened from smoke. The small bed in the corner was overturned, but the room was empty and looted. Flurry crossed the hallway and kicked open Blackpeak’s bedroom to find it in a similar state. Flurry turned to leave to check the other rooms, but heard distant shouting from the open balcony. She lit her horn and pulled back the smoke-stained curtains.
Blackpeak’s balcony had a view of his garden, lovingly cultivated by a professional team of poorly-paid earth ponies with a few exotic trees. About a dozen ponies stood beside one tree, laughing and drinking. A few scattered crates of alcohol and valuables were around them.
One small body dangled from a low branch.
Flurry dropped down from the balcony and slowly trotted over. The more sober ponies noticed her and shouted a warning, bracing their rifles against their hooves. Flurry summoned a small shield and approached with wings outstretched.
“Heh, it’s the Princess!” one pegasus stallion slurred and lowered his rifle.
A ragged cheer went up.
“Princess!”
“Princess Flurry!”
“Princesh!”
Flurry ignored them and stopped before the tree. The body swinging on a low branch was the griffon she saw in the hallway. The one she left behind without a mother and father, alone in a ransacked house. Her eyes bulged from the rope; her nightdress was soiled and stained. It was the same one Flurry remembered her wearing.
“Nasty bit o’ work,” a rough accent offered from behind her. Flurry shifted her head slowly and regarded a red earth pony in a gray uniform. The mare, tall and with an easy grin, jerked her head towards the tree and her green mowhawk swayed in the wind.
“You did this?” Flurry asked and dropped the shield.
“Yep,” the mare admitted, totally unashamed. “Little git slashed Reedy real good over some jewelry. We didn’t even notice her in the rafters.” The mare turned towards the group and barked, “Reedy, show the Princess your war wound!”
Reedy, the drunken pegasus stallion, waved a lightly bandaged foreleg. The mare laughed and turned back to Flurry.
“Name’s Red Dawn,” she offered. “We’re out of New Stalliongrad.” She coughed with a raised hoof and looked to the side. “Awful sorry about the effigies and whatnot over the years. We heard your speech. Nova Griffonia needs some wealth redistribution, and you’re not exactly the old Princesses.”
“You hanged a cub,” Flurry stated flatly.
“Blackpeak’s cub,” Red Dawn corrected with a small frown. “Little git got more than any of us ever did. My little fillies live in a hovel and I worked in the mines in the frontier ever since the Sisters left us.”
“I said no murder,” the alicorn muttered and looked back at the tree.
“We didn’t come here to murder her,” Red Dawn protested, offended, “but she’s got to be punished for cutting up Reedy. Fair’s fair, and she owes all of us something anyway.”
“So you killed her and burnt down her house?”
Red Dawn approached the alicorn. She was tall enough to meet her eyes evenly. “Come on,” Red Dawn snorted and waved a foreleg, “all those rich gits have it coming, just like the ones you killed downtown.”
Flurry smelled her breath. It didn’t smell of alcohol. She did this completely sober.
“The fire was a bit much, and I get that you put it out,” Red Dawn continued, oblivious. “Most of the mares are drunk, even the stallions joined in.”
A jeer came from the assorted militia behind them.
Flurry's lip twitched. “You have a filly, right?”
“Yep,” the mare boasted. “I got two of them with a lazy stallion back in New Stalliongrad."
“And you were fine with hanging a filly from a tree over a piece of jewelry.” Flurry's tail jittered.
“A cub,” Red Dawn frowned.
“I thought you believed in class divides, not race divides,” Flurry admonished.
Red Dawn raised a brow and laughed. “Fair, but little cub there had a great life, far better than anypony here. I’m sure she thought she was better than you, Princess.”
“Until her parents died last night,” Flurry replied.
Red Dawn shrugged. “With parents like Blackpeak and his crow, I'm certain she would’ve turned out rotten like them.”
Flurry looked back up at the corpse. She was wearing a plain cotton shirt. I don't remember her name. She turned her pale blue eyes back to Red Dawn.
“You’re right,” Flurry shrugged with small grin. “You don’t mind sharing the loot with everyone, right?”
“Nah,” Red Dawn said easily and waved a hoof, “we’re about to meet up with the others. Got a collection going, but I can’t guarantee someponies won’t walk off with a few pieces for themselves or their families.”
“That’s fine,” Flurry took a step forward. “I expected that.”
“Heh, I’m glad,” Red Dawn smiled sincerely. "You're not so bad, Princess."
Flurry offered her hoof. “I’m glad I met you.”
“I’m glad I met a Princess that didn’t have a stick up her ass,” Red Dawn chuckled and lifted her foreleg to hoofbump the Princess.
Flurry Heart hooked her outstretched hoof around Red Dawn’s foreleg and pulled the earth pony forward. The large pony stumbled against the Princess.
Flurry slammed her forehead down against the bridge of Red Dawn’s muzzle.
There was a muted crunch. The earth pony neighed and tried to pull back, but Flurry held Red Dawn in place with both front hooves hooked around the mare's forelegs. The alicorn reared her head back with a feral snarl and slammed her head down again, angling the strike so her horn didn’t get in the way.
There was a more severe crunch and Red Dawn’s muzzle caved in with a spray of blood that covered the alicorn's eyes. Flurry blinked through the blood and headbutted her again. Red Dawn gurgled something as her legs gave out, but Flurry held the pony up.
Flurry headbutted her again.
And again.
And again.
She lost count.
By the time she stopped and dropped the earth pony, Flurry Heart needed to rub bloody fetlocks against her eyes to see. Red Dawn’s muzzle was gone; the front half of her skull had collapsed inwards and soaked her front with blood. Ironically, she wasn’t red enough; the blood clashed with her coat color.
Flurry swiveled to the rest of the militia. They had stopped drinking. Unwisely, they were also too stunned to run and stayed, staring in horror as their commander was beaten to death by their Princess.
Flurry snorted the blood out of her nose. Her horn sparked while flecks of blood dripped from its grooves.
“Don’t run.” Flurry bared her bloody teeth.
Reedy dropped his rifle and tried to fly away, flapping unsteadily. Flurry seized him in her magic, and the pegasus screamed as he was folded backwards. His spine broke with a dry snap. Flurry dropped the stallion to the ground, where he lay twitching. His mouth foamed over as he died.
The others froze. Some were half-reaching for their weapons with uncertain eyes, so Flurry ripped the guns away and tossed them further into the gardens. One pegasus stood still as her entire uniform was torn away with the holstered pistol at her side. She shivered as her legs knocked together.
Flurry panted and cast her changeling detection spell. It swept over the crowd as several whimpered. None of them were changelings, which Flurry expected.
“I am tracking all of you,” Flurry lied. “You will go to every militia out looting and tell them my orders. No rape or murder. I thought it was simple instructions. Was I wrong?”
“No,” the naked pegasus insisted desperately. “It was all Red Dawn’s idea!”
Flurry glared at the pegasus. She could feel blood dripping from her horn. The mare suppressed a sob and a small, yellow puddle appeared under her tail.
“If somepony commits a rape or murder,” Flurry continued in a low growl, “it is the duty of the militia to shoot them dead on the spot. I don’t care if it’s their commander, they shoot them dead. Nod if you understand.”
The remaining ponies nodded wildly.
“Remember, I'm tracking you." Flurry looked to each pony. "If you try to run away, I will find you and you will wish you died like her.” Flurry jabbed a hoof towards Red Dawn. “Two of you will stay behind and bury the cub.” Flurry sliced through the hanging rope with a small laser and caught the body in her magic. She gently set the griffon cub on the ground.
Flurry picked the two burliest looking earth ponies, even though they were shaking like leaves. “You two, bury her in the garden. Dig with your hooves.”
Everypony stood still.
Flurry flared her wings and hovered above them. Blood smeared down from her muzzle into her chest fluff. “Go!” Her normally high-pitched, soft voice broke into a vicious bark.
They scattered. The two earth ponies rushed toward the body and the crates of jewelry and valuables were forgotten. Flurry watched from above as the militia spread out, running as fast as they could through the streets. The two remaining began to dig in the garden, sobbing in terror as their hooves turned bloody.
Flurry flapped her wings and stopped high above the sprawl of wealthy houses. She opened her muzzle to scream one last insult and warning to them all, but her voice choked.
I don't even remember her name. Flurry exhaled, blinked away tears, and flapped her wings slowly back to Weter Radio. She ignored the partying in the streets underneath her, and her subjects didn't notice their Princess above them.
Murky looked absolutely horrified at the blood-drenched Princess floating down to him. Her muzzle, mane, chest, and forelegs were matted. The blood hadn’t dried yet; bits of gore stuck under her eyes and around her nose.
Murky opened his mouth to screech an alert and whirled around to the other patrolling guards. Flurry clamped his mouth shut in her magic and looked over at Thorax, still sleeping in the chair despite the muffled bombs.
“Don’t wake Thorax,” she mumbled and landed next to the mortified bat pony. “It’s not my blood anyway.” Flurry swished her tail as she walked inside. “Keep the crown for a bit. I’m going to find some sheets or a towel."
Flurry Heart ended up using several discarded curtains and a few canteens of water donated by horrified militia guards. She refused to explain what happened and dragged another cushioned chair into a supply closet to sleep for a few more hours. She locked the door behind her.
Flurry Heart hated coffee. That hatred didn’t stop her from taking another sip from the plain mug she brought with her to the lounge. A map of Nova Griffonia spread out on the table before the seated alicorn; small pink flags indicated cities under her control. The coastline to the north of Weter was concerningly flagless. Flurry checked the watch on her left hoof.
Celestia would raise the sun soon.
The alicorn’s pink fur was still tinted red around her muzzle and horn. The smudges faded into her natural light pink fur and clashed with her little golden band under her short blue and purple curls. She would need to find some soap after the meeting, but for now the alicorn waited for her commanders. A few, like Duskcrest and Dusty Mark, had left Weter Radio before she brought the shield down to get field reports.
Flurry took another sip of her coffee and suppressed a shudder. Shining Armor preferred coffee; Cadance loved tea, like all the other alicorns. From what little she could remember of the Crystal Empire, mornings were a playful argument.
“I have a bet with your mother,” Shining had confided to Flurry with a wink. “We’re waiting to see which one you pick.” Flurry didn't remember what she said back to her father. She still had that stupid snail toy at the time.
Flurry Heart hated tea and coffee.
The ponies and griffons outside the little lounge dutifully sought updates on their radios from the scattered militias. A few more of them nodded to the Princess or risked eye contact this morning. A few looked hungover and sat a bit closer together, no longer in distinct cliques of nationalities. Flurry considered it progress, and wrinkled her upper lip as she took another gulp from the mug.
Thorax and Spike arrived together, with the dragon squeezing though the griffon-sized door and ducking under the ceiling. Spike was still naked, but Thorax somehow cleaned his uniform for the morning. Flurry hadn’t tried to look for him after she returned last night. The pair stopped to stare at Flurry, surprised that the alicorn was already present. Flurry stared back and raised her mug to take another sip.
“You’re early,” Thorax carefully remarked.
“I might have a lot to do today,” Flurry said. "I wanted to get a horn ahead."
Spike didn’t hide his glare. He sat directly across the table from the alicorn, flumping heavily to the floor and curling his tail around his legs. “There are some rumors,” he stated.
Thorax shot him a look of warning. “We can discuss it once the others arrive,” the changeling interrupted.
“No,” Spike shook his head, “we discuss it now.”
“What rumors?” Flurry played along innocently.
“Rumors that you butchered a militia around the mansions,” Spike’s voice rumbled. “Stories that you tore a pegasus’ wings off and attacked a pony for-” he cut himself off with a sudden snap of his jaw.
“Attacked them for what?” Flurry asked with wide blue eyes, pitching her voice higher and cuter. “What stories?”
“Don’t play dumb, Flurry,” Thorax rebuked with half-lidded eyes. “The guards this morning were gossipers.”
“What stories?” Flurry repeated with a shrug in a normal tone.
Thorax sighed. “The common one is that you came across a stallion raping a griffon. You tore off both his heads, his little head then the bigger one.” Spike whipped his own head away from Flurry to glare at his friend, but Thorax didn’t even react. “She’s old enough to get it,” the changeling said to the air in front of him.
“I am,” Flurry acknowledged with a snicker.
“What happened last night after I fell asleep?” Thorax asked bluntly.
Flurry set her mug down on the table and exhaled through her nose. “I flew around to check the shield and killed two ponies,” she admitted. “I didn’t tear anything off.”
“You were covered in blood,” Thorax pointed out. “You still are.”
“I headbutted a militia commander and broke a pegasus’ spine with my magic.”
“Why?” Spike growled, interrupting her. “You murdered your subjects!”
“They aren’t my subjects if they disobey my orders,” Flurry snorted back.
Spike snorted a plume of smoke. “So, anyone who disobeys you deserves to die?” he spat.
“When my subjects kill a cub, yes!” Flurry snapped. “No rape or murder is not a hard order to understand!”
Spike paused, struggling with the topic, but rallied his anger. “You think you haven’t killed a cub? We still don’t know how many griffons died to your spell,” he choked out.
“I did not drag a child out of their home and string them up in a tree for fun,” Flurry snarled. “The Nova Griffonians are my subjects, too. I will not allow pointless revenge.”
Spike swallowed and he shifted his weight on the floor; the floorboards creaked warningly. “Ponies know what you did,” he said in a softer voice. “They know you killed our enemies. Why shouldn’t they do the same?”
“Blackpeak’s daughter was not our enemy,” Flurry answered and picked up the mug. “I killed Kemerskai and his griffons to end the war quickly, not for fun. If some ponies want to take revenge on children, they need to be stopped." Flurry set the mug down and furrowed her brow. "Don’t address the rumors. ‘The Princess will geld you if she catches you raping’ isn’t so bad. It gets the point across, anyway.”
“Princesses should lead by example,” Spike tried, wringing his claws together.
“I set an example last night,” Flurry countered. “How much violence happened last night? Before and after?”
“A few incidents,” Thorax summarized the night. “The looting got out of control after the partying started, but the rumors about your..." Thorax searched for the right word.
"Judgement," Flurry offered.
"Rumors of your judgement kept the wilder militias in check. There are some reports of summary executions by militia captains for out-of-control behavior. One report that a militia shot their captain after she shot several unarmed griffons.”
Flurry nodded and drained the last of the coffee.
“Is that really how you want to rule?” Spike asked with sad green eyes. “Just threaten them into obeying you? Like Nightmare Moon?”
“I hope not,” Flurry chuckled. “She lost to six untrained civilians.”
Spike glared at her, and Flurry’s laughter died down.
“How do you want me to rule?” Flurry sighed and blinked slowly. “I’m not smart like Twilight or Luna. I'm not going to convince everyone to get along with smart words. My mother and Celestia could inspire ponies, but who’s inspired by an overgrown filly?” She stuck out a lanky foreleg and laughed. “I’m not even beautiful like my mother,” Flurry said spitefully.
“You’re too hard on yourself,” Thorax said with a fanged frown.
Spike slapped a claw on the map. “You don’t have to be them! I just want to see the kind filly I remember,” Spike pleaded. “I keep looking for her, and I know she’s better than this.”
“Like Starlight and Trixie? They tried to be better,” Flurry replied. "You never talk about them."
Spike flinched. "Starlight believed in Equestria," he said with conviction. "She believed in Twilight and the dream of Harmony."
"That dream killed her, Spike," Flurry said without any malice in her voice. "It killed Trixie and thousands of other ponies who rose up."
"Well, maybe it's a dream worth dying for," Spike shot back at the alicorn, but his voice broke.
“I can’t afford to be better now,” Flurry shook her head. “If I lose now, there’s no one left to try. Celestia and Luna won’t come back, not to fight.”
“You don’t need to do stuff like this,” Spike argued. There was a slight wobble in his voice.
“I don’t need to do it,” Flurry agreed, “but I won’t let my subjects do it for me.” Flurry looked from Spike to Thorax. “You’ve been quiet,” she said to the changeling.
“Is there anything I could say that could change your mind?” Thorax asked softly and without judgement.
“Yes, tell me more violence broke out after I killed those ponies," Flurry answered. "Tell me the ponies and griffons outside this room are about to flee in terror of me."
Thorax glanced at Spike and licked his fangs. “I won’t lie to you,” the changeling replied to the Princess. Spike blew out a ring of smoke and stared at the ceiling.
The trio sat together quietly until Duskcrest and Dusty walked in together. Dusty squinted against the lights and walked with a slight limp; her sleeves on her uniform were rolled up around her hooves.
“Are you alright, Dusty?” Flurry asked. “Hurt or hungover?”
“Hungover,” Duskcrest squawked with a laugh. “She can’t outdrink me.”
“I fight better drunk, Princess,” Dusty insisted with bloodshot gray eyes. “I did most of my archaeology drunk.”
Duskcrest slapped her side with a wing. “Is that what ponies call it?”
Dusty’s horn lit up warningly in a gray aura. “I don’t know how you avoided a headache, but I can give you one,” she threatened.
Duskcrest sat at the far side of the table from Dusty Mark.
Josette Fierté and Jacques arrived a few minutes later. The admiral was in her dress uniform, with feathers freshly preened, even on her crippled wing. Jacques stumbled against the doorframe and blinked owlishly. His shirt was on backwards. He smiled at Flurry’s look of concern. “You cannot get hungover if you do not stop drinking, Little Flurry,” he advised and sat beside Duskcrest.
Duskcrest pulled out a flask from his jacket. “It’s my job to give the Princess terrible life advice,” he mockingly warned the Aquileian and offered his flask.
“Merci,” Jacques said and gratefully accepted the flask. He screwed the cap off and poured a clear liquid into his beak, then gagged with dilated pupils. He had the presence of mind to give the flask back to Duskcrest before pounding the table with both claws and coughing.
“I think I’m blind,” Jacques rasped and waved his claws in front of his beak.
Duskcrest took a long sip from the flask without flinching and tucked it back into his pocket. Fierté sat on the other side of the frontier griffon, giving the other Aquileian space.
“It’s morning,” Flurry announced and rapped a hoof on the table. She ignored the winces from the hungover adults. “I dispelled the shield a few hours ago, and the Reich's air force limped home for the day. Which cities haven’t surrendered?” The griffons and ponies shared looks between each other. Jacques’ eyes sharpened and he folded his arms on the table while Dusty did an impressive job of sitting upright and pulling herself together.
“Two,” Dusty answered. “Frostfall and Yarrow in the north. Both are Republican strongholds.”
“I’ll deal with them,” Flurry’s eyes narrowed.
“Don’t bother,” Jacques shrugged.
“During the night, most of the coastal villages and cities gave up after the survivors returned from Weter,” Dusty explained, sparing a side-eye at Jacques. “Per your orders, we allowed the militias to rearm and remain in their homes.”
“Which means they could plan a rebellion,” Fierté interrupted. “Aquileians know this well.”
“Continue,” Flurry requested and ignored the admiral, nodding at the unicorn.
Dusty scuffed a hoof on the table. “Heartsong took Frostfall during the night in a surprise attack.”
Flurry leaned back from the map. “Why?” she asked slowly.
“One of the militias that your secret changelings led was from Frostfall,” Jacques revealed. “Some escaped the ambush in the frontier to fortify their home before the survivors from Weter came back. Paranoia consumed them throughout the night as they argued about what to do.”
“Should I even ask how you know this?” Dusty sighed.
“I was busy last night,” Jacques shrugged, “like Little Flurry.” Flurry chose to ignore that remark.
Dusty tapped on Frostfall on the map. “A griffon got it in his head that the survivors from Weter were changelings. One of the survivors figured it was the griffons from the ambush, then fired a machinegun into a crowd in the town hall to let Boreas sort them out.”
“General Heartsong let the griffons stab and shoot each other for a few hours before moving in,” Jacques summarized.
“Heartsong reported this morning that most of the civilians are begging the pony garrison to stay,” Dusty ended. “He’s asking for more unicorns that know the detection spell.”
Flurry chewed on the inside of her cheek as she thought. “Do you have any changelings in Frostfall?” she asked Thorax.
“No,” the changeling shook his head.
“Tell Heartsong to have any unicorns just ruffle their feathers with telekinesis and give them the all-clear,” Flurry said. “I doubt they even know how the spell works.”
“Probably forgot we’re allied to some changelings,” Duskcrest added with a laugh. Thorax looked uncomfortable.
“What about Yarrow? It was Kemerskai’s headquarters.” Flurry set her empty mug on Yarrow on the map. “I didn’t expect it to surrender.”
Duskcrest flapped his wings and shifted his eyes to the side. “It didn’t, but it’s gone. If you were planning on destroying it, you missed your chance last night.”
“What?” Flurry blinked.
“Some of my militias linked up with Barrel Roller’s veterans and encircled Yarrow,” Duskcrest said. “We let the survivors from Weter through, and fighting broke out in the city once it was confirmed that Kemerskai was dead. They didn’t believe you on the radio.” He leaned back in his chair and lazily swung his tail. “We don’t know what exactly happened, but the anti-air crews abandoned the guns during the fighting. Per your command, no planes intercepted the bombing run that hit the town.”
Yarrow was a fishing town, mostly wooden buildings, Flurry remembered. “What’s the damage?” Flurry asked.
Duskcrest shrugged his claws. “The town is gone. Another bombing run noticed all the fires and hit it again. Barrel radioed this morning that we're taking fire from griffons squatting in the rubble, but at least half the town is dead. Our militias pulled back in time to avoid the bombardment.”
Flurry took a long, deep breath and exhaled through her nose, eying her coffee mug. “Okay,” she nodded. “As long as it has a functional port, it’s still a potential landing zone. We’ll offer some of our newly acquired free housing in Weter to any griffon that wants it, but they have to disarm. We need to occupy Yarrow, or destroy the port. What else?”
"That's it," Jacques shrugged. "You made your point with the giant exploding soap bubble. Griffons aren't going to fight Maar manifest."
Thorax cleared his throat. “As of dawn, Nova Griffonia is yours,” the changeling announced. His wings jittered against the brown cloth of his uniform. “What do you want to do, Princess Flurry Heart?”
Flurry looked down at the map, then back up at the adults waiting for her orders. Jacques looked bored, or maybe just hungover. Duskcrest and Fierté looked uncertain. Spike, Dusty, and Thorax looked resigned.
Flurry leaned back on her stool and stretched her wings out along the wall. “We'll use a localized Earth Pony Electorship under a Pegasus Military Government below the Princess.” She picked up a pencil stub and sketched lines around the major cities. “Locals vote for a representative that answers to a governor I appoint. These representatives have authority to set laws in their area, provided those laws do not conflict with the government above them.”
Spike blinked and lowered a claw with a half-hearted question. Flurry didn't notice.
“The governor has the authority to set laws for the whole territory, as long as they don’t conflict with my edicts," Flurry continued. "They will have the authority to arrange their cabinet as they see fit, as well as dismiss any of the lower elected officials or bring charges against them for corruption. The governor can’t interfere in the local laws unless they conflict with the territorial laws.”
She continued to sketch lines. “We can combine some of the districts used by the legislature to make the electoral provinces. For right now, we’re not running actual elections, just take whoever wants to step up; the governor can veto them later.” Flurry finished sketching lines across the map with her magic and jotted down known numbers of militias.
“The local militia system is too entrenched in Nova Griffonia to get rid of,” Flurry mumbled, “but the militia commanders have to answer to the governor, not the civilian government. The Air Force and Navy will remain centralized under the governor's cabinet. The militias will be in charge of defending their cities and home territory. The governor needs to be someone that already commands enough loyal militias to remain in control.” Flurry set the pencil down and looked up.
The room was quiet and all the adults were staring at her in varying levels of surprise.
Flurry folded her wings. "What?" she asked, annoyed. "It's similar to the Principality under the Diarchy, just without the extra noble privileges and one Princess. Equestria would've definitely worked better if the Princesses could dismiss everypony in the royal court at will."
"Nothing's wrong," Jacques smirked. “Who’s to be governor, Little Flurry?”
“Duskcrest or Fierté,” Flurry answered. “It needs to a griffon. Duskcrest is local, but Fierté already has established authority and legitimacy as the highest ranking naval commander left.” She turned to the pair of griffons.
I didn’t know that a white-feathered griffon could pale in terror. Flurry kept that thought to herself and resisted laughing at the Admiral. Duskcrest pulled out his flask and drained it dry in one motion.
“I have no experience ruling a country,” Fierté offered quickly, “and you’re describing a military junta.”
“The Pegasus Military Government was a military junta crossed with a martial meritocracy,” Flurry agreed. “It existed before Discord and the Sisters. It took Celestia and Luna years to strip down pegasi militarism. It's still present in some of the emergency codes in Cloudsdale's local charter.”
"Far Sight said you barely passed civics and history," Thorax chirped.
"He was boring," Flurry scoffed.
“The coastal griffs will hate me,” Duskcrest protested with a hiccup and tapped on his empty flask. “I flew with Highhill.”
“They hate Aquileians too,” Fierté squawked.
“Both of you command enough loyal griffons to outgun any potential minor uprising,” Flurry said, “and either one of you is far better than any pony. The Republicans don't have any figure to organize around.”
“I’m needed in the navy,” Fierté tried.
“The navy is currently seven destroyers,” Flurry countered. “Half of them are damaged.”
“You think Grover is going to accept your polite request to stop?” Jacques asked.
“The navy is effectively disbanded,” Flurry shook her head. “It doesn’t matter if he does or doesn’t, we have to rely on air power to protect the coast.”
“I don’t know the air force, Duskcrest does,” Fierté squawked desperately.
Duskcrest puffed his feathers out. “Don’t you dare wriggle out of this, you Aquileian whore!”
“You can appoint whoever you want to deal with the air force,” Flurry shrugged. "I trust your judgement. Either of your judgements," she clarified.
The pair spoke over each other for a moment, getting paler with each word tumbling out off their beaks. Flurry raised her wings and rolled her eyes. “I’m picking one of you no matter what. Do I have to flip a coin?"
Fierté craned her neck to glare at Duskcrest with her good eye, who glared back just as venomously and tapped the silver-plated pistol holstered under his wing. "I'm a bandit, and you can't take the risks I can," Duskcrest said to the Admiral and gestured to her wing. "We both know it. The Nova Griffonians actually like you somewhat."
Josette turned away first. “I wanted to be behind a wheel, not a desk,” she sighed to Flurry. “You saved my life, and a lot of my sailors. If that means I need to set my paws on land forever, fine, but I do things my way.”
“Fine,” Flurry acknowledged. “Governor Fierté, you are in charge of Nova Griffonia.” Flurry shifted some papers around with her hooves and ignored the griffon’s shiver. “The priority now is getting the factories running and daily life back to normal.”
“Some of the smaller militias are organized around the unions in the factories,” Jacques suggested. “Blackpeak was a hard strikebreaker.”
“I don’t care who owns the factories, how long the shifts run, or if the griffons and ponies are drunk on the factory floor,” Flurry groaned. “They need to hit production quotas for the war; I don’t care what they do outside of that. They're free to 'seize the means of production' or whatever Caramel Marks wrote.”
“Jacques,” Fierté moaned. “Boreas help me, you’re now part of my cabinet.”
The yellow griffon cackled and slapped his claws on the table. “Of course!”
“Spike, you too,” Flurry said, addressing the dragon. “You’re good with numbers, and I need you to organize what we seized during the fighting. I want food distributed and an account of the gold and silver we looted last night.”
“What if the griffons want their stuff back?” Spike asked dourly, recovering from Flurry's explanation.
“Seized for the war effort,” Flurry answered. “They’re too rich anyway. Open up the High Hotel for the homeless griffons from the bombing raids. See if they can foster a sense of community. Mansions as well. No reason one family should live in a house sized for a dozen.”
Flurry ran down the list of militias. “The Aquileians are in charge of Nova Griffonia’s coastline. Duskcrest, your militias have the frontier. I want the mixed militias and the ponies to gather along the Crystal Mountains. Edvald and Katherine can defend the southern border with the Herzlanders. That should help limit violence along the coast.”
“There’s not many of the Herzlanders,” Thorax reminded Flurry.
“There doesn’t need to be. Chrysalis will be distracted.” Flurry slid a piece of paper over to the changeling. “Supplies, guns, ammo. I need it in Evergreen. Tell Rainbow to prepare some planes; I want transports and fighters.”
“Why?” Thorax asked.
“You told me last night that Chrysalis will come for us,” Flurry stated with a grim smile. “We gather the pony militias together into a proper army and strike first.”
“If you want to cross the border, we should use Nouveau Aquila as the supply point,” Fierté tapped a claw on the south.
“We’re not crossing the Equestrian border.” Flurry stabbed her pencil down into the map, right over the Crystal Mountains. “We take the Crystal Empire.”
The room was quiet again. About what I expected, Flurry grumbled to herself.
Duskcrest, the native frontier griff, shook his empty flask. “Let me understand this,” he said slowly, “you wish not to cross the flat border to the south, which we know is lightly defended, but to try to cross the Crystal Mountains in winter?”
“We have pegasi now,” Flurry said confidently. “They can mitigate the worst of the storms coming down from the mountains. And we know that the outposts along the range are abandoned.”
“Because no one in their right mind would try it,” Thorax spoke to Flurry. His green magic seized the pencil and unstuck it from the table before floating it through the mountains on the map. “There are a few trails we used for smuggling, but none of them are wide enough or safe enough to move an army. Let alone in winter.”
“The Crystal Empire is mostly tundra and snow,” Spike spoke up next to his friend. “Even if we managed to get an army across the mountains, it’s just mining camps and oil fields, some small towns to the south.”
“Exactly,” Flurry shrugged her wings. Her horn light up and a map propped against the wall floated over to the table. “I borrowed this from Heartsong’s crystal ponies,” the alicorn explained and unrolled the map with her hooves. It was an enlarged map of the Crystal Empire from before the Great War.
It had always been a running joke that the so-called 'empire' was just one city surrounded by a perpetual winter storm in a frozen tundra. The storm was a lingering remnant of some magic spell, supposedly cast by Sombra long before the Empire’s banishment. The territory that her mother and father claimed was rich in oil and rare metals, but small, comparable to Nova Griffonia in size and dwarfed by the Principality of Equestria to its south.
“I’m aware the map is out of date,” Flurry stated to end any obvious observations, “but the Changelings haven’t invested in our infrastructure or railways; they’re busy bleeding us dry.”
Flurry tapped her hoof on the Crystal City in the center of the Empire’s territory. “There is one railroad connecting the Crystal City to Equestria. It’s a line straight from Canterlot.” She jabbed her hoof in every direction. “My parents built all the other railways across the Empire. They all connect to the Crystal City, not Equestria. If we can take the city, we cut off the supplies of every garrison, mining camp, and oil field in the Empire.”
“We don’t know what state the Crystal City is in,” Thorax remarked. “Hive Marshal Trimmel is in charge of some research facility.” He folded his hooves on the table. “We have never had anypony escape through the storm wall. Some of the ponies that escaped nearby camps said that the trains coming from the city are armored to make it through the storm.”
“That’s not even touching the Crystal Heart,” Spike added. “The shield is weak, but it’s still there. It has to be.”
“The Crystal Heart only kept out the weather and made our coats shiny until my mother stood with it,” Flurry snorted. “My mother is dead. The Changelings have nothing.”
“They have a wall of ice and wind,” Thorax countered.
“And I have a shield that can block both,” Flurry replied. “I’ll lead an aerial assault through the storm wall. We take the city ahead of the army, cut off the supply lines, then regroup with a united front in the north.”
“You want to fly over the Crystal Mountains from Evergreen?” Duskcrest asked. He flipped the map of the Crystal Empire over to look at the map of Nova Griffonia underneath it. “That is the only airbase that can support a large air wing to reach the city, and it would be a one-way trip for most of those planes. They'll run out of fuel.”
“I know. Our pilots are already entirely griffons and pegasi. With a tight formation, I can squeeze in a few transport planes with heavily armored ground troops to fly down. I drop the shield, then we have to ditch.”
“They will be entirely cut off of support and supplies.” Thorax slammed his hooves on the table. “We don’t know how many soldiers are in the city, and the army will be too busy freezing to death crossing the mountains to provide support.”
“I cannot agree to sacrificing a portion of our planes to a suicide run,” Fierté sighed and tapped her claws together. "Princess, this is madness."
Flurry was quiet for a moment and stared down at the maps. “I am an alicorn,” she stated quietly. “I am the only natural-born alicorn in known history. It's not suicide if I'm there. I can get through the storm wall, and I can take that city. I was born there.”
“Sounds like you wish to die there as well,” Jacques quipped.
Flurry didn’t glare at him. She took a breath and let the comment roll off her wings. “If necessary,” Flurry sighed again, “I can use my shield spell again and destroy the city. That will still sever the supply lines to the north.”
“The Crystal City is the Crystal Empire,” Spike protested.
“The crystal ponies are,” Flurry corrected. “The spell will kill many of them still in the city, so I hope it won’t come to that.”
“I’m told you are a great pilot,” Dusty said with worried eyes, “but urban combat in a city is different.”
“You helped teach me,” Flurry shrugged. “I’m confident that I can hold my own.”
“A Princess has no place on the front lines,” Jacques said flippantly, “where one bullet can splatter her pretty brains all over her nice crown.”
“I will not hide while my subjects fight my battles for me.” Flurry did not raise her voice to say it, but there was something about the look in her eyes that ended further protests.
“That still leaves the mountains,” Duskcrest said after a moment of shared, worried frowns. “It’s hard flying for a griffon bundled in winter gear and carrying equipment.”
“I'm not planning on the army flying over it; we have earth ponies and unicorns. What's the shortest path through the mountains?” Flurry asked.
“There isn’t one,” Thorax answered. “The northern trail winds through a few valleys and along a few low ridgelines into Nova Griffonia, but it still takes most of a day in small groups and good weather.”
“Draw it,” Flurry ordered.
Thorax shifted the two maps so they were side-by-side on the table; half of the Crystal Empire crinkled against Dusty's hooves. Thorax scratched a rough, squiggly line through the mountain range from memory with the stub of a pencil.
Flurry studied it for half a minute before picking up the pencil stub in her magic. “What about this?” she asked and drew a straight line into a series of low valleys. The valleys were part of the original trail and connected to the tundra of the Crystal Empire. There was a small mining town nearby with a railway.
“You drew a line over a mountain,” Thorax pointed out.
“Through it,” Flurry corrected. “Tell Katherine to get those Bronzehill griffons out to Evergreen. Get them what they need to set up a tunnel and reinforce it.”
Jacques laughed. “There are not enough explosives in Nova Griffonia to blast through a-” His eyes flicked up to Flurry’s glowing horn as she set the pencil back down. Jacques snapped his beak shut, then leaned back in his chair; the wood creaked audibly.
They stared at each other for a moment before his eyes turned mirthful. “You think you can make a tunnel large enough for us to run trucks through?”
“Yes,” Flurry replied with absolute confidence. "I can cut a battleship in half. I can cut through a mountain."
“I have never been very good at plans,” Jacques said slowly, “so I won’t say if this is a good plan…”
“It’s not,” Spike jumped in with a snorted plume of smoke.
“But this plan,” Jacques kept going, “relies on the dear Kaiser accepting your ultimatum.”
“It does,” Flurry accepted. "In exchange for Nova Griffonia, I open another front to take pressure off his army."
"Anything else?" Dusty asked.
Flurry stared down at the map and didn't respond. Jacques and the group processed that. “What if he doesn’t accept?” the Aquileian asked.
Flurry swallowed. “Per my letter, I fly to Griffenheim and kill him.”
Jacques hummed and tapped a claw on the table. “You did send him an advance warning; let’s say he’s not in the city…”
“I was never planning on sticking around to try to find his corpse,” Flurry nickered. “It’s enough to destroy his capital. After that, I’ll fly to the River Federation; the border is a few hours flight away.”
“I doubt they’ll let you in.”
“I’m not going to make an official request,” Flurry chuckled, more to herself than the others. “I’ll go along the Reich’s border from the Riverlands and blast at the border guards. See if that starts a war.”
“Your backup plan is to start a war that will kill millions?” Spike asked, horrified. His claws dug into the table.
“It’ll take pressure off Nova Griffonia,” Flurry insisted.
“It’ll take pressure off Chrysalis as well,” Jacques said and snapped his talons. “What about the dear Queen?”
“When I make it back from Griffonia, we go with the war plan,” Flurry said. “I have no illusions about this. We can’t fight the Reich and Chrysalis at once. Either we win, or everyone else loses with us.” Her voice hardened, but her natural high-pitch dampened the threat.
The table shared uncertain looks. Duskcrest set the empty flask on the table and stared longingly at it. “I needed more alcohol for today,” he despaired.
“At least you had some,” Fierté muttered to him. "I was sober last night."
“If anyone has a better plan, I’m willing to hear it,” Flurry offered.
“We wait,” Spike said loudly. His tail thumped on the floor and he gestured at the maps with a wild claw. “If the Reich keeps coming, we build up the forts on the borders and keep sending out our planes. Let Chrysalis and Grover bleed each other.”
“Whoever wins will be attacking us from all sides,” Flurry replied.
“They’ll be weakened,” Spike countered. “It’ll be years before they regain enough strength to launch a proper attack; we take some time now to build up and recover.”
“For how long?” Flurry asked back. “A few years? We’re already running out of food, fuel, and supplies.”
“We’ve taken over some of the oil rigs in the frontier,” Duskcrest stated. “They were owned by some of Blackpeak’s cronies. Some of the Herzlanders were engineering students and surveyors, and we’ve already expanded some of the mines. Given a year or two, we can get the industrial sector back up and flying.”
Dusty sat up straighter. “We have earth ponies, Princess,” she reminded the alicorn. “If you want to do land redistribution, the farms we’ve set up in the frontier are flourishing, despite the terrain. Imagine what we could do with some of the plains in the south.”
“As governor, I will happily sign off on that,” Fierté jumped in. “The Princess will gain legitimacy if we take a little time to provide for our subjects.”
Flurry watched as her council offered more suggestions, first to directly her, then to each other. The voices started to blend together. Thorax didn’t join in. His ears swiveled with the discussion, but he was looking across the table at the alicorn. Jacques added some quips and joking suggestions, but his eyes never left Flurry as well. Both of them watched as her frown got more severe until she slapped her front hooves on the table.
“You’re telling me to wait!” Flurry laughed in despair. “Like I’ve been waiting for years! You want me to watch my subjects die and do nothing!” The last sentence was stuck between a snarl and shout.
“If the Reich keeps attacking, we’ll need you in the air. I’m sure Rainbow will tell you that,” Thorax said with a soft voice. “You won’t be doing nothing. You can shield the cities on the coast at night and fly during the day.” There was a chorus of nods.
“It’s not worth it,” Spike pleaded.
“Not worth what?” Flurry challenged.
Spike took a moment to search for appropriate wording. “It’s not worth the soul of Equestria,” he said, while his pupils shifted to her horn and wings.
He’s lying, Flurry realized. He means that it’s not worth my life. She looked at Thorax for a moment, but the changeling didn’t react to his friend’s words. They don't think I can do it.
“It was worth it to Twilight,” Flurry sighed and her wings drooped. “It was worth it to my parents.”
“You don’t have to be them,” Spike repeated.
I’m not. Flurry opened her eyes slowly and scooped up her coffee mug in her hooves. “I have a short list of edicts somewhere in here,” the alicorn muttered and lifted some papers with her magic. “I’ll announce a few of them on the radio tonight, like the declaration of racial equality and freedom of speech, but Josette should get familiar with all of them.”
Governor Fierté blinked at Flurry using her first name. “Of course,” she offered a bit lamely.
“The Kaiser still has a few days to respond,” Flurry continued, “so let’s stick with setting up the war plan for now. I will…I'll think about your suggestions of what to do otherwise.” Flurry stood up and shuffled past the seated adults.
“Okay, Flurry,” Spike sighed with relief. He smiled at her and moved his tail out of the way. “That’s all we want.”
Liar.
“Your shield was very effective last night,” Jacques remarked before she made it to the door. “Do you plan on doing it again?”
“Yeah,” Flurry nodded and looked over her withers. “I need to explain it on the radio.” She bit her lip. “I was thinking of going to Nouveau Aquila tonight and casting it there,” she revealed. “Go to a different city every night.”
“The Reich seemed to divert bombers to the shield, not away from it. We’re pretty sure they’ll send more bombers to Weter tonight,” Thorax warned. “Rainbow can talk more about it, but yesterday was a good night for our planes.”
“I’ll stay here then,” Flurry decided. “Does anyone want some coffee? I’m told it’s the good kind.”
Jacques eagerly raised a claw. “It would help me sober up,” the griffon claimed.
“You seem plenty sober,” Flurry whickered in Aquileian.
“Practice,” Jacques proudly replied back in the same language and puffed his cheeks out. It made the bags under his eyes more pronounced.
Flurry Heart managed half of a chuckle and a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
Flurry Heart watched the setting sun from the top of Weter Radio.
“Princess?” Rainbow asked again and waved her metal wing in front of the alicorn’s muzzle. The light danced between the metal feathers. “Did you hear what I was saying?”
Flurry hummed and turned back to her captain. The alicorn wore her flight suit minus the cap, replaced by her little golden band. “Something about the debris field outside Weter,” Flurry stated.
“Yeah,” Rainbow nodded. “We’re still cleaning up and sorting the scrap metal from the planes, but I think we took down at least four hundred last night,” the pegasus boasted.
“I wish I could’ve been out there,” Flurry said wistfully. “I need to stay under the shield.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Rainbow swung her artificial wing. “I barely noticed you were gone.”
Flurry snorted and cracked a grin. “You have to explain to me one day how you fit your ego inside the cockpit with you.”
“Same way you fit yours, Princess,” Rainbow scoffed. “You tuck your tail and squeeze your hind legs together.”
Flurry broke into a laugh, and her high-pitched whinnies echoed across the rooftop and startled the patrolling guards. When she was finished, Flurry coughed and asked, “What’s tonight look like?”
Rainbow scrunched her muzzle. “The eggheads told me that there’s another huge air wing of bombers coming in from Vedina just across the ocean. The Reich is throwing more planes at you.”
Flurry walked to the edge of the roof and looked out towards the harbor and the ocean beyond. For every plane that crash-landed in Nova Griffonia, two more plunged into the ocean. Bodies slick with oil washed up on the beaches for the past several days.
Whether out of sheer stubbornness or a test of her abilities, the Griffonian Reich was committed to prioritizing Flurry’s defense of Weter. The other coastal cities had scarcely been attacked for the past three nights. The bombers were escorted by a swath of fighter planes, but they had to group close together to drop on the city. Rainbow and the experienced veterans of Nova Griffonia were making quick work of the novice pilots and crews, despite the Reich's newer models.
Over the past several nights, Flurry watched the large bombers fall from the sky, trailing smoke and fire from their engines until they crashed against the side of her bubble shield. The first time it happened, the alicorn heard screams from an adjacent roof as the plane exploded and broke apart on impact.
Flurry had only felt a pinch at the base of her horn, like when her father would jab her forehead with a quill. He used to do it to get her attention after her eyes glazed over during an Aquileian language lesson. Some days her mane would be tinged black from all the ink from the poking.
By the third fiery crash, Nova Griffonians were taunting the planes. Last night, there were too many impacts to celebrate. Flurry looked over to the High Hotel. Every room was lit up and occupied, with several rooms crammed with extended family sleeping on the floor.
Weter had become a haven under her shield.
“Do we know anything from the prisoners?” Flurry asked over her left wing to Rainbow. The pegasus grimaced.
Some of the pilots managed to ditch their stricken aircraft before the crash. Every griffon could fly; most tried to fly back across the ocean to the Reich. They wouldn’t survive, unless they caught a stray cloud over the ocean to rest. A few of the pilots tried to fly to the frontier, only to be flown down and killed by angry militias. Flurry had ordered that pilots that surrendered were to be taken prisoner, but after months of bombing runs, no one was eager to listen to their pleas. When their deaths were reported, the pilots were said to have “fought back,” sometimes with clipped wings and clear signs of torture.
Flurry understood her subject’s anger, but she still broke the neck of the Nova Griffonian that dumped a wingless, beaten Reich pilot in front of the alicorn and had the wingspan to claim the pilot lost his wings in a crash.
“You, uh, you ask Thorax?” Rainbow asked back awkwardly and shuffled her hooves.
“I haven’t seen him today,” Flurry responded.
“He is busy with counts!” Katherine shouted from her telescope. The dark red griffon had decided to stay in Weter for the night, instead of with the Herzlanders to the south. Flurry was grateful for the company; she was only a year younger than her.
“Uh, yeah, counts,” Rainbow nodded.
“She means our supply inventories for Evergreen,” Flurry explained. “How’s getting the planes over there going?”
“Fine,” Rainbow said quickly. She pulled her flight goggles down over her magenta eyes and flared her wings. “I just came by to give you an update, Princess. I should leave before you setup the shield. Got flying to do.”
Flurry nodded and wave a wing in dismissal. “Good hunting, Rainbow. Good luck.”
“You, uh, you too,” Rainbow stammered.
Flurry squinted and watched Rainbow fly away faster than the alicorn could manage herself. She flapped her big wings then adjusted an errant primary feather with a gentle touch of blue telekinesis. I hate these things, Flurry grumbled to herself. I’m only fast because I’m an alicorn.
She checked her watch and waited for the stroke of the hour before casting her shield again. After several days of spellwork, Flurry didn’t need to double check from the sky. The shield shimmered into being around Weter and her ears pricked up at some cheering from nearby rooftops. Sounds like more than yesterday. She smiled.
Flurry dragged her comfy chair over to Katherine and the telescope. Katherine was wearing a plain red dress with some saddlebags set aside. She fiddled with the telescope, trying to adjust it to see the stars.
“I told you that was a waste of time,” Flurry said. “The shield’s going to make everything look blue.”
“I want to see if there is, ah, I don’t know the word,” Katherine grumbled. “Bendy light.”
“Bendy light?” Flurry chuckled.
“Yes, I want to see if your shield makes the stars seem like they are in different places.” Katherine peeked through the telescope and frowned.
Flurry opened her mouth in surprise. “Light diffraction,” she offered.
“Just so!” the griffon exclaimed happily and gave Flurry a wing hug. Flurry returned it with a laugh. “Light ‘diffract.’ It is different in Herzlander.”
“I’ll save you some time,” Flurry offered. “The shield’s magic; it doesn’t work like that. There are studies about it.”
“Pony studies,” Katherine protested and clacked her beak. “No griffon has ever written a serious study about pony magic like shields.” The griffon smoothed out her dress and peered back through the scope.
Flurry sat quietly and read some reports from a small light on the tip of her horn. A crew of Herzlanders lead by Kristoff Klinndig were set up near the Crystal Mountains, waiting for Flurry to arrive tomorrow morning and blast a hole though Mount Grimpeak. The food distribution in downtown Weter needed more guards.
That’s for Fierté, Flurry thought and set the paper aside in her saddlebags.
Fierté was uneasy in her new job as governor, but was rapidly improving. Flurry skimmed over several reports on the quality of the unionized factories in the Industrial District. A few of the unions had protested that the quotas for materials was unreachable, but Fierté had reinstituted the lash as a punishment. Unsurprisingly, the quotas were easily met without needing to resort to naval discipline by her sailor militias.
Flurry came to a complaint about ponies squatting in some of the mansions. Many of her ponies had lost their homes, or been relegated to shanty towns out in the frontier. A few of the more vulnerable and elderly ponies had been moved to the Leisure District with their families. The griffon that wrote the complaint was protesting the supposed racism, pointing out that Flurry had declared that there was to be equality between griffons and ponies.
There was a note from Josette at the bottom. Third letter I’ve gotten from the same griffon in as many days. He just wants his mansion back. Can I kill him?
Flurry huffed and fetched a pencil from her saddlebags. Before she started to write a response, her horn began to vibrate and dull thumps echoed above her head. Flurry glanced up to the beginnings of a bombing run. Through the explosions, Flurry glimpsed a bomber burst into flames and collide with one of its wing mates.
Flurry snorted and wrote back: I trust your judgement. Didn’t you recruit some changelings from Thorax? They’re good at quiet disappearances. She tucked the letter into her saddlebag to give to Fierté later.
If there’s a later, Flurry thought belatedly. Tomorrow would be a new month.
Grover had not responded to her, nor had he withdrawn his forces. To the contrary, the Reich had only escalated their attacks. The fleet attempted to bombard the coastline two days ago, only to be driven back by a desperate aerial attack with Flurry personally climbing into her fighter and sinking another three cruisers and two battleships. The death toll must have been enormous, but the fleet returned the next day, looking to destroy what was left of Nova Griffonia’s navy.
Maybe he never got the letter, Flurry thought again. It was possible Hellcrest never managed to deliver it. If so, the Reich’s increased aggression was in response to the perceived weakness of Nova Griffonia.
But there hasn’t been a radio address, Flurry considered. Surely, the Kaiser would say something. Changeling propaganda claimed that the Reich’s advance had stalled due to the heroic actions of changeling jaegers behind the front lines. More likely, the Reich’s soldiers were struggling to ‘liberate’ an ungrateful Equestria.
Unlike Starlight and her rebellion, Grover had a strict, disciplined, professional army under his wings. The radio in Manehattan intermittently broadcast a heavily-accented Herzlander with vague reports and proclamations of victories in the field; it didn’t stoop to plead with the Equestrians to cooperate, or name any specific locations of the supposed victories. Grover himself hadn’t been on the radio since the declaration of war against Nova Griffonia and the Changeling Hegemony.
Flurry was sure he was alive, at the very least. He was the last of his family and unmarried. His death would mean a complete societal upheaval in the Griffonian Reich, and all the lands it had recently reclaimed. I’m counting on that at least, Flurry sighed and rubbed her crown. Another flaming bomber crashed against her shield.
She continued through her papers as bombing runs stopped and restarted above her. Her ears perked up and she heard distant cheering from the street and other rooftops every time the bombers turned back, but her own guards remained stoic. Flurry continued to sit and make idle notes until Katherine plopped down on the roof next to her chair after the bombers had stopped for a time. Probably to rearm and refuel, Flurry assumed. It happened often enough.
“Do you stay up all night?” Katherine asked with a yawn. “Up here?”
“Not all night,” Flurry said idly. “If I don’t fall asleep up here during the raids, I catch a few hours on a mattress downstairs.”
Katherine frowned. “That must not be healthy.”
“Alicorn,” Flurry answered. “I sleep when I can, and there are spells when I can’t.”
“Still doesn’t sound healthy,” Katherine said in Herzlander.
“How was your night sky?” Flurry snarked back in the same language, flipping over a casualty report on the northern garrisons. Lower than I expected.
“Terrible,” Katherine squawked and set her saddlebags down heavily on the roof beside her. “All the bombers ruined it. I had to wait between the flocks of planes.”
“I could have told you that,” Flurry laughed. “I did, actually.” The alicorn glanced up and gestured skyward with a hoof. “You got a good gap right now.”
Katherine hummed. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“No?” Flurry blinked.
“Spike asked me to distract you tonight,” Katherine said low voice and looked at the guards on the rooftop. They were all New Marelanders; the chances of them knowing Herzlander were slim.
Flurry didn’t react, except for a slight breath and her horn sparking blue. Katherine didn’t comment as the changeling detection spell washed over her. “Why?” Flurry half-snarled towards the dark red griffon, leaning forward in her chair to glare across the roof.
“They wanted me to distract you in case you tried to leave early,” Katherine explained. She swallowed and smoothed out a trembling wing. “Rainbow Dash is probably on another roof; she’ll chase you with Spike.”
“Chase?” Flurry asked, then realized what the griffon meant. “They want to stop me from leaving to deal with Grover.”
“Just so,” Katherine confirmed with a shrug. “I don’t know how many are involved.”
Flurry Heart ground her teeth as her muzzle spasmed violently. They don’t think I can do it. I should have expected this. She pushed her foreleg away from her chest in a calming breath and asked the obvious question, “Why are you warning me?”
“I would prefer if you killed him,” Katherine answered simply.
Flurry looked over at the young griffon, pale blue eyes wide in surprise at the statement. Katherine had never been bloodthirsty; she didn’t have any military experience. The Reich didn’t draft their female griffons into service, and Katherine was too young during the reunification wars to serve behind the frontlines as a nurse.
Katherine stared back at Flurry with sad golden eyes. “Did I tell you about my family?” she asked.
“Yes,” Flurry said, “you told me about your parents and brothers.”
“I meant about how they were taken,” the griffon clarified.
Flurry shook her head.
“Katerin is small and poor,” Katherine began. “Many griffons live and die in the same village. My family lived there for generations, flying in the same sky and tilling the same ground. We never questioned the Grovers. We prayed at the small shrine in the village and always listened to the priest.
“The first revolution did not touch our village. My parents prayed for young Grover V when the Griffonian Republic took Griffenheim. Their faith was rewarded when the Republicans were driven north to Cloudbury, a place they had never heard of before.
“I was the only griffon in my family that could read,” Katherine stated bluntly. “I was lucky to be chosen to serve in the estates. I was luckier to teach the older griffons as part of the Archon’s spiritual welfare programs. I enjoyed the library; I enjoyed teaching my brothers before they went to war, and they were proud to fight the Republicans in the north.”
“You’ve told me that,” Flurry said quietly.
“My brothers did not come home after four years, and I heard stories of griffons returning broken and scarred.” Katherine’s voice wavered. “But my brothers sent letters and pictures, and they were proud. Karl had little medals on his uniform!” she gushed. “I told Papa what they were and what they meant, and we went to pray and listen to the priest, like always. We thanked the Gods and accepted the prayer pamphlets, like always.”
Katherine stared up at the clear sky and stars; her voice darkened. “My brothers wanted to fight for the Kaiser when the protests started. My parents clacked their beaks at the radio and papers. They were happy it was crushed. It was all students and urban griffons, not us. I was in the library when the soldiers arrived. They arrested the librarian; said she kept illegal books, but she was a sweet griffon. I squeezed through a window and flew home.”
Flurry batted her tail to the side while Katherine kneaded her claws on her dress. “You’ve never told me this,” she observed. “The Friendship Journal was illegal, wasn’t it?”
“What kind of Kaiser is threatened by friendship?” Katherine scoffed. “She had worse books than that. The first time I read a theory that Grover the Great stole his crown from a dragon’s hoard, I nearly threw the book into a fire myself,” she tried to laugh, but it came out harsh and forced.
Katherine continued, “The priest was named a Republican for preaching that the Gods made all griffons equal. He never meant Grover, and even if he did, that is not so bad an idea. My family had too many of his pamphlets; they were too devout. I hid in some bushes while our house was ransacked. They were all taken away.”
“That’s awful,” Flurry protested.
“Our priest also preached at several villages to the west. I flew there to warn them.” Katherine’s feathers crinkled. “Thus, I was a Republican and terrorist as well. I did not mean to be, but I led so many to the coast, neighbors and friends and strangers, carrying all we could. We offered everything to the boats, but they only wanted rich griffons. That poor pony took pity on us, and his partner stabbed him over it.”
“I, uh, I always wondered about that,” Flurry interrupted. “The griffon died, right? And the pony taught you to steer? Did you learn their name?”
“He tried to tell me,” Katherine offered apologetically, “but my Equestrian wasn’t very good. He bled out explaining the compass and controls. I’m sorry.”
Flurry waved a hoof and stood up. “I’m sorry,” she apologized back. “That’s awful. None of the Herzlanders have ever really talked about what happened.” Flurry hugged the griffon with both wings and forelegs.
“We all left family behind,” Katherine replied, then narrowed her eyes and pushed the alicorn back gently. “Are you better than us?” she asked.
“What?” Flurry reared back.
“Do you think you’re better?” Katherine repeated. “Do you think the Gods chose you? You have more proof than the Kaiser.” The griffon gestured to Flurry’s wings and horn.
“If they did, I need to ask them for my mark,” Flurry deflected awkwardly. “I’m not sure how special I could be when most foals know their talents before I do.”
Katherine was silent. She scanned the alicorn with her eyes.
“I don’t know,” Flurry said honestly. “My life isn’t worth more than one of my ponies. Or my griffons.”
Katherine pulled her bags to her chest. She finally said, “If you’re going to leave, you should teleport away first.”
“Princess!” a mare shouted in Equestrian.
Flurry turned away from Katherine as she fiddled with her bags and looked across the roof. Jadis limped across the rooftop in her uniform; her rifle hung by a strap at her side. The blue crystal pony huffed and tried to hurry.
“What’s wrong?” Flurry shouted at the approaching pony.
“Reports from the radar stations,” Jadis panted. “The planes are turning back.”
Flurry’s head snapped up to the sky through the shield. It was clear, if a bit cloudy. She looked east and didn’t see any movement in the sky. “Are they sure? What about the fleet?”
“We think the ships are moving south, but…” Jadis trailed off. Her eyes widened and she unslung her rifle, bracing her maimed hoof against the stock.
Flurry stared at her, confused, until she felt the gun barrel press against the back of her head.
“What did you offer him?” Katherine asked in Herzlander. Her voice shook.
“Katherine…” Flurry started, numb.
“What did you offer him!?” Katherine screeched.
The barrel pressed deeper into her fur. It’s cold. The alicorn looked at her guards from the corners of her eyes. They had been alerted and readied their weapons as well. Jadis crouched and shuffled to the side to get a clear shot.
“I promised to open another front with Chrysalis,” Flurry said, speaking in Herzlander from the side of her muzzle. “I brought it up in the meetings.”
“What else?” Katherine demanded. She choked back a sob. “I know you offered him something else. He wouldn’t have accepted otherwise.”
“We don’t know he accepted,” Flurry tried. “Katherine, please put down the gun.”
“You haven’t checked your watch,” Katherine chided with another sob. “The bombing run stopped at midnight.”
Flurry glanced down at her foreleg, but didn’t move her head. Jadis finished moving to the side and took aim. Flurry slowly stepped to the side to block Katherine from view. The griffon was along the alicorn’s left side; Flurry was a little taller than her. Jadis scowled at the Princess.
The gun barrel trembled slightly. “Don’t move!”
“If any of you shoot her, I will kill you,” Flurry said in Equestrian.
“They’re sworn to protect you,” Katherine said in Herzlander. “They’ll kill me. Tell me.”
“What do you think I offered him?” Flurry stalled. “I promised to protect Nova Griffonia. Do you think I offered him that?”
“You’re a Princess of Ponies,” Katherine responded. “I think your ponies will always come first.”
“I’ve killed ponies because they mistreated griffons,” Flurry answered. She stepped to the side again and extended her right wing to further block Katherine from the other guards. Katherine followed her.
“I have a duty,” the griffon said, ignoring the alicorn’s reply. “I have to look out for the Herzlanders. He’ll come for us.”
“I will kill him if he tries.” Flurry felt the pistol barrel shake.
“You’ll give up on all your ponies?” Katherine asked with a squawking sob. “No, no, you can’t do that. You won’t. You never considered giving us up? You wouldn’t give us up to save them?”
Flurry bit her lip. Jadis mouthed, “Duck.”
“Tell me! I-I’ll know if you’re lying!”
Flurry closed her eyes. She felt the pistol barrel press against her fur and skin. It was rusty. How did I know that?
The alicorn concentrated and felt the weapon. It was an old revolver, stolen from Edvald. His father had used it when he fought for the Republicans. Flurry felt the imprint of the previous owners and opened her eyes.
“I did,” Flurry admitted in Herzlander. “I was going to give you up. I was going to give the Aquileians up, and the Nova Griffonians, and the Republicans, as many griffons as it took.”
Flurry twisted an ear back to hear Katherine, but she just kept shuddering and trying to hold the pistol straight. “I thought I could do it, then Grover sent a griffon from Yale. His name was Frederick Sharp. Grover told me he was going to attack and asked for my help to take Nova Griffonia. He agreed to help me years ago; he swore it to Maar.”
Katherine spat. “D-don’t lie!”
“He did,” Flurry insisted, “but I couldn’t go through with it. Frederick’s entire family had been taken, like yours, and Grover just ignored it in the letter. Frederick was sixteen, just a student. I told Grover to let him go, and I felt like a failure.”
Flurry whirled around and faced Katherine, standing up straight and flaring her wings. Katherine stumbled back with wide, terrified eyes and jammed the revolver under the alicorn’s muzzle. Flurry shuffled her hooves to keep the guards behind her, lashing her tail in warning.
“I did offer him something else, and if he accepted, I’ll tell you after dawn,” Flurry stated. "Your priest was right. All our lives are equal."
Katherine was utterly terrified. Tears spilled down from her beak and mixed with snot. “T-tell me,” she whispered with a small, trembling voice.
Forgive me, my lord.
“That’s a single-action revolver,” Flurry said softly. “You need to pull the hammer back before you can pull the trigger.”
Katherine’s eyes flicked down to the gun and she struggled to pull the hammer back with both claws.
“And you need to load it,” Flurry continued.
Katherine froze and looked up the alicorn.
Flurry gently lowered the gun with a hoof and pulled Katherine against her; the revolver spilled to the roof. The griffon broke down sobbing and groveled at Flurry’s hooves.
The alicorn nuzzled her. “I promise,” Flurry whispered, “if he comes after any of you, I will kill him. I don’t care what it costs.”
Katherine didn’t respond with coherent words.
The guards and Jadis circled the pair with rifles ready. Flurry kicked the revolver over to Jadis with a rear leg. The crystal pony looked down at the rusted pistol disdainfully.
“It wasn’t loaded,” Flurry said, twisting her head over her shoulders.
“That’s not an excuse,” Jadis snorted and slung her rifle against her flank.
Flurry scanned over the guards. “Nightshade, lend Katherine a wing,” she ordered the bat pony. Nightshade didn’t look thrilled at the order, but stopped baring her fangs and approached Katherine from the side and let the young griffon lean against her.
Flurry stomped over to Jadis. “I don’t want her harmed, or arrested, or anything.”
“Princess, she just tried to kill you.”
“It was empty,” Flurry repeated with a roll of her eyes. “She also warned me that there was a plot to prevent me from going to Griffonia. Did you know about that?”
Jadis looked away with folded ears.
“I figured you did,” Flurry snarled.
“We just want our Princess to be safe,” Jadis muttered.
“Katherine wants her griffons safe,” Flurry echoed. “She’s afraid I’ll sell them out to Grover in exchange for a ceasefire.”
“She doesn’t trust you,” Jadis summarized. “I thought you were friends. Guess griffons just can’t trust ponies.”
“I won’t hold that against you because you were born a thousand years ago,” Flurry remarked with a frown.
“I apologize, Princess,” Jadis immediately snapped. Flurry chewed on her lip.
“She’s me, Jadis,” Flurry sighed. “She’s me without magic, without a crown, without an army, without anyone to turn to.”
Jadis looked over at the weeping griffon; Nightshade awkwardly patted Katherine on the back while stringy bits of snot stuck to her beak. The crystal pony blinked and looked across the roof.
“You were good with Falx and Thorax,” Flurry stated.
“I knew them from before the war,” Jadis responded.
“Get to know her, please?” Flurry requested. “She’s my friend. It’s not an order, just a request.”
Jadis nodded.
“Who else is downstairs?” Flurry asked. “Is the radio room still going?”
“Spike is around,” Jadis admitted with a cringe, “and we’re still getting reports.”
“I’ll keep the shield up for a few more hours, then I’m going to take a look myself.” Flurry’s eyes narrowed. “Get my plane ready.”
Rainbow Dash landed in front of the plane just as Flurry was climbing into the cockpit.
“Good,” Flurry quipped and chucked her crown at the pegasus. Rainbow had to rear up to catch the golden band. “You’re getting slow, old mare.”
“Where are you going?” Rainbow replied with narrowed magenta eyes, ignoring Flurry’s jest. She slipped the crown around a foreleg to walk forward.
“I’m going to look for the fleet,” Flurry answered. The alicorn adjusted the seat and tested the stick. The rudder swung left and right while the flaps moved. She nodded to herself.
Rainbow inspected the plane. “How’d you get it out of the hangar?” the pegasus asked, looking towards the large, metal building off the runway.
Flurry tapped her horn, then clipped her flight cap on with a flourish of magic. The alicorn fueled and taxied the plane to the start of the runway alone; the other pilots and groundcrew were suspiciously absent when she arrived. The fuel had also been recently drained from her plain brown fighter, so Flurry had to siphon the fuel tanks of four other planes.
Flurry checked her watch and looked east. Celestia would raise the sun in less than an hour. Rainbow approached and hopped onto the left wing of the plane with a wing flap. Her metal wing creaked slightly.
“You’re going out alone?” Rainbow asked. “If you give me a minute, I can get another plane and go with you. We’re wing mates.”
“That’ll take too long.” Flurry shook her head and continued to check the gauges. “The ground crew’s gone.”
“Well, uh, you know this base was just outside the shield," Rainbow shrugged. "It wasn’t a good point to take off.”
“Probably,” Flurry admitted, “or somepony told them all to leave to slow me down.” She looked up from the cockpit at the pegasus on her wing. She raised her eyebrow.
“I didn’t do it,” Rainbow said quickly, the puffed her feathers out on her good wing. “I can still catch up to you, no problem.” She shook her foreleg and spun the golden band around her fetlock for emphasis.
“Sure.” Flurry returned to the controls and started the engine. The plane roared to life and the propeller started to spin.
“Give me a second!” Rainbow shouted and balanced herself on the wing. “I’ll go with you!”
“I have magic. You don’t!” Flurry shouted back and slid the canopy shut with a flash of magic.
Rainbow staggered as Flurry began to move the plane down the runway. The blue pegasus tapped her metal wing on the canopy and tried to shout over the engine, but her voice was lost in the noise.
Flurry noticed a shadow flick over the canopy before the entire plane shuddered from a heavy impact on the right wing. The engine sputtered. The alicorn quickly cut the engine and whipped her head over to glare at the dragon damaging her plane.
Spike flexed his claws and pulled them out of the metal, leaving a jagged scar on the wing. He gave Flurry an even look before rubbing the frill on his head and motioning for her to open the canopy. When the alicorn kept glaring at him, he reared a claw back to punch through the wing.
He’ll probably cut a fuel line, Flurry assumed. She sighed and unlocked the canopy, pulling it back with her magic.
“Spike was the one who radioed ahead for the team to leave,” Rainbow helpfully supplied.
Flurry gave the unapologetic pegasus a withering side-eye, before Spike stomped up and leaned over the cockpit. The metal groaned worryingly under his weight. “Where are you going?” the dragon asked simply, as if asking where Flurry was going for breakfast.
“I’m going to look for the Reich’s navy,” Flurry answered.
“Why? They’re pulling back.”
“I want to see for myself.”
“We can see them moving south on radar,” Spike countered. “It’s a new invention that Twilight helped develop; it’s pretty accurate. Maybe you heard of it?”
“I know what radar is.” Flurry rolled her eyes. “Grover was supposed to agree to a ceasefire. I need to make sure it’s not a bluff.”
“How?” Rainbow interrupted.
The alicorn turned back to the pegasus. “Let’s see if they shoot at a lone plane,” Flurry said. “I have my shield, and I can teleport. I’ll be fine.” She shrugged a hoof and moved to start the engine.
Spike grabbed her hoof before it hit the switch. “If they do shoot, you’ll come back?” he asked casually.
“Yes,” Flurry responded quickly and tried to pull her hoof free.
Spike tightened his grip. Flurry stared at the purple claw around her foreleg for a moment. Spike breathed deeply over her head, but made no move to release her leg. The alicorn exhaled and looked up, meeting Spike’s reptilian eyes with an icy stare.
“Are you going to let go?” Flurry asked.
“I’m not Thorax, but I know you,” Spike growled. “I watched you grow up and I know when you’re lying."
“Let me go,” Flurry requested.
“I don’t think you’re going to come back if they open fire, and they will.”
“Let go,” Flurry ordered.
“You’re going to do what you said you would,” Spike kept going. “You’re going to fly to Griffenheim, burn it to the ground, and die.”
“A Princess should keep her promises, shouldn’t she?” Flurry spat at Spike’s muzzle.
“We have a plan,” Spike snarled. His tail thumped against the wing in agitation. “A better plan. Did you even think about it?”
“Your plan,” Flurry snorted, “is stupid. It just buys us a few more years of waiting to die. No one else is ever coming to help us. We’ll be ground down piecemeal by whoever wins." Flurry raised her free hoof and poked Spike's chest. "I listened to you during the rebellion when I should’ve gone to Manehattan on my own. I will not sit by and watch again.”
“You think you could’ve done a better job than Starlight and Trixie?” Rainbow broke in, glaring at Flurry from the opposite side.
“I think I should have been there for my ponies,” Flurry retorted, “even if it meant dying. Like my mother. Or Starlight.” She met Spike’s eyes. “Or Twilight.”
Spike’s grip loosened slightly and he looked away. “Starlight’s missing. If the Changelings caught her, they would’ve made a show of it.”
“Unless they never found her body,” Flurry disagreed. “She could’ve died in a thousand different spells and fires during the retreat.”
Spike didn’t have an answer to that.
“Twilight’s not dead!” Rainbow insisted and her raspy voice broke. “We knew she was in Canterlot during the rebellion. Chrysalis would keep her alive to gloat!”
Flurry shook her head. “Chrysalis pretended to be my mother years ago; I’m sure she could pretend to be Twilight. Canterlot was a trap that destroyed the rebellion.”
Rainbow’s metal wing spasmed. "You don't know that!" she shouted in Flurry's muzzle.
Spike tugged on her leg. “If you’re right,” he swallowed, “that’s more reason not to go off on a suicide run. We need you here to lead.”
“You forget about Celestia and Luna?” Flurry asked with a chuckle and wiggled her trapped hoof. Spike still held on.
“They have other duties,” Spike said after a pause.
Flurry whinnied in laughter; it sounded manic. Rainbow backed away from the cockpit with pinned ears. The golden band slipped down her hoof and jangled against the metal on the wing.
Flurry snapped her head over to the noise and jabbed her free foreleg at the crown. “That’s their duty,” she shouted, “not whatever is on their flank!”
“It’s not worth your life!” Spike roared.
“It’s worth more than that,” Flurry roared back and ripped her foreleg free from the dragon’s grip. The sleeve on her flight suit tore away. Flurry fired her horn into Spike’s chest and knocked him back from the plane. Rainbow flapped her wings and leapt off the other side, dodging another spell from the alicorn.
Spike rolled back to his feet as Flurry started the engine. The alicorn stood in the cockpit and fired a wild sleep spell back at the dragon as he inhaled and gouged a hole in the tail of the plane with a claw. The spell caught him on the side of the head and Spike spun away, breathing fire in a wide arc away from the plane and falling to his knees.
Rainbow landed again on the side of the cockpit. Flurry hooked her forelegs around Rainbow’s front hooves and reared her head back, angling her horn out of the way to strike. Rainbow whickered in pure fear and raised her metal wing to slice at the alicorn.
Flurry saw Rainbow’s pupils dilate and hesitated, releasing the pegasus. Rainbow stared back at her. She was actually afraid.
“Just let me do this, please,” Flurry pleaded.
“I’m the Element of Loyalty,” Rainbow panted. “You don’t do it alone. I’ll follow you the whole way, not matter what you do, unless you kill me right now.”
Flurry smiled sadly at Rainbow and lit her horn. "I don't need to."
Flurry tore the straps attaching the prosthetic to Rainbow's wing joint.
Jarred loose, the enchantments on the wing failed and the feathers spasmed. Rainbow looked shocked as Flurry shoved her off the side of the plane with a hoof. The crown, left on the wing, tumbled to the edge and started to fall off, but Flurry caught it in her magic and tossed it into the cockpit.
Flurry slammed the canopy in place and picked up speed on the runway. She looked over her shoulder to see that Spike had recovered and was taking flight to catch up. Rainbow was standing on the tarmac, one wing extended and trying to fix the straps. They were too far away to make out their expressions.
Spike tried to roar something as Flurry took off, but the words were lost in the wind. The alicorn teleported the plane higher into the sky, then pivoted east towards the ocean. She sniffled and blinked back a tear, then pulled her goggles down as the sun started to rise.
Flurry Heart flew southeast. She kept her radio on, but didn’t respond to any hails from Nova Griffonia. They gave up quickly, probably realizing who the rogue plane was. Once over the ocean, she turned south and stayed low, scanning the sky and ocean for any movement.
It was quiet. The rising sun reflected off the white caps in the ocean, and the water was a clear, deep blue. Flurry pulled the canopy back and let the wind blow across the nose. Her crown jangled around the stick, where Flurry had looped it for safe keeping. Her hooves were steady on the controls.
I’ll have to ditch the plane and teleport. Proceed on wing into Griffonia to avoid fighters. Maybe the invisibility spell. Drop it once I’m close.
Flurry knew where Griffenheim was, at least on a map, and the Royal Palace had a fairly unique, spherical architecture from pictures. He’s too smart to be there. I’ll have to fly to the River Federation and raise Tartarus along the border.
Flurry climbed a bit higher into the sky for a better vantage point. Celestia always did invite me to come stay with her. Flurry tried to smile at the thought, but it was more of a grimace. Maybe the River Federation will send her to stop me. Or maybe they’ll welcome the attack and finally do something.
After an hour of flying south with a few teleports, Flurry caught a glint of metal in the waves ahead of her. She squinted and pulled her flight cap off with a hoof, leaning forward to see it. She angled the nose of the fighter toward the object and dove towards the thing.
It was a convoy of destroyers, probably a screening group escorting larger ships. The destroyers were painted in a wildly slashing color scheme that made them hard to see in the waves. The antennas on the bridges had been neglected and caught the sunlight.
Dazzle camouflage, Flurry realized. It was mostly to hide their silhouettes from submarines. Flurry leveled off and approached just above the waves. There were only six of the small ships, spread out in a line and pushing south at a hard clip.
All of them flew the black and orange flag of the Griffonian Reich.
Flurry checked her fuel, scrunched her nose at the gauge, then circled above the group of ships. She didn't shield her plane, but kept her horn primed for the gunfire to start. They didn't open fire, so Flurry gradually eased lower and flew in tighter circles, waiting. None of the guns took the bait, but the alicorn noticed some were tracking the plane. Maybe they think I'm just a scout plane. Flurry turned away and moved lower to the water.
This time, she swung back and aimed straight at the lead destroyer. Her bubble shield flickered around her plane as she approached. She saw the guns turn and griffons begin to fly above the deck as the plane neared the ship. She was already too low on the water for the anti-air guns to hit her, so the griffons would need to rely on machineguns and small arms.
Flurry pulled up and banked down the line of destroyers once she was close enough to hear the alarms blaring on the ships. She turned in a wide arc and doubled back, flying back along the ships close enough to make out individual griffons on deck; her bubble shield skimmed the top of the waves in a spray.
She could hear shouting while several griffons flew and sprinted along the deck. You know who I am, Flurry thought. You know I’ve taken larger ships than you. Are you afraid? Flurry banked away and turned to make another pass. She angled to get even closer to the deck of the destroyers, just above the waterline and an easy target, flying parallel to the entire convoy.
Flurry Heart dropped the shield.
One shot rang out and went wide, flying over the plane into the horizon. She didn’t see the griffon who fired, but her horn sparked as she prepared to teleport. Orders were screeched across the deck by frantic officers. Flurry noticed the officers were facing the crew, not the alicorn buzzing them in a fighter. They flapped their wings in agitation and several griffons broke off to return below deck.
She passed the rest of the convoy without another shot fired in her direction. Flurry tapped on the stick and bit her cheek. Fine, I’ll give you something to shoot.
Flurry turned for another pass. Once she set the nose in a straight line along the convoy again, the alicorn shut the engine off and let the plane glide above the water. Flurry took a deep breath, unclipped her belt and stood halfway out of the cockpit with the wind blowing in her mane. She turned to face the sailors and deck crew as she went by.
She was close enough to catch the twitching wings and shaking claws on the sailors. Most had lowered their guns, but a few clutched them like Flurry remembered holding onto Whammy. They were waiting for her to attack, but they weren’t attacking first. Flurry stared the officers down as she drifted by, and a few stared back.
On the last destroyer, one of the officers on the stern gestured towards their flag. Flurry looked at it and blinked in shock. He had raised a white flag. It was clearly a linen sheet from a bed, but they had taken the time to lower the Griffonian standard to be beneath it.
Flurry sank down into the cockpit and restarted the engine; it sputtered for a moment before fully kicking in. The Reich did not surrender. Flurry heard enough stories from former Reich soldiers. Surrendering without a fight was grounds for a court martial and execution. Even normal prisoners didn't have good odds. The pilots captured from the bombing raids weren’t worth trading back.
Flurry licked her lips and flew further south, gunning the engine past the convoy.
The destroyers were part of a screening escort for a larger group. Flurry picked out a battleship in the horizon first; it stuck out like an errant feather. She was now firmly in contested waters between Equestria and the Reich. Changeling submarines would probably be a concern. As she closed in, Flurry made out at least thirty ships, mostly cruisers with one battleship, which meant it was one of the main battle fleets left for the navy.
She squinted and realized they were all flying white flags already.
The alicorn ground her teeth and pulled up, flying above the guns without a shield, well in range of the anti-air. You know who I am, how many of your friends I’ve killed. You can’t possibly think I can take you all. Flurry circled around the fleet from the sky, flying in a predictable pattern to attract fire. One burst of flack could cripple her plane; she kept her horn primed to teleport.
After the warning light for the fuel tanks came on, Flurry dove towards the battleship and blew past the tower. Griffons were flying from ship-to-ship, but not frantically, just relaying messages or shift changes. Flurry inspected the guns, all of which were lowered and not engaged towards her little plane. One sailor with a mop stopped and watched her fly over the ship before resuming his business.
By the time she had enough, Flurry Heart sat quietly in her plane, listening to the engine sputter. She reached down with a hoof and touched her crown, then pulled the stick back and climbed into the sky. She turned north, back towards Nova Griffonia. The alicorn wordlessly slipped on her flight cap and locked the canopy. The fuel light was blinking; she would need to teleport to make it back.
Flurry laughed, then hiccupped and wiped away a few tears with a hard scrub of her fetlock.
She thought about her letter.
Grover,
I will write in Herzlander, so there are no misunderstandings. By the time you read this, I will have control of Nova Griffonia. This letter was sent with Admiral Hellcrest.
I am the last of the line of House Amore, and I am claiming the lands of Nova Griffonia as the rightful territory of the Crystal Empire. The ponies and griffons that choose to live here are my subjects in perpetuity, as are their descendants.
Should everything go to plan, Alexander Kemerskai Junior and Triton Blackpeak will be dead, along with the government of Nova Griffonia. You have until the first of the month to withdraw your fleet and cease hostilities with me.
If you do so, I will strike against Chrysalis in the north. She will come for me anyway.
If you do not withdraw, I know I cannot defeat you both. I will be forced to fly to Griffenheim and kill you. I will burn and destroy your palace. I will glass the land so nothing can ever be built there again. I can do this, and I will, even if it means my death.
Our empires will die together.
If you accept, consider Nova Griffonia a dowry.
Through my hoof in marriage, I promise the oil fields of the Crystal Empire, the crystals of our mountains and the minerals of our mines. I promise our magic, in knowledge and skill, in war and peace.
You will have an ally capable of leveling cities and ships in equal measure. You will have the magic of an alicorn, something none of your ancestors could ever claim. You will have the legitimacy you badly need to complete this invasion before the River Federation attacks you. You will have everything that Chrysalis desired, except for the love of my ponies.
I am the last true Princess of Ponies, and you will never have them. The ponies are mine, to govern as I please, forever. The thrones of Equestria and the Crystal Empire are mine, and I will have them or I will die.
Flurry.
Flurry Heart crammed her flaming horn into the snow, instantly creating a puddle of sludge and water. She pulled her horn out and shook her head like a dog, spraying bits of mud across her mane. She sniffed and smelled burning mud, so she plunged her horn into another snowbank with a sizzle.
After shaking her head again, Flurry tore off the shredded sleeve of her flight jacket and used it as a makeshift rag to clean her horn and eyes. Her mane was a lost cause. The alicorn tossed the rags into the muddy puddle and rolled the rest of the sleeve up her foreleg.
Kristoff, an old yellow griffon with orange feathers, appraised the massive hole in the side of the mountain. He squinted through his binoculars as he peered down the tunnel, standing with his crew at a safe distance from the alicorn and the gaping wound in the earth.
“I do not see light yet, Princess! Again!” he screeched in Herzlander.
Flurry huffed. She had listened to the old bird ramble about angles, degrees, and structural integrity, but she was beginning to lose her patience. The test holes along the side of the mountain were a testament to Kristoff’s expectations on the tunnel. “The sides are too jagged,” he would say, then “the sides are too round,” and finally “the slope is too steep.”
This new hole was far larger than the others, expansive enough for two trucks to pass side-by-side. Flurry appraised it with a tired look. Far Sight always told me only dark magic could be fueled by anger, but it seems lasers can be too. The joke hardly improved her mood.
Flurry dug her hooves into the snow, took a deep breath, and lashed out with a lance of pure energy, sending it at a five degree decline down the tunnel, per Kristoff’s instructions. She heard the beam give a discordant chime as it impacted stone and felt a dull vibration echo around her horn as it bore through the rock. She kept pouring energy into the continuous stream until she felt a trickle of blood on her lips just as the pressure in her horn released. She cut the spell off and wiped her nose on her bare foreleg, grimacing at the blood.
Her horn sparked and sizzled, and Kristoff dumped his canteen on her head, flapping his wings above her. He held her crown in his other claw. “I will save you the embarrassment,” he remarked graciously.
Flurry shook her mane and ignored the wafts of steam coming from her smoking horn.
“The tunnel is complete,” Kristoff announced and landed next to the alicorn. The griffon pulled on his simple uniform, a practical jacket with thick wool pants and leather boots.
“What?” Flurry asked, indignant. “You haven’t even checked!” The edges of the tunnel still glowed red-hot from the heat, making heatwaves shimmer across the entrance.
“I do not need to,” Kristoff answered. “I heard the blast echo across the mountains form the other side.”
Flurry squinted at the griffon, who sat and waited with a stopwatch for the tunnel to cool. The alicorn fired a beam of frost down the tunnel; it dissipated into water and steam.
“Do not do that,” Kristoff snapped. “It will make the tunnel brittle.” He did not look up from the watch and offered her the crown with an outstretched claw.
Flurry ground her teeth and waited, crown in place on her head.
After several minutes, Kristoff stood, whistled, and caught a gas mask tossed by one of his workers. He fastened it to his beak and flew slowly into the tunnel, followed by three griffons with headlamps and mining helmets.
Flurry Heart paced in the snow, occasionally reaching up to feel her crown with a wingtip.
The griffons returned sooner than she expected. Kristoff landed and waved the others away, back to the stockpiles of timber and metal sheets near the road. Flurry chose the mountain because it was already part of a smuggling trail. The road was small and narrow, but cutting through the mountain saved days of dangerous climbing and travel time.
Kristoff pulled his mask down. “The tunnel goes through,” he stated and Flurry sighed in relief. He raised a claw to crush her good mood. “However…”
Flurry’s horn involuntarily sparked.
Kristoff noticed the small blue flame and lowered his claw. “The tunnel is acceptable,” he admitted. “It leads to a series of valleys; we spotted the other side of the trail below us.” He shrugged his wings. “The tunnel is very smooth, but the trail is not. We need time to smooth and expand the trail, and time to reinforce the tunnel.”
“How long?” Flurry asked.
“A week,” Kristoff guessed, “provided the workers in Evergreen pull their weight and clear the forests in the valleys.”
“They will,” Flurry promised. “You have three days.”
The old griffon clacked his beak and laughed. “I learned from the dogs of Bronzehill. I can do it in two.” He turned to his work crew, gathered around the supply tents and parked trucks. “Get to work, lazy mutts!” he screeched, ignoring that his crew was entirely griffons. “The Princess wants her hole ready!”
Flurry snorted. You might not find jokes like that funny once words gets out. She shook her head and slowly flew away, taking a moment to sync her wing beats. She had expended more than enough magic this morning, even for an alicorn.
Flurry dumped her plane, critically low on fuel despite multiple teleports, at the airbase in Evergreen. Fighters, bombers, and a few transports had already arrived, parked along the runways. The logging crews were working overtime to clear more space around the airfield for two more airstrips and runways.
Inside the city, every home quartered at least a squad of pony militia, in most cases sleeping on the floor. The hotel suffered a similar fate, now a permanent headquarters for the frontier. The civilians in town, mostly ponies, put up with the disruptions with their heads held high; it was mandated by their Princess.
Despite their attitude, Flurry knew that Evergreen was stretched to its absolute limit. The frontier city didn’t hold a candle to the size of even a modest city on the coast. The beleaguered ground crews at the airfield didn’t notice Flurry landing her plane with magical guidance in a small, cleared field. Even if they did, Flurry teleported away to Kristoff before anypony could pepper her with questions.
We have to move quickly, Flurry thought, and pushed her oversized wings harder. She was sweating by the time she made it back to Weter, despite the chill wind and snow drifting down from the north. The alicorn felt the cold wind bite her lungs when she breathed in, and glared at the snow on the streets below her. She spotted several patrols in Aquileian blue flying or walking the streets; the Nova Griffonians gave them space.
Are they afraid of them, Flurry wondered idly, or are they afraid of me? She passed over her crater from the Capitol Building, now filled with muddy snow, and landed on the rooftop of Weter Radio. Echo saluted with a shivering wing and quickly bundled her coat back up.
“What are you doing here?” Flurry asked curiously.
Bat ponies were meant for tropical climates; they lived predominantly in southeast Equestria for a thousand years. Supposedly, the bat ponies came from there, instead of descending from the tribes fleeing the windigos, but Flurry had heard too many stories about Luna creating them to believe in legends. She believed her eyes, and the little bat pony’s knees knocked together as she danced from hoof-to-hoof to stay warm.
“I-I lost a-a bet,” Echo admitted, fangs chattering against her lips. “My s-sister outdrank m-me last night and m-made me take the day s-shift.”
Flurry rolled her eyes and lit her horn, sending a low-powered heating spell that washed over the mare. She raised a hoof and sniffled, turning her head to hide the small trickle of blood.
Echo sighed with relief. “Thank you, Princess,” she bowed, scraping her wings against the snow as she nearly prostrated herself on the roof.
“It’s fine,” Flurry said quickly and set her hoof down. “It’s temporary; it won’t save you from freezing. Who’s here? I need our field commanders present.”
Echo pinched her lip with a fang. “Everyone’s here, Princess. Governor Fierté called a meeting early this morning.” She hesitated, then added, “After you left.”
“I see,” Flurry hummed. “Thank you.”
The alicorn wiped her hooves in the stairwell before descending down towards the lounge. The guards in the doorways waved her through quickly. The radio room was a frenzied nest of activity as griffons and ponies rapidly compiled and referenced field reports all along the coast. Flurry sidestepped around a griffon carrying clawfuls of paper and balancing on her hind legs; the stack was so high she didn’t see the alicorn in front of her. For once, the room didn’t stop to stare at the lean alicorn as she crossed the room.
A griffon flapped her wings and unrolled an updated map along the wall. Flurry stopped to stare up at it. It was a map of the ocean between Nova Griffonia and the Griffonian Reich, from coast to coast. The ocean was clear, except for ships in the south. The flying griffon added small pictures of planes and guesstimates of air wings in Vedina, the province of the Reich across from Nova Griffonia. The numbers were far smaller than a week ago.
Flurry jolted as a brown earth pony collided with her flank. The stallion had turned away from a radio and sprinted right into her flank, spilling reports from between his teeth. “Excuse me, Princess,” the stallion apologized.
“Forgiven,” Flurry said, “I’m in the way.” She picked up the papers in her magic and offered them to the stallion. “What are these?”
The stallion sat on his flank to collect them in his hooves; he rapidly shuffled through them. “They’re reports from the border patrols,” he explained, then frowned at her and offered a sheet of paper. “This one’s old. You can have it.”
“Why?” Flurry blinked.
The stallion lowered his voice. “Your nose is bleeding, Princess.”
Flurry took the sheet of paper and mushed it against her nose with a hoof, looking around to see if anypony else noticed. Luckily, the room was too busy.
“My father was a unicorn,” the stallion said sympathetically. “He got nosebleeds when he overused his magic.”
“I’m fine,” Flurry deflected and crumpled the paper into a bloody ball. She stuffed it under her wing and stormed away, pushing through the crowd to get to the lounge.
Jadis guarded the door with another crystal pony. She saw Flurry’s head and horn emerge from the desks and saluted while the other mare opened the door. Flurry stumbled on her hooves slightly, but masked it as a stretch.
“Jadis, with me,” the alicorn ordered and swept through the door.
The lounge was once again a mess of creatures staring at maps, reports, and coffee mugs scattered on the large table in the center. Governor Fierté had Jacques and Eagleheart with her on one side of the table, with Spike, Thorax, Dusty, and Duskcrest on the other. They all watched the alicorn stride across the room to the table, but Jacques and Duskcrest didn’t stop talking to each other.
Progress. Flurry collapsed into an empty chair in between the parties after Jadis shut the door behind them. She tossed the paper ball from her wing under the table in a smooth stretch. The alicorn took stock of her advisors and frowned.
“Where’s Katherine?” Flurry asked.
“Under guard and awaiting interrogation on another floor,” Thorax answered with visible reluctance.
“I need her here,” Flurry said with a snarl, “and I said she wasn’t to be punished.”
“All of the rooftop guards witnessed her holding you at gunpoint,” Jadis answered with a frown. “Word already spread through the building. We can’t just let her walk away.”
“She tried to kill you,” Spike pointed out.
“Oh,” Flurry gave a bitter chuckle, “isn’t that what you were trying to do this morning?” She laid her bare foreleg on the table. “You have quite the grip, uncle Spike.”
“That wasn’t what I was trying to do,” Spike answered defensively with arms crossed. “I was trying to stop you from killing yourself.”
“Really?” Flurry asked. “Is that why you picked Katherine to distract me?”
Spike’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re the one who put her on that roof with me,” Flurry continued, speaking casually. “How’s Rainbow?”
“Repairing her wing,” Spike answered. “You tore apart her rigging and she spent all morning getting the straps fixed.”
“I'm glad she's alright. You look good,” Flurry offered.
“Dragon scales are resistant to magic,” Spike snorted, “and Twilight cast that spell all the time to try to put me to sleep as a fledgling.” He buffed a scale on his arm with a talon.
Flurry laid her other foreleg on the table and surveyed the room with a sigh, meeting each of the adult’s eyes for a moment. “How many of you were part of the plot against me?”
“There was no plot against you,” Spike said bluntly. “We were trying to-”
“They asked me but I told them it was pointless,” Jacques interrupted with a shrug of his wings. “You will do what you want.”
Flurry's lips curled. “Who asked you?”
Fierté sighed and raised a claw. Duskcrest and Dusty stuck up their forelegs in one motion. Jadis, who sat next to Flurry, looked apologetically over at the Princess and held up her crippled foreleg. It shook slightly from the effort. “I am sorry, Princess,” she apologized, “but I could not allow you to throw your life away.” Spike didn’t raise his arm, but stared at Flurry unblinkingly.
“I was unaware of a plot,” Eagleheart said slowly in accented Equestrian. “I have been handling the garrisons on the coast.”
Flurry looked at Thorax. He kept his hoof down. “You’re surprised,” the changeling observed with a sardonic chuckle.
“Yeah,” Flurry admitted.
“I told Spike it would just make you more committed,” Thorax explained, “but my friend didn't want to listen.” He jerked his head fin over to Spike aggressively.
“I wouldn’t have needed to try anything if my friend supported me instead of just giving up!” Spike countered and growled at the changeling. “If you’d have been there, you would have known what Katherine was doing!”
“Enough!” Flurry whinnied and slammed her hoof down on the table. The wood cracked under the impact. “You’re all pardoned for treason,” Flurry sighed. “Congratulations.”
She shot a dark look over to Thorax. “Go get Katherine. She’s pardoned for attempted regicide or whatever. The gun wasn’t even loaded.”
“We don’t know where she got it or how she got it through the guards,” Spike protested.
“It’s Nova Griffonia,” Flurry replied. “There’re more guns than griffons here, all thanks to Blackpeak’s armories. And she’s my friend. Why would the guards be suspicious? How many of you are armed right now?”
Duskcrest looked down to the holsters under his wings; Fierté cleared her throat and looked away. Jadis shifted the rifle slung on her flank. Thorax flashed a small pistol in his green-tinged magic from a pocket while Dusty spun her revolver with her horn and holstered it again. Jacques whistled innocently and nudged Eagleheart with a wing. The Aquileian unicorn sighed and revealed a large knife strapped to her foreleg. The blade shot into the table with a flex of her hoof, then retracted back into her sleeve.
Flurry blinked at the display with the rest of the table. “Why do you have that?” she asked in Aquileian.
“Family heirloom,” Eagleheart answered vaguely, “and I always have my magic,” she added with a flourish of her horn.
“I’m not armed,” Spike said and gestured to himself.
“You’re a dragon,” Flurry snorted. “You’re always armed.”
Thorax stood. “I’ll be back,” he called over his shoulder. “Katherine’s fine, still a little shaken up.” Flurry waited until the guard closed the door.
“I bumped into a unicorn with reports on the border. What’s going on?” she asked once the door shut.
“We’re seeing movement on the southern border,” Fierte stated. “The Changelings are shuffling troops. They have better radar than we do; they probably knew that the Reich was adjusting targets.”
“We need to talk about that,” Spike butted in.
“With Katherine,” Flurry dismissed. “Are there more Changelings on the southern front with Equestria?”
“Not yet,” Fierté said, “but the Herzlanders won’t be able to hold the fort line against a continuous attack. Heartsong and Barrel Roller are still in Evergreen with most of the militias.”
“You were there this morning,” Jacques addressed Flurry with a flourish of his claw. “Poor Captain Cloud Hopper found your plane on his airstrip and panicked at the claw marks all over it.”
Spike cleared his throat uncomfortably.
“I teleported there,” Flurry explained, “after I found a battle group heading south this morning and none of them took the bait. It looks like Grover accepted my offer.”
“What do you mean by bait?” Dusty asked with dread in her tone.
“I flew around without a shield and tried to get them to shoot me,” Flurry shrugged. “It didn’t work.”
A small jet of flame came from Spike’s mouth involuntarily as he growled with anger. Flurry shot him a warning look. “How are we at the supplies for Evergreen?” she asked with a bite. “Or did you ruin that as part of your plan?”
Spike took a moment to recompose himself, breathing in and exhaling while pushing his claw away. It’s the same breathing exercise my mother taught me, Flurry noted.
“We set aside practically everything we seized from the coast,” Spike started.
“He means what we took from the rich,” Jacques interrupted with a laugh.
“Combined with what we raided from the supply depots and the Republicans,” Spike continued with a frown at Jacques, “we have enough to supply a small army for a month on an offensive.”
“By that, he means an assault on favorable terrain with good weather,” Fierté added. “We can’t make it over the mountains.” She raised a claw. “By air, yes, we could send planes, but we don’t have enough transports for an army and all their supplies.”
“I already dug the tunnel,” Flurry revealed and flipped through the maps on the table. Her map of the Crystal Empire was buried underneath a map of the frontier. Flurry dragged it out and set it on top.
She tapped her hoof on the line through the mountain. “Kristoff and his dig crew are working with the logging company in Evergreen to connect the road to the trail.”
“You blew a hole through Mount Grimpeak?” Duskcrest asked with surprise.
“This morning,” Flurry replied with a nod. “It leads to a series of valleys.” She moved her hoof down the trail and diverted just before the tundra. She picked up a pencil in her magic and circled another valley, recessed into the mountains. A railway from the Crystal City ended there.
“This is about half a day’s slow trot from the trail,” Flurry began. “It was a mining settlement called Ironbend.” Flurry wrote the name on the map. “Now, it’s a slave camp for the Changelings. Ponies spend all day mining iron ore to ship back to the Crystal City. I met a pony that escaped there at one of the soup kitchens.”
“What if it’s abandoned? Have we scouted it?” Dusty asked and squinted at the map.
“No, that’ll ruin the surprise,” Flurry countered. “We lead a quick strike force through the mountain and take Ironbend, then secure the railway. The army uses the rail to push towards the Crystal City and relieve the air assault.” Flurry drew a line down the railway, circling each town. “Hit every town hard on the way. Don’t slow down.”
“What if there’s no trains?” Jadis asked with a frown. “What if the Changelings destroy the trains when you attack?”
“I’ll teleport some over from Evergreen,” Flurry answered easily. “We can connect the railroad through the mountains later. The hole’s certainly big enough.”
A drop of blood fell onto Ironbend.
Flurry stared at it, confused, before abruptly leaning back and wiping her foreleg across her muzzle. It came back with a streak of red on her pink fur. She sniffled and tasted blood on her lips. Her eyes flicked to each of the adults.
“It must take a lot of magic to bore through a mountain,” Dusty said quietly. “Are you all right?”
“Princess, I have a rag,” Jadis spoke up and began searching through the pockets on her uniform.
“I’m fine,” Flurry said forcefully and waved Jadis away with a hurried wing.
“Nope,” Spike replied. “You need rest, hydration, and carbohydrates.”
“Don’t act so concerned,” Flurry admonished and rolled her eyes. “Not after this morning.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Spike snorted in a casual tone.
Flurry reared back involuntarily. Spike rarely swore.
“You wait until your dear friend is gone before taking that tone?” Jacques observed.
“You remind me of a really, really annoying friend I once had,” Spike said to the griffon, then stared at Flurry with half-lidded eyes. “You’re as stubborn as Twilight, probably worse,” the dragon admitted with a small frown. He unfolded his arms. “She pushed herself all the time. Celestia drilled it into her to stop before she crippled herself with Magical Exhaustion.”
“I am fine,” Flurry repeated.
“You got a nosebleed from lifting a pencil in your magic.” Spike counted on a claw. “You’re slumping your weight against the table to keep your hooves steady, and your eyes are unfocused.”
Flurry blinked a few times and scowled. She planted her front hooves on the table and sat up, letting her forelegs support her body. Then, she extended her wings and held them rigidly with primary feathers splayed out.
Jadis moved to the side to give her wings room. Flurry took a deep breath and glared at Spike, who just looked back placidly. His slit pupils flicked down to her hooves and he pursed his lips.
Flurry looked down and saw her front hooves trembling as she struggled not to buckle and slump against the table. She folded her wings and sat down again quickly. “We don’t have time for games,” she huffed.
“Okay,” Spike shrugged. “I’m sure you know your limits.”
Jadis took her seat again, looking at Flurry from the corner of her eye. She glanced away when Flurry turned to glare at her.
Thorax entered behind Flurry with Katherine meekly following with drooped wings. Her eyes were red from crying, and the fur around them was matted down. Flurry motioned with a wing and a soft smile to the chair on her right, but Katherine followed Thorax around the table and took a seat next to Jacques.
“How are you?” Flurry asked in Herzlander.
“Better, Princess,” Katherine said in a small voice.
“They didn’t hurt you?” Flurry asked and gave Thorax a suspicious glance.
“No!” Katherine protested with a squawk. “Arex and the others protected me! They didn’t tell you?”
Flurry turned to Jadis questioningly.
Jadis rubbed her bad hoof. “When word spread around, some of the guards wanted to, uh, hurt her.”
“They wanted to break her wings and throw her from the roof,” Jacques elaborated. “Mostly ponies.”
“Katherine is my friend,” Flurry stated. She narrowed her eyes and dropped her voice to a growl. “Nothing happened. The next one that pushes the issue is getting hurt. Severely.”
“Okay,” Fierté shrugged. “I can make that official policy. Griffons will keep their beaks shut, but some ponies might need a slap.”
“Do it,” Flurry nodded. Katherine didn’t look relieved. If anything, she looked even sadder.
“So,” Jacques clapped, “onto the big news!” He snapped a claw and gestured to the maps. “According to all reports, the Reich withdrew its airplanes and navy at precisely midnight. The Kaiser pushed the deadline to the last possible moment, but he folded to your request. Planes and ships have steered clear all morning.”
“No way the cub actually did it,” Eagleheart spat in Aquileian. “It’s a trap.”
“I agree with Eagleheart,” Fierté concurred. “The Kaiser is trying to lure our troops off the coast. If we commit to Chrysalis, I don’t have the griffs to defend against a renewed air and naval invasion.”
“I agreed to open another front against Chrysalis,” Flurry pointed out. “She’ll attack us anyway.”
“What else did you agree to?” Thorax asked pointedly, but with a calm voice. “You said you’d tell me.”
Flurry bit her lip. She looked over her shoulder and cast a locking spell on the door, then waved her horn across the room. The walls shimmered blue. When the blue sparkles faded, Flurry braced her hooves on the table as a fresh stream of blood flowed from her nose. Her ears popped as the spell sealed the room. She panted raggedly and smeared the blood across her foreleg.
“Flurry!” Spike snarled, “Enough!”
“I promised him mineral and oil rights,” Flurry rasped, “for the Crystal Empire and Equestria. I promised to share our magical knowledge with the Reich; they’ve always coveted how Equestria was the breadbasket of the world. I promised our industry, whatever’s left of it. He acknowledges me as the rightful Princess in exchange.”
Dusty, Jadis, and Spike looked horrified. The others were ambivalent.
“You’d reduce Equestria to a puppet!” Dusty whinnied and flailed a foreleg. “You’d just be a puppet to Grover!”
You’re going to love this, Flurry thought sarcastically, but answered, “We’ll be a puppet anyway to whoever helps us rebuild. We have the resources, whatever Chrysalis hasn't stolen, but we don’t have the money or the ponypower. Might as well make it official now rather than later.”
“What about the River Federation?” Jadis asked.
“They haven’t even attacked the Reich while half the army is over here,” Fierté spat. “Chancellor River Swirl’s policy is purely defensive; it’s the only thing the Riverlands can agree on. The River Parliament will never vote to send aid or volunteers, let alone to sink their economy trying to rebuild another continent.”
“What about Zebrica?” Dusty asked desperately. “I worked in Hippogriffia for a few years, studying the ruins around Mount Aris. They’ve always supported Equestria.”
“Zebrica’s a mess,” Spike admitted. “Queen Novo sent us support during the war, but they got attacked by Wingbardy and withdrew. They’re in no condition to help us; we tried to get their help during the uprising. They’ve been fighting their neighbors on-and-off since the war.”
“I don’t care about Zebrica,” Duskcrest interrupted. “What about Nova Griffonia? Any deal with the Kaiser will make every griffon nervous.”
Katherine fluttered her wings uncomfortably.
“I keep Nova Griffonia; everyone in it is my subject,” Flurry replied. Her wings twitched in sync with her tail.
“Well, that’ll be a relief,” Fierté sighed. Thorax squinted across the table at Flurry.
Just say it now. Flurry inhaled and choked on her words. Dusty and Duskcrest resumed some conversation between each other while Jacques watched with a smirk. She spit out in one breath, “In exchange I marry Grover.”
The room went quiet.
Spike’s fins twitched and he cocked his head. “I’m sorry?” he asked.
Flurry licked her lips. “In exchange for Nova Griffonia,” she clarified, “I will marry the Kaiser.”
Spike nodded absently, eyes distant and looking far past Flurry. “That’s what I thought I heard,” he said mildly.
For one long moment that Flurry Heart treasured, everyone was quiet.
Then, Jacques broke out in wild squawks of laughter.
And everyone else started screaming at Flurry.
Flurry thumped her head against the table. “One at a time,” she repeated at a drone.
Spike unclenched his claws from the table. “You can’t,” he snarled. That’s number thirty-three, Flurry grimaced. There had been a lot of that in the past two hours. The door still shimmered in Flurry’s magic, firmly locked and warded.
Flurry sighed. “I’m legally an adult,” she said yet again. “I can marry anyone I wish.”
“What possibly possessed you to offer marriage?” Katherine asked. After Spike, she was probably the angriest one in the room, although Eagleheart and Fierté were both fuming. Duskcrest and Dusty had leaned back in their chairs, offering the occasional outburst between draining the griffon’s flask between them. Thorax sat quietly with his hooves on the table. Jadis had gone into shock behind Flurry, staring at the far wall blankly, foreleg tucked against her chest. Jacques also said nothing, but still giggled occasionally and earned the wrath of the entire table when he did.
“I had to offer him something. I’ve killed too many of his griffons.”
“So offer him land!” Fierté squawked.
“Like Nova Griffonia?” Flurry snorted. “What happens to the griffons? Will you dip your wings and become his subject?”
Fierté narrowed her eye and her wing twitched in its sling. “Never. I’ve fought the Reich for my entire career, and you’re asking us to throw all of it away.”
“We can’t fight them both!” Flurry said exasperatedly. Her hooves kicked the bottom of the table and jostled the maps. “I can’t fight Chrysalis and Grover at once. I can at least negotiate with the Kaiser, and you're fighting for me, not him!”
“For what?” Spike challenged. “You offered him everything.”
“Not you,” Flurry replied quietly. Her tail curled against one of the legs of her stool. “You’re all my subjects, not his. Nova Griffonia is my territory. That’s the agreement.”
“Don’t you dare claim you did this to keep us safe,” Katherine choked out in Herzlander.
Flurry huffed, glanced at Thorax, then scanned across the table. “He offered to help me before the war,” she revealed. “He sent a griffon with an offer: Attack Nova Griffonia with my militia and assist the landings, then sweep into Equestria together.”
Flurry had never told anyone what transpired between Frederick the beleaguered griffon and the letter. There were rumors, but she was the only one that could’ve read the letter anyway. Everyone except Thorax and Spike paused in surprise. Spike looked away from the table.
“Well, I guess I didn’t read all your letters,” Jacques coughed.
“I said no,” Flurry shrugged her wings, “then I joined the air force. The griffon left a few days later."
“We should’ve been told,” Fierté insisted and rapped a claw on the table.
“I decided not to tell you,” Thorax interrupted, hissing. “You would’ve fought Grover,” he said to Fierté, then glanced at Duskcrest. “You would have as well. It would’ve been a bloodbath in the frontier. Ponies and griffons would've fought each other to the death like a thousand years ago.”
Duskcrest clacked his beak, but said nothing.
“When did this happen?” Katherine asked and wrung her claws.
“The day I met you.”
Katherine’s wings drooped. “You do not have to do this.”
“You don’t get to decide what I’m willing to sacrifice,” Flurry stated and lifted her head off the table. “I’m not sacrificing my ponies, or my griffons, to save my pride.”
“It’s more than that,” Spike stressed. “Celestia and Luna never married for a reason.”
“They’d outlive all their loves,” Flurry said, echoing her mother. Cadance had been counseled on the nature of her marriage with Shining. She had been too young to tell, but it was easily possible she would outlive him. Flurry didn’t remember her parents talking about it in front of her. “I doubt heartbreak will be a problem.”
“The Sisters never wanted to share power with a mate,” Jacques countered. “Besides, inheritance gets a bit tricky if you live forever, especially if you have foals.”
“Which won’t be an issue,” Duskcrest added. “Griffons and ponies can’t have cubs together. If they could, Aquileia and the borderlands would be teeming with ‘gronies’ or something.”
“Gronies?” Dusty whickered in laughter.
“What would you call them?” the griffon said defensively and took his flask back.
“Still, he has a point,” Thorax interrupted. “You might live for a long time, but Grover won’t. Why should he marry somepony that can’t give him an heir?”
“Grover IV was known for his consorts,” Flurry asked, glancing at Katherine for confirmation.
“Yes, and he weakened the Reich immeasurably during his decadent reign,” Katherine replied.
“The prestige of marrying an alicorn is worth more than anything else Grover could stick his feathers in,” Jacques smirked.
“Marriage is a sacred union for griffons,” Eagleheart said to Jacques and raised her eyebrow at Dusty. “I know Equestria could be quite liberal…”
“Herding is nowhere near as common as griffons think it is,” Dusty gave Eagleheart a withering glare, then relented. “However, marriage is more a unicorn tradition to bind noble houses.”
“Which is why your parents married,” Spike supplied to Flurry, “and for love, of course.”
“Griffons and ponies don’t always marry for love,” Flurry said stubbornly. “Sacred to the Trinity or not, it still functions the same way for both of us.”
“You’ll be expected to be subservient to Grover,” Jacques warned. He leaned on the table and waved a claw about. “Ponies have had a thousand years of a strong, wise, mare to guide their culture, but griffons trace lineage though the father. We're patriarchal.”
“I doubt he expects me to be meek and quiet.”
“What if he demands it?”
“I refuse. Or I kill him. It worked for Guinevere Discret, didn’t it?” Flurry rolled her eyes.
“She begged!” Katherine exclaimed.
“She threatened to lead Aquileia to the end,” Fierté corrected with a swish of her tail. "Grover failed to break the Princesses' shield. She's proven her strength to resist him."
Katherine swallowed down her initial response. “Even if she threatened him or charmed him or begged," the young griffon ranted, "Guinevere spent the rest of her life in Griffenheim. She was essentially a prisoner. She never returned home to Aquileia, not even in death. Grover II buried her in the catacombs when she died.”
“I’m an alicorn,” Flurry motioned to her horn and wings. “Equestria and the Crystal Empire are mine. I won’t leave, and he’s not stupid enough to demand me to do so,” Flurry retorted. “Besides, he’ll need me to legitimize his invasion anyway.”
“What about after?” Thorax asked.
“We figure it out," Flurry said dismissively. "Has there been any kind of official response?”
“No,” Fierté said. “We don’t know what the Reich is planning after the withdrawal. They haven’t broadcasted anything.”
“You said you would strike Chrysalis, yes?” Jacques asked rhetorically. He continued before he received a response. “He may have received your offer, but planned on taking Nova Griffonia once you shift your focus away.”
“Then I go back to trying to kill him in Griffenheim,” Flurry stated.
“If we’re going on the attack, the coast is effectively defenseless,” Fierté warned. “Both to the Reich and the Republicans. Don’t think they won’t try something once you get far enough away.”
The remnants of Kemerskai’s forces were spread out along the coast. All of them had capitulated, but the militias remained armed to defend their cities. Griffons in Yarrow and Frostfall were still belligerent, but mostly threw bottles and stones instead of grenades.
“You and the Aquileians are staying,” Flurry said. “So are the coastal militias. Remind any griffon who has reservations that I can teleport pretty far.”
Fierté drummed her claws on the table. “If the Reich attacks, Nova Griffonians might rise up along the coast. A few might try to make a deal with Grover.”
“Good thing I already made a better deal,” Flurry snarked.
“We still don’t know if he accepted,” Dusty reminded the table.
“Why else would the attacks stop?” Flurry asked aloud.
“It could be a distraction,” Duskcrest guessed. “Or he never got your letter and is simply shifting focus to Chrysalis.”
“Exactly at midnight on the deadline?” Jacques squawked. “He must have gotten the letter, then tried to test you.”
“It could still be a feint. The Reich hasn’t announced a ceasefire.”
“Nor will they,” Katherine stated and stared at Flurry. “You’ve killed far too many griffons for Grover to ever accept anything other than surrender. It will make him look weak.”
I am surrendering. Flurry shook her head. “They won’t announce anything until I commit to attacking Chrysalis. Either he keeps his word and I keep mine, or we try to kill each other. There are no other options now.”
“Not anymore,” Spike sighed with a plume of smoke. It wafted against the ceiling.
“Every hour we spend arguing is another hour for Chrysalis to prepare,” Flurry pushed herself away from the table. “We push through the mountains. We take back the Crystal Empire, then move from there.”
“What if the Reich advances towards the southern border in the meantime?” Fierté asked.
“Wait until they shoot first,” Flurry offered. “Refuse them entry, not until we're officially allied.”
“Are you going on the radio again?” Thorax asked. “We haven’t been attacked so far, and it’s raising questions.”
“A lot of happy ponies,” Dusty added. “Griffons are a little worried.”
“I’ll say I offered a ceasefire to focus on the more present threat,” Flurry said slowly. “The details don’t leave this room. If the Reich attacks, we go with my backup plan.”
“If Grover announces you offered to marry him, it will cause a panic here,” Fierté warned.
“There will be a panic no matter who announces it,” Thorax dismissed. “We keep it quiet for now. You should reiterate your claim on Nova Griffonia tonight.”
Flurry nodded.
“This is the backup plan where you fly across the ocean and try to kill him, yes?” Jacques asked with a flip of his claw. “Good to know we choose between marriage or death, like normal life.”
“I’m the one choosing,” Flurry replied.
“We are bound by your choices, for better and worse,” Jacques said in Aquileian. “Your death will be the collapse of Nova Griffonia, and this group.” The other Aquileians jabbed their compatriot in response.
Flurry frowned and fluttered her wings. “I won’t hide while others fight my battles for me,” she stressed.
“Will you lead the attack through the mountains?” Duskcrest asked.
“I’ll join it, but I’m not a commander.”
Duskcrest laughed. “You’re wearing a crown; you’re automatically a commander.”
“Good, thanks for volunteering General Duskcrest,” Flurry said; the griffon paled and finished his flask. “We need to take Ironbend first. A small strike force of pegasi or griffons can move through the tunnel ahead of the army.”
“Fine,” Duskcrest coughed. “How long do I have to prepare?” The griffon tossed the empty flask on the table.
“Two days. And I want the air field in Evergreen ready and operational,” Flurry continued.
“Just enough time to sober up,” Jacques chuckled.
Flurry dispelled her wards on the door. “The official stance is that I negotiated a ceasefire with the Reich after asserting my claim to the territory,” Flurry reminded her captive audience. The adults nodded, some slower than others.
Katherine’s eyes welled up with tears. “You cannot do it.”
Thirty-four. Enough. “I can,” Flurry nearly snarled.
“What will you do if he demands to lay-”
“Lift my damn tail and lie down.”
Katherine clacked her beak shut and shrank back. After a moment, she pushed away from the table and practically fled the room. The Aquileians followed at a slower pace, then Duskcrest and Dusty Mark.
Jadis watched them all leave and looked heartbroken at her Princess. “He’s a monster, Princess.”
“You think he’s worse than Sombra?” Flurry questioned with a nicker and cracked her tail across the stool.
“I would not wish you to marry him either.” The crystal pony shuffled her hooves and her coat seemed dimmer. “Your parents loved each other dearly. It was clear to all of us that their marriage was truly magical. Your mother wouldn’t want this.”
Love is the death of duty. “I don’t know about that,” Flurry answered neutrally. "I'll sell myself before I sell my subjects."
Jadis limped out without responding.
Thorax remained seated at the table, hooves folded across the map. Spike glowered next to him, hunched due to the low ceiling. “May I have a word, Princess?” the changeling requested.
Flurry nodded, but remained standing. The arguing had taken most of the morning; her hooves no longer shook under her weight.
“Alone,” Thorax specified and stared down Spike until the dragon left the room with a sigh.
Flurry turned her head as the dragon squeezed past her. “When I take the Crystal City, I would like you to be with me, Sir Spike. You're a hero to them.”
Spike screwed his muzzle up in distaste. “Taking the Crystal City is a mistake. Grover doesn’t even have to attack us; the front line will be stretched too thin. He can watch us flounder and die in the north.”
“Noted.”
Spike reached the door, but turned back around and addressed the alicorn. “Flurry, a lot of your subjects are going to die in the attack, succeed or fail.”
"I know," Flurry laughed bitterly. “Why am I the only one that sees we’re all dead anyway?”
“Because it’s not true!” Spike said exasperatedly.
“Either Grover accepts my offer, or we fight two continent-spanning superpowers instead of one,” Flurry summarized. “We will never win that fight, no matter how long we hold out. I will not wait for somepony else to save my ponies, not when they’re dying by the day.”
Spike bit his lip and his tail swung idly as he thought. “Twilight,” he said slowly, “would trust her friends to help her, and listen to their advice. You aren’t doing this alone.”
Flurry’s ears folded back. “I need your help,” she admitted, “but if you disagree with me, you’re free to return to Ember and sit this out. Or maybe you can finally go to Auntie Celestia.”
Spike stared at her, scanning her over. “Do you want me to leave?” he challenged.
“No,” Flurry replied immediately. “Never. But I don’t know if you want to stay.”
Spike paused for a moment, then turned and walked through the door. “I need to settle some things before joining the attack,” he promised as the door swung shut.
Flurry and Thorax were alone.
“He’ll stay,” Thorax remarked flippantly.
“Are you saying that as a changeling or as his friend?” Flurry asked with a scoff.
“Both.”
Flurry laughed briefly, then ceased when Thorax didn’t even smile. “What did you want to talk about?” she pressed.
Thorax drummed his hooves on the table. “Everyone’s shocked, but they’ll keep quiet. Don’t worry about it.”
“I trust my advisors,” Flurry confirmed. “Even though they all plotted against me yesterday.”
Thorax cracked a smile. “Grover would be a fool not to marry you. You’re the heir to three-quarters of Equus. Equestria will be too weak to stand on its own afterwards. It will take a generation to recover, perhaps more.”
“That’s why I offered it.”
His smile died. “And it will mean a war.”
“We’re already at war,” Flurry answered with a frown.
“There will be more wars after this,” Thorax promised. “With everything you offered, the Reich will be the ultimate power on this world. The River Federation won't allow it. Grover will have to keep this quiet until he's prepared to face them." Thorax narrowed his eyes. "And when he does, you'll be expected to help."
"The eastern ponies and dogs never helped us," Flurry said with a sneer. "Not during the Great War, and not afterward. I don't care about them."
"But you still care about Celestia and Luna."
"I hate them," Flurry said on reflex.
Thorax shook his head. "No, you don't," he chittered.
I can't think about this right now. “Maybe,” Flurry allowed, “but let’s get through this war first. You support my decision?”
“I don’t want to say that whoring yourself out is a better option than drowning Nova Griffonia in blood,” Thorax answered with a sigh. Flurry blinked, taken off-guard by his bluntness. “And I don’t know if it’s a smart choice,” Thorax continued, “but this keeps your subjects safe.”
Flurry touched her crown with a hoof. “For now.”
“For now,” Thorax agreed.
Flurry crept along the snowbank, moving glacially slow to avoid the snow crunching under her boots. Duskcrest waved her forward, prone beside a tree with binoculars in claw. Barrel Roller laid beside him, peering through a rifle scope. The alicorn, clad in an all-white uniform like the rest of the strike team, slid along the snow to the edge of the tree line, stopping next to the pony and griffon.
“There are five patrols of four,” Duskcrest whispered slowly, “an unknown number in the barracks, and a pair in each guard tower.”
“Agreed,” Barrel mumbled. The stub of his right ear twitched as he focused on the rifle. “I can’t get the cloud scouts any closer without raising the alarm.”
Flurry scanned up and down the snowbank, eying the prone griffons and ponies laying against the freezing ground. The moon was partially obscured by the clouds tonight, and a few scattered snowflakes drifted from the mountains into their valley.
“I don’t think we outnumber them,” Duskcrest whispered again and offered Flurry his binoculars. She held them in her hooves, avoiding using her magic, and studied the fence surrounding Ironbend. She considered casting her night vision spell to see better, but the glowing eyes would be too easy to spot in the dark.
Ironbend was a small mining village before the war, barely three hundred crystal ponies digging up iron ore to be shipped to the Crystal City for processing. The Changelings had converted it to a prison camp. They fenced off the village with barbed wire, demolished most of the outer buildings, and placed several guard towers along the perimeter.
Flurry observed a pair of changelings in the nearest guard tower, the southeast corner, trade a cigarette between them. She moved down to the buildings, several long wooden bunkhouses with snow piled around the walls and along the roof. They were made of wood and cheaply built, probably by the ponies forced to live in them. One building near the middle was mostly clear of snow; it stuck out as the only original crystal building still standing in former town. The windows were closed and shuttered for the night, but they faced the bunkhouses and the mine. Flurry spotted a radio antenna jutting from the roof, with the glow of another cigarette underneath it.
She looked to the west. The train station was on the opposite side of Ironbend, also fortified and cleared of snow. Most importantly, a train engine was parked along the squat crystal station. Flurry saw several figures patrol along the platform and along the engine, but light poured through the windows of the station house with a jaunty tune in Herzlander drifting in the wind.
Flurry lowered the binoculars. “Crystal building’s the guardhouse,” she guessed. “More at the station.” She passed the binoculars back.
“They had ponies loading the train before nightfall,” Barrel whispered. “We’ll need to hit the station hard, then push to the guardhouse. The majority of the garrison is there.” He pointed to the roof.
“Have squad four ready their bazooka to hit the antenna,” Duskcrest rolled over on his back and gestured to another griffon behind him. “Squads three and five hit the station, the rest leap through the fence and take rooftops.” He glanced at Flurry. “We’re all fliers; we need a unicorn to cast the detection spell.”
“They’ll notice,” Flurry warned, “and I can’t aim the spell to cover an area. It comes from my horn.”
“Suggestions, Princess?”
Flurry licked her lips, chapped from the cold night air. “Do we need to take the barracks?”
“What do you mean?”
“I can just blow it up.”
Barrel thought about it. “We could salvage equipment.”
“Lives are more important,” Duskcrest countered. “We’ll lose more than we’ll gain. Blow it.”
“Okay,” Flurry agreed. “I need to get in range to charge up the detection spell. I’ll go invisible, take the southeast tower, then blow the barracks.”
Twilight’s changeling detection spell was an advanced anti-illusion spell, stripping away a changeling’s natural shapeshifting abilities. Depending on the power put into the spell, it could reveal a single changeling, or sweep through an entire block. Flurry could put enough power into it to cover several blocks and short out illusions for a few minutes.
“How long will we have?”
Flurry eyeballed the size of Ironbend. “Seven minutes once I cast it. I’ll have to recast it again after that.”
Barrel Roller didn’t look thrilled with the plan. The pegasus frowned and jabbed Duskcrest with a wing. “It’s not necessary to risk the Princess.”
“She’s deadlier than the entire group,” Duskcrest hissed back. “I’ll take what advantage I can get right now.”
Mountain bandit, Flurry smiled. I wonder what his ambushes were like, before all of this. The alicorn slid back down the snowbank and crouched behind the tree. She unzipped her white jacket and shrugged off her rifle, setting it against the tree carefully.
“What are you doing?” Barrel whispered back to her.
“Invisibility spell doesn’t work on clothes,” Flurry mumbled back, removing her pants and holster.
“You can’t go in there unarmed,” Barrel protested. His voice carried slightly in the trees and he cringed, snapping back to the fence.
"Cloth doesn't stop bullets." Flurry tapped her horn with a roll of her eyes, then lowered her head into the snow and jabbed the pink spiral into a snowbank to hide the light. The snow glowed a soft blue as Flurry faded out of sight. She cast her muffling spell for good measure, then crept silently through the trees.
“On your signal,” Duskcrest called softly.
The other pegasi and griffons readied their rifles and submachine guns. A few nodded at the hoofprints that soundlessly crunched into the snow beside them as Flurry cleared the trees. She flapped her wings to get airborne and nimbly glided in the cold wind drifting down from the mountain.
Flurry expected to feel something. This was the first time she’d been home in the Crystal Empire in years. The last time she set a hoof in her territory, she killed the pilot chasing Rainbow Dash across the border. She didn't feel anything when she joined Duskcrest, Barrel, and the small advance force at the tunnel entrance.
Kristoff had been so proud of his support beams and smooth trail, and Flurry agreed that the pillars placed along the tunnel were impressive work for two days. They had a rough road from Evergreen to the mountain path into the Crystal Empire. The next step was connecting the path to Ironbend. It would still be a hard push to move everyone. She thought about Rainbow. The mare was furious she was left in Evergreen to plan the upcoming air assault.
The alicorn circled the two-story guard tower from above for one pass. It didn’t have a ladder; the guards were expected to use their wings. The Changelings inside finished one cigarette and flicked it out into the snow with a burst of green magic, then the one on the left pulled out a fresh pack. Flurry cut through the drifting smoke with a wing as she silently landed on the flat roof, disturbing the snow.
“Wind’s picking up,” a guard commented in Herzlander.
“The mountains are always cold,” the other complained. “I’m sick of being here.”
Flurry stepped off the roof, silently landing in the tower just behind the pair of soldiers. They were both in the standard black uniform of the Changeling Hegemony, slightly ruffled and covered in a dusting of snow. The one on the left had set his submachine gun on the floor and removed his helmet, using it as an ashtray while he puffed on the cigarette. The guard on the right was slightly shorter than his comrade; he hooked his front hooves on the railing and stared out into the forest, rifle slung by his side. They both looked a few years older than her, but not adults.
Flurry moved for the one with the cigarette first. She rushed him with two fast steps, then reared back and savagely threw her left hoof into his muzzle. His cigarette went flying as his muzzle crunched inwards, shattering his fangs along with most of his teeth. He dropped to the floor, trying to breathe through a collapsed muzzle, and failing.
The second guard turned as his partner was seemingly assaulted by thin air, then flailed his hooves as he felt Flurry seize his back leg with an outstretched wing and yank him off the railing. Flurry threw herself atop the changeling with a muted grunt, driving the air from his lungs, then brought her front hooves down on his helmet. There was a sharp clang and a crunch as her bare hooves impacted the metal, then a spray of blood on the floor of the tower. The first guard spasmed, then stilled; his solid blue eyes stared upward at the ceiling.
Flurry paused and listened, turning her ears around. She only heard the wind, and smiled grimly at the bodies. The alicorn crouched out of sight, then dispelled her illusions. She slid the submachine gun over and inspected it. It was a short, stocky model, older than the ones from Blackpeak’s armories, but clearly Changeling made and designed. She put her right hoof on the elongated trigger. She retrieved two stick magazines and a long-handled grenade from the first body, then slung the rifle strap around her neck and set another grenade aside.
Flurry looked towards the two-story barracks. It was an easy shot from halfway across Ironbend. Her horn lit up with a pale blue light as she charged the laser. A patrol of three changelings stopped under the tower.
“You two better be up there and not at the poker game!” a deep, dual-toned voice shouted in Herzlander.
Flurry braced the submachine gun in her front hooves and crawled to the open edge of the tower. She looked up and released her spell. The blue laser shot across the rooftops, slicing through the crystal walls on the second floor, and Flurry jerked her horn down and added more power. The beam arced with wild belts of flame and the building exploded into a shower of crystal shards.
The guards underneath her screamed at the blast. Flurry leaned down from the tower, braced the gun against her shoulder and emptied the magazine into the changelings below. Their backs were turned to her, staring mutely at the destruction in the center of town. They crumpled into the snow before they could ready their weapons. She stood up, charging her horn with a bright blue light, then released the detection spell while she loaded an unused magazine. It swept through Ironbend, and the alicorn noticed some flares of green magic along the fence from the patrols.
Gunfire erupted from the forest. Flurry watched as the guard tower to the north exploded in a direct hit from a bazooka. She shouldered the rifle and laid on the floor of the tower, aiming into the village. A patrol rounded the bunkhouse nearest to her tower, a group of four changelings flying low for the train station. Their wings buzzed with effort, but their heavy black winter coats and guns slowed them down.
Flurry’s first shot took their leader in the throat, and she cycled the bolt and fired again, striking the next changeling in the side. She didn’t hit the others; they flew too erratically and took cover behind another bunkhouse. A flare went up into the sky, illuminating Ironbend. The griffons and pegasi charged from the forest with pumping wings and leapt over the fence with a strong flap. They landed atop the roofs, firing down into the alleyways where the Changeling soldiers were sheltering from the hail of gunfire from the forest. A griffon fell from the sky with a pained shriek, but Flurry grabbed him with her magic and set him down near another squad.
A long peal of machine gun fire came from the train station. Heavy weapon. Flurry Heart grabbed a grenade with her teeth, wrapped the submachine gun’s strap around her neck, and leapt down with a flaring horn. Her bubble shield formed around her as she flew just above the ground and along the fence. Two bullets pinged off while she made for the station. She passed Duskcrest firing two silver-plated revolvers around the side of a bunkhouse into an alleyway. There was a screech as he killed a changeling with a headshot.
At the station, the windows had been blown out and the Changelings inside braced a heavy machine gun in the window frame facing the forest. The gun kicked up massive puffs of powdered snow as it sprayed the forest and the advancing soldiers. Flurry pumped her wings and barreled towards an open window from the other side. A shotgun-wielding Changeling spotted her bright blue shield and the machine gun quieted. Flurry narrowed her eyes as the gun reappeared in the window she was aiming for, and the two changelings crewing it braced themselves against the floor.
The gun sounded like a buzzsaw, and Flurry’s horn prickled from the sudden stream of bullets ricocheting in every direction. For a moment, she was forced back and had to stop and flare out her wings to stabilize the shield. The magic crackled, then Flurry pushed forward with an angry glare.
One changeling leapt away, but the triggermare kept firing until Flurry smashed through the wall and window, knocking the changeling back with the severe blunt force of her shield. The machine gun’s long barrel bent sideways on impact and exploded. The triggermare, a changeling in a cleaner black uniform with silver bars on her shoulders, shrieked in pain upon contact with the alicorn’s shield. Bright blue flames engulfed her uniform, and the changeling rolled wildly on the crystal floor.
None of the two dozen changelings in the station moved to help her. They instead peppered Flurry’s shield with gunfire, sending ricocheting bullets in every direction. One changeling was struck in the eye and sprawled back onto a table. Flurry unslung her machine gun, flapping her wings to stay airborne. She scanned the room, surveying the Changelings surrounding her shield. One drew a pistol in green magic and fired wildly while she struggled to reload with her hooves. Flurry's horn sparked. The shield began to crackle and arcs of lightning swept across the surface as her horn burned.
Several grenades flew through the open windows, landing among the Changelings. One bounced off Flurry’s shield and landed at the hooves of a changeling reloading his submachine gun. He had the time to look down with an open-mouthed gasp of terror before it went off. Flurry winced at the explosions and her ears pinned back, feeling the force reverberate through her horn.
When the dust cleared, a squad of pegasi peered through the windows with rifles at the ready. A few of the changelings had taken cover behind desks and tables, but nearly the entire room was dead. The alicorn spat her unused grenade out.
“Surrender or die,” Flurry growled from her shield.
One changeling rose from behind a desk with bloody hooves raised above his head. His helmet was missing. “Surrender!” he said in accented Equestrian. With his example, a few more crawled from their hiding places, all wounded. Flurry glanced at the still burning body of the gunner, now mangled beyond recognition from a grenade.
“Sorry!” a stallion apologized, shouting through the window. “I saw the shield and figured you could use a hoof.”
“I was fine,” Flurry supplied, “but I was about to blow the building.” Her horn winked out and the lightning around the shield faded away. The alicorn listened to the distant gunshots outside and frowned at the prisoners. “Leave your weapons and get out onto the platform,” she commanded in Herzlander.
“We are injured,” the first changeling protested. Flurry noticed a bloody black armband around his right foreleg. He swallowed as Flurry stared at him and licked his fangs.
“Drag them,” Flurry said, then switched to Equestrian and called over her shoulder to the squad leader. “Shoot any that can’t make it out, and shoot them all if they resist.”
“Yes, Princess,” the stallion nodded.
Flurry left the way she came in and flapped her wings towards the distant gunshots near the destroyed barracks, submachine gun in hoof. The guard towers were burning, and some had already collapsed into the snow. A lone gunshot sounded behind her as she flapped away.
“It’s right here, Princess.” Flurry Heart followed the griffon out into the snowy field between the forest and the fence. “I didn’t think anything of it when I tripped,” he gulped nervously. “I nearly dropped my rifle.” He stopped before an outstretched hoof sticking out of the snow.
The blue fur was frozen, but the cold weather preserved the keratin from decay. Flurry’s horn ignited as she swept the snow away with a burst of telekinesis, kicking up the flat field. The pony buried under the snow was a young stallion, ribs visible and sunken eyes staring blankly into the sky.
He had been dumped there.
Flurry looked to her left, seeing another leg sticking out of the snow next to an exposed head. The leg was gray, but the receding fur around the mare’s head was purple. She looked to her right and glimpsed an exposed orange foreleg partially covered by snow.
“The snows buried the pit where they dump the bodies,” Flurry guessed. The griffon, a Nova Griffonian named Sharpe, clutched his rifle tighter and retched into the snow. Flurry glanced over her shoulder back at Ironbend.
There were about four hundred ponies crammed into eight bunkhouses in Ironbend, mostly crystal ponies. Some didn’t have proper mattresses; the Changelings gave them hay as a ration, making them choose between having a warm bed or a meal. They huddled together for warmth during the winter nights. It clearly wasn’t enough.
“Do you want to clear the field?” Sharpe asked. “Bury the bodies?”
“They are buried.”
“Properly, I mean,” the griffon frowned. “Ancestors preserve us, how many are buried here?” He flapped his wings to avoid the ground. Flurry did the same, but flew back over the fence and landed before a huddle of crystal ponies and their pegasi guards. Her horn pulsed as she cast the detection spell again.
The Crystal Ponies shivered in the snow, wearing threadbare gray jackets, if anything at all. Their coats were dim; the luster that gave them their name faded despite the morning sun threatening to peek over the mountains to the east.
“I knew you’d come,” a mare sobbed, tears freezing to her muzzle. She was a crystal pony with a dim coat as red as a ruby. Her mane was patchy and her fur stretched awkwardly around her ribs. “I knew,” she rasped again and limped towards Flurry, but was blocked by the outstretched wings of the guards. The mare smiled a near-toothless smile over the wings and tried to kneel in the snow.
Flurry picked her up in her magic and set her back on her hooves. The mare wobbled unsteadily. Flurry cast a warming spell over the group. The crystal ponies huddled together on reflex and basked in the brief heat.
“The Changelings dumped the dead in the field out there?” Flurry asked. There was a long moment of silence.
“We did,” a stallion coughed out. “It was the only time we were allowed outside the fence.” The old gray stallion pushed his way to the front of the group. “We had to dig a new pit once it was filled up.”
Flurry bit her lip. “Have any of you been to the Crystal City?”
“I-I fought with your father, Princess,” a mare chattered and hobbled forward. The skin around her muzzle was stretched taut by her skull.
“I meant after the occupation,” Flurry clarified softly. The sky to the west was gray, both due to the early morning and the distant storm wall surrounding the city. Ironbend was days away from the Crystal City, but the storm ebbed and flowed around the shield enough to cast a pallor over the sky.
“N-no, Princess,” the mare apologized.
Don’t ever apologize to me again. I don’t deserve it. Flurry nodded again. “We’re going to take the Crystal City,” she said loudly. “This is just the start. Go back the bunkhouses and tell everypony.” She raised her wings and gestured for the guards to dismiss the group.
Duskcrest flapped down from a roof and landed near Flurry. He shook snow off his cap. “Patrols are headed out by the railway, but I’m still not convinced the camp is clear,” he squawked.
“I’ve cast that spell two dozen times this morning,” Flurry argued. “How many Changelings have we taken prisoner?”
“Sixteen,” Duskcrest answered. “It would be twenty-three, but we’ve been prioritizing our wounded.”
“How many?”
“Two dozen wounded, mostly minor injuries, nine killed.” Duskcrest nodded grimly. “Good numbers, Princess. We’re digging bodies out of the barracks to salvage equipment. Probably killed around two hundred total.”
We need ours more than they need theirs, Flurry almost said, but didn’t want to bring morale down any more. Griffons might be stereotypically hard-hearted, but even they staggered around the bunkhouses with wide eyes and twitching wings, just the same as the pegasi. “Where’s Barrel Roller?”
“Train station. I’ll go with you.”
Flurry and Duskcrest found Barrel Roller speaking with a crystal pony in a slightly better jacket and cap. The stallion removed the cap at Flurry’s approach, revealing a straw-like patchy mane and bowed to the Princess. “This is Hard Strike,” Barrel introduced him. “He’s the leader of the ponies here.”
“Are you?” Flurry asked neutrally. “Did the Changelings give you that position?”
“I was chosen,” the stallion confirmed in a raspy voice. “I was mayor of Ironbend during the war. I met your mother once.”
Flurry scanned over the stallion’s jacket, noting how little holes it had. “They treated you a bit better, it seems.”
“We haven’t heard a single bad word about him,” Duskcrest whispered into Flurry’s ear.
“They wanted to keep me alive to stop a revolt,” Hard Strike laughed sadly. “I gave what I could away.” He lifted his jacket with a shaking hoof; his ribs protruded from his barrel.
Flurry flushed in embarrassment, then with anger. “Why didn’t you revolt? Why didn’t you run for the mountains? There’s a trail two valleys over,” Flurry said aggressively. “You had to have known about it. We've had escapees over the years.”
“Each time one escaped, three more were worked to death in retaliation. If there was a mass break out, how many would make it?” the crystal pony asked back. “Some of us can barely walk. The Changelings forced us to mine every day until we fell, then they forced those that remained to leave us in the snow to die.”
“You could have fought,” Flurry snarled.
“I could have,” the stallion agreed. “We might have killed a few with our picks, but they would have slaughtered us all.” The stallion looked towards the center of town. “Including my son. The commander held him in the barracks.”
Flurry’s muzzle twitched, but she didn’t break her glare.
“It’s a fine death,” he remarked slowly. “There is only one to blame for it, and it is not you.” He offered Flurry a small smile with two missing teeth. She didn’t return it. You can't thank me after I killed your son. Flurry instead turned to the railyard and surveyed the armored train engine on the tracks. It was painted snow-white with flecks of black. The paint looked weathered and beaten.
“You picked a good time to attack,” Hard Strike offered. “The Changelings were still loading up on coal. Shipments leave the third of every month. If we don’t meet the weight quota, we have to make up for it.”
“How?” Duskcrest asked.
“Ponies,” Hard Strike replied simply. “None have returned from the Crystal City.”
Flurry closed her eyes. “Has anypony been there?” she asked and her tail reflexively curled around a hind leg. “We need to know what’s there.”
“Trimmel was given command of the Crystal Protectorate,” Hard Strike coughed. “He does little governing aside from occasional decrees. I only have rumors, Princess. Nopony sent to the Crystal City returns, but the mines are rich there. I would not be surprised if we are enslaved across the north, sent back into the mines.” His muzzle twisted in a sardonic smile. “Sombra was crueler, Princess. We can survive this.”
Flurry nodded at Hard Strike, then walked along the station. She waved for Duskcrest and Barrel Roller to follow. The old mayor stared towards the center of town, limping towards the barracks. Sombra did not rule for years.
Flurry entered the small railyard and walked through the disconnected train cars, stopping before several guards watching changelings lined up against a coal car. The Changeling prisoners were standing in the snow, shivering and naked. Their coats and winter gear had been taken to be given to the prisoners. Some were still bleeding, dripping blood into the snow and struggling to stand. If they fell, they were shot and dragged aside.
“We have a train and rail cars. We have a railway. I’ll teleport more in from Evergreen,” Flurry planned and spoke to Duskcrest and Barrel quietly. “How long until the army arrives?”
“Advance force will arrive in a few hours on light trucks,” Duskcrest reported. “Only three hundred.”
“Evacuate Ironbend and set it up as a forward base. Get these ponies out of here.”
“Princess,” Barrel Roller interrupted, “many are sick and weak from winter. A few can’t even leave their beds. Even with the tunnel, they won’t survive the journey back.”
“They can’t get medical care here,” Flurry countered, “and I can’t teleport them; it’s too rough.”
“We can't help them in Evergreen,” Duskcrest said. He clacked his beak and pressed a cold claw onto Flurry’s wing. She stopped pacing. “We need our supplies for the war,” Duskcrest whispered. “We can’t spare it for them. They’ll need constant care for the rest of winter and most will take seasons to recover. They aren’t soldiers or workers. They can't help us.”
“Are you suggesting I abandon them?” Flurry sneered.
“Winter was hard in the mountains when I was young,” Duskcrest said with kind eyes. “I watched many griffons starve and freeze while the government in Weter preened their wings.” His eyes shifted to the side, towards the bunkhouses. “A lot of them are already dead, Princess. And if every mining town is like this, the advance will slow to a crawl. We’ll run out of supplies trying to care for them.”
Starlight and Trixie flashed through Flurry’s mind, bickering over a map of Equestria. She closed her eyes and turned her muzzle to the morning sun peeking over the Crystal Mountains. Celestia's sun struggled to shine down into the valley. Barrel and Duskcrest waited for the Princess to respond.
“Spare whatever you can, but the army takes priority,” she admitted in a pained whisper.
Duskcrest offered a shallow nod. Barrel stared towards the bunkhouses while his nubby ear twitched. “Barrel?” Flurry asked. "Do you agree?"
The stallion took a moment to answer. “I don’t want to be in this situation again,” he sighed, causing his breath to puff out into the cold morning air. “It’s worse this time. As you command, Princess.”
Flurry wrapped one of her large wings around his side and hugged him, ignoring the snow and frost on his jacket. Barrel whickered in surprise, but leaned into it after a moment. After a deep breath, Flurry withdrew and stalked towards the prisoners.
The changelings beheld the tall filly, some staring blankly, some glaring, and some baring their fangs. The guards, all griffons, clutched their appropriated submachine guns tightly and shuffled in the snow, dipping their wings as the Princess approached. Flurry scanned over the changelings, deciding to address the one that initially surrendered in the train station. “I am Flurry Heart of the Crystal Empire,” she stated in Herzlander. “You have stolen my home and my ponies. You are now my prisoners. Tell me of the Crystal City.”
One of the changelings spat bloody phlegm into the snow. “The Queen will have your horn as a letter opener.”
“Original,” Flurry commented. Duskcrest drew one of his revolvers, but the alicorn waved a wing. “Don’t bother,” she said in Equestrian, then returned to Herzlander. “If any of you have been to the Crystal City, I would like to know about its defenses.” She trotted up and down the line. Like them, she was naked, but she was an alicorn. She wasn’t shivering. “Tell me of Marshal Trimmel and his tanks. Are they here?”
“Is this your attempt at interrogation?” a changeling mare coughed, trying to laugh.
“It’s an offer,” Flurry answered. “The one who agrees to talk gets a coat.”
“We’re loyal to Queen Chrysalis,” a changeling spoke up, a stallion with a crumpled wing. Blood dripped into the snow under him. “We’ll never betray her! May she rule for a thousand years!” he hissed. A few other changelings hissed with him, but the majority was silent. Flurry took note of which ones.
Fanatics are useless for information, Thorax’s voice echoed in her head. They will tell you anything out of spite, and truly believe every word they say.
Flurry seized the outspoken stallion in her magic and dragged him over to her. Her magic held him still and clamped his muzzle shut. Before the group, she hooked her forelegs around his and brought her forehead down into his fanged muzzle with a crunch.
The chitin broke apart. Blood streamed down his muzzle and his mouth spasmed with broken fangs. Her magic kept him from screaming. She repeated the strike three times, then tossed the corpse across the yard and over the fence with a burst of magic. It landed roughly in the snow, near the frozen mare.
Flurry wiped a foreleg across her eyes and regarded the prisoners again. They had backed up against the train car. “The one who agrees to talk gets a coat and gets to live,” she clarified.
“I’ve been to the Crystal City!” the mare who laughed at her said quickly. “I know all the defenses!” Flurry studied the reaction of the others. The officer that surrendered licked his fangs and glanced at her, but didn't interject.
A coward will say anything to survive another minute, Thorax interjected in her mind.
“You’ll be telling your account to Thorax,” Flurry said casually. “You should know that name. He’s a changeling like you, so he’ll know if you’re lying.”
“I’m not lying!” the mare clearly lied. “I’ve met Trimmel! I can tell you all about him.”
“What was the rank on her coat?” Flurry asked in Equestrian, eyeing the mare and guessing she was perhaps twenty, judging from the size of the holes in her legs and her wings buzzing in the snow.
“Private,” a guard answered. Flurry’s horn flared and she squeezed the changeling around the throat with a band of magic. The mare’s eyes bulged as her throat caved in. Flurry flung the choking mare out into the field. She writhed in the snow next to the previous corpse while she died.
“We have rights as prisoners of war,” the changeling that surrendered to her said quietly. “You cannot do this.”
Flurry’s horn sparked, and she exhaled into the frosty air. “Are you offering to talk?”
His wings buzzed nervously. “I have been to the Crystal City,” he admitted. “You will never take it.”
“Is that all?” Flurry asked as her horn flickered with blue flame.
“I will tell the Traitor everything,” the changeling answered evenly, “only if you spare the others.”
The blue flame guttered on the tip of her horn. “Fine,” Flurry lied with a shrug, and smiled thinly as the changeling frowned.
“I am the only one with the information you need,” he hissed slowly.
Flurry licked her lips in the cold and looked over her shoulder towards the barracks. More of her ponies were being helped out into the snow and given pilfered coats and clothes. Some were being carried out, more bone than fur and flesh.
Her eyes hardened. “One.”
“What?”
“Choose one,” Flurry explained. “Pick your favorite. They get to live.”
The changeling hesitated. He has more than one friend in this line.
“I am the only one that can tell you what you want,” he said instead.
“I could have Thorax torture you,” Flurry countered, “but it won’t be as effective.”
“The traitor’s a harmonist sap,” a changeling to the officer’s left spoke out. “He won’t do it.”
“Am I lying about that, bug?” Flurry asked back with a bitter laugh. “You should know.”
“My Herzlander is poor,” Duskcrest spoke in Equestrian. “What are you saying to him?” Barrel leaned in as well.
“He has a choice. He gets to pick one other changeling to live,” Flurry summarized.
“That’s monstrous,” Barrel replied, good ear pinned back. Flurry noticed the officer glance at the pegasus. He knows Equestrian. Of course he does.
Flurry turned her head back to the changeling and spoke in Equestrian. “You get to make the same choice you forced my ponies to make every day. You made them pick between survival and each other, enough food or enough warmth. Now choose.”
“You need my information,” the changeling tried again.
“No, I don’t,” Flurry replied flatly. She flared her wings. “Shoot them on my command. If anyone has a problem with that, lend me your gun.” The griffons braced their boots in the snow and assumed firing positions. None took the alicorn up on her offer.
Duskcrest drew a pistol and aimed at the officer’s head, cocking the hammer back. Barrel didn't argue, but looked back towards the bunkhouses and away from the prisoners. Some of the changelings looked ready to rush the line of guards, but Flurry’s horn pinned them to the side of the train car, engulfing their bodies in her magical grip.
"Ready."
“Wait!” the officer cried out. He struggled in her magic. “Please!”
“How many of my ponies said please?” Flurry snarled in Herzlander. “How many begged?”
“We had quotas!”
“Aim,” Flurry said in Equestrian.
The changeling opened and closed his mouth like a fish, then stopped struggling. Flurry inhaled through her nose while the blood froze to her muzzle.
“Ocellus,” the officer rasped. “I choose Ocellus.”
A changeling mare in the line gasped. Flurry kept the others pinned, but allowed him a foreleg. “Point,” Flurry ordered. The officer stared at the mare that gasped, but pointed to another changeling at the far end of the line. The alicorn clamped his muzzle shut before he could say anything.
Ocellus was a shorter changeling mare, perhaps only a few years older than Flurry herself. The changeling shrank down in the snow when the alicorn made brief eye contact. She was shivering violently and looked close to tears.
Flurry hummed and drifted the officer over in her magic. “You didn’t bring your daughter to work, did you?” she asked. “It would explain a lot about Changelings if you did.”
“She’s the youngest,” the officer snarled.
“Good, because if Thorax realizes you’re lying, I’ll burn her alive.” Flurry let her emotions wash over the group. Ocellus cried out in terror. Flurry whirled on the filly, dragging her from the line and sending her sprawling into the snow. “Did you cry for them?” the alicorn snarled, jabbing a hoof into the field. “Did you do anything for them?”
The changeling trembled and shivered so severely Flurry couldn’t tell if she was attempting to answer. Flurry dumped the two changelings near Barrel Roller, roughly throwing them into the snow.
“Fire!” she barked over her shoulder and lashed her tail.
There was a staggered burst of gunfire that made her ears pin back, and then it was done.
Flurry released the bodies against the car and let them slump into the snow. One changeling twitched. The two surviving changelings sat next to each other and looked up at the alicorn with solid blue eyes. Ocellus huddled against her savior. Flurry paused and leaned down to the pair. "I won't kill her if you cooperate," she said sincerely, letting the changeling feel her rage and honesty.
"And me?" the officer asked in Herzlander.
Flurry shrugged.
“They go back on the first truck, under heavy guard,” Flurry ordered to Barrel. “We don’t have any inhibitors for the horns, do we?”
“No, Princess,” Barrel said. There was a gunshot behind them as Duskcrest put a dying Changeling out of their misery.
“If one of them tries any magic, break off both their horns.” Flurry jabbed a hoof at the young mare. “Her first.”
For the rest of the morning, Ironbend was systematically dismantled. The bunkhouses weren’t fit for a command center, but the foundations were crystal. The rest would wait for the engineering teams with the advance force.
The crystal ponies were collected out of the bunkhouses and a rough tally was made of the sick and dying. Four of the enslaved ponies died during the attack from stray rounds punching through the thin wooden walls. Two more died of the cold during the night, and one of starvation.
The others, starved and beaten and whipped, gathered in the snow and held each other while the alicorn cast a warming spell and the soldiers formed a perimeter. Flurry Heart carved away the snow in the field, then her soldiers placed the bodies from the bunkhouses atop the exposed pit. The trench was deep; there were at least forty others buried there, slaves that died during the harsh winter.
Flurry flapped her wings above the pit and poured blue fire from her horn. The flames engulfed frozen fur, muscle and bone. There was no smell; the fire burned too brightly and too intense. The snow in the field turned to steam around the edges and her soldiers looked away, blinking from the intensity of the light.
Flurry stared down into the pit. We could have hit this place at any time. It was right here for years. Her subjects stood at a respectful distance away, watching. Hard Strike stood in the center of the herd. His son's body had been recovered from the barracks; he was only recognizable from his teeth.
None of her subjects cried.
Traditionally, earth ponies and unicorns were buried with family. Pegasi preferred cremation, with their ashes scattered to the wind, but the crystal ponies lived in the frigid north. The ground was often too hard and frozen to bury the dead.
Funerals were a community event, where ponies gathered around a bonfire and watched the dead pass into the Eternal Herd. The warmth of the fire was a final gift of life by the dead. Flurry remembered her mother attending funerals, but she didn’t know if there were any words to say. Jadis never spoke of any, and the ponies offered nothing; they just watched. I know nothing about my subjects, Flurry realized and blinked away a tear.
When the time came to dump the Changelings into the snow and burn them as well, one mare hoarsely cheered and pumped a bony foreleg into the air. Nopony else joined her, more concerned with clutching their pilfered coats tighter and slowly nibbling shared bits of hardtack with tired teeth. Her soldiers gave out their rations all morning. Even the frontier griffons gave freely without orders or prompting from Duskcrest or Flurry.
Duskcrest, flapping his wings above the pit, heaved the burnt body of the changeling machine gunner atop the pile. Flurry didn’t realize she killed the commander of Ironbend, who was playing a card game with the other officers and train crew in the station when the attack began. Laughing while ponies froze in their straw beds. The flames that erupted from her horn nearly turned the ground into glass, so Flurry took a gulping breath and tried to calm down. The mare and her changelings were vaporized in an instant.
Flurry landed on the muddy ground and trotted towards the gathered Ponies and soldiers. The fence had been torn down. She eyed the two changelings, shackled with their own chains they used for disobedient slaves. The one named Ocellus averted her eyes, but the officer met her glare fearlessly.
The snow melted around her hooves as she spoke. “From this moment forward, we do not take prisoners. Every Changeling dies. Even if they surrender, even if they are civilians. Spare only the grubs. Does anyone disagree?”
Only the wind from the mountains spoke out, warmed by Celestia’s sun.
“Listen up chickens and foals!” Rainbow barked, standing on a table in the ballroom. In her flight suit and leather jacket, she looked every bit like a Wonderbolt, including the metal wing with sharpened feathers. Rainbow strutted across the long table, extending her metal wing to point up at the wall with a sharp, knife-like feather. A crystal projected a massive image of the Crystal City on the wall behind her. “This is the Crystal City, and this is our target.” Rainbow didn’t need a spell to amplify her voice to reach the opposite wall. Her aviator sunglasses rested against her short rainbow mohawk.
The griffons and pegasi sitting on the floor below were all pilots and commanders; a few stragglers without seat space flapped their wings above the last row. They wore a mix of old, stitched-up uniforms: brown for Nova Griffonia, blue for the Aquileian Republic, and gray for the New Marelander and Equestrian Militias. Flurry Heart sat in the front row, naked except for the thin golden band under her mane. Her horn glowed softly as she powered the projection of her home on the wall.
“According to intelligence we’ve, uh, acquired,” Rainbow stuttered for a moment, “Hive Marshal Trimmel is still in the city.”
A ripple went through the crowd. Trimmel was given command of the Crystal Protectorate under Chrysalis. It was his reward for developing the ‘Lightning War’ strategy that blitzed through the defensive trench lines during the Great War. The early assaults only stalled due to the panzers outpacing the fuel and supplies. Equestria's fate was sealed once the railways were repaired.
“Now, Trimmel is a tank bug, but Chrysalis stole all his tanks,” Rainbow laughed. “Apparently, he was friends with Governor Lilac in Manehattan and took too long to deal with the ELF. And then he lost too many battalions to the Everfree!” The ELF veterans in the back whinnied; the few that had room stomped their hooves in approval.
Thorax stood up from the front row and hopped onto the table. Rainbow moved to the side. “The point,” he stressed, “is that the garrison is underequipped and underfunded, courtesy of the Queen. Chrysalis is throwing everything she has at the immediate threat. And that’s not us, it’s the Reich.”
The crowd slowly grew quiet. Flurry’s ears turned as she overheard whispers in the rows behind her, but didn’t turn to glare.
“Which is why we’re attacking now,” Rainbow continued. “We still have the element of surprise. Heartsong is leading the army down the railways while we sit on our flanks here, but we’ll beat them to the Crystal City!”
The crowd rumbled approvingly.
Rainbow flapped her wings and began to draw on the wall with a marker in her teeth. The projected top-down image of the city shimmered as she interrupted it. She flapped her wings and made a lopsided circle around the outskirts.
“The Crystal Heart is weak,” Thorax picked up. “The barrier around the city has shrunk drastically. The airfields and farmlands are gone; the barrier is just at the outskirts of the city proper. That also means that the fortification lines have been buried by the snowfall.
“We think,” Thorax stressed the word with a hiss, “that the storm has grown in intensity due to loss of the weather factory in Cloudsdale.”
Rainbow spat the marker out in her hoof. “We know,” she corrected. “Damn bugs ruined our climate, no offense Thorax.”
Thorax looked like he took some offense, but just fluttered his wings. “They don’t have the room to build a new airfield, and all of their ponypower is devoted to working the mines and keeping the train tracks clear of snow.”
“You mean slaves!” a mare’s voice shouted from near the back. Thorax paused.
“Yes,” he admitted, “I mean slaves. Crystal ponies that I worked beside during the war, along with Equestrians dragged from their homes. Trimmel barely has enough changelings to stop a revolt, only a few thousand.”
“Which is more than we’ll have,” Rainbow grinned, “so everypony has to kill at least three of ‘em before you get shot. Griffons only have to kill two, because I know you’re all weak little housecats at heart.”
“Rainbow whore!” a griffon shouted in Aquileian.
“I don’t know Prench,” Rainbow shrugged her forelegs, definitely knowing that only made them angrier. A ripple of squawks and muffled laughter came from the Aquileians as they shushed the heckler.
“Shining Armor installed anti-air defenses in case the shield fell,” Thorax continued. Rainbow drifted around and marked several buildings around the Crystal Palace. The spire and blocky buildings looked small on the blueprint. “Trimmel won’t be expecting an aerial assault, but the guns are still operational. Fighters need to take those out first to clear the transports.”
“The transports will circle around the shield after they’re through,” Rainbow said. She held the marker clumsily in her forelegs and slashed a building near the edge of the circle. “Drop Group Laughter lands here and takes the west train yard. Loyalty takes the east train yard. Honesty hits the western barracks with their demolitions team. Generosity south entrance to the mines, and Kindness the north.”
“Drop Group Magic lands at the Crystal Plaza,” Thorax said. He grabbed the marker with his green magic and drew a circle around the open area near the palace. “Trimmel has what’s left of his tanks stationed there as showpieces, but they’re functional. The goal is to take them out before they can get moving through the city. Our bazookas and grenades can’t pierce the armor, so Magic’s got all the thermite we have in Nova Griffonia. There’s additional tanks stationed at the palace, luckily our Princess can cut through armor like butter.”
“We take the outskirts, then box the bugs in and push them towards the palace.” Rainbow pumped a hoof. “Their armories are here.” She snatched the marker out of the green field and drew a sloppy pistol over three buildings in downtown. “We take those, or blow them up.”
Flurry stood up and Rainbow landed on the table to the right of Thorax. The alicorn flapped her wings and landed gracefully with them. A series of cheers and screeches went up from the crowd. Flurry Heart stood before her soldiers and ruffled her wings against her side. Here I am in all my long-legged, oversized glory.
“The palace is fortified,” Flurry said loudly, but avoided using the royal voice. The front row was too close. “It’s their command center for the Crystal Protectorate and a research facility for the Crystal Heart. Ponies go in.”
She paused. “They don’t come out. We’re not taking prisoners.”
Flurry scanned over a sea of hardened eyes above stern muzzles and beaks. Since Ironbend two days ago, raids had been launched along the rails towards the Crystal City. Two mining towns and one isolated oil field had been liberated with few casualties; the garrisons were simply overwhelmed during the night.
The slaves, her subjects, had suffered greatly. The story was always similar to Ironbend. Ponies were worked until they were broken, then drained of love or left to die in the snow. As bad as life had been in the frontier, it was never as bad as across the mountains. Over two hundred thousand crystal ponies escaped across the border during the war, and it looked like there would be few reunions. There will be fewer still, Flurry thought with a suppressed frown. The army had only lent token aid and supplies to keep momentum. Many more would die of illness and exposure.
It had been a painful realization for Flurry that many of her griffon subjects thought the stories from ELF veterans and escaped prisoners were exaggerations. The advance stripped away all doubt. The frontier birds of Nova Griffonia loved to lean into the stereotype of the hard-hearted, greedy griffon, but they had lived too long with ponies to just callously ignore the pictures and reports.
After every battle so far, all changelings had been summarily executed. Except for two.
The alicorn spared a glance at Thorax and added, “Spare the young. Some of the Changeling government brought their children to my city, and I will not wade through a sea of foal’s blood to reclaim my home.”
“A young changeling has poor control over their disguise and emotion-sensing capabilities. They will likely be overwhelmed by the violence from the battle unless they were properly taught,” Thorax said.
“What if the little bug grabs a gun?” a pegasus in the middle shouted at Thorax. Flurry opened her mouth to respond, but Thorax replied first.
“Shoot them.”
The grumbling in the crowd stopped.
Thorax waited with a blank look for another response, then chittered his wings. “As the Princess said, we do not have the time nor inclination to take prisoners. You will be at a disadvantage. Skilled changelings can assume the shape of inanimate objects, or creatures of larger size like a bugbear or a dragon for a limited time. Or a foal to drop your guard. During the attack, Princess Flurry Heart is your only source of the detection spell that disrupts our abilities.”
“I can’t cover the entire area, but I will cast the spell as often as I can,” Flurry promised. “Changelings can’t copy clothing and they can’t hide with a loaded gun as a rock or anything. Look for discarded uniforms, and don’t lose your own.”
“Stick together,” Rainbow said from beside her. “Stay with your squad and use your callsigns if you’re separated, even for an instant. If your friend stumbles up with a loose, bloody uniform, don’t rush over. There’s a chance you’re looking at the bug that killed your friend and stole his face.”
Flurry licked her lips. “The same goes for my crystal ponies. Odds are that they are naked and starving. Changelings can’t replicate scars well. If you see a healthy crystal pony running up to you and begging for help…”
She trailed off, unable to complete the sentence.
“If they don’t listen, shoot them,” Thorax finished. “For some of you, this is old information. Some of you have never fought the Changeling Hegemony. Trimmel was Chrysalis’ favored Hive Marshal. He’ll notice he’s losing contact with the garrisons.”
“He probably already has,” Flurry said. “We launch tonight and reach the city just before dawn.”
“Here’s the big bit,” Rainbow belted out. She shook her head so her aviators fell onto her muzzle. “We don’t have the fuel for a return trip, and there’s no airfields between Evergreen and the Crystal City. That’s why everypony’s a flier. When you run out of fuel, pick a target and jam the stick. Bail out before the fireball. I’ve done it twice.”
She flexed her metal wing. “I lost the wing to a Jaeger in Canterlot, not from that.”
The joke didn’t land.
“We will only have the supplies we take in with us, and the things we capture.” Flurry stomped a hoof on the table and the wood creaked. “We take the city and we cut off the entire north, every garrison in the Crystal Empire, every oil field and mine. All of it flows through my city and down to Canterlot. From Canterlot, to Vesalipolis. We take it back, and we take the north.” There was scattered stomping and claps of approval, but no crystal ponies were in attendance.
“I will provide a shield through the storm wall and the Crystal Heart. The Crystal Heart’s shield is weak. It was never meant to keep out bombs and bullets, not until my mother made it. The moment we pass though, I’ll drop my shield.”
“Then we get to work,” Rainbow stated. “Individual briefings for squad leaders are in thirty minutes, bridle up your commanders.”
Unlike the meeting in the ballroom, there wasn’t any spontaneous cheering. The officers and pilots formed a line and slowly filed out of the room to spread out through Evergreen. Some would go to the three new airfields built out of the cleared forests, and some would spread through the hotel and brief their Drop Groups.
Flurry stepped off the table and reached up to rub her crown, brushing some of her curls out of the way. Her mane and tail were a little long now, but Flurry decided that her visibility for the soldiers was more important. Even if there’s a higher chance I’ll get shot.
“You gonna ditch your plane immediately?” Rainbow asked, also clambering down from the table.
“No,” Flurry shook her head. “I’ll fly around. I can cast the spell from the cockpit and cover a bit more ground.” She bit the inside of her cheek as the last of the group filed out, aside from a few griffons beside the doors. “What’s your assessment, Rainbow?”
“You mean the group?” Rainbow asked. “Or the plan? Plan’s great.”
Your approval probably means it’s terrible. Flurry shook the thought from her head with a grimace. “I mean the pilots and the soldiers.”
“Hay, we tried drop troopers during the war. Unicorns and earth ponies flailed all the way down, parachute or not. Fliers got a way easier time.” Rainbow sucked on her teeth. “They’re not Wonderbolts,” she admitted. “The ELF veterans and the Aquileians will pull their weight and then some, but that’s a minority. The Nova Griffonians…”
“I know,” Flurry said. We’ll lose a lot, even if we win.
“You being there will mean a lot,” Thorax added. "Stay alive. Cast your spell and take out those tanks around the palace once you ditch."
“I’d like to talk about our intelligence,” Flurry answered. Thorax looked over her shoulder towards the double doors and shook his head. Flurry turned around as two griffons approached.
Sophie Altiert approached in an Aquileian uniform. Flurry didn’t notice her with the other Aquileian pilots and raised an eyebrow. Cerie trailed behind the gray griffon with a smile and lazy wave of her wing.
“Commander Altiert,” Flurry greeted neutrally.
Sophie removed her cap and wrung it between her claws. “Josette has authorized a volunteer force to drop with Group Magic.”
“I need the Aquileians here to maintain order.”
“It is a small group,” Altiert countered, “only sixty. There is room.”
Flurry looked her over. Her primary feathers were a little loose and out of place, and the cap she wrung between her claws was well-worn. “Are you leading it?”
“I volunteered."
“We'll be cut off. You can’t run away this time,” Rainbow snorted and the griffon flinched.
Flurry clicked her tongue and whipped Rainbow’s good wing her with tail. “Fine,” she said to Sophie. “Get with Barrel Roller.”
The griffon blinked wide eyes and looked relieved. “Thank you,” she choked out and turned away, placing the hat back on her head. Cerie gave her a dark look as the griffon swept by her.
“I did not expect you to agree,” Cerie said in Aquileian.
“Like Rainbow said, she can’t run away from this,” Flurry rebuked. “Why are you here?”
“She wouldn’t let me join the volunteers,” Cerie squawked. “Made some excuse about not having enough room. Like one more griffon matters.”
Thorax shifted beside Flurry. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “What’s your combat experience?”
“Weter,” Cerie said proudly with a preening wing. “You saw me fight.”
“I saw you capture and execute an unarmed rapist,” Flurry corrected. “No.”
“What?”
“No,” Flurry repeated.
“I want to fight!” Cerie insisted and narrowed her eyes.
“You’re going to die. You have no experience fighting changelings.”
“Neither do half the creatures in the room!”
“They at least have experience in combat, be it planes or otherwise.”
“Please,” she laughed. “Some of the ponies are barely older than us.”
I don’t want them here either. “No,” Flurry snarled. “Rainbow, please escort Cerie to a room and have her put under guard.”
Rainbow raised her metal wing in salute. “Sure thing, chief.” The pegasus stalked towards the young griffon and roughly dragged her along with her good wing. The metal wing creaked menacingly. Cerie was too shocked to properly argue; she just stared wide-eyed back at the alicorn as she was dragged through the ballroom. The guards closed the doors to the ballroom and stared stoically at the Princess and changeling.
“You saved her life,” Thorax said after a moment of silence.
“You think she’ll hate me?”
Thorax shrugged. “She’ll get over it.”
Flurry hummed and laid on the floor. “You sure the information from that officer is accurate?”
“His name is Vesper. He was a Jaeger for Lilac in Manehattan. He worked with Ocellus.”
Flurry was mildly curious and swished her tail. “How’d they end up in Ironbend?”
Thorax stretched his legs and stuffed the marker in one of the holes in his forelegs. His gray uniform's sleeves were rolled up. “Chrysalis reassigned virtually every ‘ling that survived the uprising. Gave them punishment details.”
“And they took out their punishments on my ponies,” Flurry finished with narrowed eyes.
“Most did,” Thorax confirmed with a slow hiss. “Vesper was very honest about it.”
“How’d you manage that? You torture him?” Flurry guessed.
"Torture's a question of individual willpower with changelings,” Thorax deflected. “It’s not effective for information.”
“Is he still alive?”
Thorax paused. “Yes.”
Flurry stared up at the changeling. “Correct that. Both of them.”
“You said you’d let them live.”
“I never said how long,” Flurry clarified and stared up at the projection of her home of the wall. She focused on the palace. Research, she snorted.
Thorax swallowed. “I didn’t need to torture him,” he revealed. “He knew you were going to kill him eventually, so he told me everything.”
“You said something different about Sunglider,” Flurry replied.
Thorax licked his fangs and looked Flurry in the eye. “I promised him I wouldn’t let you kill Ocellus.”
Flurry stared back evenly. “And he knew you weren’t lying?”
“Yes.”
The alicorn gave a bitter chuckle. “You gonna tell me she was one of the good ones? That she smuggled food to the slaves, looked out for them in the cold?”
“No,” Thorax answered. “I talked to her. She wasn’t kind, but she wasn’t cruel. She’s terrified she’s going to die. She was too young to fight in the Great War, and her first position was with Lilac, fresh out of the academy. She's never killed anypony.”
“My ponies in that place don't count? She's just as responsible as the rest,” Flurry snarled.
“Her generation has grown up with nothing but Chrysalis’ shit filling her ears,” Thorax swore. “She learned all about how inferior ponies are, how it’s natural they serve. She learned how to keep them in line and harvest love in Chrysalis’ academy. Chrysalis tells them I’m just a pony with a skin disorder now,” he snorted. "That I was never a changeling."
“You’re not telling me a reason to spare her.”
“If you want to kill her, you might as well just start killing all the foals. They’ll have learned all the same things from their parents.”
Flurry choked on her response. After a moment, she ground out, “If I tell you to kill her, what will you do?”
“I’ll tell you I killed her,” Thorax replied, “and send her elsewhere.”
Flurry stared at him silently as her horn flickered.
“I understand not taking prisoners,” Thorax said softly. The reverb in his voice was faint. “We don’t have enough love stockpiled anyway. Grubs need a lot as it is, so do the foals. It’s why we raise our young communally. It'll be hard enough to deal with orphans with every reason to hate ponies.”
“We don’t have the time to build prison camps, or the spare soldiers to guard them.”
“That’s not why you’re doing it and you know it. You want them dead.”
“Not every changeling,” Flurry answered, “just the ones that followed Chrysalis.”
“That’s not how they see it.” He gestured towards the doors to the ballroom.
Flurry paused and fluttered her wings. “I know how it looks, but too much has happened. You didn’t see the bodies in the field.”
“I know,” Thorax countered sadly. He didn’t raise his voice. “This war has always been about race: Pony, Changeling, Griffon. Chrysalis drew the battle lines years ago.”
“You were out there years ago, too. Any changeling could’ve joined you and stopped this before it started if they truly cared.”
“I could say the same,” Thorax chittered with a sudden laugh. “I asked Celestia for help, you know.”
Flurry didn’t know that. “When?”
“Year before the war. Celestia said she couldn’t commit forces to overthrowing her, and…” Thorax trailed off. “I had my own reasons not to push the issue,” he finished.
Flurry remembered their conversation about his brother on the roof of Weter Radio. She nodded. “My mother helped. She gave your changelings sanctuary.”
“Yes,” Thorax nodded, “your mother was very kind.” He didn’t say anything else.
Flurry looked around the room to avoid his gaze and shifted uncomfortably. “You don’t have any agents in the Crystal City?”
“I haven’t heard from any in years,” the changeling shrugged. “I expect they’re all dead. My best changelings are with the recon forces with the army. I can’t spare any ‘ling, nor would I suggest dropping them in the attack. The risk of friendly fire is too great.”
“That’s what I thought,” Flurry said. “I don’t think everypony is going to pause to check the uniform or count the holes.”
“Most can’t tell us apart as it is,” Thorax admitted with a slight chuckle.
Flurry laughed with him, then recognized what he was doing and narrowed her eyes. “You really want me to spare that changeling? Both of them?”
Thorax turned the projector crystal off with a flick of his horn. “The officer’s name is Vesper,” he reminded the alicorn. “And no, he supervised the digging of the trench where he forced the slaves to dump their friends. Some of them were still alive at the time.” He gave her a half-lidded stare. “I would have killed him anyway.”
“But not Ocellus?”
He licked his fangs and shifted his weight, making a show of choosing his argument. “I promised Vesper I would protect her, and I mean to keep that promise. She’s smart enough to know that some of what she learned is shit, but too loyal and by-the-book to question it openly.”
“Still?”
“Not anymore. You put the fear of alicorn in that filly. She’d believe the sun is green if it meant keeping you from burning her alive.”
Flurry snorted and waved a wing. “I was bluffing.”
Thorax gave her a look. It was the one he used to use when she acted up back in Weter. “Changeling,” he reminded her. “I know that’s a lie.”
“I was very upset,” Flurry deadpanned, “that Changelings have the teats to ask for fair treatment and mercy now that the horseshoe is on the other hoof.”
Thorax was quiet for a long moment. “I’d like to try.” He sat on his haunches and fiddled with the projector crystal. “I used to convince changelings to give my way a chance. I need to know if it’s still possible. If I can undo what Chrysalis did.”
“You just said she’s scared enough to believe anything,” Flurry pointed out.
“There’s a difference in being cowed by fear and true belief,” Thorax answered. “I know ponies aren’t too religious, but that should be obvious.”
Flurry grinned at the reproach. “Fine, keep her. If she tries to kill me, I’m holding you responsible.”
“If she tries, I’ll kill her myself,” Thorax promised with hard blue eyes.
Flurry shook out her mane and tossed the purple and blue curls with a forehoof. “I’ll look forward to her groveling apology one day. And I’ll accept it,” she promised. “When this is done, Chrysalis will be dead and you’ll be King of the Changelings." She stood and stretched out her wings. "We can make something better.”
Thorax shot a look at the door, then approached and hugged the taller alicorn. Flurry stooped and wrapped her wings around his sides. “You think Grover will let that happen?” he whispered as the changeling nuzzled her.
Flurry Heart broke the hug without answering.
The storm wall around the Crystal City seemed to nearly reach the stars. A massive wall of rolling clouds, winds, and ice filled Flurry Heart’s view, and the howling winds could be heard over the roar of nearly three hundred planes. The storm was never this big, she thought with a grimace. Her forehooves curled around the stick on reflex, and her fighter’s wings jittered.
“Stay in formation,” Rainbow’s scratchy voice crackled through her headset. “Transports, group in. Drop Teams ready-up.”
Flurry licked her lips. The air wing edged together, flying in a dangerously tight formation.
“You’re up, Princess,” Rainbow addressed her directly. Flurry spotted the rainbow-winged fighter at the head of the flock waggle its wings.
“Acknowledged,” Flurry rasped, then unclipped her flight cap and disengaged the canopy. The wind howled around the cockpit of the plane. The alicorn sat up and primed her spell, scanning the sky with her icy blue eyes. She was in the middle of the formation, flanked by several fighters. The transport planes flew behind her, and the more heavily armed fighters flew in front. She needed to be in the middle for the shield to work properly. She looked forward, staring ahead above the spinning propeller.
The storm wall loomed over the Empire. A belt of wind extended from the circular, rotating wall, flinging bits of ice towards the ground. They impacted with a puff of snow. She looked down over her wing and only saw rolling hills of white. This close to the Crystal City, the snows buried the roads and tracks year-round. The Changelings would send teams of ponies to clear the tracks to keep supplies moving.
It wasn’t always like this. The wind and snow were always a threat in the Crystal Empire, but it was manageable during her parent’s reign. The Crystal Heart protected the city from the snow, and the joy of the crystal ponies seemed to help calm the perpetual weather. Weather teams of pegasi kept the snow at bay well enough for her parents to begin reclaiming the Frozen North.
All of that was gone now.
Her horn burned brighter, and a slow, warbling, translucent blue field glittered above the highest fighters. Flurry licked her chapped lips and concentrated, devoting her entire focus on stretching and molding her magic into a bowl around the top of the air wing. The winds from the approaching storm buffeted the planes, but the pilots compensated with the softest possible adjustments.
The shield edged downwards, going from an upside-down bowl to a bubble. As it passed over the front of the air wing, the wind ceased and the planes wobbled in suddenly clear sky. Flurry heard her discarded headset squawk a reminder as the pilots adjusted. One transport scraped a wingtip against her shield. The metal squealed and the shield pulsed around the impact for a heartbeat before the pilot moved away.
The planes were flying wingtip to wingtip now. Flurry couldn’t see the entire shield from her cockpit. She relied on her magic to know when the shield was entirely complete. She reached out with her senses, pushing through the imprints of hundreds of planes and their pilots. Flurry distantly felt guns clutched by the soldiers preparing to drop, feeling their nervousness, fear, and resolve.
The alicorn grit her teeth and swept all of it aside. She visualized the completed bubble and flared out her horn, anchoring the shield to her plane in the center. The brown paint on the Nova Griffonian fighter glowed with a faint blue light.
Flurry shook her head and slumped into the cockpit. Rather than use her magic, she fumbled with a hoof and slapped her flight cap back on awkwardly. Her little golden crown jiggled around the base of the stick. “This is Princess,” Flurry said in a clipped tone. “Shield anchored. Stay in formation. Break on my word.” She slid the canopy closed.
“Acknowledged.”
“On your command.”
“Received.”
The engine sputtered as Flurry’s giant blue bubble approached the storm wall. They flew low, attempting to get below radar range, but the planes would have been picked up crossing over the Crystal Mountains from Evergreen. The fighters were already critically low on fuel. As they closed in, the size of the storm became truly apparent. Flurry’s shield appeared to be a marble next to a bowling ball. The winds threw shards of ice and snow against her shield. A huge chunk shattered into a spray of ice right in front of Rainbow's plane.
“Ancestors preserve us,” a griffon radioed.
“Preserve comms,” Rainbow barked.
The army is days behind. We’re relying on the word of one changeling who knew he was dead. This is a trap. Her thoughts spiraled. I’m leading them to their deaths. The crown jittered against her hooves, and her mouth pressed into a thin line. It was a straight shot through the storm to the Crystal City. The Crystal Heart still shielded it.
Now matter what the Changelings have done, it won’t keep me out. Flurry did not remember destroying it as a foal, but she remembered the painting somepony made after the event. Her cries shattered the fragile crystal, accomplishing by accident what Sombra could never achieve. She lent her own magic to its restoration, and Sunburst had always reminded her of that when she felt guilty. You know me.
The shield impacted the outer edge of the storm. “Keep formation!” Rainbow shouted.
Flurry Heart felt the screaming wind attempt to push the shield bubble down, but lit her horn and held her plane in place. She poured more magic into the spell to keep the shield rigid; it wanted to stretch and warp with the air currents. Flurry imagined the pilots near the edges watching the shards of ice and compacted snow crash against the shield, sending ripples through the magic. A bolt of lightning struck the shield; the electricity arced around the front of the bubble. Another bolt struck the side, and the alicorn’s horn vibrated. She ripped her flight cap off in case the heat from her horn became too intense. More lightning bolts slashed against the bubble and arced along it like a spiderweb.
Flurry held her breath and gripped the stick with stiff forelegs. A faint pink shimmer flickered through the icy winds. Her radio said something, but Flurry didn’t hear it. Please. The pink became clearer as the planes approached. Don’t bounce off. If it bounced off, all the planes wouldn’t be able to adjust. You know me.
The Crystal Heart still shielded the city. Flurry didn’t see the front of the bubble touch the shield, but she felt it in her horn.
Weak. The Heart was weak; the resistance against her spell felt like a feather bouncing off her forehead. Rainbow’s fighter at the head of the pack entered first, and Flurry grabbed her flight cap again and pressed the headset to a folded ear with her shoulder.
Flurry’s blue bubble and the planes inside it passed though the shield, and Flurry saw her home for the first time in over seven years.
The Crystal City looked the same in her hazy memories; a circular ocean of tightly-packed crystal buildings around the spire of the Crystal Palace. The palace was more of a tower than a castle. The open area below the legs was heavily fortified with sandbags and rough-looking crystal structures. Flurry recognized the few open spaces: the Market Square, the Crystal Plaza, and Snowberry Park, all around the palace. The balconies around the central spire were draped with black flags depicting Chrysalis’ pronged crown.
The anti-air guns installed by her father and his army surrounded the palace, bolted onto flat crystal rooftops. The guns were unattended; Flurry noted one was covered with a tarp. The alicorn heard her heartbeat in her ears as the sputtering engines faded away. The Crystal Heart muted the sound of the raging storm outside, and the Crystal City seemed cast in shadow from the perpetual winds and clouds.
The city was quiet. “Are we through?” Rainbow’s voice broke in.
Air raid sirens erupted from the Crystal Palace and echoed through the bubble; small black figures leapt from the balconies to buzz towards the anti-air guns. Flurry Heart sensed the back of her shield lose contact with the winds, and released the spell. Her plane ceased glowing blue as the anchor dissipated, and the shield shattered into harmless sparks.
“Break!” Flurry didn’t mean to use the Royal Voice, and her headset crackled with a burst of static. “Break now!” She slid the canopy open, pulling on the lever so hard it tore from the metal.
“Go!” Rainbow whinnied over the headset, and the fighters spun out into groups. Flurry rammed the stick down and followed. The transport planes climbed higher and began to fly clockwise around the shield.
“Prepare to drop!”
Flurry adjusted her headset with a burst of magic, switching over channels. The balconies of the Crystal Place erupted with tracer fire that spiraled into the sky. Heavy machineguns. The angles were too shallow; the guns were aimed towards the streets below, not the sky.
“Falcon, west side! Take out the AA!”
Flurry banked right and rolled her plane through the scattered gunfire. A bullet pinged off the tail. She spotted the battery with the tarp. Several Changelings were hauling the trap down while one spun the gun around. Flurry squeezed the machine guns and strafed the roof. The bullets kicked up shards of crystal and several changelings dove clear off the side of the roof. The long flak barrels collapsed back onto the roof; the gunner was clearly dead.
“Stay low, draw fire from the transports!” a voice squawked. The fighters circled the Crystal Palace, strafing the roads and rooftops with staccato machinegun bursts. One of the anti-air batteries was firing wildly into the sky.
“Crystal ponies all over the place! I don’t have a target!” Flurry tilted her plane and looked down. A blur of colors filled the streets; Crystal ponies of every size and color. Her horn flared and she cast the detection spell from above. She was moving too fast to see how many burst into green fire as they lost their illusions.
Flurry flew just above the rooftops and dodged a steeple, then fired into the side of a mechanized troop carrier rushing down a cobblestone street. It burst into flames. She cast the detection spell again, flying as low as she could to cover the most ground.
“I’m out of fuel, ditching!” a voice called out. A plane slammed into the side of the Crystal Palace near one of the balconies and a brown figure flared its wings and flapped towards the outskirts.
Flurry looked up. The Drop Groups were leaping from their transports, wings tucked in and diving towards the ground. The fighters were drawing the most attention from the garrison, but one transport’s engines were aflame. It flew low and a large group of creatures leapt from the tail with barely enough time to flap and slow their fall.
“My wing’s about shot off,” a pained voice squawked. “I can’t hold on. I see the panzers.” The transport dipped towards the Plaza and disappeared into a fireball.
Flurry continued circling and strafing any vehicles until the warning light for her fuel flicked on. She banked up and scanned the edges of the shield, only spotting a few circling transports. Half the fighters were already down. She licked her dry lips. “Transports, report.”
“Magic’s landed.”
“Laughter clear.”
“Generosity clear!”
“Honesty clear!”
“Kindness clear!”
“Loyalty’s getting chewed up!” a pegasus whinnied into the headset. “Bugs got some armored train!”
“On it,” Flurry answered at the same time as Rainbow. The alicorn spotted the rainbow-painted fighter streaking east around the central spire towards the edge of the shield. Flurry followed and primed her horn.
The east trainyard was smaller than the west, with several two-story crystal buildings and cranes for unloading cargo. Only one crane was still standing; the other two were smoking, mangled wrecks. Green smoke drifted above two of the buildings, and figures fired from the rooftops and windows into a field of train cars and containers.
The armored train fired shells back. Swiveling turrets had been mounted onto several cars, trying to fire towards the buildings. It was clear the train wasn’t meant for close-range combat, but steam poured from the engine, and black figures were using the armored plates as cover and firing towards the railyard.
Rainbow was in the lead; she strafed the top of the train and downed at least a dozen figures taking shelter along the cars. Flurry angled her fighter’s nose down and fired her laser over the propeller. The train’s engine exploded into shrapnel that took out the surrounding Changelings. She poured more magic into the laser and cut through the next several train cars, slicing through the armored plating like a knife though butter. Her plane continued to dive.
One of the cars exploded into a massive fireball right as Flurry’s spell hit it. Ammunition, Flurry blinked. Too close! She jerked the stick up and climbed above the fireball, dropping her spell. The explosion rocked her fighter and she heard metal screech behind her. The stick was suddenly loose. Flurry glanced over her shoulder; her tail was studded with shrapnel and the rudder was nearly gone.
“You good, Princess?”
“Yeah.” Flurry struggled with the stick and pulled the plane around for another pass. The engine sputtered again and the warning light flickered. “I’m almost out of fuel.” Rainbow strafed the trainyard again and Flurry copied her sluggishly with the last of her ammo. Her plane was rattling and it was a struggle to pull back up.
Flurry slowly banked back towards the inner city. The few fighters still up continued to dive-bomb the anti-air emplacements around the Crystal Palace. Tracer fire arced from the balconies towards the planes and streets; Flurry recognized the distinctive buzzing sounds of the heavy machine guns echo across the city. One of the balconies seemingly took a hit from a ditched fighter; the burning black flag of the Hegemony fluttered to the ground below a jagged hole in the crystal. Flurry summoned her small blue shield around her plane and flew towards the palace.
“This is Princess. I’m ditching. Will cast the spell as often as I can.” Flurry tossed the flight cap behind her. She unclipped her belts, zipped her brown flight suit up, and checked the revolver strapped under her right wing. Lastly, the alicorn pulled the crown off the stick and shoved it down under her curly mane.
The bottom of the Crystal Palace was heavily fortified with a wall of sandbags and machineguns. The open area just beyond it was going to be a killing field. Right now, the machineguns aimed up and Changelings poured small-arms fire into the sky.
Sombra banished this place rather than try to hold it.
Some changeling spotted the incoming plane, and a few bullets pinged off the front of her shield. Flurry pushed the failing engine to the limit as she just skimmed over the destroyed anti-air guns and rooftops. The plane struggled to pick up speed with the ruined rudder as she went into a clumsy dive towards the foundation. As she approached, she realized that the crystal walls around the sandbags were actually large shards from other destroyed buildings placed to limit access to the palace.
The Changelings did not retreat from their sandbag wall, and a heavy machine gun on the balcony above the sandbags sprayed her shield with ricocheting bullets. They fired up at the shield futilely, trying to break it before impact.
Flurry primed her horn. She waited until she could make out individual expressions of panic on the Changelings' fanged muzzles before she dropped the shield and teleported with a crack of magic. The teleportation spell scorched the cockpit and fried the instruments. The plane burst into blue fire just before impacting into the sandbags, exploding into shards of glowing metal and shrapnel peppered the surrounding Changelings. They shrieked and hissed in pain, trying to put out the magical blue flames.
They could not.
High above them, near the top of the spire, Flurry reappeared in a snap of blue magic. She flapped her wings and tugged on her singed brown flight suit with a hoof, then shook her head and felt the crown settle above her eyes. She glanced down, seeing the machineguns firing from the balconies and the damaged wall of sandbags below that. A few fighters still circled and picked targets, but most of the planes were now shards of metal and trails of smoke through the city.
For one long moment, she charged her horn to blast through the Crystal Palace. She could slice through the legs and topple the entire structure. She flapped her wings in a circle and spotted green smoke in every direction. The Drop Groups had landed and were fighting it out. The light around her horn died down. Not yet.
Flurry Heart summoned a shield around herself and flew towards the Crystal Plaza.
Flurry seized the stick grenade mid-air and flung it back through the window. The Changelings inside had time to scream a curse in Herzlander before the explosion tore through the room. Flurry bucked the crystal door apart and entered the house, sweeping over the destroyed room with her floating revolver. Three Changelings were scattered across the floor.
Two more Changelings leaned out from the opposite doorway, one with a submachine gun braced against his forelegs. Flurry wrenched the gun to the side with a jerk of her horn, and the ‘ling squeezed the trigger on reflex. The gun bucked wildly in his hooves as he fired point-blank into his partner. Flurry thrust her revolver down the hallway and against his forehead before pulling the trigger. The submachine gun went quiet and fell from lifeless hooves.
Flurry moved down the hallway, pulling her revolver back and holding it close by her side. The dead soldiers were holed-up in a small kitchen. She drifted her revolver in front of her while she pulled the submachine gun free from the dead changeling and retrieved two magazines. While she reloaded it, another changeling stuck a short-barreled shotgun out from the cupboard they were hiding in.
Without looking over, Flurry fired the remaining five shots from her revolver into the wooden cupboard while sticking an unused stick clip into the submachine gun. She added a short burst into the other cupboards as a precaution, then knocked the doors open with a burst of magic. The changeling hiding was younger than her. Her mouth flopped open when the body fell out of the cupboard, revealing short, stubby fangs.
Flurry snorted and glanced at the uniformed corpses around her, then slung the strap of the gun around her side and reloaded the revolver with her hooves. Flurry advanced up the stairs to the second floor, horn primed with crackling blue light. Movement came from one of the bedrooms, and Flurry’s horn pulsed with a life detection spell.
Under a bed. Flurry entered the bedroom; the bed was a plush comforter with extra padding to counter the crystal bedframe. Changelings definitely lived here. Gunfire still rang out outside the house from neighboring buildings. Flurry braced her submachine gun. “Come out,” she called in Herzlander, then knocked the bed aside with her horn.
A crystal filly raised her hooves in surrender. “Please!” she screamed in broken Herzlander. “No hurt, no hurt!”
Flurry lowered the submachine gun on reflex, then her mouth pressed into a hard frown. The filly was well-fed, her purple crystal coat shiny with no ribs showing and sandy mane fastened into a bun. The filly lowered her hooves and gave Flurry a watery smile. “Princess!” she exclaimed with tears in her eyes.
Flurry glanced at the discarded rifle and black uniform in the corner of the bedroom, then peppered the filly with a short burst. She collapsed to her side and burst into green fire, revealing an adult male changeling. He rattled out a weak cough and managed to look surprised before dying. Flurry raised a hoof and checked her watch, then concentrated and cast the detection spell again, feeling it pulse through the block. More scattered gunshots rang out as she reset the seven minute timer.
Flurry noticed the second discarded uniform as the vase on the nightstand exploded into a changeling. The mare lunged at the alicorn, knocking the submachine gun aside and trying to bite her throat with sharp fangs. Flurry grunted, then leveraged her larger frame and shoved back, knocking the mare over. The alicorn straddled the naked mare and slammed her left hoof down, crushing the changeling’s skull in a spray of blood.
As Flurry left, she swept the house again and wiped her bloody hoof on one of the dead changeling’s uniforms. The squad she was with regrouped in the street. “Clear,” Flurry announced and lashed her tail against the flight suit. It was still sticky with blood from the previous house.
The two dozen griffons and pegasi scanned the street with rifles and shotguns. A few were perched on the rooftops and looking through long rifles. One griffon fired his rifle and whistled happily.
“This block’s clear, Princess,” Sergeant Gildedwing offered. The blonde griffon reloaded his shotgun while he spoke. “We’ve secured the outskirts up to the trainyard.”
Flurry nodded. “Any prisoners?”
“Nope,” he replied and pumped his shotgun.
The rich changelings lived in the houses around the Crystal Plaza; they hadn’t had time to evacuate. Flurry expected to find servants or slaves kept in the houses, but that wasn’t the case. Every crystal pony she had encountered so far turned out to be a disguised changeling.
“Next block,” Flurry ordered and flared her wings.
“Wait!” a radiomare interrupted. She held a hoof to her headset and balanced the backpack against her flank. “There’s push to retake the plaza!”
Flurry turned an ear to the west, hearing the buzzing of machine guns and scattered gunfire. “Shit,” Flurry cursed. “Keep checking the houses.” She cast the detection spell again and teleported back to the Plaza.
Flurry reappeared above dozens of burning tanks and summoned her shield around herself. Gas mask clad Jaegers, the elite Changeling forces, fired from the rooftops and buildings to the west, pinning several groups of her soldiers amongst the broken war machines. One griffon pointed up at the alicorn and burst into wild laughter. “You’re going to die, bugs!” she screamed and braced her rifle against the side of the tank.
Several bullets pinged off the alicorn’s shield, and Flurry landed behind a nearby tank and kicked over a burnt changeling. She dropped the shield and readied her horn, visualizing where the bulk of the gunfire was coming from. The laser sliced through the tank and punched out the other side, carving through the open plaza and blowing apart a two-story building where the advancing Changelings had just placed a heavy machine gun. Her soldiers gave a ragged cheer as the gunfire ceased.
“For Aquileia!” a griffon screamed and leapt over a tank. Several more followed and rushed the buildings. Flurry galloped under them with a small square shield in front of her. The alicorn caught up to Sophie Altiert in the rubble of the collapsed store. The gray griffon leaned against a large crystal shard; her left wing was bloody and hung loosely by her side, and she braced her shotgun’s stock against the ground and pumped it with one claw. Her other claw clutched her side.
“Princess,” she panted raggedly as Flurry slid next to her and took cover. “Thanks.”
“Get a medic.”
“Later.” Altiert fired around the shard and a changeling shrieked with pain. She pumped the shotgun again with one claw. “We can pin them between Generosity at the mines, but we haven't heard from them.”
Flurry gave an absent nod and vanished in a snap of light. She reappeared above the destroyed building and summoned a shield around herself as a precaution. She flapped over through several smoke clouds, dropping the shield to cast her spell again and resetting her watch. Gunfire sounded from the houses below her as the attack descended into street-to-street fighting.
The alicorn flapped her wings and moved south towards a pillar of green smoke. The mines ran far below the Crystal City, branching into several tunnels wired with nascent electricity and glowing crystals. Before the war, the Crystal City’s main export was rare gems for enchanting.
At the outskirts of the city, the storm loomed outside the shield wall; ripples of ice and lightning crashed against the feeble pink magic. The entire Crystal City was dimly lit; only the very top of the Heart's bubble shield extended beyond the storm. Very little sunlight to passed through, even though it was almost noon.
Flurry Heart landed hard with her shield on a cobblestone street just before the mines. The walls of the buildings were faded and smudged; the windows were boarded-up and doors blocked. The Changelings abandoned the mines? Flurry thought, but shook her head. Gunfire still rang out occasionally.
A mare in a New Marelander uniform peeked her head out from an alleyway and waved. “Princess!” she shouted softly and lowered her rifle. Flurry ran at a trot and stopped at the entrance to the alley; her shield wobbled and shrank around her.
The pink mare’s uniform was bloody around the chest. Another uniformed pegasus was slumped against the wall and clutching his stomach with brown wings. “There’s a sniper!” the mare exclaimed and raised a hoof to a rooftop closer to the city center.
Flurry glanced up at it, spotting a steeple. Her shield flickered. “I’ll have to drop the shield to fire,” Flurry remarked.
“Please,” the amber mare backed up and dripped her head in a bow. “Thank you, Princess.” As the mare shifted her legs, Flurry glimpsed the bullet hole in her jacket.
“You’re wounded,” Flurry said.
“Only a glancing wound,” the mare coughed, waving her left hoof and pointing over Flurry’s shoulder again. Her rifle hung casually at her side, but her right hoof shook and drifted towards it.
Flurry unstrapped her own submachine gun and pressed her hoof against the open trigger. “I’ll drop the shield and cast the spell. It’ll take me a moment.”
The mare gestured for Flurry to lean against the side of the building. “Please, take cover Princess. We’ll keep an eye out." The other pegasus managed a nod and shifted his wings lower.
Flurry turned her back on the two pegasi and dropped her shield. Her horn glowed with light.
After a moment of staring at an empty tower, she glanced over her shoulder. The mare was frozen in Flurry’s magic, but a hoof was reaching towards her rifle. The brown stallion was also frozen; he had unfurled his wings and drew a pistol, making it halfway to Flurry’s head before freezing. Their eyes tracked her, pupils narrowed in obvious terror.
“I could let you two go and cast the detection spell to make sure,” Flurry said conversationally while turning into the alley, “but why bother?” She squeezed the trigger on the submachine gun and put two quick bursts into their heads. Her horn dimmed and the bodies fell into the alleyway, erupting into green fire.
Flurry scanned the alleyway; it was cluttered with rubble, but there weren't any other bodies. Might as well make sure. The alicorn cast her detection spell and waited calmly. She was not prepared for half the chunks of rubble burst into changelings, including two right next to her.
Oh.
Flurry’s submachine gun burst caught three of them deeper in the alley, but the changeling closest to her lunged and forced the alicorn to drop the gun and grapple with the stallion. The other near her tried to grab the pistol from the dead changeling, but Flurry drew her own pistol with a burst of magic and fired into her. The changeling she wrestled with swatted her horn with a heavy hoof and Flurry lost concentration. The revolver clattered to the ground and another changeling rushed for it.
Flurry growled and slammed the stallion against the crystal wall with a sharp crack, then flung him bodily at the changeling holding her revolver in a glow of green magic. They smashed together in a chaotic mix of flailing holed limbs. The only other changeling in the alley pulled the rifle free from the dead mare and fired wildly at the alicorn.
Flurry’s small, flat shield flickered into existence in front of her muzzle. The shot ricocheted back and struck the changeling in the eye. He fell back screaming, clutching the ruined, weeping eye socket. Flurry’s horn blazed and she filled the alleyway with scorching blue fire. Several changelings screams were cut short as the intensity cooked their lungs.
Flurry panted heavily; she almost missed the shotgun pumping behind her. She teleported, appearing just above the alley and dodging a spray of pellets. She dropped on top of a uniformed, gas-masked changeling. Jaeger. Real ambush.
The changeling reacted well; they raised the shotgun in green magic and flung the stock at Flurry’s muzzle. The alicorn was knocked off-balance and the Jaeger rolled, catching the alicorn and pinning a wing to the ground with a hard stomp of a booted hoof, then followed with a heavy strike to the base of her horn. Flurry whickered in pain. The Jaeger’s muzzle was obscured by their mask, and their black uniform was armored and bulky. They were nearly the size of Flurry Heart.
The changeling drew a knife from a sheath on their belly, holding it between their forelegs and thrusted it towards the alicorn's chest. She caught the descending forelegs with her own, but the blade nearly reached her flight suit. Flurry’s magic sparked. The Jaeger’s own horn lit up and attempted to force the blade down; Flurry heard muffled panting coming from underneath the mask. Flurry pushed back against the changeling, but watched the Jaeger's horn spark and try to lift the shotgun discarded on the cobblestones. Her own horn still throbbed with pain from the hit.
The Jaeger’s uniform was loose around the neck; Flurry lowered the hooves and let the Jaeger descend toward her. At the last moment, she used her alicorn strength to bend the knife away and rammed her head forward. The tip of her horn pierced the Jaeger’s neck and mangled the changeling’s throat. Flurry twisted and pulled her horn free at an angle, trailing blood and viscera.
The Jaeger’s grip slackened and they slumped to the side. Flurry heaved the changeling off of her and tore the mask away with a hoof. The Jaeger was a male changeling, maybe a year older than her. His blue eyes gaped up at the shield and the storm outside it as he slowly choked. Flurry grabbed the knife with her hooves, noted the pretentious Herzlander motto etched into the blade, and plunged it into the his eye.
She looked up in time to spot a herd of naked crystal ponies rushing down the street towards her. Flurry ignored the pain in her horn to prepare a laser to slice through their kneecaps, but glimpsed Spike’s broad shoulders appear from around a building and stopped the spell.
The dragon ran heavily with flared wings. At some point, his custom-made uniform had been blown off, all except for his pants. Spike carried a heavy machine gun like it was a wooden rifle, with belts of ammo wrapped around his chest and shoulders. A few of his scales were flecked with pockmarks from bullets.
The herd of crystal ponies stopped in front of Flurry and the dead Jaeger. Flurry scanned over them with tired eyes. They were all malnourished; sunken eyes and knobby hooves. Some carried black rifles and pistols in holsters, but most wore saddlebags with picks, shovels, and axes strapped to them.
The front of the herd stopped a healthy distance from Flurry and stared at her in clear shock. A bit of gore dripped from Flurry’s horn onto her muzzle while she stared back. Spike pushed his way to the front of the crowd and glared at her. “What are you doing here alone?” he asked.
“I was on my way to the mines,” Flurry answered slowly. She cast a detection spell and watched the crowd shuffle as it swept through them. No Changelings. Spike shouldered the machine gun and walked up to her, offering her a free claw. “You good to go Princess?” he asked in a loud voice.
Flurry accepted his hoof and Spike pulled her onto four legs. “We’re gonna talk about this later,” he promised in a low growl, “but right now, show them.”
“Show what?”
“Show them who you are.” Spike moved to the side and stood next to the alicorn. "I am Sir Spike, the Brave and Glorious!" he shouted back to the herd. He gestured to Flurry with a claw. "Flurry Heart, the Princess of the Crystal Empire!"
Flurry raised a foreleg and wiped her bloody horn on the sleeve of her flight suit. The crystal ponies, her subjects, stared at her in clear disbelief with sunken and bloodshot eyes. “P-princess?” a stallion offered, torn between stepping forward or bowing. Flurry’s throat was dry, and she spent a moment ineffectively swallowing. Her mind went blank. What could I possibly tell them? She raised hoof and touched her golden crown. The thin band was sticky with blood from her horn.
A few crystal ponies looked up at Spike, then glanced back at Flurry. Spike nudged her with a wing and swung his tail slowly. Do they even remember me? She flapped her wings and lifted herself up. The crowd stretched to the end of the street, easily several hundred ponies.
“My name is Flurry Heart,” she said automatically and without emotion. Her eyes searched the crowd, looking for somepony familiar, something to jog her memory, but a sea of strange muzzles stared back. “I am the daughter of Mi Amore Cadenza and Shining Armor. I was born here, and I…” Flurry trailed off. Who am I to them?
Her crown rubbed against her pink and blue curls.
“Ponies of the Crystal Empire!” Flurry roared. Her voice echoed across the city and the gunfire and explosions dimmed. “I am Flurry Heart, Princess of Ponies, and I am here for you!” Her horn fired a blue laser into the sky that pierced the shield and the storm beyond it. A burst of sunlight filtered through. “Help me retake your city! Fight for your homes! Fight for your families! Fight for your friends!”
Her voice rang through the city and a hush descended. Flurry looked down at the ocean of upturned muzzles staring up at her with tired, blank eyes. Her heartbeat pulsed in her ears as silence descended and the sunlight disappeared into the storm.
“Princess!” a ragged voice called out in a cheer.
“Princess!” the cry echoed and rippled through the crowd.
Flurry’s ears swiveled.
“Princess!” a chorus of distant voices called from several blocks away.
Underneath the gunfire and grenades, the chant spread thought the city.
“Princess!”
“Princess!”
“PRINCESS!”
Spike roared underneath her, and her subjects roared back.
Above them, Flurry wept with relief. Her tears mixed with the stained blood on her muzzle, and she landed and scrubbed at her eyes with her other sleeve. She turned away from the herd and glanced at Spike with a watery eye. “Let’s take this fucking city.”
The crystal mare rushed forward in a mad dash towards the sandbags. Her aqua crystal coat glittered, regaining some of its shine as she ran. She approached from the side, and the Changelings reacted too slowly. She flung herself over the low barricade and grappled with an officer. The changeling’s cap fell away as he pushed the mare down.
It was not an even fight. She was malnourished and her strikes were weak. The real threat was the bundle of dynamite clutched in her teeth. It had a short fuse, and the mare's eyes were grim with determination and savage satisfaction. The explosion blasted apart the encamped position and cleared the street.
The former slaves cheered and rushed forward.
Flurry Heart watched with horror behind a flat shield at the end of the street. She summoned it when the gunfire started and planned to slowly push down the street, but the army of former slaves moved forward implacably. Her ponies drove their shovels and picks into the dying changelings scattered around the destroyed checkpoint, then stole their weapons and kept moving. They left their dead and dying behind.
“I’ve told them,” Flurry repeated softly. “I don’t want this.”
“They do,” Spike answered. His green eyes stared down the street. “You didn’t see the mines, Flurry.” He dropped the empty heavy machine gun. “They made them live down there, in shackles and chains. There are thousands of them too weak or hurt to move. The Drop Groups are trying, but we can't help and push forward.”
Flurry closed her eyes. It didn’t shut out the image in her mind. “How are you okay with this?”
“I’m not okay with a lot of things,” Spike admitted, “but I can’t change this. Let’s go.” The dragon gestured to the shield. Flurry dropped it and galloped down the street. Spike followed with long strides, and several squads of her soldiers trailed behind.
The crystal ponies freed from the mines were not supposed to lead the charge into the inner city, but Flurry’s proclamation sparked a mass revolt. It seemed like every crystal pony still alive in the city had taken to the streets with whatever they could grab to fight. And they were dying. Flurry leapt over a dead stallion, stomach churning, and turned down an alley to cut across to the next block. Sporadic gunfire rang out across the rooftops. Flurry flared her wings and unslung her submachine gun to land on an occupied roof, but Spike held up a claw and went first.
Flurry summoned a bubble shield around herself and whirled up, attracting dozens of shots that pinged off her magic. Spike poured fire from his mouth across a rooftop littered with sandbags, then dove into an alley beside the house. Flurry passed over a squad of burning Changelings and dropped her shield to land with him.
Spike landed in the middle of a squad of Jaegers. Only one was still alive.
The Jaeger fired his shotgun point blank against Spike’s stomach as the dragon turned to face him. Spike grunted in mild discomfort, then reached a claw out, bending the shotgun barrel to the side. His other claw punched into the Jaeger’s stomach, tearing through the armored uniform and easily piercing the chitin. Spike hauled the changeling up by his embedded claw; the Jaeger shrieked incoherently behind the gas mask.
Spike growled and breathed a jet of red flames, melting the gas mask to the changeling’s muzzle. The screams fizzled out and the fire spread down the body. The dragon slammed the burning corpse down to the cobblestones and pulled his claw free. He shook blood from his talons with a grimace.
Flurry whipped a stick grenade through a second-floor window with a burst of magic, then gave the dragon an even look. “You have no right to call me reckless.” The explosion rained crystal shards, and a pegasus leapt through the window with a shotgun to clear the room.
“I’m a dragon.”
“I’m an alicorn.”
“I’m bulletproof.” Spike picked a pellet from his belly scales. “These’ll take forever to get out,” he muttered, then glared at Flurry. “It’ll take an armor-piercing rifle round to punch through dragonscale.” He scratched behind an ear fin and retrieved a flat bullet. It looked comically small in his large claw. He snorted and flicked it against the crystal wall.
“They can’t break my shield,” Flurry replied with a sparking horn.
“That’s not my point,” Spike sighed. “You can do a lot more than clear houses. Ponies need to see you, hear your voice. They need to have hope. You can’t give them that if you spend the whole battle just fighting.” He swung at the crystal wall and his talons carved a chunk off it. “A squad could do this on their own.”
“This is my fight as much as theirs.”
“What about the battles they can’t fight?” Spike tapped his wrist as a reminder. Flurry charged her horn and the detection spell swept through the area. Not that it seems to be needed anymore.
The crystal ponies seemed to have a way of finding disguised changelings. Her ponies developed their own code and language down in the mines; ear twitches, hoof knocks, and tail twists to communicate nonverbally. Flurry had seen a crystal pony look at another, twitch their ears in a pattern, then drive a pickaxe into their throat when it wasn’t returned. The other crystal pony always fell to the ground as green flames revealed their true form.
Flurry snorted. “Fine, Sir Spike, the Brave and Glorious, please save my city again. Once the frontlines are in place, we'll call a meeting."
Spike smiled. It look threatening next to the burning corpse. “Of course, Princess Flurry Heart.”
Flurry flapped her wings and lifted above the street. She brought her shield up again, but the gunfire was dying down. She scanned the city, spotting more columns of green smoke. She turned in place. Every direction. We’ve encircled the palace. Flurry flapped her wings towards the east trainyard. The fighting surged around there several times according to every radiomare the alicorn demanded a report from. The Changelings were pushing hard to retake the train station. Probably to try to stage an evacuation. Flurry wings flapped unevenly for a moment. Or reinforcements. The storm wall outside hampered any attempt to simply flee, for both sides.
As Flurry passed over a secured area, her ears pricked up at the whinnies of a massive crowd of crystal ponies. Flurry diverted and swept over a street. She spotted one of the armories and a herd around it. The armory was a three-story red crystal building with reinforced windows and doors. Griffons with rifles lined the rooftop and entrance, pushing back against a crowd of unarmed crystal ponies. Flurry dropped her shield and cast the detection spell again, but no changelings appeared.
Flurry landed on the steps and folded her wings. Her sudden arrival quelled the crowd and the ponies stumbled back. “What’s going on?” she asked the griffon lieutenant; she didn’t know his name, but he was one of Duskcrest’s soldiers.
The griffon had a fresh black eye and rubbed at it. “They want in the armory, Princess.”
Flurry grimaced. I’ve had enough of ponies flinging themselves to their deaths. “Denied, unless they have experience as former veterans.”
“It’s not about the guns, Princess,” the griffon replied. He waved a wing at the door and shuffled aside for the large alicorn to pass through.
Flurry heard the screaming before she entered the building. One of the rooms on the first floor had been cleared out, and dozens of changeling foals were gathered together in a heap. They clung to each other, screaming senselessly as their bodies shook. Some of the older ones looked more collected, but still pushed themselves against the far wall and away from the street.
One of the griffons guarding the room pulled his snow hat tighter around his head. “What in Maar’s name is wrong with them!?” he screamed. He had to shout to be heard of the hissing, sobbing shrieks.
In that moment, Flurry remembered everything Thorax had ever told her about changeling grubs. They feel the hate outside. They know my ponies want to kill them, and they can’t shut it out. She stared blankly into the room. A few of the calmer ones registered the alicorn in the doorway and joined the shrieking on reflex. Flurry reared back.
“It’s the crowd,” she explained to the guard. “They feel them.”
“What?” the guard shouted.
Flurry shook her head and returned to the entrance. The herd outside resumed aggressively shouting at the guards while she was inside. Some shouted towards her.
“Princess!”
“They’re protecting those parasites!”
“Kill them!”
“We’ve already radioed for another team, but this is going to get violent,” the lieutenant advised. “If they see another griffon squad flying in to the rooftop, they might rush the building.”
Flurry glanced at him, then raised her wings and stood straight. “Enough!” she called out. The crowd quieted down to hear her. “The changelings inside are no threat,” she continued in a loud, clear voice. “They are foals.”
“Parasites!” a voice in the middle of the crowd screamed back. Flurry didn’t see who shouted it, but it sparked a wave of other condemnations.
“You’re protecting them?”
“They deserve it!”
“Changeling!” That one sparked the crowd to rush forward, but Flurry summoned a square shield and shoved it back against the charge. The crystal ponies crushed against it and stumbled back.
“You wish to murder foals?” Flurry shouted again. “Because they killed yours? There are thousands of Changelings in this city that deserve your wrath, and you choose helpless foals? You disappoint me,” she sneered.
The mob wilted with pinned ears and tucked tails, and for a moment Flurry believed the matter settled.
A stallion stepped forward. His mane was a brittle gray, and he leaned heavily to one side. His left foreleg was badly scarred. “They took everything from us," he implored with raspy voice. "They worked my wife to death, then my sons and daughter." His eyes were a cold, hard blue. "We deserve to take everything from them.”
“I said no,” Flurry answered. “We have to be better than them. I am so sorry for your loss, but this is not justice.”
The stallion’s muzzle spasmed and he bared crooked teeth. “Y-you don’t know what loss is!” he managed to shout. Some of the crowd looked at him with wide eyes, but a few looked just as angry. Angry at me. “What have you lost, Princess?” The title sounded like an insult.
“Everything,” Flurry screamed back. “My mother, my father, my aunt. My entire family is gone.” She descended the steps and advanced on the stallion. He wilted back into the crowd. “I have given everything to get here.” The entire herd was pushed back by her voice. “This is my home. I dreamed of it every night. I dreamed of your suffering every night.” Her bloody golden crown bounced against her curls and she stepped into the street. “I woke to Celestia’s sun with nothing but guilt for years.”
Flurry reared up as her horn burst into blue flames, and she smashed through the cobblestone street. “Leave. I will not let you kill children.”
The herd slowly dispersed, starting from the back. Some ponies moved about aimlessly, but most broke into groups and began to loot the surrounding buildings. The elderly scarred stallion was helped up by another two crystal ponies and disappeared into a group moving into a storefront. Flurry turned around. The lieutenant lowered his claws from his ears and blinked owlishly. “The entire city probably heard that.”
“Good,” Flurry snorted. “Tell them I will come back if they attempt to rush you, and...” she looked to the storefront and hesitated.
“And?” the griffon prompted.
“And I will kill them if I have to,” the alicorn finished. She snapped away in a flash of light. Flurry reappeared above the building and kept flying west towards the train station. Several green columns of smoke spread from the surrounding blocks, but she spotted several flying black-uniformed figures going from rooftop to rooftop towards the crystal station, moving atop warehouses. A few griffons and pegasi engaged them on balconies and flat rooftops.
A rainbow contrail slammed into one of the changelings mid-flight and crashed onto a flat rooftop. Rainbow and the Changeling rolled and fought in hoof-to-hoof combat amidst large crates on the roof. Another changeling buzzed towards them to intervene in the brawl.
Flurry kept her bubble shield up as she pursued. The soldier realized the alicorn was on her, and tried to weave between the buildings, but Flurry sped up and crashed her shield down on top of the slower mare. The shield crackled with energy and the changeling’s black uniform burst into blue flames. The flaming changeling screamed and spiraled into the street below while Flurry moved back to the rooftop to help Rainbow.
It wasn’t needed. The Pegasus and the Changeling circled each other with knives out. The Changeling used his horn and gripped the blade in green magic, and Rainbow used an extended blade strapped to her hoof. Rainbow danced nimbly on her rear hooves and parried the wild strikes, then rushed in with her wings. The Changeling buzzed his own wings to dodge to the side. Rainbow reared her hoof back and knocked the Changeling’s knife away, but extended her metal wing and swept the sharp feathers across his exposed throat.
Blood sprayed across the roof. The Changeling fell to all fours, and Rainbow bucked him off the roof and crouched behind some wooden crates, chuckling to herself. She noticed Flurry watching from above. “You enjoy the show, Princess?” she called up with mirth.
“Figured you might need a hoof, old mare.”
Rainbow flexed her metal wing to flick blood off the artificial feathers. “Think I like this wing better than the other one. Guess that Jaeger did me a favor.” She retracted the blade at her hoof. “Least I learned to actually knife fight.”
Flurry landed on the roof. Rainbow’s eyes widened and she waved at her. “Hey, don’t drop the shield!” she shouted. “Get down first. There’s snipers in the inner city. I know they got a bead on you, Princess.”
Flurry looked towards the taller buildings near the Crystal Palace. “You where they are?”
“Yeah, the double-spired one and the one with the purple steeple. That entire area is infested with bugs.”
The buildings weren’t that tall, at least compared to Equestria, but the Crystal Empire was a thousand years behind in architecture. Both buildings were only about six stories; from the windows and balconies, Flurry guessed they were the old noble quarters her parents turned into administrative centers.
“We haven’t pushed that far up, right?” Flurry asked.
“We’re good, but we’re not that good,” Rainbow scoffed. “I can’t be everywhere.”
Neither can I. Flurry crouched and dropped her shield. A bullet whizzed over her head and her ears folded back. She laid down on the roof and awkwardly crawled over to Rainbow. “I got another idea,” Flurry whispered.
A bullet slammed into one of the nearby boxes as the snipers tried to shoot through them. Flurry glanced through a hole in one of the boards and smirked. The boxes were full of large purple crystals. Good luck piercing that.
“Lay it on me,” Rainbow said.
“Is your wing bulletproof?”
“Which one?”
Flurry gave her a look.
“Uh, yeah." Rainbow looked sheepish. "Yes?” she guessed. “I mean, it’s not going to stand up to a tank or anything.”
“Stick it up to draw fire when I say so.”
Rainbow fluttered her metal wing and crouched. Flurry crept to the edge of the boxes and closed her eyes. Her horn burned with energy. She kept charging the spell until a drop of blood fell from her nose. “Okay!” she called over her shoulder.
Rainbow stuck her wing up and a bullet ricocheted off her feathers. She grimaced at the vibrations that ran along the wing. Another shot went wide. Flurry stuck her head up and swept a laser across the buildings, then dropped back down. Rainbow copied her and crouched again.
The pegasus opened her mouth to say something, but whatever comment she wanted to say was lost over the distant rumbling of crumbling crystal architecture. The noise escalated into a low roar and individual sharp cracks as larger crystals snapped and broke apart. Flurry waited a moment after the noise stopped before she summoned a shield in front of her muzzle and stood up.
The buildings had been cut in half by a wide horizontal beam at the third floor. Crystal architecture could endure a lot, but if it broke from force, it tended to shatter and utterly collapse. What little remained was on fire; blue flames spread to the smaller surrounding buildings.
Rainbow poked her head up. Flurry extended the shield so she could stand up as well. “Damn,” the pegasus remarked. “I didn’t know crystal could burn.”
“Magic-infused fire,” Flurry answered. “It’s not natural. It’ll go out once the magic burns out.”
“How long will that take?”
Flurry shrugged. “Usually less than an hour, but I put some more juice into it.”
Rainbow shuffled her hooves. “Uh, I thought you wanted the city intact?”
Flurry closed her eyes. “I want to end this, Rainbow. Ponies and griffons are dying. The crystal ponies are killing every changeling they get their hooves on, no matter how young or old. We have to end this soon.”
She opened her eyes and turned to face Rainbow. Several other squads on nearby rooftops had stopped to watch the distant fire and destruction. “Push them towards the center, towards the fire,” Flurry ordered. “Once we complete the encirclement of the Palace, I’ll call a meeting.”
“I’ve talked to a couple crystal ponies,” Rainbow said. Her eyes flicked over to the distant spire stretching high above them. “Everything that bug said to Thorax was true. There could be a lot of ponies in there.”
Flurry nodded. “We’ll do what we can.”
“A direct assault won’t work,” Barrel Roller shook his head; his ear wilted and he chewed his lower lip nervously. “The Changelings reinforced the balconies, especially the damaged ones.”
“If we assault the foundation,” Arctic Lily responded, “the bugs will focus on the square and give your fliers an opening.”
“You’re talking about a suicide attack,” Spike interrupted. “We’ve lost enough crystal ponies today.” He folded his arms and glared down at the mare.
“We’re prepared to die.” Arctic Lily’s coat was bright blue, but her eyes were the color of dull ice. She was naked and her ribs were visible with every exhale. Her stormy gray mane was brittle and cut short.
“Really?” Spike snorted. “You going to join the assault?”
“Enough suicide attacks,” Flurry sighed. “That goes for you too, Rainbow.”
“It’s not suicide if I’m involved,” Rainbow laughed.
Flurry glanced to the side where Sophie Altiert leaning against the wall of the small dining room. The blood loss had taken a toll and the griffon used the wall to keep herself upright. Her wing had been messily bandaged, but she would keep it. The pale gray griffon noticed the alicorn staring at her and slowly nodded to indicate she was still paying attention.
Flurry returned her attention to the map spread out across the table. It was near nightfall, and the Crystal City almost belonged to them. The outskirts had been taken. Her magical fire devastated the eastern inner district and broke the Changeling defensive lines. The veritable horde of crystal ponies aided in overrunning the remaining chokepoints and defenses.
The Changelings had pulled back to the Crystal Palace. As her war table discussed plans, snipers and heavy machine guns on the palace’s balconies fired into the surrounding buildings. It wasn’t safe to try to run or fly across the nearby streets without cover. The central spire and the balconies on it had an excellent view of the entire city. Snipers on distant rooftops fired back at the Changelings, occasionally picking off a changeling flying from one balcony to the other in the open.
The fortifications on the ground still stood. Sandbags were stacked against makeshift crystal walls, along with the final remains of a tank brigade. The tanks fired into the closet buildings and collapsed the crystal architecture, but they had run out of shells and fuel over the afternoon. The changelings inside the panzers now used them as armored machine guns and cover underneath the palace's supportive legs.
“What about the basement?” Flurry asked. “It connected to the mines, right?”
“The bugs collapsed those tunnels years ago,” Lily shook her head. “We could drill and dig, but they’ll hear it and just blow the basement.” Spike crossed his arms and gave the crystal pony another sour look.
“Do you have a problem with her?” Flurry asked him directly.
Arctic Lily had been somewhat unanimously recommended as the mare to talk to for organizing the liberated crystal ponies. A great portion of them seemed to know her name, but nopony knew where she was. A few assumed she was dead. Flurry had been mildly surprised when the mare turned up at the ruins of the Changeling barracks with a herd of armed crystal ponies. The alicorn was more surprised that she wasn’t a changeling.
Lily had been in contact with the ELF and organized the slow disappearance of surplus mining equipment for a rebellion. The intention was to launch a revolt and cut the supply lines to the north once the rebellion grew near, but Starlight’s army broke outside Canterlot. Most of Lily’s team were slowly discovered and taken to the palace by the Changelings. Lily lived in abandoned mine tunnels for over two years, dodging infrequent patrols and living off stolen supplies.
“I’m surprised you offered to help,” Spike said to the crystal pony instead of answering Flurry’s question.
“You think I have no interest in taking back my home, Sir Spike?” Lily coughed.
“Your interests before the war involved joining Stalliongrad,” Spike pointed out. Rainbow gave Lily a suspicious glare.
Flurry blinked. “What, she’s a communist?” she snorted. “I don’t care about that.”
“She was the chairmare of the Red Crystal Workers Party,” Spike revealed. “She wanted to depose your entire family.”
“Stalliongrad is gone,” Lily refuted. “The Changelings reduced it to rubble. I would rather have a Princess than a Queen.”
“Good enough,” Flurry cut the argument short. “Back to the Crystal Palace, how do we get in? We can storm the balconies, but the Changelings can retreat into the ground floor and the basement even if we push through.”
“We’ll have to attack from the air and ground,” Rainbow said, tacitly agreeing with Lily.
“We’ve already taken a lot of casualties,” Barrel countered. “And the army is days behind.” He dipped his head at Flurry. “Begging your pardon, Princess, but you could fly over this city casting that detection spell for a whole day and I still wouldn’t be confident we’ve rooted out infiltrators. We need every soldier we have left.”
“We have a system,” Lily pointed out.
“Yeah, that works for crystal ponies,” Spike said, “but what about the ones disguised as rubble or something? They’re the really good ones. They could hide in the city until nightfall, launch sabotage attacks, everything.”
“I’ll keep casting the spell and flying in a circuit once the Palace is taken,” Flurry promised.
“You could go in,” Altiert suggested in a weak voice. The table turned to look at her against the wall. “You have your shield.”
“She has to drop the shield to cast spells,” Rainbow snorted. “What, you want her to just knock a hole in the wall and rush in? The bugs aren’t that stupid.”
“I meant the other shield.” Altiert raised a shaky claw, curled it into a fist, then splayed her talons out.
“Like in Weter,” Flurry connected.
“You want her to destroy the Crystal Palace?” Spike argued. “That’s insane! The Crystal Heart’s in there, and maybe thousands of ponies.”
“We can’t risk destroying the Heart,” Barrel added.
"We haven't seen the Heart in years," Arctic said. "It must be inside the palace."
“Okay,” Flurry nodded. “I agree with Altiert.”
Spike whipped his head around to gape at her. “Absolutely not!”
“I’ll fly to the Square and blow the shield in the middle of their defensive line,” Flurry explained. “I can limit the power, and crystal is stronger than concrete. I won’t bring down the supports to the spire, but I’ll take out their sandbags and loose crystals. The tanks will go, too.”
“If you do bring down the spire…” Spike started.
“If I do,” Flurry continued, “I teleport out. But I won’t. I know how the spell works; I came up with it.”
“They could try and break through your shield.”
“They can try,” Flurry agreed and let the statement hang in the air.
“Alright,” Rainbow shrugged. “That still leaves, uh, the crystal ponies.”
“Irrelevant,” Lily snapped.
“Very relevant,” Rainbow snapped back.
“I’ll just take out the fortified defenses, not the interior,” Flurry said. The table shared pensive looks.
“Has she seen the Square?” Rainbow asked Spike.
“No,” Spike answered.
Rainbow Dash pushed away from the table and gestured with her good wing for Flurry to follow her. Flurry zipped her flight suit back up. “We got a good view on the roof,” Rainbow said.
They exited the small house and stopped in a busy street. Nearly a division’s worth of Flurry soldiers gathered around the improvised command center, taking over several buildings. One of the Crystal City’s hospitals was on the next block. It was already filled with wounded ponies and griffons, but the Changelings left very little medical supplies stocked. The alicorn flew up to the roof behind Rainbow and laid prone on the angled roof. A griffon was situated on the roof with a pair of binoculars aimed at the Palace.
Rainbow crawled up to the griffon and nudged her. The brown-uniformed griffon startled at the prod of metal feathers, but quickly blushed and slid lower on the roof. “Princess,” she whispered and clasped a claw to her chest.
“We need the binoculars for a sec,” Rainbow said. “Is the situation still the same at the Palace?”
The griffon clacked her beak. “They’ve brought out more.”
Rainbow sighed and hoofed the binoculars up to her eyes. Her magenta eyes squinted and she adjusted her grip. Flurry crawled up to look with her. They were several blocks from the Crystal Palace; the house had been chosen for it’s three-story roof, but it was relatively non-descript. The risk of a sniper spotting them was low. Flurry saw the outlines of the tanks and sandbags at the base of the palace in the fading light, but couldn’t make out any individual changelings. She did notice the lights across the city were out. Crystal and Electric. We don’t have any unicorns to charge them. The Changelings cut the power, or damaged the crystal charging stations.
Rainbow offered her the binoculars wordlessly. Flurry used her hooves to avoid the blue glow of her magic, and turned them to the Crystal Palace. “What am I looking for?”
“The second line of sandbags,” Rainbow said, unusually subdued.
Flurry followed her instructions sweeping over brief glimpses of Changelings sticking their heads up and moving behind the sandbags and crystals. The fortifications were under the palace and its central spire; it was hard to see under the long shadow. She swept over a stationary silhouette, then returned to it.
A pony was sitting up straight behind the sandbags, occasionally turning their head. It was too far to tell if they were a mare or stallion, but the fur appeared to be dark brown. Flurry spotted another pony down the line, then another beyond that.
“Do you see them?”
“Yes,” Flurry said slowly. “Could they be changelings?”
“No,” Rainbow shook her head. “One of the snipers thought so and took a shot.”
Flurry closed her eyes and sighed. “Have they ever done this before?”
“With Starlight,” Rainbow said quietly. “During the uprising. They kept ponies close to deter artillery and air bombing.”
“Trimmel,” Flurry guessed. “He’s here.”
Rainbow spat off the side of the roof. Her mohawk had flattened over the course of the day to a windswept look. Flurry’s short mane was flecked with dirt and blood, including her horn.
“Did it work?” Flurry asked.
“What?” Rainbow asked back defensively. “We weren’t just gonna blow apart our own.”
Flurry slid down the roof and extended her wings to glide to the street. Arctic Lily was waiting with Spike. “You saw the ponies?” Spike asked.
Flurry nodded.
“Anypony that was taken to the palace was never seen again,” Arctic nickered. Her hoof stomp on the cobblestone street was feeble. “It’s a bug trick.”
“We both know it’s not,” Flurry stated softly.
Arctic’s muzzle trembled. “It doesn’t matter, Princess. Even if we attack, they’re still going to be there. The bugs will kill them no matter what. Every second we wait, they dig in more.”
“We can do the combined assault,” Rainbow offered.
“How long do we need?” Flurry asked quietly.
“A few minutes to radio it out,” Spike replied.
“Prepare the assault,” Flurry ordered, “but I’m going in first. Attack on my signal.”
Spike lashed his tail. “Don’t, please. You don’t need to do this. We can save some in a conventional attack.”
“How many more will die?” Flurry snapped, then rubbed at her crown. She pulled the golden band off her head with a burst of magic and unzipped her brown flight suit, pulling it off one hoof at a time and leaving it in the street.
She thrust the little golden band against Spike’s chest. “Hold the crown, and hold it steady.” Spike gripped the small band in his huge claws as Flurry spread her wings. She lifted off the ground and flew over the rooftop towards her home with a flickering blue shield around her.
"You don't have to do this!" Spike roared, but the dragon didn't follow her.
Flurry Heart was not shot at on approach. The bursts of gunfire actually quieted down as the alicorn’s small blue shield languidly drifted closer to the Crystal Palace. Flurry circled the tall spire, scanning over the balconies and shallow holes from impacts. Several planes had crashed against a few of the balconies to take out entrenched machine guns. The Changelings stacked wooden and crystal furniture to fill the holes. Guns stuck out from between gaps in wardrobes and armoires that tracked her, but none fired.
Flurry slowed near her bedroom’s balcony. It was still intact and lined with sandbags. Two changelings swiveled a heavy machine gun to track her. A memory came to Flurry of sitting on the balcony one day, watching her mother oversee a funeral in the square. She didn’t remember the words her mother spoke, but each one seemed to weigh her down more. What happened to you, Mom? Flurry thought.
She circled the spire and drifted down near one of the intersections leading towards the Crystal Palace. She stayed just above the ground in her bubble shield, flapping her wings to slowly move forward. She passed by the foundation for Spike’s statue and snorted. Of course they tore it down. Spike offered hope to the crystal ponies. He defeated Sombra and earned his title and knighthood. Two of the panzers rotated their fearsome black turrets towards the alicorn, but she ignored the sleek, black-plated tanks and kept approaching the first sandbag line.
“Halt!” a Changeling officer shouted in clipped Equestrian. His voice didn’t wobble. “If you approach, we will begin executing the ponies!”
Flurry kept flying forward. Her horn sparked and the shield crackled with magic.
“If you approach,” the voice repeated angrily, “they will be shot! Turn back!”
Flurry drifted up the first line of sandbags and crystals, moving between the two tanks. She got a good look at one of the Ponies along the line. The crystal pony was a stallion; his legs were nearly skeletal and he had trouble standing. The Changelings had tied his skeletal muzzle shut with rope and bound him to a loose wooden post. His glassy green eyes stared out at nothing as he gasped for air. His chestnut coat was patchy and covered with scars.
A changeling in a black cap leveled a pistol against the stallion’s head with his horn. “I said,” he repeated with a near-shriek, “I will kill him! We will kill all of them! Do you think they are changelings?” He waved a hoof at a slumped-over mare with a hole in her head. “Your soldiers have already killed them!”
Flurry looked at the stallion for a long time, committing his cutie mark of cutting tools to memory. She drifted towards the second line, above the entrenched soldiers. A gunshot rang out behind her, and she did not look back. She instead looked down at the soldiers. Some of them were injured and bandaged, but still held rifles and submachine guns in their holed hooves. A few didn’t have helmets. One changeling in an ill-fitting uniform with shorter fangs reached up a hoof to touch the bubble as it floated over him. His blue eyes looked up at her in clear awe.
“Don’t,” Flurry said in Herzlander. “It will kill you if you touch it.” He retracted his hoof.
Another crystal pony was tied up next to the young changeling. She shouted something with a bound muzzle to the Princess with tears in her eyes. Like the stallion, she was almost a skeleton. Flurry committed her cutie mark of a set of kitchen knives and a fork to memory. The young changeling awkwardly put his shotgun against the mare’s barrel, but he didn’t pull the trigger as she passed over him.
More ponies were placed along the third and final line before the palace doors. Some of them simply struggled to breathe with the ropes constricting them. They were spread out evenly in every direction, all around the bottom of the palace.
“That’s far enough, Princess,” a weary, dual-toned voice echoed up in Herzlander from behind the final line sandbags. An old changeling stood up and tugged on his black uniform, decorated with metals. His tall cap was askew, but he carried himself with clear authority. His tired blue eyes scanned the Princess and her shield, and he removed his cap and bowed his head marginally.
Flurry stared back at him. “Hive Marshal Trimmel,” she greeted the changeling with a mild sneer.
“Synovial hold that rank now, Princess,” Trimmel replied. “I am just the governor of this poor protectorate.” His horn glowed as he climbed down from the sandbag line and approached Flurry. An off-white colt, no more than seven years old, levitated behind him. The crystal pony trembled as Trimmel dropped him on his back between his gossamer wings.
Flurry nearly dropped the shield and tore his head off. Trimmel felt the wave of hatred and sighed. “You have your shield, and I have mine. I take no joy in this, Princess.” The colt wrapped his short legs around Trimmel’s neck for balance.
“You take no joy in squatting in my home and murdering my subjects?” Flurry asked in Herzlander. She looked at the colt suspiciously.
“Quartz is not a changeling,” Trimmel guessed her line of thought. “He is an orphan like yourself.”
“And you’re taking care of him out of the kindness of your heart?” Flurry snorted.
“No,” Trimmel admitted. “He’s easy enough to carry and healthy.” He sighed and buzzed his wings. Quartz batted at one with a hoof. “You may speak Equestrian if you wish, but you will doubtless frighten him.”
“I’ve seen what you done to my ponies,” Flurry spat in Herzlander. “You hanged Thorax’s brother.”
“I have only done as the Queen commanded.”
“I suspect I’ll grow tired of that excuse,” the alicorn snorted. Her horn crackled with magic and her shield throbbed. “Look at where that’s got you. I heard she took all your tanks,” Flurry said with a mocking lilt.
“And half my garrison,” Trimmel replied with his own frown. “I could’ve shattered this pathetic excuse of an attack in one morning.” He bared his fangs. “We won the war because she stayed out of the command room, but now she thinks every victory is hers, and every failure one of her generals. I could push that pompous cub back into the sea.”
Flurry folded her hooves and laughed bitterly. “You put her in charge. You won the war for her.”
“I did,” Trimmel shrugged. “Chrysalis is as mad as she is brilliant, but now her madness is ruining everything we fought for.”
Flurry looked up and down the row of sandbags, trying to count the ponies. “This is what you fought for? The right to enslave us?”
“The right to not go hungry.”
“Thorax found a better way.”
“He’s weak,” Trimmel hissed. “The Traitor’s brother earned his death with his incompetence.”
Flurry’s muzzle pressed into a frown. “You’re surrounded. By your own admission, Chrysalis abandoned you. Surrender.”
“I may have fallen from Chrysalis’ favor, but she will never let you take the Crystal Empire.”
“She can’t make it through the storm wall.”
“I’m sure your army is stretched thin.” Trimmel scooped Quartz up and set him down between his forelegs. The colt gaped up at Flurry and her sparkling shield. “All she must do is send some scouting parties to destroy the rails and cut off your supplies from Nova Griffonia. The Reich will kill you quickly.”
Flurry smiled. “You haven’t heard, then?”
Trimmel frowned. “We know the attacks slowed against the coast, but you were a fool to come here and leave your flank exposed.”
Flurry glanced down at her bare flank in mock confusion, then gasped. “Oh, of course you don’t know. I made a deal.”
“He’ll betray you,” Trimmel said with utter confidence. “Chrysalis and Grover are cut from the same cloth.”
“I made a pretty good deal,” Flurry shrugged a hoof. “Surrender. I won’t kill you or your garrison.”
“I can’t,” Trimmel shook his head. “Chrysalis will kill us all when she retakes this city, and she will. We have to hold out.”
“She’ll execute you anyway for nearly losing it,” Flurry countered. “I am only offering surrender to save my ponies.”
“I know,” Trimmel said and his voice hardened. “If you attack yourself, or rush the palace, we will kill everypony inside.”
Flurry’s eyes flicked to the side and she looked up and down the sandbags again. A small crowd of soldiers were watching her. Flurry’s shield crackled and sparked with her horn. “If you do that, every changeling in this city will die. My ponies want to kill all of you, and I won’t be able to stop them.”
“And you care enough to do that?” Trimmel laughed sadly.
“Yes,” Flurry answered with utter honesty. “If you surrender, I’ll protect every changeling here.”
Trimmel licked his fangs. “No, you won’t.”
“I’m not lying, bug!” Flurry snapped in Equestrian. Quartz moved away from the shield and Trimmel picked him back up. “You can tell!”
“Whatever agreement you make out here,” Trimmel said in Equestrian, “you won’t keep once you enter the palace.”
Flurry paused. “What have you done?” she asked lowly.
“What the Queen commanded.”
“I am already tired of that excuse,” Flurry confirmed. Her shield crackled with energy.
Trimmel sheltered Quartz behind him. “I want you to know we had help,” he said in Herzlander. “Ponies were eager to help us for a better life for themselves. Quartz was taken from the mines for an experiment. He was chosen by a pony.”
“If the griffons are right and there is a hell, they’ll join you there,” Flurry promised.
Trimmel stood up straighter. “Are you going to kill us like you killed the Nova Griffonians? You will kill all of your ponies, too.” He gestured along the line of sandbags. “You will kill Quartz.”
Flurry hesitated.
“I do not know what you did in Weter, but I am sure you are the one that did it. We heard your radio broadcasts,” Trimmel exhaled. “Perhaps they are exaggerations, perhaps not.”
Flurry bared her teeth at him. “I hate you.”
“Yes,” Trimmel concurred. “This is the only card I have to play. The hope that a Princess won’t kill her subjects.” He moved aside and draped a hoof over the shaking colt.
Quartz had begun to silently cry during the shouting match. Flurry looked at his bare flank helplessly. He doesn’t know who I am. He doesn’t remember me.
“My name is Flurry Heart,” she said softly in Equestrian. “I was born here.” The shield’s crackling magic slowed and quieted down.
Quartz sniffled. “I-I’m Quartz.”
“It’s very nice to meet you,” she said to the colt, then switched to Herzlander. “Half of the ponies out here won’t survive the night.”
“They will with treatment,” Trimmel replied. “We have the medical supplies here to help them, and I will keep them alive so long as you don’t attack.”
“And if we do, you’ll kill them all.”
“Yes.”
“You’ll kill a foal?” Flurry said despairingly. “The Queen isn’t commanding you to do this. It’s all you.”
Trimmel swallowed and thought about it. “I suppose it is,” he admitted in Herzlander. “I cannot surrender. This city is a trap. Sombra was right to banish it. It can’t be defended. You’re caught in it now, just as I am.”
“My mother defended it.”
“She died doing so,” Trimmel answered. He licked his fangs again. “I respected her for it. A Princess should protect her ponies.”
“She should,” Flurry agreed and looked to Quartz.
“I’m sorry,” she said in Equestrian.
And her shield exploded with the sound of a soap bubble.
The blast was far smaller than Weter, and the crystal architecture was sturdier. The energy traveled along the legs of the foundation and flung the large crystal shards the Changelings used as cover back out into the open square. The cobblestones melted underneath her into a shallow crater of molten rock.
Sand, chitin, and fur stood no chance. The Changeling soldiers were vaporized. The young changeling that reached out to touch her shield burned away in blue fire. He didn’t have time to scream. The unluckier ones at the edge of the blast were fused into melted sandbags, still alive and burning. Their weapons, half-melted, burst with small explosions as the ammunition cooked. One of the panzers melted entirely, and one was flung out from the force, landing upside down near where Spike’s statue once stood.
Trimmel and Quartz died instantly, blown apart into ash. Their ashes mixed together in the wind.
Flurry flapped her wings and reformed her bubble shield. She wiped her muzzle with a foreleg to check for blood, and it came back wet with tears. The alicorn sniffled and inspected the damage. The Crystal Palace’s supports were black with ash, but she didn’t see any cracks. I didn’t put too much power into it.
She swiveled around in her shield to see if any of the ponies were still alive. None of them were. They were all vaporized and died instantly, and Flurry tried to take a shred of comfort in that, but it made her heart hurt.
The balconies above her erupted in gunfire as the sky filled with her soldiers. Spike and a herd of crystal ponies charged from the intersections across the square. They leapt over the burning corpses and around the fallen panzers. Flurry’s horn sparked and she cast a wave of frost below her to cool the molten cobblestones as Spike flapped his wings up to her. His green eyes were wet and he looked at her with pity. Spike didn’t say anything, but offered her the crown back. The crystal ponies below her skidded on the frost, but continued the charge into the palace. The double doors had been blown open from the force of the blast.
Flurry dropped the shield and pushed the crown away with a hoof. “Get to the basement. Kill every changeling inside. They have orders to kill everypony.”
Spike nodded.
“I mean it,” she said, sniffling.
“I know.”
Flurry summoned her bubble shield again and flew upwards towards her bedroom. The Changelings on the balcony couldn’t turn the heavy machine gun in time. She careened into the sandbags with her shield and shattered part of the crystal railing before dropping the spell. Flurry seized one of them in her magic and smashed him against the side of the wall. She took the other changeling her in hooves and crushed his head between her forelegs. The alicorn turned on the balcony and unleashed a wild laser at a higher balcony spraying tracer fire into the air while griffons and pegasi dodged. Mom and Dad’s, she realized after the balcony exploded.
Flurry Heart kicked her balcony doors open with a blazing horn and cast the detection spell; it swept through the Crystal Place in a wave. Her room was now an office cluttered with wooden desks and chairs. Green fire flickered under some of the desks as changelings lost their disguises. Flurry snarled and blew apart the desks and the changelings under them, arcing blue fire across the room. She stormed out of her bedroom to the hallways, moving from balcony to balcony while gunfire spread throughout the walls of the palace. She only stopped to cast the detection spell as she cleared the upper floors.
Flurry Heart did not pick up a weapon. She used her hooves, her horn, her wings. She killed every changeling soldier she came across throughout the night, including the ones that threw up their hooves and begged. The aura of overwhelming hatred and self-loathing she emitted overwhelmed some of the younger ones, who ran hissing and screaming as she flung them down with her magic and ripped them apart. She moved too fast through the hallways for Rainbow to keep up, remembering her foalhood home and everything the Changelings had defiled. Her own soldiers trailed behind the alicorn and kept out of the way.
By morning, the gunfire had stopped as the palace was secured. Spike found Flurry Heart on her bedroom balcony, utterly drenched from horn to tail in blood and watching the sun struggle to peek through the storm wall. He sat beside her, purple scales dented from gunfire and claws nearly as bloody as her hooves.
“We found your mother,” Spike said softly.
“Dead?” Flurry asked, even though she’d known the answer for years.
“Yes,” Spike confirmed. “I’m sorry, Flurry.”
Chrysalis’s black-crowned flag was torn down, and a patchwork purple flag with a white snowflake rose to replace it. Spike took her hoof as she stared up at the flag struggling to catch a breeze at the top of the spire. His other claw kept ahold of the little crown.
The Crystal City belonged to the Princess.
Mi Amore Cadenza was dead.
She had been dead for many years. The alicorn floated languidly, suspended in the changeling cocoon underneath the Crystal Heart. Her pink fur was stretched tight over her skeleton, looking nothing like she did in life. Her mane and tail had been cut away, along with several patches of fur along her legs and barrel.
The Changelings left her cutie mark of the Crystal Heart. Autopsy scars ran across her forelegs, her barrel, her withers, around her wing joints and across her neck. Her horn was chipped down and plugged into a wire that ran out the top of the cocoon to the Crystal Heart above. The Heart, suspended by chains driven into the ceiling of the basement laboratory, shone with a faint blue light. Dozens of other cables and wires had been driven into its cracked crystal body, connected to the cocoons attached to the walls of the circular room.
Flurry Heart didn’t know that cocoons could be used to preserve bodies. Her mother’s eyes were closed. Flurry didn’t want to open them, for fear that the changelings removed her eyes along with most of her organs. It almost looks like she’s just asleep. Flurry sat before the only occupied cocoon left in the room, with her little crown between her hooves.
Six days ago, those cocoons contained crystal ponies, taken from the mines and dumped into them to provide power to the weakened Crystal Heart. They were sapped of magic slowly, drained by some combination of changeling love extraction and whatever the Heart had become under their experiments. Despite her death, Cadance’s cocoon was still plugged into the Heart.
Flurry stared up at the artifact, but her mind was elsewhere. As a foal, she shattered the Crystal Heart with a magically-charged wail, but it had been rebuilt with the love and support of her crystal ponies. At it’s full power, it could make the Crystal City and its ponies shine with blazing light; their crystal coats sparkled with their hopes and dreams. The Heart did more than keep out the storm and the cold. It endured with the Empire. There could not be one without the other.
The Crystal Palace had been a massacre. Flurry saw to the upper floors herself, but her soldiers and crystal ponies did their share of killing through the ground floor and the basement. Over the day of the attack, changeling civilians gathered in the palace as the city fell, rushing to place the garrison between themselves and their vengeful slaves. Trimmel and the officers under him lived in the palace with their families.
None of them survived the night. Only a few young changelings lived, sheltered in an old broom closet by an Aquileian pegasus. Flurry saw that they were moved to the armory with the others in the morning. Flurry did not have it in her heart to punish her crystal ponies for the rivers of blood that flowed from her home, but she did shield the armory for two days to keep the mob away.
During the nights, several changelings dropped their disguises throughout the city and tried to take the appearance of Flurry’s fallen soldiers. They stripped bodies of their uniforms and attempted to regroup with other units, or escape the city. Most failed the countersigns, and a large group was caught in the west trainyard. Their bodies now hung from lampposts in ill-fitting, stolen uniforms.
Bonfires for the dead spread along the outskirts. Flurry attended a few herself, but there were too many. By the time the first armored train arrived through the storm wall with reinforcements from the army, the crystal ponies had reclaimed their homes, tearing down the boards and barricades with weak hooves and sitting in empty houses. There were few reunions and celebrations as the living looted the dead and moved on.
There were hundreds of thousands of crystal ponies in the city. They had been forced to sleep in the mines for years, chained with shackles when brought above to the city to work as servants or clear the rails. Trimmel feared a revolt and sent infiltrators into the mines, disguised as other slaves. The mines were separated into sections to keep the crystal ponies isolated. Her ponies mined for crystals, shipping them to the Changeling Lands. Like the mines in the mountains, they were given rotten hay and little water. Occasionally, the elite Jaegers and bureaucrats arrived to take a census and drain them. The ‘Love Harvests’ as part of Chrysalis’ taxes sapped their strength more than the arduous labor.
The other part of the Crystal Protectorate was the research center. Flurry always knew that Chrysalis hated her mother. Cadance defeated the Queen in Canterlot with the power of her love for Shining Armor, long before the Great War, back when things were easier. The Queen of the Changelings declared herself Empress after the fall purely to spite her rival's memory. Chrysalis wanted the Crystal Heart to serve her and provide a beacon of unending love. She would’ve doubtlessly used it as a weapon.
Flurry Heart sighed at her mother. Perhaps if she took you alive, she would have gotten her wish. Her mother stayed behind and poured her own magic into the Crystal Heart. The shield that gave them clear skies and shelter from the Frozen North stopped bullets and bombs. Cadance connected herself to the shield, and Trimmel’s army encircled the city and shelled it for months.
Cadance grew weaker and thinner. The Heart needed more magic to sustain it than she could provide. The crystal ponies cheered for her in the street and held impromptu parades, but hope waned as the food and supplies ran low. The city was always going to fall, and it was just a question of how long the shield would hold. The storm grew more intense outside the shield as the loss of Cloudsdale ruined the weather across Equus.
At some point, Chrysalis dropped a kind of new bomb from high above the Crystal City. The night lit up like the day and the entire city heard Cadance’s ragged screams as the shockwave pummeled the Crystal Heart.
The shield held, but her mother never truly recovered. Cadance's muscles gave out as the magic was sapped from them, unable to stand under her own power as she exhausted her magic. She laid under the Crystal Heart day and night, barely able to give commands. Her horn still glowed as she poured all her strength into maintaining the Heart. Cracks slowly spread across it as artillery shells pounded the shield.
Diamond Dowser, the defense minister, took control. Flurry vaguely remembered him as a hard-eyed stallion with a sharp frown. The Crystal City prepared for the shield to break under the continuous bombardment. The civilians gathered in the mines for shelter while the palace was reinforced. Outside the city, the Changelings grew sick and died from something in the storm winds after the bomb fell, in addition to the cold and the storm.
On a cold winter morning, Cadance died beneath the Crystal Heart. The changeling autopsy assessed that she died of Magic Depletion, the fatal condition where a unicorn burns through their magic system after the stages of Magical Exhaustion.
If her mother said anything at the end, Flurry didn’t know, and neither did any of the crystal ponies. The soldiers in the palace committed to a last stand as the Changelings rushed into the city. They held out for a day, and Diamond Dowser fell with them. The Changelings did not take prisoners from the palace, or if they did, none were ever seen again.
Trimmel hung Pharnyx from a balcony and Chrysalis arranged a final victory parade, wearing a stark white uniform and leading a convoy of tanks through the streets. The Heart was not shown to her captive audience of crystal ponies as Chrysalis proclaimed herself Empress of the Crystal Empire. They were forced to stomp in approval by armed guards before being herded back into the mines.
Over the next year, the shield dimmed around the city and began to shrink. The farmlands and outer fields were lost to the perpetual storm, and the rail lines were buried by constant snowfall. Chrysalis was infuriated and ordered the Heart fixed. The Changelings claimed Cadance was still alive and aiding with the shield's restoration. Nopony really believed them, but over the years there was a hope that the Princess would return with the Crystal Heart.
And now Flurry Heart sat underneath a broken blue crystal. Her wings ruffled against her flight jacket. The first morning, Flurry ordered the cocoons broken open and the ponies released. Some were beyond saving from the strain, but they died embracing their families and friends. One mare had nopony left, so Flurry held her hoof while she died.
She could still feel the feeble, bony hoof clinging to her hock. Her name was Garnet; the paperwork beside the cocoon listed her information, signed by a familiar signature Flurry couldn’t look at. Garnet’s foals and husband died in the mines. She managed to smile before dying.
Trimmel did not lie. Ponies helped them. Ponies from Equestria and the Crystal Empire, taken by the Changelings and brought in to help research the Heart. All the changelings in the palace were hunted down, but her soldiers left the ponies alone after verifying they weren’t disguised.
The crystal ponies did not.
An older mare named Abacus Cinch was run down outside the palace, having tried to flee during the attack. A herd of crystal ponies literally tore her apart with their hooves and her blood drenched the cobblestones. She had been the head overseer for the mining operations in the Crystal City. Most of the lower overseers had already been killed at the start of the revolt, beaten with picks and shovels in the mines.
The changeling scientists studying the Crystal Heart sheltered in the basement beside the ponies. Spike had found them after discovering the cocoons, holding cells, and test subjects, so he wasn’t in the mood to listen to the screams that they surrendered. He spared the ponies, thinking they were prisoners like the others.
Perhaps they were in a sense, but the crystal ponies recognized them and beat them to death in the hallways. The few survivors barricaded themselves in the basement behind a squad of confused Nova Griffonians. Her soldiers managed to restore some semblance of order and shelter the remaining thirteen scientists.
Under Trimmel’s orders, the scientists and soldiers in the Palace were to burn their documentation on the experiments. They did not succeed in burning everything, and the survivors liberated from the cocoons and cages knew more than the Changelings assumed.
They tested methods of Love Extraction, and if the health and condition of the pony affected the overall amount that could be taken before death.
They tested if the race and age of a pony affected the quality of the love.
They tested if ponies from a mixed-tribe parentage had stronger or lesser traits, and how it measured to the changeling standard.
Finally, they tried to restore the Crystal Heart. They assumed the Heart had a connection to the crystal ponies, and devised a method of draining their love to funnel their energy back into the artifact to restore it. It was cruel and ingenious, but it didn’t work. The subjects died of Magical Depletion no matter the tribe. Or age.
Jadis limped down into the open doorway. “Princess,” she bowed.
“Is it time?” Flurry asked, taking her eyes off her mother.
“We’re ready.”
Flurry gave one last look at her mother, then placed the crown on her head. She stood up and walked away from Cadance and the Crystal Heart, past Jadis and towards the stairs. Jadis stared back at the cocoon, struggling not to cry in front of her Princess. Flurry ignored her strangled breathing and the alicorn’s fast trot forced the crystal pony to limp after her. The alicorn walked by bullet holes and scorch marks on the blue crystal walls and stepped over a faded bloodstain that hadn’t been wiped away.
It would take weeks to clean the Crystal Palace, and a generation to repair the city. The Changelings never bothered reforming the shattered crystal buildings from their attack, and Heartsong’s forces still looted the armories and scattered equipment from the city’s fall. There were more important things to do.
Flurry wordlessly made her way to the throne room; the soldiers and civilians she trotted by briefly stopped to bow to her, then resumed their tasks. Her head was tired from nodding back at them to show appreciation, but she forced her mane to bob up and down regardless.
The throne room on the ground floor of the Crystal Palace was crowded with ponies and a few scattered griffons hovering near the roof. The floor was smudged from thousands of dirty hooves, and the walls were similarly scored with pockmarks from errant bullets. The black banners of the Hegemony had been torn down, but the walls were left bare. Flurry ordered that cloth be used for clothing, not useless flags and heraldry.
Flurry entered through a guarded side door and surveyed the massive crowd. “Word’s spread, Princess,” Jadis panted and limped up to her side.
Spike stood before the Crystal Throne; he was speaking rapidly to Duskcrest and Heartsong. A ring of soldiers surrounded them and kept the herd back. The Nova Griffonian guard at the side door opened his beak to shout for the crowd to clear, but Flurry raised a hoof and shushed him. “I’ll make my own way,” the alicorn said.
Beside the door guard, one crystal stallion wiped away a bloodstain on the wall with a cloth rag. The stallion’s coat was thin and patchy; he struggled to stand on his hind legs to reach the top of the stain. When he stretched, Flurry saw the patch of fur shaved away from his right foreleg, and the number tattooed on. From the cocoons or the holding cages. He saw her staring and gave his Princess a brittle smile. “Almost done, Princess. We’ll get it spick-and-span in no time.”
Flurry teleported to the throne and stared at it while taking several deep breaths. She faced away from the crowd. Spike noticed the flash of light and turned away from Duskcrest. He climbed the short steps up to the throne and his claws clacked against the crystal floor. The room noticed the movement and the crowd began to whinny at their Princess.
Flurry's heartbeat pounded in her ears.
Spike leaned to Flurry’s pinned ear. “We don’t have to do this now.”
We do. Flurry turned around and flared her wings, standing at the top of the raised crystal floor. “My Ponies,” she forced out. “It gladdens my heart to see you here.” The crystal ponies stomped in approval. From her vantage point, she saw several stumble from the effort, only to be helped back up by the others around them. The cheering was almost deafening.
“And it pains my heart to say this,” Flurry continued, “but this will be a private hearing. Please, wait with the crowd in the plaza.” The crowd slowly stopped cheering and stomping. They stared up at her in confusion and disbelief, then Flurry noticed muzzles twist with anger and tails whip. A few moved to follow her command, but the majority stayed in the throne room. The soldiers along the doors and below the throne readied their weapons.
Word had spread about the protection of the changeling foals in the armory. They would leave on the first train back to Nova Griffonia, under heavy guard. Flurry wasn’t sure what kind of life they would have after this; a few of the younger ones were rendered catatonic by the flood of uncontrolled rage they experienced. Thorax held out hope for them, and perhaps that was enough.
Flurry glanced down at a gray, nondescript crystal pony in a brown uniform below the throne. He felt her look and stared over his withers back up at her. Flurry returned to the crowd. “There will be justice,” Flurry promised.
“Kill him!” one mare in the crowd screamed. Flurry didn’t have to guess who she meant.
The cry was taken up by several others.
“We’re going to have to force them out,” Spike remarked. “The crowd outside is growing, too.”
Flurry’s horn ignited with blue fire. It was a beacon through the throne room and reflected off the walls and ceiling. “I said there will be justice,” she belted out. “Is my word not good enough? Do you think my heart will be moved by their words, after what they have done to you, my ponies? They will answer for what they have done, on my terms.”
The Princess narrowed her eyes. “Leave.” The word echoed and reverberated through the room and the chandeliers on the roof swung in a nonexistent breeze. The force from her voice staggered the front of the crowd and the line of soldiers. The herd backed away.
Spike lowered his claws from his ears. The remaining herd slowly filtered out the front entrance, ushered by the advancing line of soldiers. They stepped around the shallow crater outside from her blast. The doors had been blown away during the attack, so Flurry summoned a flat shield and turned it opaque. It blocked the view from the square. Her horn popped and the sound of thousands of gathered crystal ponies faded away as well.
Flurry slumped down into the hard crystal throne. It was technically part of the floor, so Trimmel never had it removed. When the palace was taken, the throne was sectioned off with plush velvet ropes and dividers, and only meant for Chrysalis’ use.
Her ass probably has enough plush by now to make it comfortable, Flurry snorted. Her mother had to use a pile of cushions, and Flurry self-consciously looked at her lean, bare flank exposed by the brown jacket. Her flight suit was a total loss, soaked in too much blood and gore to recover. Her pink fur hid the worst of the remaining stains, but it was still tinged slightly red. It would probably take more water and soap than was currently in the city to scrub herself clean.
Flurry scanned over the remaining griffons and ponies. Rainbow landed midway down the throne room from a chandelier. Her metal wing spasmed in agitation as she paced. Duskcrest sat on the steps below the throne, hard-eyed and drinking from his flask. His other claw idly spun one of his revolvers. Heartsong stood beside the griffon, staring ahead with a practiced ease, and yet the stallion’s right hind leg shook with suppressed agitation. Jadis sat near the side door, looking conflicted. The pale blue mare rubbed her twisted foreleg.
“Jadis, bring them in, then stand before the throne,” Flurry requested.
“I-I don’t have the right,” Jadis shook her head.
Flurry’s wings jittered against the hard crystal edges of the throne. “Please, Jadis.”
The crystal pony limped out with her rifle bouncing along her side.
“You haven’t officially claimed the Crystal Empire,” Spike reminded Flurry while the group waited.
Flurry leaned against one of the hard crystal sides and rested her head on an upturned hoof. Her crown caught the light from the flickering crystals installed along the walls. “The radio tower is still busted, right? No point.”
“It’ll give the crystal ponies a reason to celebrate.”
“They know I’m here, Spike. There’s only one thing they’re going to celebrate.” Flurry glanced down again at the row of guards before the throne. The gray crystal pony shifted. “Besides,” Flurry said after a moment, “the signal’s too weak to breach the storm wall.”
“We, uh, we need to discuss that Princess,” Rainbow interrupted and approached. The gray crystal pony stepped aside for the pegasus to pass. “I’ve been running patrols along the edges, and the storm’s getting worse, if that’s possible. We can barely keep the tracks clear.”
“We’ll have more fliers once we get the changelings out,” Flurry answered. “I’m wasting a battalion on guarding the armory.”
“Why are we even bothering with prisoners?” Rainbow snorted. “You said you didn’t want to take any.”
“Foals aren’t prisoners.”
“They’re not foals,” Rainbow stated. “They’re grubs, little parasites that just suck-”
“Enough,” Flurry replied and her voice startled the mare. “If you wish them dead, take your wing and lob their heads off yourself, Loyalty. Do it while they scream and tell me how proud you are to kill foals.” She leaned down from the throne to glare into Rainbow’s eyes. “I am here because of a changeling. Do not forget that.”
Rainbow swallowed and bowed clumsily. Her metal wing scraped the crystal floor. Flurry sat up straighter as the side door opened.
Thirteen unicorns entered, guarded by a dozen griffons. Flurry ordered Nova Griffonians to guard them; the Aquileian volunteers took heavy losses destroying the tanks. Every surviving Aquileian was injured, including Altiert. She was still in an overburdened field hospital in one of the old factories.
The unicorns all wore shackles around their legs. It stiffened their movements to a slow, plodding gait. Black crystal rings wrapped around their horns, cutting off their magic. Sombra’s energy-sapping crystals had been rediscovered by the Changeling scientists and applied to their slave population, but it was difficult to produce. The crystal ponies were the only ones that could shape and mold crystal structures well. Dusty theorized that they were an offshoot from an ancient tribe of earth ponies that refused to migrate south.
One mustard-colored mare didn’t have a ring; her horn had been snapped off by a furious crystal pony in the assault. She walked with a heavy limp. All of them stared up at the alicorn in fear, but Flurry only stared at the stallion at the front of the group, the only pony she recognized.
He walked with a slow shuffle, burdened by the chains his test subjects were forced to wear before being placed into cocoons. He signed the documents and gave them to his Changeling overlords. Flurry remembered him as an orange and white stallion, but the white had expanded beyond his socks and marking on his muzzle. His goatee had turned entirely white, and streaks went through his dark orange mane. It had been seven years, but the unicorn looked decades older. A black cloak embroidered with Chrysalis’ crown covered his flanks.
“Sunburst,” Flurry greeted him. “Royal Crystaller of the Empire.”
Sunburst licked his lips as his chains clinked together. He halted at the line of guards before the throne. “Flurry Heart,” he said back in a tone of utter disbelief. He squinted watery blue eyes. Without his glasses, he clearly struggled to see more than four hooves in front of him.
“Princess Flurry Heart,” Jadis snapped at him. She jabbed her hoof into his side.
Sunburst struggled to bow, but the chains restricted his legs too much.
“Uncomfortable, aren’t they?” Flurry asked bluntly. “Have you ever worn them before?”
“L-long ago,” he stuttered.
“What changed?" Flurry asked, but continued before he could answer. "Your signature is on most of the surviving paperwork. Were you in charge of the experiments with the Crystal Heart?”
“He made us do it!” the mustard unicorn screeched and rattled her chains. “He loved working for them! He threatened us!”
Flurry’s telekinesis cracked across the room and flung the mare halfway across the throne room. The mare landed hard on the crystal floor and a leg snapped. She whinnied in pain.
“Do not speak out of turn,” Flurry said casually. “Guards, please drag her back into position.”
Two griffons wordlessly pulled the sobbing mare across the floor. She cradled her broken foreleg. The bone broke the skin and blood dribbled onto the floor. Flurry sighed, then cast a pain spell and a blood-clotting spell on the unicorn to quiet her.
Sunburst watched the exchange with wide, watery eyes.
“Is what she said true?” Flurry asked. “Did you enjoy working for them?”
“No!” Sunburst stuttered.
“But you were in charge?”
“I worked under Fylifa. She died in the attack,” Sunburst gaped up at her. “I didn’t…I had to do it.”
The gray crystal pony shifted slightly.
“I thought you were dead,” Flurry sighed.
“We all thought you were dead,” Spike echoed. “Your convoy was strafed. All the trucks were destroyed in the retreat.”
Sunburst struggled with his cloak. The guards leveled their guns at him and he froze. Flurry lifted the cloak up with her horn.
Sunburst’s right side was heavily burned. The fur hadn’t grown back on top of the mess of scar tissue. Even his cutie mark wasn’t spared. It was still there, but the rays from the orange sphere disappeared into ugly knots. Flurry examined the injury wordlessly and dropped the cloak.
“I was badly burned,” Sunburst explained, “but I lived. The Changelings found me in the snow outside the wreck and took me and a few others prisoner.” He shook his head. “I-I never thought this day would come.” He clutched the cloak tighter around himself, as best he could with his manacles.
“That I would come back?” Flurry asked.
“That anypony would.”
“Is that your excuse?” Spike snorted a gout of flame. “Is that all you have to say?”
Sunburst swallowed. “Chrysalis wanted the Heart fixed. She demanded it. The changeling that told her it couldn’t be done was executed. Fylifa told me to find a way.” He looked towards the glowing shield at the doors. “Cadance-”
“Don’t say her name,” Flurry warned. A spark of blue fire dripped from her glowing horn.
“The Heart was badly damaged,” the stallion continued shakily. “I couldn’t repair it like I did before. The Heart is linked to the Empire, and all its ponies. I told the Changelings to be nicer, but they didn’t care.”
“You told them to be nicer?” Flurry laughed. “That’s what you did for your ponies, Crystaller?” She leaned down. “They sent you into the mines, but you chose the ponies, you put them into the cocoons, and you killed them.”
“No,” Sunburst stammered. “Fylifa was the one that developed the cocoons. I told her it would never work. It would just slow the Heart’s failure, not undo it.”
“You blame your actions on a dead mare,” Jadis snorted.
“There are thousands of crystal ponies out there that are waiting to tear you apart,” Flurry said. She shifted her glare to the other dozen. “All of you, for all the pain and misery you gave them over the years!” The others stared up at her, terrified.
“I saved them!” Sunburst shouted.
Flurry erupted off the throne, horn burning with fire. The chained prisoners stumbled back and stripped over their legs. The alicorn bared her teeth down at them, then smelled her mane smoking and took a few breaths, pushing her foreleg away from her chest. Her breathing steadied and the fire died out. “Explain. Now,” she ground out.
Sunburst took a moment. His muzzle quivered. “They were always going to take them, even if I refused.” He shuffled his hooves. “I took the weak, the old, all the ones that were going to die anyway in the mines.”
“And the young," Spike snarled. "You call that mercy?” His claws dropped to his sides.
“Yes,” Sunburst answered without hesitation. “There are ponies alive out there right now because of me.”
Rainbow bared her teeth at him. “They don’t see it like that.”
He turned his head to look at Rainbow. “If I didn’t do it, Fylifa would’ve sent some changeling that didn’t even care. They would have taken anypony.”
The gray crystal pony underneath the throne trembled in his uniform. His muzzle spasmed. Flurry noticed the shaking guard and cast her eyes back to Sunburst.
“Your argument is that you saved more lives than you stole by working with Trimmel and his government.” She sat back down and tapped a hoof on the throne. “Perhaps that’s even true,” she admitted. “Thousands of my subjects are struggling to eat watered-down soup, their stomachs are so shriveled. It takes a strong pony to survive those conditions.”
Rainbow and Jadis looked at the alicorn in disbelief. Jadis whirled around to her. “Princess, you can’t-”
“Silent!” Flurry snapped at Jadis. The mare quailed and reared back. After a moment, the alicorn exhaled and looked to Sunburst. “I have another question.”
Sunburst waited with pinned ears.
“You were taken prisoner before my mother’s death. Did you help them breach the shield?”
“No,” Sunburst answered quietly. “T-they tried to make me help.”
The crystal pony spasmed, but summoned all his strength to stay in the line of griffons. Sunburst squinted at his angry muzzle without recognition, then back to Flurry.
“We have found no surviving documentation on my mother’s body, but she’s connected to the Heart,” Flurry began. “You’ve already said you helped them.” She leaned forward off the throne and stared into his eyes. “Did you help them cut apart my mother, Crystaller?”
Sunburst took a deep breath and steadied his nerves. “The Changelings demanded-”
The crystal pony lunged at him, erupting into green fire. He tackled Sunburst to the ground and went for the throat with gnashing fangs.
Flurry barely pulled Thorax away from Sunburst with her horn in time.
“You wretched fucking coward!” Thorax shrieked. “You absolute bastard!”
Sunburst laid on the floor, tangled in his chains, and squinted at the writhing changeling. “Thorax?” he mumbled.
“Hiding behind excuses like a pathetic worm!” Thorax hissed, struggling against Flurry’s magic. She drifted him away and up to the throne, but the changeling’s solid blue eyes were locked on the unicorn. “They used you! They knew exactly what they were doing when they sent you into the mines!” His fangs glistened. “The crystal ponies saw their Crystaller betray them! You sucked away their hope better than any of their machines!”
“I m-made sure to choose-”
“You think that mattered?” Thorax screamed and kept struggling. “You did more to ruin them than anyone!”
“They tortured me!” Sunburst shouted back in a broken voice. “They forced me to go along with them!” He pointed a hoof at Thorax. “All of you left me! What was I supposed to do?”
“Die!” Thorax answered in a ragged hiss. “You should have died, like I would have! Like Spike! Like any of us! But you only thought about staying alive!”
Flurry drifted the changeling over to Spike, who wrapped him in a hug and pulled him close to his chest. Thorax kept struggling and hissing, but soon collapsed against the dragon. The changeling sobbed against his friend with ugly, broken, dual-toned wails. Duskcrest and Jadis stared in shock at Thorax’s crying.
Flurry closed her eyes. “I don’t care what you did to my mother’s corpse, Sunburst,” she said slowly, “but what you did to my subjects is unforgivable.”
“T-they would have done worse,” Sunburst replied.
“How?” Flurry asked. “Tell me how the Changelings would’ve done worse than ripping a foal from his mother’s teats to drain him in a cocoon?”
Sunburst did not reply. His muzzle quivered and he stared up at the alicorn with runny eyes.
“Perhaps, in the end, you did save lives,” Flurry admitted after a moment. “You served my mother and father well as Crystaller.”
"I-I loved your parents," Sunburst said quietly. "All of you."
Thorax spasmed and hissed again, but Spike held him close and clamped a claw over his muzzle. Flurry missed what the dragon whispered to the changeling.
Flurry stood and flared out her wings. “I have made my decision. For your years of service, I will grant you mercy.”
Sunburst nearly collapsed on his white-socked legs. “Thank you, Princess,” he gasped.
“You will hang last.”
The pronouncement rang through the throne room.
“No!” the mustard mare sobbed. She stood on three legs with froth in her coat. “He did everything! It’s all his fault!”
Flurry twisted the mare’s head around with a flick of her horn. The unicorn’s neck snapped like a dry branch and her body spasmed. Pee streamed down a hind leg; it matched the color of her coat. The body collapsed to the ground with her head facing the wrong direction.
The remaining twelve stayed silent. Sunburst stared at the corpse, blinking owlishly.
“Hang her first,” Flurry ordered. “The ponies outside will want to see it.”
Duskcrest stood and drew his revolver. “Right, up and at ‘em, birds. Take them to the balconies.”
“Use my parents' and mine,” Flurry added. “They have the best view of the square.”
“As you command, Princess,” Duskcrest nodded. The griffon guards pushed and dragged the sobbing ponies out of the room, beating them over the head with rifle butts when they resisted. Sunburst went slowly and quietly, as if he was in a trance.
“Jadis?” Flurry asked.
The pale crystal mare turned up to her. “Princess?”
“Do you mind standing on the balcony with Duskcrest? It will do my subjects good to see a crystal pony present during the executions.”
Frosty Jadis smiled viciously up at her Princess. “Not at all.” She limped after the guards.
“Heartsong,” Flurry requested. “Announce the verdict on the steps outside. Word will travel quickly, I imagine.”
The light emerald crystal pony sighed and shook out his legs. “As you wish.” He paused and stared back at Flurry. “Do you remember the Crystaller, Princess?”
Flurry closed her eyes. “I remember chasing him through the halls with Whammy.”
“Whammy?” Heartsong asked, confused.
“The snail toy,” she clarified.
Heartsong pursed his lips and his eyes lit up. “Ah, yes. I remember it.”
“I left it behind.”
The stallion swung his tail slowly. “It’s not my place to say, but the Crystaller was a good pony once.”
Rainbow spat on the floor. “Once.”
“Get back to the patrols,” Flurry ordered the mare. “Watch the hangings later.”
“Right,” Rainbow agreed and flapped her wings. She looped through the air in the tall throne room and stopped before the glowing blue shield at the doors. Heartsong and the remaining guards waited at the bottom.
Flurry dispelled the shield and her ears pinned back at the roar of the crowd. Thousands of crystal ponies gathered in the square, waiting and jeering towards the palace. She replaced the blue shield the moment Heartsong and the guards crossed over.
Flurry was left with Spike and Thorax on the raised dais. She stood and shook her legs. The throne was uncomfortable without cushions. Perhaps it should be, Flurry thought with a grimace and embraced Thorax. The changeling chittered softly and accepted her hug.
The changeling was limp against her wings. “We thought he was dead. His convoy was completely destroyed.”
“Don’t you dare blame yourself,” Flurry said aggressively. “He made his choices.”
“He didn’t fight at the front, but he worked with Twilight,” Spike said quietly. “He was a kind pony. Your mother loved him.”
“And he helped cut her apart,” Thorax hissed.
“I don’t care about that,” Flurry repeated. “My mother wouldn’t want somepony to die just because they refused to defile her corpse.” The alicorn gave the dragon an even look. “He was your friend.”
“Yeah,” Spike said softly. His green eyes were wet with tears. “He was.”
“Would you spare him?" Flurry's tail bobbed. "Would you spare any of them?”
Spike’s lips twitched around his fangs. “Twilight would.”
“I’m not asking about Twilight. She was the best of us.”
“She is,” Spike agreed. His tail curled around a leg while he thought. “I helped kill every changeling in that basement, but Sunburst and the unicorns were prisoners too.”
“They had their own rooms and food,” Flurry responded. “They didn’t wear chains. Sunburst had a bed, quills, books, everything. I saw his room.”
“A gilded cage is still a cage,” Spike pointed out.
“They made the same choice the changelings did,” Thorax answered. “Chrysalis would’ve killed them for failing to restore the Heart, so they killed ponies. The Changelings would’ve killed Sunburst for refusing, so he killed ponies.”
Spike looked up at the ceiling.
“If they were changelings like me, would this even be a discussion?” Thorax asked softly.
“The changelings that lived here aren’t like you,” Spike growled at him.
“The crystal ponies outside would beat me to death without a second thought.”
“Some remember you,” Flurry interrupted, “and how much your changelings helped us.”
“Don’t lie to yourself, Flurry. They barely remember you,” Thorax laughed sadly. “They just see this,” he touched her large wings. “And this,” he reached up and poked her long horn. “You’re the Princess that they always hoped would come back.”
“You’re the reason why I could come back, uncle.”
Thorax smiled, but his eyes were still wet with tears. “Can I ask you something?”
“The changeling foals will be on the first train out,” Flurry responded.
“Thank you,” Thorax said sincerely, “but that’s not what I was going to ask.”
Flurry waited.
“When Trimmel dumped Pharynx off the balcony, the rope was too short. His neck didn’t break,” Thorax licked his fangs. “They let him dangle there and filmed it.”
“I’m sorry,” Flurry responded and nuzzled him.
“Please,” Thorax pleaded, “kill Sunburst quickly.” Spike patted the changeling’s back and his gossamer wings buzzed.
He has to ask, because he believes I won’t. “Okay,” Flurry agreed.
Above the throne room, Jadis, Duskcrest and two griffons stood on Flurry Heart’s balcony. Jadis reared up onto the half-destroyed railing and pumped her crippled hoof into the air with a wild neigh. The mustard unicorn’s body was heaved over, and the rope went taut around her broken neck. The corpse dangled above a crowd of thousands.
The crystal ponies roared in approval.
“The arm has to come off,” Paste stated. Her horn shone with violet light and stretched the limb out from the bed. The arm and claw had begun to turn a distressingly black color, in contrast to the gold feathers and fur along the griffon’s body. Her patient struggled against her grip.
“Please!” the griffon rasped. His eyes were wild, dilated from fever and blood loss. His uniform’s sleeves had been cut away, and the bullet had been extracted, but fragments remained lodged in the bone, slowly poisoning the limb.
Flurry Heart approached the bedside, drawn by the struggle. She moved between the patients in the overcrowded floor, casting sleep spells and what little healing magic she knew to ease pains. The alicorn was grateful she hadn’t managed to entirely clean her fur; the red tint helped hide the occasional dribble from her nose from exhaustion.
The griffon’s wild orange eyes focused on her lean body. “Princess!” he coughed. “Please, don’t let them take my arm…” he spoke in Aquileian.
“Do we have any potions left to help fight the infection?” Flurry asked.
“Very few,” Plaster Paste answered brusquely. Flurry didn’t care; the unicorn’s eyes were bloodshot and she frequently bit her lip to stay awake. “We’re saving them for the critical cases.”
“Please!” the griffon begged. “Magic, anything, don’t take my arm!”
“If magic could mend any injury,” Flurry softly responded in Aquileian, “we would not have lost the war. We cannot pull the fragments out with magic; it will only cause more damage.”
The griffon whimpered.
Flurry’s ears twitched, and she glanced over her shoulders and groaned in exasperation. Sophie Altiert limped down the row of cots, using a broken stool as a crutch. Her gray fur was swathed in bandages along one side. One wing was tucked into a sling.
“I will knock you out again,” Flurry warned. Her horn glowed with a sleep spell.
“Wait until I am back in bed, Princess,” Altiert gasped and hauled herself up to the bed.
“You should be,” Paste snorted. “Stop getting up.”
Sophie didn’t answer and clasped the griffon’s good claw. “You fought well,” she said in Aquileian. “This is just one more battle.”
He shook his head weakly against the deflated pillow. “No!” he turned away from Flurry and the medic to stare at his commander. “Please,” he stuttered.
Flurry cast her spell and the bolt hit the soldier in the head. His eyes rolled back and his claw went limp in Altiert’s grip. His breathing was ragged. Paste sighed and pulled her surgical tray forward. She picked up a hacksaw in her magic, then scraped away the blood from the previous amputation. The saw floated in her magic above his arm. “I can close the wound afterwards, Princess.”
“I’ll do it,” Flurry ordered.
Paste bit her lip again and the saw began to descend.
“No,” Flurry interrupted. “I’ll do all of it. Show me where to cut.”
The tired medic glanced at Sophie on the opposite side of the cot, then tapped the sawblade above the elbow. Flurry stared down at it. He’ll lose most of his arm. She ignored the offered saw floating in Paste’s magic. “Hold his arm steady in your magic. Were you going to cauterize it?”
“Yes,” Paste answered. She dropped the saw back on the tray and straightened out the griffon’s arm. He moaned in his sleep.
Flurry’s horn glowed for one long breath, and a thin laser descended. It sliced through the extended arm, right where she was supposed to cut. Paste flinched from the heat of the beam. The arm flopped awkwardly in her magic. There was no blood. Flurry’s spell was hot enough to stop it. The beam scorched the crystal floor underneath the cot, leaving a thin black mark. The soldier spasmed, but did not wake up. Paste collected the limb in her magic and put in in a bucket below her cart.
Flurry held a hoof up to her nose and snorted. Droplets of blood splattered onto her frog that she ignored. She surreptitiously wiped her hoof on the floor. “He came with you from Aqueilia,” Altiert said quietly. “He was on your boat.”
“I have no medals to offer him,” Flurry admitted, “and what medal could replace an arm?”
“It is enough that you are here,” Altiert stated. “When the fever breaks, I will tell him he had the honor of the Princess herself attending his wound.”
“A hollow honor.”
“So is a medal,” Altiert responded. “I have won enough to know. There are thousands of crystal ponies alive today that would not have been. The crystal ponies have seen few griffons, but they have thanked us all the same.”
“The Crystal Empire was here long before Grover the Great, before any griffon ever arrived from across the ocean,” Flurry explained. “Sombra banished it before widespread contact was established.”
“Perhaps that’s why they don’t view us with suspicion,” Altiert mused. “It took generations of Aquileians for one identity to form between ponies and griffons.” Paste pushed her cart away to the next patient, not understanding the conversation in Aquileian. Flurry nodded to her, and the medic shallowly nodded back.
“Why were there ponies in Aquielia?” Flurry asked. “I learned the language, but not the history.”
Altiert clacked her beak. “The Republicans taught that the Aquileian ponies were descended from those that migrated south during the Time of Frost. They settled in the low valleys and joined with the early tribes to fend off the Herzlanders.”
“You mean the Windigos.”
“Probably,” Sophie admitted and rolled her eyes. "It is a sore topic, and most don't wish to speak of it."
“You don’t believe that version,” Flurry assumed.
“The Discrets always said that our ponies were descended from the slaves of war parties, early raids across the sea thousands of years ago, or skirmishes with the Riverlands.”
“I find it hard to believe that they would become devoted subjects if that was the case,” Flurry snorted.
“Many early griffon flocks ate their captives as a tribute to their gods,” Altiert answered bluntly. “Before the Trinity, most gods were brutal, predatory things. At the very least, Aquileians didn’t sacrifice them.”
“Sounds like Maar,” Flurry responded.
Altiert’s feathers ruffled. “Perhaps. Maar is the oldest. The repressed instincts of wild flights and vicious claws, of predator and prey. His worship is outlawed in all of Griffonia.” She looked troubled and pushed herself upright, clinging to her stool for balance. “I’m surprised you know that name, Princess.”
“I’ve heard it around,” Flurry deflected.
Altiert paused for a moment. “The Herzlanders we fished from the sea after your battles gave you a nickname. Did you hear it there?”
“No.”
“Maar’s Daughter.”
“I suppose that’s flattering for a pony,” Flurry chuckled. “Go back to bed, commander.”
Altiert clasped a claw to her breast and slowly dipped her functional wing. “Your father,” she said quietly, “spoke of your home once. I am proud to be here.”
Flurry looked to the ceiling of the old factory, now an overcrowded, overused hospital. “It was far more beautiful once,” she responded.
“Princess!” a voice called from the edge of the lines of cots. The armed crystal pony waved a hoof. “Sir Spike is here to see you!” Flurry nodded to Altiert and trotted down the line of wounded ponies and griffons, holding her head high and steps even. Her hooves clacked along the crystal floor. The crystal pony bowed and inclined his head to Spike.
The tall dragon had slouched through the door and looked worried. He wrung his claws. “We should speak privately.”
Flurry cast the changeling detection spell on him as a precaution, then the pit in her stomach grew when he didn’t have a smart reply to the magic sweeping over his scales. Flurry followed the dragon outside to a nearly deserted street. Patrols walked along the factories and a few guards were posted along the rooftops. It was nearly dusk, but nopony could really tell the time based on the sky.
The roiling storm outside the shield shrouded the Crystal City in a perpetual gloom. The electrical grid was barely functional, and the glowing crystals in the lampposts struggled to light the street. One changeling dangled from the nearest lamppost. Her ill-fitting uniform had been meant for a griffon. Spike gave the dead mare a conflicted look, then stopped a few hooves from the lamp.
“Tell me,” Flurry ordered.
“The shield is shrinking,” Spike said with a near whisper.
Flurry didn’t breathe. She stared into his green eyes unblinkingly. The alicorn struggled to swallow as her throat went dry. “What?”
“The shield is collapsing,” Spike repeated. “It’s slow, but it’s moving inwards.”
Flurry looked up, scanning the pink shield and watching belts of ice and snow crash against it before tumbling back into the storm. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Rainbow confirmed it. She’s flown patrols all along the shield and sworn them to secrecy.”
“Rainbow’s not exactly the best source-”
“Flurry,” Spike interrupted with a harsh whisper. “I saw it myself. Maybe a hoof length a day, but it’s happening.”
Flurry’s blue and purple tail tucked between her legs. She shook her head and the curls bounced against the golden band. “No,” she said. “It can’t. We liberated the city. The crystal ponies are happiest they’ve ever been in years.”
The crowd outside the palace had grown all day. The cheers were deafening every time one of the condemned unicorns was flung from a balcony. The cheering could be heard all throughout the city.
Spike closed his eyes and struggled with the next sentence. “The Changelings used the ponies in the cocoons as batteries, and we removed them. They were the only thing keeping the Heart stable.”
“It’s not stable!” Flurry snarled. “They plugged my mother’s corpse into it!”
“I know!” Spike shouted back. “I was the one that found her!”
A few of the sentries on the rooftops looked down, then wisely looked away from the dragon and the alicorn. Flurry stomped a rear hoof into the cobblestones. “Okay, it’s just another problem. We’re running out of food and medicine, and now the Heart is failing. What do we do?”
Spike bit his lower lip with a fang. “Dusty and Far Sight are looking through the remaining documents, but the Changelings destroyed a lot. The library was ransacked years ago." He ran a claw of the frill on his head. "The Crystal Heart is old, Flurry. It’s probably the oldest artifact around. Starswirl didn’t even know where it came from.”
“It’s not old,” Flurry responded, confused. “I destroyed it when I was born.”
Spike gave her an even look. “And Sunburst rebuilt it. He still hasn’t been executed.”
Flurry’s muzzle spasmed. “No.”
“Twilight’s…” Spike struggled to say the word, “Twilight’s gone, and Starlight’s gone. He’s the only one left that knows anything about the Heart.”
“He had years to rebuild it for the Changelings, and he failed.”
“Unless he kept it weak like that so they wouldn’t kill him,” Spike offered.
Flurry stared up at the dragon with wide eyes.
“The stallion I knew died in the evacuation,” Spike sighed. “The thing still here is just a shell. I don’t know if it was intentional, but I never thought he could’ve done any of this.”
“Did Starlight know he was here?”
“No,” Spike answered and looked at the body hanging from the lamppost. “She thought he was dead. It would’ve destroyed her to find him like this.” He sniffled and a thin line of smoke drifted from his nostrils. “I’m actually glad she didn’t live to see this.” He looked down at Flurry. “One life for the city.”
Flurry shook her head uselessly and extended her wings. She didn’t reply to Spike and flew towards the Palace.
The herd of crystal ponies was at least three hundred thousand strong. They gathered on nearby rooftops because the square was so crowded. The young and strong helped the old stand upright so they could watch. The few foals, far too few, were propped up on bony and dull backs. The crystal ponies cheered, but their eyes were hard and unkind. As Flurry passed over them, a ripple ran through the crowd.
“Princess!” voices called out. It solidified into a chant and stomp of hooves.
Flurry flapped her wings before her parent’s destroyed balcony. It had been hastily rebuilt with repurposed wood from the furniture inside. Their bedroom had been reserved for Chrysalis, whenever she wished to stay, which was apparently only once.
The pink and blue drapes had been replaced with black. Several portraits of Chrysalis leading armies and other events that never occurred had been hung on the walls, but those had been defaced and burned days ago. The only thing the Changelings kept the same was her parent’s bed. It still had white, blue, and pink sheets with purple pillows.
There was something deeply wrong about Chrysalis keeping the bed, and Flurry forced it out of her mind as she landed on the balcony. Six bodies swung below the wooden rails. Duskcrest, Jadis, and four guards backed up and bowed to her.
“Princess,” Jadis said reverentially. “We just finished with Fact Finder.”
“Which one was that?” Flurry asked.
“The tan unicorn,” Duskcrest provided. “He shit himself, Princess.”
“Most corpses do.”
“While he was still alive,” Duskcrest clarified. Flurry looked past the smirking griffon.
Sunburst sat near the bed, staring at the sheets with runny eyes. He kept the black cloak on.
“Would you like to do it yourself?” Jadis asked with a bitter smile. “It’s his turn. The crowd’s waiting.”
“Stay on the balcony,” Flurry ordered. “I wish to speak to him alone.”
Duskcrest blinked and moved aside. Jadis looked confused as well, flicking her white tail. Despite her apparent cheer, her crystal coat was still dull.
Flurry trotted to Sunburst. He didn’t react to her presence. She sat down before the bed and summoned a shield around the two of them, turning it opaque. The noise from the crowd faded.
Sunburst didn’t say anything. His chains clinked together under the cloak.
Flurry waved a hoof at the black cloak. “Why are you wearing that?”
“They won’t let me take it off,” he responded dully. “The Changelings wouldn’t let me take it off, either.”
“You can, if you wish.”
Sunburst fumbled with the catch between his hooves, then let the cloak slide down his back. The burns on his side were ugly and raw, even after all the years.
“Did Starlight know you were alive?” Flurry asked.
“They watched me to see if I would send a message. I was told to bring more ponies from the mines.”
“And you did.”
“They would’ve done it anyway.”
“Without your help,” Flurry snapped. Sunburst didn’t react, and she exhaled heavily. “The Heart is failing. We dismantled the cocoons.”
Sunburst shrugged. “It was the only solution to keep the city alive.”
“Was it?” Flurry asked. “Is there any other way?”
Sunburst turned his runny eyes from the bed and squinted at her. “Are you asking for my help?” he said in a small voice.
Flurry took a deep breath. “You rebuilt the Heart once. Spike thinks you sabotaged it to stay alive for the Changelings, because they would kill you otherwise.”
Sunburst shrank to the ground. “Spike said that, huh?” he asked bitterly.
“Is that true?”
“Go get Thorax,” he muttered. “He’ll tell you.”
“Do you blame them?” Flurry snorted. “They don’t know you. They never thought you could have done any of this.”
“I know you,” Sunburst answered. He turned his head to look behind Flurry, seemingly staring through the blue shield to stare at the balcony. “The ponies out there used to call you a little monster for destroying the Crystal Heart. I always defended you.”
Flurry’s eyes hardened. “Crystaller,” she began, “you claim to have done everything to keep the crystal ponies alive. This is your duty. You’re not here for what you did for me and my parents. You had a responsibility to the crystal ponies.”
“To die?” Sunburst asked. “When I crawled from that burning truck, I felt like I was going to die. When the Changelings drained me, I felt like dying." His muzzle twitched. "Have you ever felt like that? Have you ever felt pain like that?”
Flurry closed her eyes. “I’ve ordered my subjects to be left behind,” the alicorn said. “I’ve watched a colt half my age be blasted into ash by my spell. I watched a friend kill himself so I wouldn’t have to kill him. I know pain.”
“No, you don’t,” Sunburst snorted.
“I won’t spare your life,” Flurry said softly, “but I’ll delay your execution. You can help us restore the Heart, and die with some semblance of dignity as the pony my parents knew and loved, not the one wearing that cloak.” She pulled the black rag off Sunburst and cast it aside.
Sunburst sat quietly, looking at the alicorn with watery blue eyes.
Flurry stared back with her own pale, icy eyes. “Please, Sunburst,” she pleaded.
Sunburst opened and closed his mouth, then abruptly looked away. “They were right about you,” he whispered. “You always were a monster.”
Flurry Heart exhaled and dropped the shield. “It’s time,” she announced to Duskcrest and Jadis. The four guards hauled Sunburst up and carried him over to the balcony. His eyes were wide and terrified as Jadis slung the noose around his neck with a sharp smile.
“Crystaller,” she greeted with venom. “Do you have any last words?”
Sunburst stammered and failed to respond, so Jadis pushed him forward. The crowd below recognized the unicorn and their screams increased in pitch and tempo. Hooves pounded on the cobblestones with staccato rhythm. Flurry squeezed her way onto the balcony beside Duskcrest. The wood groaned under the combined weight of all the creatures standing on it, so the guards retreated into the room.
Flurry raised her wings and her head high. Her crown caught the light of one of the glowing crystals along the outside of the palace and glittered. The crowd began to chant at the sight of their Princess. Jadis checked the rope and nodded to Flurry. Flurry Heart nodded back, and Sunburst was pushed up to the edge. His hooves skidded against the wood as his legs locked up.
At the last moment, Flurry extended a wing and stopped Jadis from pushing him over. The crowd quieted down, and Jadis hesitated. Flurry Heart looked down into Sunburst’s terrified eyes, then lowered her head to whisper into his pinned back ear.
“I’m not a monster,” Flurry whispered, “but I’m not much of a Princess. A Princess should protect her ponies, and I’ve failed at that all my life.” She pulled her head back. “Thorax asked that I kill you quickly.”
Flurry nodded to Jadis, and the mare shoved Sunburst off the edge. He neighed as he fell, eyes wide and panicked. Flurry grabbed his legs in her magic and pulled down right as the rope went taut.
Sunburst died instantly as his neck snapped. He dangled above the sea of crystal ponies who waited years to see him die, who watched as he took their families and friends. And they whinnied victoriously and raised their hooves to the Princess.
Princess Flurry Heart stared back at the ocean of dull coats and bitter, tired eyes, then looked up to the storm wall beyond the shield. It seemed closer, and lightning arced across the pink surface.
Her little golden band felt very heavy on her head.
Flurry Heart’s balcony offered an excellent view of the encroaching storm wall. Lightning raced across the surface of the pink shield. Large chunks of ice slammed against the magic and shattered into chunks. The shield made a dull chiming sound with each impact.
Flurry rubbed her golden crown with a hoof, then pulled her flight jacket tighter around herself. It was growing colder. The shield kept out the worst of the storm and the winter chill, and the steam vents in the mines and basement provided natural heat. Over the past week, it wasn’t enough. The Crystal City’s streets were cold and shadowed by the endless storm.
“Princess?” Arctic Lily asked. The dull-eyed mare sat at one of the few office tables not destroyed during the alicorn’s rampage through her bedroom and the upper floors. The rest of her advisors sat with her. Spike stood against the wall.
“How long will it take to evacuate the city?” Flurry asked again.
“We’ve already begun pulling out equipment,” Barrel Roller responded, “but the tracks are buried in the storm. We have to send ponies out every time.”
“Over a month,” Dusty guessed.
“And how long until the shield collapses?” Flurry repeated.
“We’ve already lost a bit of the trainyards,” Rainbow said. “We, uh, need those to get everypony out, obviously,” the pegasus added lamely. Her prosthetic sat on the adjacent table.
Flurry shut her eyes to the storm, trying to deny its existence. “We’re not getting everypony out,” she admitted, voicing the unspoken situation.
“No,” Duskcrest replied after a long silence. “We don’t have time.”
“Some can make it on hoof through the storm,” Heartsong said. He rubbed his dull, chipped hooves against each other and puffed to warm them up.
“Nopony has ever escaped that way,” Arctic Lily responded bluntly.
“Spike, do we have an evacuation plan?” Flurry asked.
“We need to talk about that,” Spike answered.
Flurry trotted to the table and slumped against it heavily. “Ponies leave. What’s there to talk about?”
“It’ll be obvious in about two weeks that the shield is collapsing,” Thorax began softly. “There will be a massive panic and rush on the trainyards.”
“You underestimate us,” Lily whickered.
“Ponies are ponies,” Thorax replied. “We don’t have the time or the space to evacuate everypony, so we need to prioritize what to take first.”
“You mean who to take first,” Flurry corrected. “We get the wounded and the weakest out on the armored trains first.”
“Some won’t survive the journey even in a train car, not all the way back to Evergreen.”
Flurry shook her head. “We’re not falling back that far. The Crystal Mountains are a natural defensive line.”
Dusty looked Flurry in the eye. “Our army is stretched thin. The Yakastani Range is to the north, and there’s still Changeling outposts and garrisons stationed along it.”
“We don’t control the north,” Heartsong added. “We control railways that we could lose at any moment. We don’t have the ponypower to run patrols.”
“The Changeling garrisons are cut off,” Flurry said stubbornly.
“And we will be too,” Thorax stated. “Josette can’t lend us more soldiers from Nova Griffonia. She’s already stretched thin.”
This city is a trap. “I could’ve just destroyed this city,” Flurry snapped. “Ponies died taking it. Griffons died. What was it worth?”
“Fuel, guns, ammo, vehicles,” Duskcrest counted down on his talons. “We have war materiel that we desperately need.”
“It’s all going to be lost to the snow,” Flurry snorted.
Everyone shifted uncomfortably and glanced at each other.
What to take, Flurry realized, not who. Her muzzle trembled. “You can’t possibly be suggesting this,” she said in a low whisper. “Say it out loud.”
“Flurry…” Thorax answered.
“Say it!” the alicorn snapped. “Who agrees with this?” her head whipped back and forth violently, but no one met her icy eyes. “Say it!” she shouted again.
“Take your supplies and leave the city,” Lily quietly replied. “Leave us.”
Flurry’s breath rattled and she felt a block of ice settle in her stomach. “No.”
“Many will not survive the trip across the Frozen North.” Lily’s tone was kind, as if speaking to a foal. “The natural hot springs in the mines will provide warmth, for a time.”
“You don’t speak for everypony,” Flurry managed. They’ll die in the mines hating me, freezing to death. “I am a Princess of Ponies.”
“Nova Griffonia doesn’t have enough food to take in thousands more refugees,” Spike explained. “It’s the middle of winter.”
“We’re planting crops,” Flurry replied, but knew how weak that argument was.
No one responded to that.
Flurry swallowed. “I will not abandon them. My mother did not.”
“Your mother is dead,” Thorax said softly. “Staying here won’t change anything.”
Flurry pushed herself away from the table. “If I wanted to destroy the city, I would have!” she ranted. “I would’ve killed everypony with spellfire and cut the supplies to the north. What was the point of all of this? Ponies are dead! Griffons are dead! For nothing!”
“For you!” Spike shouted and the alicorn stopped pacing. He clenched his claws. “They died for you, Flurry. They died to take this city, and now we have to make sure it means something.”
“Some will not understand, Princess,” Arctic Lily admitted, “but we’ve been prepared to die for our home for years.”
Flurry blinked rapidly. “I’m not prepared,” she answered in a trembling voice and sniffled. “I’m ordering you to take my ponies through the storm wall. Take them back to Nova Griffonia.”
“Many won’t make it,” Dusty said.
Her wings spasmed. “Some will.”
“Just to starve,” Thorax added. He stood up and approached Flurry.
Flurry couldn’t stop the tears anymore. She pushed the changeling back as he moved to hug her. “Don’t!” she cried.
Thorax skidded back on the crystal floor, but was unharmed. He licked his fangs.
“Y-you want me to s-say it?” Flurry stuttered through snotty sobs. “Is t-that it? So you can feel b-better?”
Rainbow looked away and squeezed her magenta eyes closed.
Spike dropped his claws to his side and grimaced. “We’ve already started running equipment back,” he admitted. “We can take a few ponies with us as we go. We take the healthiest crystal ponies that can fight, and families.”
“This will not be our end,” Lily said. She worried with her front hooves, clearly uncomfortable with the sobbing alicorn. “Sombra could not destroy us, neither will Chrysalis. Our history may be lost, but we will always endure.”
“J-just,” Flurry stuttered. Too many. The words stuck in her throat. The alicorn barely managed to nod towards Thorax, then teleported away in a crack of light.
She reappeared in the basement before her mother. Jadis whinnied in surprise and unslung her rifle, then registered the sobbing Princess on the floor. The crystal pony rushed over as if her leg had never been injured. “Princess! Are you hurt?” Jadis set the rifle down and ran her hooves along Flurry’s wings and flight jacket, checking for blood.
My heart, Flurry thought. That’s what hurts. “I’m fine,” the alicorn mumbled and pushed Jadis’ hooves away with a wing. “I’m fine.”
“Clearly not!” Jadis nickered and tried to pull the Princess up to her hooves. Flurry stumbled upright and gripped the crystal pony’s bad hoof. Flurry blinked at the mare and looked around the dimly lit basement.
The Crystal Heart was suspended above them, still chained to the ceiling. Wires ran from the cocoons along the wall, jabbed into the cracks along the Heart’s body. Cadance still floated below the Heart in her own cocoon, and the wire still ran from her horn up to the Crystal Heart above her.
Wax candles and small, glittering crystals surrounded the cocoon and the dead alicorn.
Flurry turned to Jadis, sniffling. “What are you doing here? What’s going on?”
Jadis looked towards Cadance with wilted ears. “We come here sometimes.”
We? “Why?”
“To thank her,” Jadis answered quietly. “To pray. She saved us from Sombra. So much has been forgotten,” the crystal pony said sadly. “I was born a thousand years ago, and I can barely remember my parents. I don’t even remember Amore.”
Flurry shook her head and her curls bounced against the crown. “You shouldn’t pray to my mother. She shouldn’t be seen like this.”
Jadis was quiet and looked away. “I remember my mother praying to Celestia,” she finally said, staring at a cocoon on the wall. “She begged the Sisters to come and save us from Sombra. It was your parents that finally came for us. And you.”
Flurry bit her lip and asked a question she didn’t want to know the answer to. “Are your parents here?”
“They died many years ago, Princess,” Jadis answered. “They died waiting.”
Flurry let go of the crystal pony’s hoof. “I’d like to be alone,” she said quietly.
Jadis hesitated, but picked up her rifle and trotted out the door. She looked at Flurry over her withers as she passed the threshold. Flurry waited until her uneven hoof steps faded, then cast a ward over the door and silenced the room. She glared up at the Crystal Heart.
“You fucking hunk of rock!” Flurry snarled. “Why? Why isn’t it enough? How much more? How much more!?”
Flurry flared out her wings and her horn sparked. “Enough loss! Enough sacrifice! You want love and hope and joy? Earn it!”
“They’ve lost enough!” her voice rattled the chains suspending the Heart. “My mother gave everything! Earn it!”
“WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT?” Flurry screamed and ripped the wires and cables from the Crystal Heart. The artifact swayed in the chains. Flurry’s magic gripped the large wire extending from Cadance’s horn and yanked it away. She approached her mother's cocoon and slammed her hooves against it, knocking it over and sending the candles and small crystals spinning across the floor.
Flurry stood below the Crystal Heart and screamed up at it. “EARN IT!”
The Heart did not answer her.
The dim blue light emanating from the crystal pulsed erratically, like it had done for weeks. Flurry Heart collapsed underneath it and wept against her mother’s cocoon. How did you know what to do, mom? Flurry laid her head against the sticky membrane, close to Cadance’s shaved head. The alicorn’s horn glowed weakly with faint blue light. Tell me what to do.
The Crystal Heart chimed softly above Flurry as the chains groaned. She looked up with wet eyes. The Heart pulsed erratically with dim blue flashes.
Like my shield. The thought came to her suddenly.
Flurry stared at the Heart for several minutes, then closed her eyes and felt for it in her magic.
A thousand voices shouted in her head. Flurry snorted and stumbled back, bouncing her head off the side of the cocoon. She shook her mane and stood up. The Heart swayed in the chains.
Flurry’s tail slowly swung behind her. The Crystal Heart makes the shield.
Her eyes narrowed. A shield can be a weapon.
And she reached out for it again in her magic. A weapon needs a wielder.
The voices assaulted her, screaming and yelling and shouting from every direction, swirling around her ears in a wordless howl. Flurry gritted her teeth and pushed through the noise, feeling for the Crystal Heart. It was old, thousands of years old. And it was broken. But a broken weapon still carried memories; it still carried the will of every creature that ever held it.
Flurry dispelled her wards. They interfered with the flow of magic. As the wards collapsed, Flurry felt the presence of other ponies all around her. Their magic swept into the Heart. She brushed against them saw flashes under her eyelids.
Lapis sits at the empty table, staring at the empty chairs. She’s alone, and she swears that their deaths will have meaning.
Emerald clutches the picture tighter. It is the only picture left of his wife and daughters. He weeps, but his eyes are hard.
Marble stares up at the unicorn who took her brother away. His orange coat is dull and he sways in the wind. She promises herself to fight for the Princess.
Heartsong stares at the revolver on the table. He wants to use it, but he cannot. He knows thousands will die, and it will destroy his Princess. He feels nothing but shame.
Arctic Lily stands in the small square where her mother was cremated a thousand years ago. She remembers Amore’s disinterested eyes during the funeral. She admits this Princess is different.
Frosty Jadis stands in the hallway. Her mother prayed to the wrong Princess.
“Princess!” Jadis shouted.
Flurry inhaled and fell back into herself. She stumbled to the floor and struggled to gather her trembling legs back under her barrel to stand up. Her coat was slick with froth and her wings trembled.
“You’ve been down here for hours!” Jadis limped over to Flurry. She slowed as she took in the knocked over cocoon and dangling wires around the room. “What happened?”
The Heart still flickered above the alicorn; the magic chimed with a dull gong. Flurry stared up at it, and deep in her heart she knew this was the only chance she would ever have.
“I have to try,” Flurry said to Jadis, then shoved her out of the room with a burst of magic. The crystal pony neighed in surprise and slid against the wall of the hallway. Flurry’s horn blazed and she sliced through the chains suspending the Crystal Heart.
The Heart fell towards the floor, and Flurry seized it in her magic and reached out again. Her horn burst into blue flames.
The voices weren’t thousands. They were millions. Flurry felt her ponies, all of them. She saw their lives in quick flashes underneath her closed eyes, and she felt their pain. The Crystal Heart was connected to all of them. Flurry rammed her way through, feeling the magic pull her deeper into the Heart.
The voices dimmed, then new voices surged forward from the distance. They battered Flurry’s ears and mind. Their emotions tangled together, blending into one chaotic miasma of hopes and dreams and desires and fears. One long scream echoed behind them.
Flurry realized it was her own.
She forced her eyes open to see the Crystal Heart engulfed in blue fire. The fire poured from the cracks and lashed tongues of flames across the room. They smashed into the cocoons along the walls, scorched the crystal walls, melted the dangling chains. Flurry felt one wrap around her hoof. She watched as it tickled her fur and retreated. Her pink fur was unharmed. The whips of fire avoided her mother’s cocoon; they bent awkwardly as they wriggled to avoid touching it.
Jadis screamed something in the doorway. The heat from the fire kept the crystal pony away. Flurry felt blood dribble down from her nose as her eyes rolled back into her head. Her mane and tail were smoking from the heat, and the thin, little golden crown was uncomfortably hot. The voices echoed in her skull, and Flurry tried to single them out.
“We have gone far enough.” A hard-eyed pink unicorn stood in the snow. Her armor was made of purple crystal and looked impossibly heavy. The mare smiled grimly. “We have run enough from these demons of snow. They say my heart is as hard as crystal. Let us see what their words are worth.”
“Get her out of there!”
Flurry struggled to focus her eyes. She was floating with her wings extended, drifting around the Crystal Heart while wild blue flames engulfed the room. Her wings weren’t flapping, but she remained suspended by her own magic. The Heart thrummed with power in front of her, but the cracks remained. Blue fire dripped from them as arcs of electricity ran across the Crystal Heart. Flurry jerked her head to the side.
Spike and Thorax were in the doorway. Spike tried to press forward, but a wild arc of lightning flayed purple scales off an arm as he stepped into the room. He roared in pain and stumbled back.
“Flurry!” Thorax screamed. “Stop!”
Flurry Heart smiled. I can’t stop, uncle.
Her teeth were bloody. Blood ran down from her eyes and ears. The voices echoed again in her mind, and Flurry saw shadows of ponies along the walls.
My mother gave her life for the north! For us! A unicorn died for all of us!
The voices ebbed and flowed like a tide.
I am not a unicorn. We are all crystal ponies, and this will be our home.
They washed over Flurry like the tendrils of fire from the Heart.
Let the southern tribes make war against each other. We have the Crystal Heart.
Each voice grew stronger and louder.
The Yak Khan’s crown is broken! We rule the north!
Their emotions and hopes and dreams pounded against her head.
On this day, I declare before the Crystal Heart an Empire of Crystal Ponies!
Every voice reverberated with thousands of other voices behind the words.
My mother dreamed of the ocean, and I will fulfill her vision.
Mare, stallion, filly, colt, young and old all blended together.
To be the Crystal Empress is to be the Empire. It is a burden, daughter, not a gift.
“You want to shoot her!?”
“The Heart’s taking her magic! She’ll die if she doesn’t break the connection!”
“Flurry!”
Flurry Heart felt the Heart shudder as the cracks melded together in the intensity of the flames. The cocoons along the wall had been reduced to ash. The walls warped and bent oddly; the crystal unused to the intense heat and wild magic. The entire basement sagged.
Please. Flurry struggled to see through the blood in her eyes. Blood dripped down from her ears and matted her smoking mane.
Behind her, Jadis took aim in the doorway at Flurry’s left hind leg and fired, praying for forgiveness. A bolt of lightning struck the bullet mid-flight and sent it spinning past the alicorn's floating legs and into the Crystal Heart.
The Heart split in half down the middle and blue flames exploded from within. Spike pulled Jadis back and shielded her from the heat. Her rifle barrel melted into slag when it fell to the floor of the room.
“No!” Flurry roared and flung herself towards the Heart. She slammed her front hooves into the two halves. Flurry and the Crystal Heart spun in the maelstrom of magic, tied together by her burning horn. The flames licked at her fur, igniting her flight jacket. She felt the crown on her head begin to melt, mixing with the blood from her ears and eyes. Flurry shut her eyes and grabbed at the Heart, forcing it back together. The flames lashing out of the crack prevented it.
The brown flight jacket burned away from her body. The flames raced up and down her fur, spreading down to her hooves and joining with the fire from her horn. Her mane and tail blazed with blue and pink flames, and the aura around her horn vibrated between blue and gold. The fire swirled around her bare flank.
Flurry was trapped in a wordless scream. The flames didn’t burn her, but a small part of her mind wished they did. Every nerve screamed as if it was torn from her body and flayed. Her muscles seized as bloody foam spilled from her open muzzle.
It took everything she had left to hold onto the Crystal Heart.
There is a white mare. Her eyes are tired and sunken. Her crystal armor hangs loosely on her body. She stands on a balcony of the Crystal Palace, watching the pink clouds spread in the south.
“That patchwork monster cannot break the Heart,” she sighs, “but it spreads Discord wherever it goes. We will lose the north to the madness, but not our city.”
The unicorn turns and stares into Flurry’s eyes. “One day the monster will be gone, but I will not live to see it. The Empire will be yours, my Amore.” She lays a trembling hoof on Flurry Heart’s shoulder. “Take back what was lost.”
The pain stopped.
Flurry gasped for air and felt snow underneath her hooves and a bitterly cold wind blow her mane back. She opened her eyes to a howling snow storm that engulfed everything around it. The Crystal Heart shone through the snow and winds, far off in the distance. The blizzard threatened to bury it.
“You do not deserve the Heart, Usurper,” a high-pitched voice said behind her.
“You do not deserve the Heart, Usurper,” a high-pitched voice said behind her.
Flurry turned around, squinting through the wind. The storm darkened the sky and snow blew past her muzzle. The alicorn concentrated and tried to form a shield, but her horn failed to even spark.
Princess Amore glared back at Flurry Heart.
The tall pink unicorn stood unbothered by the storm, wearing blue crystal raiment around her barrel. Her rosy pink mane blew softly around her head and long horn, in direct contrast to the howling wind. Amore’s lips were pursed thin while she stared the alicorn down with golden eyes.
The effect was ruined somewhat by Amore’s need to slightly look up at Flurry. The alicorn was already taller than most stallions, but Amore was long-legged. The snow bent and blew around the unicorn, but Flurry raised her wings to shield her muzzle.
“You do not deserve the Heart,” Amore repeated. Her voice cut through the wind.
“What?” Flurry asked. She looked over her withers back towards the glowing Crystal Heart in the distance. I remember pain. She only felt cold. There were shapes passing the two Princesses in the storm, but Flurry couldn’t make out any details. “Where am I?”
“Does it matter?” Amore laughed, light and airy. “You are everywhere and nowhere, before and after. You stand where the Empire started. And ended, a thousand years ago.”
Flurry recognized the mare, though she had never heard her voice. There was one etching left behind in the Crystal Palace that Sombra never destroyed, hidden in a small room behind a banister. It depicted Amore, the last Crystal Empress and first Princess, standing below the Crystal Heart and celebrating her crystal ponies with a radiant smile. After her parents freed the city from Sombra, artistic ponies recreated Amore’s image in paintings and statues. Sombra supposedly turned her to crystal and shattered her into a thousand pieces, but Flurry always suspected he simply lobbed off her head and was done with it. Amore had always smiled in every depiction.
Amore snarled at Flurry, baring her teeth at the alicorn. “Your line is false, Usurper.”
“You’re dead,” Flurry replied, unsure of what else to say.
“And you are dying,” Amore spat. “Rejected by the Heart, as you should be.”
No. Flurry closed her eyes. “Why?” she said in a small voice, lost to the wind.
Amore laughed bitterly. “Why? You dare ask that? The Crystal Heart is powered by joy, by love, by hope!” She snorted. “You have given it nothing but fire and blood.”
“I have given them hope,” Flurry answered.
“Corpses and rope.” Amore tossed her head back. “The Crystal Heart is not a weapon.”
“What else is a shield,” Flurry asked, “but a weapon that protects?”
“It does not kill,” Amore said. “You cannot nourish it with blood.”
“It killed Sombra,” Flurry said stubbornly. “What's left for them? There is no joy, only grief. No love, only loss. Your ponies have nothing but hope! Hope that their families and friends didn’t die for nothing! That the ones that took them away will answer for it!”
“You’ve given them revenge,” Amore sneered.
“Hope of revenge,” Flurry corrected. “Justice. Fire and blood. How else can I lead them, after all they’ve lost?”
“You do not deserve to lead them.”
“On that, we agree, but there’s nopony else left.” Flurry looked behind her, back at the Crystal Heart providing a light in the darkness of the snow and wind. Voices carried on the wind, but Flurry couldn’t pick out any words. She turned back to Amore, thinking of what she saw.
It will be up to you, my Amore.
“You abdicated your title,” Flurry began. “You named yourself Princess, not Empress. Your mother told you to retake the Empire.”
“My mother was a decrepit foal,” Amore snorted, “dreaming of past glories. That patchwork monster weakened the Heart with all his madness and panic. Only the Crystal City remained.”
“You left it like that!” Flurry accused.
“Ponies needed stability, peace, joy, and love!” Amore shouted back. “My mother died thinking of nothing but frigid borders and frozen outposts. The Sisters offered love to every tribe!”
“The crystal ponies could’ve had joy in retaking their homes, in reclaiming the north.” Flurry shook her head. “You could’ve led them.”
“Why should I?” Amore sniffed.
Flurry paused. “You didn’t want to lead them,” she realized. “You just wanted festivals and parties.”
Amore gestured to a blue, glittering crystal tiara atop her rosy mane. “I opened my heart to all of them,” the unicorn stated. “I gave them love and peace and happiness. Not a single crystal pony can deny that.”
“You gave them Sombra,” Flurry said. “You died and gave them a thousand years of torment.”
“What will you give them?” Amore responded. “The Heart will kill you.”
Flurry shut her eyes to a burst of snow. “I have to try.”
“You will fail, Usurper,” Amore answered. “I bore no foals. Your line is false, as wicked as Sombra. You do not deserve the Crystal Heart.”
“No,” Flurry agreed, “I don’t.” She opened her eyes. “But there’s nopony else. The Sisters never came. The city will be lost to the snow, and your ponies will die.”
“And that is your fault,” Amore accused. She stomped her hoof into the snow, but it left no imprint. “The Heart is not powered by hatred.”
“It is mine," Flurry said, "and I am asking for your help. What would you do, Empress Amore? How would you save them?”
“They are not yours to save,” Amore snarled and ignored the question. “They do not belong to you.”
“I belong to them,” Flurry said quietly. She had no answer, only empty parties. “At least I tried.”
The alicorn turned away from the unicorn and marched towards the Crystal Heart.
“You will fail!” Amore promised, then disappeared into the wind.
Flurry Heart pressed forward. Her hooves were numb and sank fetlock deep into the snow. She pulled them out with effort and moved forward, towards the faint shining light in the distance. She flared her wings out for balance; ice and frost weighed down her primary feathers. Her curls began to freeze against the fur around her horn.
As she got closer to the Crystal Heart, the figures in the storm around her solidified. Ponies clad in purple crystal barding marched through the snowstorm, plowing forward with spears at their side. Ghostly, swirling horses whirled above the armored ponies, eyes glowing white with frost as they howled.
Windigos. The creatures howled and dove towards the ponies, repelled by spear and magic. Flares of magic from a unicorn combined with lightning from a storm cloud, lightning up the darkness in the storm. Thousands of ponies surrounded Flurry, spreading out in every direction. A strong contralto echoed in the wind.
We will face them together! All of us!
Flurry pressed forward, squinting as frost accumulated on her muzzle. The Crystal Heart seemed no closer, and her legs were tired. She tried to summon a shield to block the snow.
“I’m afraid your magic is currently occupied, Princess,” a harsh stallion laughed in the wind. A dark shadow swirled in the snowflakes pouring down in front of Flurry Heart. She stopped as the shadow obscured the Crystal Heart in the distance.
King Sombra waltzed through the storm, clad in an iron crown and red, silky cape. His heavy greaves left no hoofprints in the snow while his cape blew gently in the howling storm. His eyes flashed green and purple, oozing with dark magic.
Flurry inhaled, feeling the cold air sting her lungs, and lowered her horn.
Sombra smiled, baring his fangs. “No need, Princess.”
“Afraid to fight me?” Flurry challenged.
“No sport in fighting a dying mare,” Sombra quipped. “I knew better than to trifle with the Heart.”
“You’re a coward. You banished everypony.”
“I knew how to pick my battles.”
“You died to a baby dragon,” Flurry retorted.
Sombra scowled at her for a moment, then relented and laughed in a surprisingly warm baritone. “A mare after my own heart!”
Flurry shook her head. “I’m nothing like you.”
“You’ve killed far more than I did, Princess,” Sombra answered dryly. “Amore was weak, clutching to the south to avoid her duty. Her line deserved to end.”
“I don’t care about lineage.”
“Nor should you,” Sombra responded. “The Heart does not. The Heart is greedy, like the ponies that power it. The crystal ponies have always been more trouble than they’re worth.”
“Shut up. You were a slaver and a monster.”
“What do you think you are?” Sombra laughed. “Ponies may say they want friendship and harmony, but the strong of the herd have always ruled over the weak.”
“That’s just an excuse to justify cruelty,” Flurry snapped at the twisted unicorn. Sombra’s horn, gnarled and crooked, glowed blood red in the snowstorm.
“You don’t need excuses,” Sombra replied. “Look at you.” He pointed a greave at her forehead and then her wings. “You were born to rule over them. Celestia and Luna weren’t born alicorns. They had to beg the sun and moon.”
“They earned it.”
Sombra scoffed. “Waving a horn doesn’t make one a King. Or an Empress. History is violence, no matter how hard Celestia scrubs against the ink.” He smiled again, mouth full of unnatural fangs. “You understand. It is your birthright soaked in blood.”
“I never wanted violence,” Flurry denied.
“Yet you are so good at it,” Sombra replied. “Yet you keep your ponies in line with fear and blood, as you should. They would turn on you in an instant if you showed weakness.”
“Not my friends.”
“Your friends,” Sombra laughed. “The ones that plot against you, question your choices, and have always underestimated you? You have no friends, only quivering subjects fearful of your power.”
“Get out of my way,” Flurry growled.
Surprisingly, Sombra stepped aside and swept a foreleg to the Crystal Heart in the distance. It was half-buried in the snow. “It will kill you,” he warned.
“I don’t care. They’ll die otherwise.”
“They are not worth it,” Sombra stated. “You think you will win their love? You think they will respect your sacrifice?” He shook his head. “Let them die. You only need fear. The herd will follow.”
“I don’t care what they think of me.” Flurry shoved her way past Sombra, extending a wing to knock the grin off his muzzle. The unicorn melted into shadows and reformed outside her reach.
Flurry trudged past him. “I don’t care if they call me a monster. I don’t care if they love me or call me a Princess,” the alicorn continued. “They’ve died for me. I can die for them.”
Sombra laughter melded with the wind as Flurry continued towards the Heart.
She sank up to her barrel in the snowdrifts. Every step was ponderous. Her teeth chattered in the storm, and ice collected around her lips. Flurry held her head down, trying to shield her eyes, and icicles weighed down her tail. Her mane was blown back, curls frozen solid with frost. Every breath hurt her lungs; the air was too cold and bitter.
The voices in the wind became clearer.
It’ll take out the Palace! Get a demolitions team! Collapse the roof!
You’ll kill her!
She’s killing herself!
Flurry grit her teeth. The crystal ponies in the storm around her shifted direction, moving parallel to the struggling alicorn. The armored ponies had no problem moving through the snow, stepping lightly despite the crystal armor. They moved towards the Crystal Heart, marching in unison.
Flurry Heart fell into a deep pocket of snow and couldn’t pull her legs out fully. She began to dig with frozen hooves and crawl forward. She used her cold, useless horn to scoop snow away from her head. The Crystal Heart had nearly disappeared; only the very top of the blue crystal was still visible.
“Little Wings,” a soft, tired voice cut through the wind.
Flurry stopped, then ground her teeth and resumed digging her way through the snow. She made slow progress. Her legs were shaking too badly.
“What are you doing, Little Wings?” the voice said sadly, closer now.
“You have no right,” Flurry managed between chattering teeth. “I don’t know what you are, but you are not my mother.”
The wind and snow abruptly stopped. Sunlight struggled to peak through roiling storm clouds, but Flurry raised her head and blinked with ice crusting her eyelids. The constant snowstorm and the ponies inside it had retreated, forming a small pocket. Only the very top of the Crystal Heart peeked through a pile of snow, several body lengths from Flurry Heart. The alicorn struggled to pull herself free from the neck-deep snow.
“I am not,” the voice answered. “I may be a Nightmare to tempt you, or a hallucination as your magic exhausts itself. Perhaps I am the Crystal Heart itself, speaking to you.”
Flurry heaved herself free on trembling forelegs, refusing to look behind her.
The voice sounded impossibly sad. “Or I am all that remains of Mi Amore Cadenza, an imprint of a long dead mare upon an ancient artifact. A shadow on the wall. There is nothing I can say that will convince you, Little Wings.”
Flurry Heart slowly turned around.
It was not the Cadance in the cocoon, shaved and mutilated. Nor was it the false mother that had come for her in Aquileia, wearing her mother’s muzzle but with Chrysalis’ smile. This Cadance slouched in the snow, looking weary and tired. Her bloodshot eyes had bags under them. Her mane, once purple and gold and swirly, looked brittle and flaky. It hung loosely behind her head, matched by her tail. The pink fur was matted around her purple barding, and her wings hung raggedly by her side.
Flurry’s mother stood as she did when she said goodbye.
The younger alicorn’s muzzle shook with anger and grief. “Why are you here?” she asked. “To stop me?” she guessed.
“I cannot stop you, Flurry,” Cadance responded. “The Heart is yours, should you wish it, but it will kill you.”
“You made that choice,” Flurry tried to spit, but her tongue was too frozen.
“I never wanted to,” Cadance answered.
“Then why did you stay?”
“I never asked to be a Princess,” Cadance said longingly. “I was happy in my little village. Canterlot was too large and miserable. I was taught to walk with poise, to greet petitioners, to offer a kind smile. Celestia always said a Princess must be an example to their ponies.”
“Useless,” Flurry retorted.
“I was not taught how to fight,” Cadance said, ignoring her daughter’s remark. “Shining did not want me on the front, and I never asked. Celestia did not even want Luna in the logistics tent. ‘Our lives are too precious,’ she said.”
“It’s an excuse,” Flurry whispered painfully. The cold air stung her lungs.
“I was never taught how to comfort an orphan,” Cadance continued, “or to look a pony in the eye as I sent their daughter away to a war.” She looked into the snow, staring at the marching figures. “I sat in my crystal castle and spoke into the radio as I felt the bonds break between lovers, families, and friends. I wrote empty letters to the loved ones they left behind.”
She stared back at Flurry with wet violet eyes. “Twilight believed that friendship held ponies together, no matter the cost, but what use is love in war?”
Flurry Heart didn’t have an answer.
Cadance paused and swallowed. “Do you hate me for not fighting?”
“No,” Flurry replied immediately. “You stayed. You stayed and gave everything.”
“Is that what you think you’re doing?” Cadance asked without judgement.
“Ponies have died for me,” Flurry cried. “Griffons have died for me. Changelings. What kind of Princess am I if I won’t die for them?”
“What about your friends? Do you think they want you to die for them? Do you think any of them want this?”
“It’s my choice.”
“Your death will break them, Flurry,” Cadance said bluntly, but in a kind, quiet tone. “Spike and Thorax, Duskcrest and Dusty, Jadis and Heartsong, all of them love you. It will ruin them.”
Without the howling wind, the voices echoed around mother and daughter.
I can reach her!
If you go in there, the magic will tear you apart!
Let go!
“You are dying as I died,” Cadance said softly. “Celestia begged me to leave. She said my staying would destroy my family.”
“Dad died a hero.” Flurry tried to stomp her hoof, but her foreleg only shook.
“And now you are here, repeating my decisions.”
“Where else could I be?” Flurry asked. “In the River Federation, watching ponies suffer and die a world away?”
“I did not want this for you,” Cadance wept. She dug through the snow around her hooves and pulled a clump of snow free, shaking it between her forelegs. Her hooves left furrows in the snow.
The bright yellow snail toy was weathered and beaten, and a button was missing from an eye. Cadance clutched it between her legs.
“Whammy,” Flurry stuttered.
“I held it as I died,” Cadance said. “As I poured my love for you and Shining and Twilight into the Crystal Heart, but it wasn’t enough. I prayed and begged that you would find happiness.”
Tears trailed down the icicles hanging from Flurry’s muzzle. “W-what am I supposed to do? What else can I do?”
“You don’t have to be a Princess, Flurry,” Cadance responded. “You've tried so hard. Nopony would ever blame you."
“I would! Look at me!” Flurry tried to extend her wings, but they were frozen to her side. “What else can I be?”
Cadance smiled. It stretched the bags around her eyes. “You were born an alicorn, but you are your own mare. I’m proud of you.”
“H-how?” Flurry sobbed. “I killed Sunburst. I killed Quartz. I killed Falx. Nothing I do is good enough!”
“You’re the only one that thinks that,” Cadance responded. “War is monstrous, Flurry.”
“I sense weapons,” Flurry admitted through her tears. “I never told you or dad. I can tell how many they’ve killed. I can feel their owners. I was always meant to be this.”
“It’s not your fault,” Cadance assured her. “You were born on the eve of war. Do you think I love you less?” She smiled sadly. “You have a good, strong heart. Destiny is a choice, Flurry.” She moved to the side to show her cutie mark of the Crystal Heart, partially obscured by her barding. “I did not have to rule, nor do you.”
Flurry collapsed into the snow and sobbed ugly, bitter tears. “I miss you so much. I miss Dad. I miss Twilight.”
Cadance did not move towards her. “I love you, Flurry. Now and always.”
“I love you,” Flurry sniffled and slowly crawled towards her mother.
“Do you remember what I told you when I said goodbye?” Cadance asked quietly. The weary pink alicorn clutched Whammy to her barrel and looked down at Flurry with tears trailing down her muzzle.
My family or my throne.
Flurry Heart stopped.
Love is the death of duty, Flurry.
She looked over her shoulder.
I will always love you, but I cannot leave them, not again, not after so much loss.
The Crystal Heart was nearly buried in the snow.
Flurry looked back at her mother. Cadance stared with love in her eyes, waiting with Whammy clutched between her forelegs. “I love you,” she repeated. “No matter what you choose.”
“I love you,” Flurry answered. “Forever.”
And she turned away from her mother and dragged herself towards the Crystal Heart.
The wind and snow returned, howling against her muzzle and battering her down into the snow. Flurry pulled herself forward on ice-caked hooves. Her eyes were blinded by the snow, and her rigid mane and tail were frozen solid. Her wings stuck to her sides, frozen into her fur. Still, Flurry crawled up the snowdrift toward the one remaining piece of exposed crystal, digging troughs into the snow with her legs.
Cadance did not say anything, and Flurry did not turn around to look.
The voices echoed around her, whirling above her in the wind.
He did what he could, when it counted, Thorax said.
I’m going to try, Flurry, Shining promised.
Love is the death of duty, Flurry, Cadance swore.
One life for the city, Spike said.
Flurry Heart pressed a frigid, numb hoof against the exposed crystal.
In the basement of the Crystal Palace, Flurry Heart held onto the Crystal Heart, suspended together off the floor in a maelstrom of blue flames and lightning. Blood poured from her ears, mixing with the golden streaks from her melted crown. Her eyes wept blood, and her mouth spilled over with bloody foam. Her mane and tail burned with blue, purple, and gold flames as the magic roiled over the alicorn. Her horn burned bright, flaring with golden light as bright as the sun.
Flurry forced the Crystal Heart back together. The flames and lightning that scoured the room were sucked back into the cracks along the Heart, fusing it solid. The two halves seared together. The last tendril of fire was from Flurry’s horn, connected to the center of the Crystal Heart. Her mouth was locked open in a wail, but no sound came forth.
Bright white fire erupted from her flanks and spread across her body, merging with the flames from her mane and tail. The fire consumed her utterly, then was sucked up into the cone of flame erupting from her horn. Flurry’s mane and tail burned away, but her pink fur was untouched.
Her horn poured gold fire across the Crystal Heart, and the Heart erupted with light. A wave of magic blasted through the room and the city beyond. A pink beam crashed through the ceiling and every floor above until it reached the sky. The creatures in the doorway flung themselves to the ground and shielded their eyes on reflex. The dragon and the changeling were the last to do so.
Flurry’s horn snuffed out. The Heart remained suspended in the air by faint blue magic, pulsing like a heartbeat. The crystal surface flickered with inner blue flames. There were no cracks.
Flurry Heart fell to the crystal floor with limp wings, covered in her own blood.
She landed beside her mother.
It was very, very dark.
Flurry Heart drifted through the darkness. She was very tired, and wanted to close her eyes, but they already felt closed. There were sounds, far off in the blackness, but the alicorn couldn’t move her ears. She couldn’t move anything at all. Everything felt numb.
“Shock her again!” a voice roared.
Flurry felt a brief twinge in her chest.
“Again!”
Flurry realized it was Spike. She wasn’t sure what the dragon was trying to do out in the darkness, but his voice shook with absolute desperation.
“I don’t hear a heartbeat,” another voice said despondently.
Flurry recognized Far Sight’s nasally tone, but never heard it so broken.
“Again!” Spike roared.
The twinge returned, a little stronger, but faded back into nothing.
“Go back to compressions,” Spike ordered.
“Sir Spike…” a voice answered, sobbing.
Flurry tried to reach out with a hoof. Don’t cry, Jadis.
“Boreas, hear this prayer from your faithful servant,” Duskcrest whispered in the dark.
Flurry tried to raise an eyebrow, but couldn’t move. I never knew he believed in the Trinity.
“Do not take this child. Usher her back on your golden wings,” he continued.
“Celestia,” Dusty’s voice echoed, “you dumb bitch, for once in your fucking life actually answer a prayer and do something.”
Flurry tried to laugh, but couldn’t open her mouth.
“You never listened before,” Dusty raved, “so listen now: I will kill you if she dies. I will hunt you to the edges of this world and shove your sister’s horn so far up your ass you’ll cast magic out your mouth.”
Dusty and Duskcrest’s prayers overlapped. They sounded equally desperate.
“Come on, kid,” Rainbow’s scratchy voice drifted from above the alicorn. “We all love you, don’t leave us, please.”
“She’s gone,” Arctic Lily’s broken voice echoed from behind Flurry.
“Shut up!” Rainbow screamed.
“The Crystalling only works on the living,” Arctic replied.
“Magical Depletion,” Far Sight muttered.
“If you open your mouth again, I’ll cut your head off!”
Flurry left a slight jostling, but the sensation faded.
“You can’t leave us, Flurry,” Spike cried. “Our entire family is gone. I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t say it enough.”
Flurry tried to sigh. I’m sorry, Spike. Mom said I’d destroy our family.
“You piece of shit!” Dusty screamed and broke from her fevered praying. “What kind of destiny is that? You give her a cutie mark and kill her?”
“My parents named me after the Heart,” Heartsong whickered. “They believed in you, and prayed to you with Amore. You give her a mark and kill in the same breath? You were always a lie!”
“She did it,” Lily stated. “Look around us.”
“It wasn’t worth it!” Jadis shouted through choking sobs.
“It was to her,” Lily said quietly. “She deserved a crown.”
Flurry almost smiled. She was very, very tired. It was never about a crown.
“Flurry,” Thorax whispered. His voice sounded very close. “Please, listen to me.”
“Her heart stopped,” Far Sight said in the distance. “She’s gone.”
“Thorax, you’ll kill yourself trying to give her love,” Dusty wept in the darkness. “She’s not a changeling.”
“You’re the most stubborn pony I ever met,” Thorax continued. “You always were, from the moment you were born. You were always a fighter. Wake up, please.”
I’m sorry, uncle. The other voices receded into the black.
“You are not allowed to quit, Princess,” Thorax said in a dual-toned hiss. “Fight.”
Flurry Heart concentrated on Thorax’s voice.
“Fight,” Thorax ordered. “Come back to us. We need you, Princess.”
Flurry’s muzzle stung. The other voices returned.
“She’s dead, Thorax!” Far Sight shouted.
“Fight, Princess! Or don’t! You never wanted to listen to us before!”
The other side of Flurry’s muzzle stung. I’m tired, Thorax, Flurry tried to snarl.
“If violence is all you’ll listen to, fine!”
Her barrel and chest stung with a series of jabs. Flurry tried to open her mouth and shout at the changeling.
“Pull him off!” Jadis screamed, and the jabs ceased.
“What the hay!” Rainbow shouted.
“She never listens to anything else!” Thorax shrieked. “Ever! Get up, Princess!”
The voices overlapped into a cacophony of shouting. It echoed and reverberated in the darkness around the alicorn, but Flurry wanted nothing more than to go to sleep.
“You want to quit, Princess?” Thorax’s voice cut through the noise. “You just want to leave us all with Chrysalis? And Grover? Wake up!”
His voice swirled around Flurry’s head, and she tried to growl and roll her eyes. Fine. She concentrated, trying to move anything, then summoned everything she had to open her mouth and yell at Thorax.
Flurry Heart inhaled.
Her ragged, gasping cough cut through the voices in the half-melted basement.
And Thorax shrieked in pure joy.
Flurry coughed again and struggled to breathe back in. Every breath took conscious effort. Her ears rang and her nose was clogged. Her eyes were closed, and her right eyelid felt weighed down by something. She only felt distant pins and needles in her body.
“Impossible,” Far Sight mumbled.
She felt large claws gingerly scrub at her head and around her muzzle. “Keep breathing,” Spike whispered. “Don’t open your eyes. Just breathe.” In a harsher voice, he said, “Get every damn medic in the city. Bring up one of the respirators the bugs used on the test subjects.”
“You want to use that?” Lily whickered.
“She can barely breathe on her own.”
Flurry tried to say something in response, but her jaw only trembled. She gave a short, ragged cough.
“Go!” Spike rumbled.
Hooves and claws scattered.
“Get her up on a bed,” Thorax said. “Cadance and Shining’s room. It’s large enough. I’ll get the equipment set up.”
“Teleport?”
“Too risky. Carry her.”
Flurry felt the claws scoop her up and she dangled against scales, belly up. Her wings and legs hung loosely underneath her, and an arm propped up her head. “Breathe,” Spike reminded the alicorn. Her head bobbed slightly from movement, but Flurry could barely feel anything.
Flurry felt the pillows resting under her head after a particularly painful exhale. It made her want to fall asleep, and she faltered and coughed. A sharp pain radiated up from her foreleg as Spike’s talon broke the skin. “Breathe,” he growled loudly. “Don’t fall asleep.”
Flurry coughed and tried to open her eyes. She only managed the left eye. Every color of the rainbow swam in her vision, but she couldn’t close her eye again. She focused on breathing and the splotch of purple and green right in front of her. It sparkled.
Spike tore strips from the bed covers and wiped at her ears and the top of her head. The bedsheets came back red every time and he tossed them away. Flurry’s ears bobbed, uncoordinated, and sounds were muted. The dragon kept reminding her to breathe every minute, and dug a talon into her foreleg if she took too long. His scales glittered in the light.
After several minutes, Flurry scraped enough blood off her tongue in slow movements along her teeth. “Heart,” she croaked in a painful exhale, and raggedly breathed back in.
“Flurry, don’t talk. Just breathe.”
“Heart,” Flurry repeated.
“The Heart is fine. You fixed it. Breathe.”
Flurry’s eye finally focused. Spike’s scales were shiny and partly transparent. One arm was bleeding heavily from missing scales. He wrapped a strip of bed cloth around it. The Crystalling. Flurry’s eye slowly rolled down to her ash-covered, pink fur. She wasn’t sparkling.
“Don’t try to open your right eye,” Spike said. “The crown is melted into the fur all over your muzzle. The eyelid’s covered.” He wiped a strip of cloth under her open mouth. “You’re fine, Flurry,” he said, more to himself than to the alicorn. He adjusted her hooves and wings while Flurry gasped. She could barely feel her limbs move, and her eye wandered to the balcony.
Sunlight poured in from outside.
“Shield,” Flurry rasped.
Spike glanced at the balcony. “You did it,” he assured her. “The shield’s out there.” He clutched her foreleg with a claw. “The storm’s fine.”
Flurry took a deep breath and felt her chest rattle. “Show,” she exhaled.
Spike didn’t reply and kept wiping blood away from her ears and mouth, wherever he could without dealing with the hardened bits of molten gold in her fur. “Show,” Flurry repeated with a wet cough.
“Breathe,” Spike stated.
Flurry stopped breathing and tried to glare at him with her bloody blue eye. Spike dug a talon into her hoof hard enough to draw blood, and Flurry heard the bones in her foreleg pop. She still didn’t breathe.
“Fine,” Spike growled.
Flurry inhaled.
“Thorax was right,” the dragon laughed bitterly. “You are the most stubborn pony ever.” He picked the alicorn up and braced her head against his shoulder. He held the dangling alicorn to his chest as he stepped towards the balcony.
He stopped halfway there as Flurry breathed in again. “What?” he asked in a tone of complete bewilderment. Flurry’s functional eye could only see the scales on his chest. “That’s…” he trailed off and stepped forward slowly. The rebuilt wooden balcony creaked under the dragon's weight.
Spike stood on the balcony for some time, clutching the alicorn to his chest. Flurry tried to slowly move her eye to see the city, but the angle was wrong. “Shield,” she whispered in a low voice, and coughed.
Spike seemingly remembered he was holding her, and slowly turned her head. His claws held her gently. “Breathe,” he said absently as his green eyes rapidly flicked over the city.
Flurry inhaled as her eye wandered over her home.
The Crystal City sparkled in pink-tinged sunlight. Crystal ponies, scarred and lean and broken and tired, stumbled into the streets, staring at their coats with wide eyes. Griffons joined them, gaping at shining feathers and fur and flexing partially transparent claws. Flurry’s eye slowly wandered upwards to beyond the shining buildings. The sky was clear. The storm wall was gone, but she didn’t see the shield.
The sky was pink in every direction.
The shield was pink. Flurry looked again.
The sky was pink in every direction, all the way to the horizon.
The shield stretched into the horizon, in every direction.
Flurry’s head lolled and she looked down at her flank. Her pink fur was emblazoned with the Crystal Heart, surrounded by a blue shield and wreathed in blue flames.
The Empire will be yours, my Amore. Take back what was lost.
“Breathe,” Spike reminded Flurry, and she inhaled again with a wet cough.
They went back inside as teams of ponies and griffons stormed through the palace with medical equipment.
Flurry Heart awoke to the gentle morning light from the balcony being obscured by Spike’s wings. “Breakfast,” he announced quietly, setting a bowl of soup on the nightstand. It was closer to water than actual soup.
Flurry blinked her eye while Spike pulled the alicorn upright in bed and propped her head up with extra pillows. Her wings laid listlessly beside her, stretched out on the bedsheets. Occasionally, the feathers twitched. Flurry grit her teeth and gathered her legs under her body. Her muscles shook from the effort, but Spike was too busy with the soup to notice.
Spike blew a small flame across the crystal bowl and stared critically at the soup. He scooped some of the thin gruel up with a small crystal spoon. It looked absurdly small in his large claws; he pinched the spoon between two talons. “Shake your head if it's too hot,” the dragon advised.
Flurry opened her mouth and swallowed. It is too hot, she thought, but kept that assessment to herself. It would mean waiting an hour for the soup to grow cold, like yesterday. Flurry relished the chance to taste actual food again and not have a tube rammed down her throat. She cast a baleful eye at the ventilator and respirators along the wall of her parent’s bedroom, next to the other assorted medical equipment.
The bare patch of fur on her right hock itched underneath the bandage, and she slowly rubbed her leg against the sheets. Spike noticed the gentle movement. “No more needles,” he assured her, “and the attendants reported your breathing has stabilized during the night. No more tubes.” The dragon spooned up another helping of soup. “Is it too hot?”
Flurry shook her head and continued to eat. Spike moved glacially slow, waiting to make sure she swallowed without difficulty and offering a glass of water with a straw after every spoonful. It took an hour to finish, and Flurry felt a pressure in her stomach. Her hairless tail nub twitched.
“Bedpan?” Spike guessed.
Flurry shook her head in denial and stared towards the bathroom door. She had to fully turn her head to look at it; her right eye was wrapped in gauze. Spike picked the alicorn up off the bed and carried her into the bathroom. Her legs dangled uselessly.
The dragon set her down slowly, waiting for Flurry to set her hind legs down and lean against him. He looked away while she did her business, and her muzzle crinkled as she felt something run down her left hind leg at the end. Spike cleaned her with a towel before carrying her back to the bed, then retrieved a brush. He ran it delicately through her fur around her chest and flanks, then carefully fixed her feathers with practiced claws.
“You know, I had to preen Twilight’s wings for the first year,” Spike said, repeating the same information for the ninth day in a row. “Her magic was too clumsy.” Flurry Heart looked at her reflection in a wall mirror, brought in by Spike after the second week.
A pink, maneless, naked alicorn with patches of missing fur on her muzzle stared back with one weary, blue eye.
Her ponies had to shave the fur off in places to remove the hardened rivulets of gold. Pale, pink fuzz grew back at a glacial pace. Flurry was unconscious when they removed the gold from her right eyelid. Her right eye was fine, but the eyelid needed to heal. Her mane and tail had completely burned away from the magical surge; all that was left was a small bit of charred hair that was shaved off. Only the faint stubs of purple and blue hair could be seen, if one squinted. It would take months to grow back, and it itched badly.
Her eye flicked up to the three black rings that surrounded her horn, preventing her from casting magic. Officially, it was to prevent surges as her magic system slowly recovered, but Flurry suspected that Spike ordered an additional two rings as insurance. She couldn’t cast any spells. Her magic was there, faint, but it exhausted the alicorn to even try to call upon it.
Flurry Heart was the first pony in history to survive Magical Depletion. Not even during Tirek’s magic-stealing rampage had there been a pony totally exhausted of all their magic, to the point where their muscles and limbs could no longer support themselves and internal organs shut down. Flurry spent several days with more wires and tubes running into her than her mother under the Changelings, as the magic and spells from the machines kept her alive until her body could recover enough to take over.
Her heart had stopped for eight minutes.
It stopped the moment before the wave of the Crystalling engulfed the city, and Flurry became the only creature in the city not to be Crystalized by the power of the Heart. Ponies, changelings, and griffons shone with translucent energy for days. The changelings looked the strangest; their black chitin vibrated with every color of the rainbow, including Thorax. Griffon feathers sparkled and caught the light, radiating colors that matched their fur. The effect had gradually worn off over a week, except on the crystal ponies. Their crystal coats remained bright.
It'll be a problem during the war, Flurry groused. They’ll make good targets. We’ll need heavy uniforms. She looked over at Spike’s arm. His new scales were a light purple, almost pink color, and he scratched at them whenever he thought Flurry wasn’t looking.
There were explanations for her survival, though none were quite satisfactory. Far Sight guessed that the magical surge from her cutie mark gave her enough residual magic to survive the burnout, or Thorax had somehow managed to share magic with her like she was a changeling. Some of the more religious griffons believed that Boreas interceded, and one of the nurses asked if Flurry saw anything after her heart stopped. Flurry had a tube in her mouth, so she couldn’t respond. She blinked twice for ‘no.’
Most called it a miracle, and left it at that.
Spike finished brushing out her fur. “There’s a meeting,” he said softly. “It’s on this floor today. Rainbow and the pegasi finished the reconnaissance sweep. Thorax can give you the notes later.”
Flurry shook her head and broke eye contact with her reflection.
“You want to go?” Spike asked.
Flurry nodded.
Spike retrieved the specially crafted harness and folded Flurry’s large wings into the slings, clipping it together. The harness was loose and her wings sagged slightly. Her flight muscles hadn’t recovered enough to hold her wings to her side, let alone fly with her pegasus magic.
Spike set Flurry on the edge of the bed. He pulled out a pair of baggy black sweatpants for her hind legs and flank to protect her modesty. Her tail was gone and hid nothing. Spike set it in the wheelchair, more an oversized cart that a proper chair.
Flurry swallowed. “I’ll walk,” she rasped in a faint whisper.
Spike stared at her with a frown and bit his lip.
“I will walk,” Flurry whispered again, looking over her shoulder at the dragon. Her hind legs dangled off the edge of the bed. She slid down to the floor and they shook with effort.
“Wait,” Spike said and pushed the cart away. He walked over to the stacked medical equipment and rummaged through it. “I’m not Helping Hoof,” Spike called over his shoulder, “but I know how to set up the braces.”
Flurry groaned as Spike walked back with four metal leg braces to help keep her legs rigid and support her weight. They had to be extended to account for her height. Every two days, Helping Hoof and four other worry-eyed nurses would watch Flurry shamble around the room until her coat frothed with exertion, offering the alicorn vapid praise for accomplishing tasks a foal could do blindfolded. They rushed to help her with every stumble.
Flurry bit her lip as Spike affixed the braces to her hind legs, then slid her forelegs into them. He put the baggy pants on over her hind legs and braces, taking care to tuck her tail nub in. Flurry watched as the pants covered the shielded, burning Crystal Heart on her flanks. “Balcony,” Flurry said when he was finished.
“That’s a longer walk, Flurry,” Spike reminded her, staring at the door to the bedroom opposite the balcony.
Flurry swallowed and accepted a drink of water. “I want to see,” she rasped.
Spike carried her and pushed open the balcony doors with a swing of his tail. The two pegasi guards saluted and flew away to give the dragon and alicorn room. Spike slowly set Flurry down, waiting for the braces to click into place before releasing her barrel. Flurry gasped and took a deep breath as she felt her weight strain her legs, then stared out over the city.
The entire horizon was tinged pink in every direction. Clouds drifted inside the shield, high above the spire of the Crystal Palace. Small dots of high-flying pegasi and griffons gathered the clouds together. Flurry looked beyond the outskirts, seeing the distant smoke column of a train making its way from the east. She would need binoculars to see the fields outside the Crystal City, but the ground was brown with diminishing patches of snow. Small, colorful dots tended to the fields, and Flurry could already see furrows from lines of seedlings. She took a breath and tried to guess the temperature.
“Warmest winter on record,” Spike quipped. “At least under the shield. Outside, it’s the second coldest.” He patted her shoulders and checked the harness for her wings. “Rainbow’s got more details.”
One hoof at a time, Flurry turned around, listening to the bracers click. She stared at the door, all the way across her room. Spike stood beside her, waiting. “I can carry you there,” he offered. Flurry knew he knew she wouldn’t accept it. She stepped forward.
It took ten minutes to reach the doorway.
Spike opened the door ahead of her and waited. “Down the hall and on the left,” he explained. “The private dining room.” He held her glass of water in one claw and lowered it. Flurry gulped down a mouthful and coughed, then exited into the hallway.
The guards all along hallway bowed as one, including the two at the door. The Aquileian griffon nearly slammed her beak into the crystal floor and splayed her wings low with one claw clasped to her chest. The unicorn genuflected with his horn and bowed low enough to tap the tip to the floor.
“Rise,” Flurry coughed, but the griffon and pony did not. They only did so once she passed by, slowing moving down the hallway a hoof at a time. The guards ahead of her stayed down, bowing low.
The walk to the dining room took Flurry a minute in her memories. She spent at least an hour making her way down the hallway. The guards stayed bowed until she passed them on shaking hooves. Her coat was sweaty and developed a light froth by the time she made it to the blue crystal door. She panted, mindful that Spike was behind her, waiting for the alicorn to stumble. The two crystal ponies guarding the door were old enough to have served her parents, but their coats practically glowed with light.
“Rise,” Flurry gasped, taking a ragged breath. The mare on the left stood up suddenly with fierce eyes and slammed her hoof three times into the floor. The sound echoed down the hallway and everypony repeated the gesture. The griffons slammed a fist against their chests. The mare on the right opened the door and stepped aside. Flurry blinked, bewildered by the display, but pressed forward on trembling limbs.
As she entered the room, it was clear that the stomp was a signal. Papers, charts and maps had been pushed into the center of the table and everyone stood at attention beside their stools and chairs. Duskcrest, Dusty Mark, and Rainbow Dash stood on one side of the table. Thorax, Heartsong, Barrel Roller, and most surprisingly, Jacques, stood on the other. Jacques’ chair stuck out oddly at the end, as if he had been an unexpected addition. All of them wore dress shirts and pants, or purple uniforms. Waste of cloth, Flurry snorted to herself.
One cushioned crystal stool sat at the end of the rectangular oak table, next to Jacques’ chair. Flurry Heart sighed with relief. It was the closest end to the door, but still a good few body lengths away. As one, everyone dipped their heads to the floor and bowed. Beaks and muzzles scraped the floor.
Flurry took a few shuddering steps so Spike could close the door. “Rise,” she forced her voice to sound louder, and coughed from the effort.
They did not stand back up, not even Rainbow. Her mohawk bobbed slightly.
“Rise,” Flurry repeated, annoyed, and shook her head at Spike’s offering of the glass of water. She took another step forward and suppressed a grimace. Taking a deep breath, she rasped, “The Changelings…will not wait…for me to reach that stool.”
“Perhaps not,” Jacques admitted from the floor, “but we will.” He looked up with smug yellow eyes, but didn’t take his beak off the floor. He laid prone like a pony with arms extended, unlike Duskcrest who held a claw clasped to his chest.
I am going to hit him, Flurry promised herself and trudged forward. Flurry’s harsh exhales and the clicking of the metal braces filled the room with every step. Spike’s claws followed her, clicking quietly against the crystal floor and matching her pace.
Five steps to the stool, Flurry stumbled. She swayed, but stayed upright. The braces did their job and prevented her legs from buckling. Spike’s free claw grabbed under her right foreleg and held her up. He began to lift the alicorn and drag her to the stool. “I’m fine,” Flurry rasped and weakly resisted.
“Release her,” Jacques said softly up to the dragon.
“I don’t take orders from you,” Spike growled down at the prone griffon.
“You take orders from your Princess?” Jacques asked back.
Spike looked down at Flurry. He was along her right side, so the alicorn had to turn her entire head to make eye contact. “I said I’m fine,” Flurry gasped. Spike let go and the alicorn swayed, then took a moment to steady her hooves. Everyone waited while her breathing steadied.
Flurry Heart took the last five steps to the stool in one movement, then collapsed onto it. She barely managed to heave her forelegs onto the table. They laid flat; the bracers prevented her from folding her legs, and Flurry lacked the strength to move them. Her forelegs were shaking badly and covered in froth; her hind legs were equally bad, but the sweatpants covered them. Spike set down the glass of water and refilled it from a pitcher. He tapped the straw with his smallest talon to angle it towards her muzzle. Flurry leaned in and took a long sip, then rasped, “Rise.”
Her advisors took their seats, pointedly not looking at Flurry’s trembling forelegs.
“It is good to see you up and about, Princess,” Barrel offered.
“Yeah,” Rainbow agreed. “You’ll be up and flying in no time.”
“Your crystal ponies will be overjoyed,” Heartsong said.
“We were just wrapping up,” Thorax lied. “I was going to come by and let you know.”
“You look great, Princess,” Dusty said.
“Much better,” Duskcrest added. He opened his flask and took a sip. Flurry smelled strong coffee, but no liquor.
“You look like shit, Little Flurry,” Jacques scoffed. Flurry smiled at that.
Everyone stopped to stare at Jacques, and Spike slapped a large claw down on his shoulder. Jacques didn’t break eye contact with Flurry. “It is true, Sir Spike,” he said absently.
“Punch him for me,” Flurry ordered the dragon.
Spike obliged, hitting the Aquileian across the beak hard enough to knock him out of his chair. Jacques laid on the floor for a moment before sticking his head up. “Flurry hits harder.”
“Why are you here and how are you not unconscious?” Spike asked and shook out his claw.
“I’m here to give an update on the coast, and I have a very thick skull,” Jacques replied. He stood and stumbled slightly. For a moment, his eyes crossed, but he managed to return to the chair. “Let’s give the Princess the short version.” He snapped his talons on a claw and gestured to Rainbow.
“Right,” Rainbow nodded. She wore a flight suit and a pair of snow-crusted goggles hung around her neck. “We’ve scouted the shield. This is where it is.” The pegasus pushed a large map forward and it was passed down to Flurry. She scanned over it with her eye.
It was a map of Equus, the whole continent, with a large oval drawn over the entire north. It looked like it had been redrawn and erased several times. It stretched almost to the coast of Nova Griffonia, nearly to the far northern peninsula and uninhabited arctic islands, then down into northern Equestria. The western edge actually crossed into the Changeling Lands, but just barely. The entire Crystal and Yak mountain ranges were under the shield.
“The map’s not to scale,” Thorax said. “That’s why the edges might look odd. The shield covers almost a third of the continent.”
“The shield is high enough that we have our own clouds and weather system,” Rainbow continued. “Temperature’s gone up inside it, but it’s almost Hearth’s Warming. We’ve spotted wild storm cells in the north, and Equestria’s weather is going to take more of a beating with this giant thing in the way.”
Flurry tried to tap a hoof on the map over the Changeling Lands. Her foreleg just shook. Everyone ignored it.
“How’s the border?” she whispered instead.
Jacques leaned forward, as if looking at the map. “The borders are doing well, Princess,” he said in a loud voice for the rest of the table.
“The Changelings have been pounding the shield with artillery and bombers since the first night,” Heartsong said. “Mostly along their own border. The little sliver of bug land we hold doesn’t have anything of value, but it must stick in Chrysalis’ maw.”
“Edvald and the Herzlanders have advanced to the ruins of Stalliongrad,” Jacques tapped the map near the edge of the shield. “The Reich has seized the port of Petershoof and stopped along the shield.” Jacques tapped a talon on a port city beyond the shield, then drew his claw along the shield edge.
“Attack?” Flurry asked softly.
“The Reich has not attempted to attack or cross the shield,” Jacques said loudly. “Josette and our fliers have spotted their navy in the northern ocean, but they’ve kept their distance.”
“Nopony, no creature, has ever seen anything like this,” Duskcrest said. “There’s never been magic like this.”
“Not without the Elements,” Rainbow countered. “Useless hunks of rock that they are now.”
“We’ve monitored the Crystal Heart for cracks,” Heartsong added. He licked his lips. “It burns, Princess. Ponies feel warmth and heat when they stand close to it, and the surface flickers like there is flame inside. We’ve never seen anything like this.”
Flurry closed her eye. The shield covered the north. She opened her eye and said, “The Heart will hold.”
"Of course, Princess," Heartsong replied with absolute faith.
“With the warming weather, we’ve sent earth ponies out into the fields. We can get crops growing, mostly hay and potatoes,” Thorax said. “We’ll tighten rations, but the permafrost is, well, not as permanent as expected.”
“There are,” Duskcrest searched for a word, “questions about the shield.”
“Far Sight has explained what he knows,” Dusty rebuked the griffon next to her.
Duskcrest clacked his beak in annoyance and shook his flask. “Far Sight has taken up my drinking habit. The crystal ponies found him drunkenly shouting at the Crystal Heart three nights ago.”
Heartsong whickered. “He denies what he sees; it is a miracle.”
“What question?” Flurry sighed. She swallowed and brushed her muzzle against the straw in the glass of water, accidentally knocking it away. Jacques leaned over and grabbed a report, knocking the straw back towards her with his elbow.
Duskcrest hesitated. “Is it safe to pass through?”
Flurry blinked her eye.
“For griffons, I mean,” Duskcrest clarified.
“I made it through fine,” Jacques offered. “If any griffon should have problems, it would be me.”
“Why?” Flurry asked.
“She doesn’t know,” Thorax explained. “I haven’t told her yet.” He laid his hooves on the table and stared at her. The changeling was undisguised and wore a purple uniform and jacket, but his holed hooves still looked shiny. His head fin caught the light in the room and glittered.
“Flurry,” Thorax began softly, “several Changeling garrisons were trapped under the shield when it formed. A few ran east or south, trying to reach the Hegemony’s front line.”
“Our scouts caught up to a couple,” Rainbow chuckled.
“The ones that weren’t caught tried to cross,” Thorax gave Rainbow a dark look. “They burned.”
Flurry waited.
“They melted into ash,” Thorax met her look evenly, “burning with blue fire and arcs of electricity, like your shield spell. Some stripped off their uniforms and threw down their weapons, but they still burned.”
“The Reich soldiers must have seen it near Stalliongrad and spread word, because no griff has tried,” Jacques added.
“Equipment can’t pass through,” Dusty said. “Trucks and trains and everything. We’ve experimented with tossing bullets and grenades, nothing.”
“Hard shield,” Flurry whispered.
“I am…reluctant to ask a changeling to cross,” Thorax admitted.
“And griffons are worried about their families and friends along the coast,” Jacques added.
“Ponies?” Flurry asked.
Rainbow nickered. “Ponies make it through fine. We’ve already had several thousand runners from Equestria.” She laughed. “Saw one earth pony run up to the shield only to bounce off in blue flames. Turns out the thing can tell if the bugs are disguised.”
“Do you think it is safe to cross?” Duskcrest asked Flurry.
Flurry sat for a moment and took another drink as she thought. “I don’t know,” she admitted.
“Sophie has volunteered to cross over,” Jacques supplied, “and we aren’t sure if any griffon has tried on their own, but no griffon has come forward.”
“Except you,” Duskcrest pointed out.
“Well, yes,” he shrugged. “But one good example is an anomaly, not law.”
“It may just be changelings,” Thorax responded.
“I’m sorry,” Flurry apologized. Her voice cracked as forced herself to sound louder.
“Not your fault, Princess,” Thorax immediately answered her. “I’m more worried about the garrisons and the supply lines.”
“Once the Crystal City’s factories are up and running, and the fields are set, we have our supply lines for the entire shield.” Heartsong rapped a hoof on the table.
“Garrisons?” Flurry asked.
The table shared concerned looks. “There are still Changeling troops under the shield,” Spike admitted. “A few of the oil fields and mining towns revolted when the shield appeared, or the Changelings just ran for the shield wall.”
“There’s strike squads of pegasi and griffons flying patrols, but we need unicorns to cast the detection spell,” Rainbow added.
“The shield does a good job of catching changelings coming from the outside,” Dusty said, “but we already caught a few trying to blend in with the pony refugees. Most were killed immediately.”
Thorax licked his fangs and levitated a smaller map over to Flurry. “Rainbow Falls is a large city. Used to be a tourist site. It has a significant slave population working the factories, and it’s close to the southern edge of the shield. A lot of the later Changelings have gathered there after realizing they couldn't get through.”
“Numbers?” Flurry gasped.
“We’ve already encircled the city,” Heartsong stated. “Only a few thousand Changelings in total, at best. Including changeling civilians. Thousands more in ponies.”
Flurry waited.
Thorax heaved a chittering sigh. “They’ve demanded a way through the shield, or they’ll slaughter the ponies. They’re using them to stall an attack.”
“We can take the city,” Barrel said. “It’ll be bloody, but we have the unicorns for the spell.”
“We also have thousands of artillery shells,” Dusty said quietly, “and the guns to fire them.”
“We’re not going to do that,” Spike growled.
“Shell the city,” Flurry ordered, then took several gasping breaths. “Give the Changelings…one chance to surrender. If they give up…take them prisoner.”
“It’s not a well-fortified city,” Barrel said. “An artillery strike will kill thousands of ponies.”
“If they refuse…shell the city,” Flurry repeated slowly. “Tell them that. Tell them…if they harm my ponies…they all die with them.”
The table was quiet.
“They won’t accept that, Flurry,” Thorax said sadly. “They’ll think it’s a bluff.”
“The next time it happens,” Flurry rasped. “They will know it is not.” The alicorn took another drink of water and painfully swallowed. “They will always use…my ponies against me…as long as they believe…I will hesitate,” she enunciated, gasping after every few words.
“The Princess has spoken,” Heartsong intoned.
“None of the other Princesses would give that order,” Barrel sighed, laying his head on his hooves. His lone ear was pinned back. Despite his words, his tone was neutral.
“That’s why we lost,” Rainbow snorted. Barrel didn’t reply to the other pegasus.
“We should discuss that title,” Dusty said.
Spike groaned and Thorax buzzed his wings. Everyone else looked vaguely positive.
Dusty hopped off her stool and stood up straight. Her gray eyes locked onto Flurry. “Princess,” she stated and dipped her head. “I spent my life studying the ancient ruins of the old Crystal Empire in the north.” Her lips quirked into a smile. “Imagine my surprise when the Crystal City returned. Unlike that hack, Daring Do, I spent years doing research.”
“Hay!” Rainbow protested. “She was great! She died a hero for the ELF!” Her metal wing twitched.
“She was a good soldier,” Dusty agreed, “and loyal to Equestria. But she was a terrible researcher, more interested in raiding tombs than preserving them.”
“She fought Caballeron and Ahuizotl! What did you ever do?”
“Rainbow,” Flurry coughed. The mare snapped her jaw shut and settled for glaring at Dusty.
“We know nothing about the early Crystal Empire. The ruins predated Equestria’s founding. Time and Sombra destroyed the records.”
“We remember little,” Heartsong added quietly. “Only your ancestor, Princess Amore.”
You do not deserve the Heart, Usurper. Flurry kept her muzzle still.
Dusty inhaled. “Your shield covers the furthest extent of the ruins I discovered, in every direction. You now control the old borders of the ancient Crystal Empire, reborn under the power of the Heart. You were born under its shadow.”
“You gained your mark with it,” Heartsong stated. “The Empire is yours, by birth and blood and destiny.”
“You have every right to name yourself Crystal Empress,” Dusty finished. “The true heir to Amore.”
Amore would disagree. Flurry leaned forward and took another drink of water, then swallowed and leaned back. She scanned over the room with her eye, judging reactions. Everyone except Spike and Thorax seemed enthusiastic.
“We don’t know anything about the old Crystal Empresses, but they were surely as stubborn as you to live in the Frozen North,” Jacques laughed.
“Claiming the title subordinates Equestria,” Spike advised. “By birth, you are the Princess of the Crystal Empire, Princess of Equestria, and Princess of Ponies. Celestia and Luna never took a higher title so they could rule together.”
“She can still rule Equestria,” Dusty whickered and her gray tail lashed.
“What about Twilight?” Spike asked. “You expect her aunt to be under her?”
“Twilight is dead,” Dusty replied.
“Shut your mouth!” Rainbow snarled. Barrel looked equally offended.
“I will not believe she is dead until I see her body,” Spike answered. “And there is Celestia and Luna.”
“False Princesses,” Heartsong spat. “Cowering a world away. Surely the world knows of this shield. Have they come?”
Spike hesitated. “I wrote Celestia a letter."
“Well, Sir Spike?” Heartsong asked the large dragon.
“She’s concerned about the war,” Spike admitted. “Travel is dangerous.”
Jacques cackled and an argument erupted between the table.
“Claiming the title would put you on equal hooves with the Kaiser,” Thorax said neutrally, “for future negotiations.”
Marriage. Flurry raised her foreleg and let it drop. The bracer clacked against the wood in a dull thump. The sound was barely noticeable, but everyone shut their mouths and waited. Flurry panted from the effort it took to raise her leg. “I do not rule over crystals,” she coughed. “I rule over ponies.”
“And griffons and changelings,” Jacques added, “but I see your point.”
“The Princess of Ponies, the Princess of the Crystal Empire, and the Princess of Equestria,” Thorax nodded.
“The Princess has spoken,” Jacques echoed. “There are other things, but they can wait for now. The radio works, at least. I’ll signal Josette.” He turned to Flurry. “With your permission, Sophie and the Aquileian volunteers will return to the coast. We’ll see if Commander Altiert explodes, but I suspect not.”
“If it is safe, many Nova Griffonians will want to come to the frontier and the Crystal City,” Duskcrest added.
“The shield offers hope,” Heartsong remarked.
“I need to go on the radio,” Flurry said slowly.
“Of course!” Dusty exclaimed. “Ponies will be ecstatic to hear you.”
“I got patrols with Duskcrest to set up,” Rainbow shrugged.
“And I need to manage the refugees with Barrel and Heartsong,” Dusty added.
Flurry nodded. "You may leave," she coughed.
Everyone remained seated. Spike stood in the corner of the room with his arms folded.
Flurry’s legs shook on the table.
“Ah,” Jacques clacked his beak. “I’m sure you want to look over our expected crop yields and reports from the scouts.” He gathered some papers and set them between Flurry’s forelegs on the table.
Flurry slowly bobbed her head.
Jacques stood, bowed low, then left the room without glancing behind him.
The others followed his example, leaving Flurry with Spike and Thorax.
“Do you have anything you need to do?” Spike asked the changeling.
“Interrogations,” Thorax answered. “Some officers surrendered in the northern garrisons in Yakyakistan.” He laid his head on his holed hooves and huffed.
“They gonna live?” Spike snorted.
“No,” Thorax answered bluntly. “The yaks refused to yield, so Chrysalis ordered them wiped out. Rainbow’s scouts already found Yakistown buried underneath years of snow. The Changelings thought there were still survivors in the mountains. I’m pretty sure I can figure out where with some information.”
Spike growled and breathed a small jet of flame. “You want help?”
“Later,” Thorax deflected. “You have anything?”
“Always,” Spike laughed. “I have a lot of numbers to crunch and organize.”
“I need a few minutes,” Flurry said softly.
Spike blinked and noticed her empty glass of water. He grabbed the pitcher and refilled it. He did so quickly and soppily, and some of the water spilled onto the pages between her forelegs.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Clumsy claws.”
“I wasn’t reading them anyway,” Flurry whispered.
Spike stood quietly beside the sitting alicorn, waiting. His tail slowly wrapped around a leg while his wings twitched.
“I was meaning to check-in with the Princess,” Thorax said. “Go ahead, Spike.”
“Uh, right,” Spike confirmed. “I’ll be back later, okay?” he promised. Flurry didn’t watch him leave behind her, but the dragon exited slowly, and Flurry knew he kept looking over his shoulder. The door closed with a thud.
“He loves you very much,” Thorax commented.
“I know,” Flurry whispered. “I don’t want to keep you.”
“I’m not in a rush to torture ‘lings to death,” Thorax deadpanned, “even if they deserve it. I’m tempted to take one of them to the shield and see what happens.”
She forced the words out. “I’m sorry, uncle.”
“Oh, Flurry,” Thorax chittered. He walked over and leaned against the alicorn, nuzzling her. Flurry felt the surprisingly warm chitin rub against the bare patches on her muzzle. “That’s not your fault. I’m not stuck in here, neither is Arex or Gold Muffin or any ‘ling else. We’re right where we want to be.” The changeling pulled back and smiled. “Gold Muffin’s back in Stalliongrad. The ponies left there are happy to see him. A lot of the Herzlanders have communist sympathies, you know.”
“You didn’t tell me he was a communist,” Flurry accused softly.
“You don’t care,” Thorax retorted.
Flurry laughed, and it devolved into a cough. Her chest rattled. Thorax lifted up the glass with his green magic and let Flurry take a few sips. She stayed seated with Thorax next to her for several minutes.
“I need your help,” she finally said. She glanced at the glass of water. “Bathroom.” I won’t make it in time by myself.
“Of course, Princess.” Thorax helped her stand and let the taller alicorn lean against him. “One hoof at a time.” With the changeling’s help, she made it to the doorway in half the time.
Before he knocked on the door for the guards to open it, Flurry stopped him with a nuzzle. “I’ll need your help in the bathroom,” she admitted after a deep breath and closed her eye.
Thorax nuzzled her back and knocked on the door.
Flurry Heart sat before the microphone, enjoying the sensation of depth perception. She winked with her right eye several times and rattled her leg braces against the wooden desk.
“One more moment, Princess,” Soft Speaker requested, adjusting another two microphones with careful hooves. The earth pony retreated out of the room before Flurry replied, probably to whinny at the engineers to start the broadcast.
Flurry stared at her reflection along the crystal wall. It warped oddly, but she could still make out the inhibitor rings on her horn. Combined with the ugly black sweatpants and wing slings, she looked more like a prisoner than a princess. Her scalp and tail itched constantly as the hairs grew back.
Flurry stretched her neck down and took a sip of water from the glass. She waited calmly. The alicorn allowed Spike to wheel her to the radio room, and reserved her replies to simple nods and shakes of her head. There hadn’t been an official announcement, but rumors flew with wings. The Princess would make her first radio address twelve days from Hearth’s Warming.
The entire city is probably waiting, Flurry thought and swallowed another sip of water. She cleared her throat and suppressed a cough. The alicorn imagined ponies and griffons gathered around military radios, pilfered from Changeling armories, or cobbled together from spare parts. Some in Equestria probably know as well.
The Changeling radio in Canterlot had been declaring that the ‘Pink Tumor’ would soon be crushed under holed hooves for several days. It also claimed that nothing lived under it; that the Alicorn of Death had destroyed millions of her ponies and that the merciful Queen Chrysalis opened her heart to welcome any survivors.
The Reich radio in Manehattan simply asked griffons not to approach the shield or fire upon it. The shield had not expanded, and it did not trouble their supply lines. There was no update on their front. “No further news at this time,” a griffon remarked dryly in Herzlander, then signed off with, “Boreas bless the Griffonian Reich.”
A pony speaking for Chancellor River Swirl decried the violence of Equus in generalized terms, but avoided mentioning Flurry or Chrysalis. Flurry hadn't heard Celestia on the radio, not since Blackpeak and Kemerskai's deaths. She had not written Flurry.
Thorax entered in a purple uniform, quietly closing the door behind him. It was a simple uniform, just a loose purple jacket, white undershirt, and poorly dyed pants. The changeling had a purple armband of a white snowflake, with sharp edges spraying out in every direction. The flag of the Crystal Empire, Flurry snorted.
“That’s a waste of cloth, uncle,” she whispered, conserving her voice, “and a waste of dye.”
“Purple’s a good color,” Thorax replied.
“Poor camouflage,” Flurry retorted.
“True,” Thorax nodded. “Most are just wearing armbands on their old uniforms.” He gestured to his undisguised, black chitin. “Wearing the uniform helps, but I’m still keeping ‘lings off the front and with the scouting parties.”
“Are you getting any trouble?” Flurry asked.
“No more than before,” Thorax lied.
Flurry stared at him with both icy eyes.
“Some remember me,” Thorax admitted quietly. “Us, that we were here and we tried. It’s enough to stop a lynching, but we’re not going anywhere alone, even in the palace.”
“How are the foals?”
Thorax licked his fangs. “It’d be better to put them on the coast, but we’re still digging tunnels under the shield in the Nova Griffonian frontier. They’re in Evergreen, in the hotel. Duskcrest’s got some frontier griffons guarding them with a few of my changelings.”
“They’re okay?”
“They’re orphans,” Thorax shrugged. “The older ones know it. Some of the younger ones…” he trailed off.
Flurry waited, glancing at the blinking crystals installed along the wall. They would chime when the radio was ready. “What about the younger ones?”
“They felt all the hate,” Thorax sighed. “A few were nearly beaten or killed in the fall of the palace. They couldn’t shut off their senses. Recovery is hard, but possible. They’ll have problems for the rest of their lives.”
Flurry nodded. “How many?”
“633,” Thorax chittered.
Flurry blinked. “Can you take care of that many?”
“No,” the changeling said, “but we’ll do our best.”
“What do you need? More love?” Flurry stretched out her forelegs. The metal braces clicked as she lifted her trembling legs off the table.
“Your body is still healing, Princess.” Thorax slowly pushed her hooves down. “We’ve always been able to gather ambient emotions and share. Chrysalis just wants to take.”
“There’s no way you have enough stockpiled.”
Thorax didn’t answer her.
“I’ll make an announcement on the radio,” Flurry promised.
“Please. Don’t,” Thorax pleaded.
“Why?”
Thorax closed his eyes. “There are rumors that I’ve…influenced you.”
Flurry’s muzzle crinkled in disgust and anger.
Thorax opened his eyes suddenly. “Not like that!” he exclaimed. “Just that your decisions aren’t your own.”
Flurry snorted. “Anypony who’s met me knows that’s a lie.”
“Many ponies haven’t met you,” Thorax countered. “They know you call a changeling ‘uncle.’ They know you’ve demanded that young changelings be spared.” He lowered his tone. “They know what happened to your mother. They know your father died to the Reich, and you’ve forbidden your soldiers to fire upon them.”
“I’ve killed more Hegemony and Reich soldiers than anypony alive,” Flurry stated.
“That helps,” Thorax admitted shamelessly.
“What do we do?” Flurry sighed.
“Nothing.” Thorax shook his head and his gossamer wings jittered against the purple jacket. “Saying anything will just make the rumors worse.”
Flurry gave the changeling an even look. “I’ve never been one to do nothing.”
Thorax clasped his hooves together. “Please, for me?” he requested.
“Fine,” Flurry snorted, then laughed. “Clearly, there is some truth to those rumors.” Her laughter made her cough, so she took another sip of water as they waited.
Soft Speaker entered, then hesitated at the changeling sitting across from Flurry. “Sir Thorax?” the mare clearly guessed.
“I was never knighted by Princess Cadance,” Thorax replied softly.
“Of course,” Soft Speaker said vacantly, then turned to Flurry. “We’re ready, Princess. You need to be alone in the room. The crystal walls don’t handle the acoustics very well.”
Flurry nodded.
“I’ll meet you outside,” Thorax stated and moved to the door. Soft Speaker backed up nervously and nearly fled the room ahead of the changeling. Thorax closed the door with a burst of green magic.
The pink crystal on the wall chimed and glowed with a soft, faint light.
“Good evening,” Flurry began. She kept her high-pitched voice even and spoke clearly into the microphone. Her throat hurt from the effort. “I am Flurry Heart, Princess of Ponies, broadcasting out of the Crystal City. Sixteen years ago, I was born in the Crystal Palace to Princess Mi Amore Cadenza of the Crystal Empire and Prince Shining Armor of Equestria. Eight years ago, I abandoned you, my ponies, as my home fell.”
Flurry swallowed. “For that, I am sorry. I lived in the north for many years. I have never forgotten my home, nor my ponies that have suffered and died every day under the Hegemony’s cruelty. Ponies of the Crystal Empire and Equestria, I have returned.
“The Changeling Hegemony has been driven from the north of Equus. Their garrisons have been scattered. Hive Marshal Trimmel is dead. As I speak, our brave army and scouts continue to liberate your friends and families.
“By right of birth and bloodline, I name myself Princess of the Crystal Empire. On this day, I declare the Crystal Empire reborn. The Crystal Heart guards the north, and all under its shield is once again territory of the Empire, as it was thousands of years ago.”
Flurry paused for a moment. “No bomb or bullet can break the Heart. Chrysalis has tried for weeks. No changeling can pass through. Their bodies burn, even if disguised. Ponies pass through without difficulty, but no weapons or supplies. Thousands of ponies have already escaped from occupied Equestria.
“My griffons,” Flurry began, “I have not forgotten you. We have determined that the shield is safe to cross, though you must do so without weaponry. I am sorry that the Heart does not extend to the coast, but Weter, Nouveau Aquila, and every other city remain under my protection. An attack on you is a strike against myself. I consider you my ponies in all but name.”
Flurry switched to Aquileian. “I only reclaimed my home through the sacrifices of brave Aquileians, who remembered and fought with my father.”
She changed to Herzlander. “I remember you, my loyal Herzlanders, who have stood by my side since you reached these shores.”
Flurry switched back to Equestrian. “My ponies, I am here for you. All of you, no matter the tribe. I will not wait behind this shield. I am the daughter of Shining Armor and the niece of Twilight Sparkle. I am the Princess of Equestria by right, and I will fight for it. I will die for it,” she promised.
“What I ask of you now is not easy. Veterans of the Great War and the Equestrian Liberation Front, now is the time to fight Chrysalis. Ponies everywhere, now is the time to fight with tooth and hoof. If you cannot fight, look north to the pink sky. I promise, I will come for you.”
Flurry took a deep breath and wished she could massage her throat. Her voice was beginning to give out. She leaned down and drained the glass of water, suppressing a cough.
“This is a message to Queen Chrysalis and the Changelings that follow her,” Flurry coughed in Herzlander. She took a moment to recover. “If you are still under the shield, this is your one chance to surrender. I ask every changeling to surrender now, or kill your Queen and prevent further bloodshed. I will not give in to threats against my ponies. Rainbow Falls proved that, and every changeling in the city died.”
And thousands of my Ponies. Flurry closed her eyes. “I am not the other Princesses. I will not yield in the face of cruelty. You have murdered my Ponies, and you will answer for it, but I am not without mercy. Chrysalis would make this a war between ponies and changelings, but it doesn’t need to be.” Flurry opened her eyes and hesitated.
She decided not to mention Thorax.
“Should you surrender without a fight and release my Ponies, I offer life.” Her eyes hardened. “Should you refuse, I offer fire and blood. I will come for you.”
Flurry’s throat felt like it was on fire, and her glass of water was empty.
“It has been a long, dark night, but look to the pink dawn in the north,” Flurry forced out in Equestrian. “The Crystal Empire stands, and Equestria lives. As long as we live, we have not lost.”
Flurry leaned back on the stool and tapped her horn against a crystal jutting from the wall. It flashed and sent a signal to the audio booth. The pink, glowing crystal on the wall faded.
Thorax entered with a quartz jug of water in his magic. He refilled her glass, and Flurry guzzled it down. “I love you,” she coughed.
“I know.” Thorax filled the glass again. “Good speech. We could hear cheering in the city, not to mention the other floors.”
“I wanted to mention you.”
“It wouldn’t have helped,” Thorax replied. “Every changeling knows who I am, and they know I’m with you.”
Flurry was quiet for a moment. “Will any surrender?”
Thorax considered it. “Queen’s Guard fanatics will fight to the death for her, but most ‘lings fear her or followed for wealth and glory. You’ll have to start winning. No fancy shields, just crush her army in a straight-up fight.”
“Our army can’t do that,” Flurry coughed, “and I’m not that good.”
“The Kaiser’s army can,” the changeling replied.
Six days before Hearth’s Warming, Flurry Heart slowly walked through the throne room. Her wings were no longer in a sling, but they were loosely folded against her sides. The feathers were out of line and the wings needed preening.
The alicorn wore a purple uniform with navy pants. She had a white sash across her chest and another white band for her wings. The uniform’s skirt completely covered her flank and a high white collar buttoned around her neck. She wore two long white boots on her forelegs and two black boots on her hind legs.
The boots and purple sleeves helped muffle the clicking of the braces still attached to her legs, while the nullification rings had been removed from her horn. Flurry’s horn flickered with weak, gold light as she pulled her purple military cap down tighter around her head. It didn’t cover the patches on her muzzle, but it helped cover the worst bald spots near her itchy mane stubble.
“Remind me to ask Far Sight why my magic changed color,” Flurry whispered to her aide.
“Your magic was gold when you were very young, Princess,” Jadis observed quietly as she helped Flurry walk towards the throne. “You were born under the Heart, and have returned to it.” The pair stopped before the short steps to the elevated crystal throne.
The other guards along the walls of the throne room bowed, muzzles and beaks pressed to the floor. They would remain that way until Flurry reached the throne and ordered them to stand. She had learned that from experience.
The alicorn groaned as she finally noticed the purple and white banners swaying from the rafters behind the throne. One bore the white snowflake of the Crystal Empire; the branches radiated outward like the rays of a rising sun. The other banner was Flurry’s cutie mark, the Crystal Heart surrounded by a blue shield engulfed in blue flames.
“Is something wrong, Princess?” Jadis asked, biting her lower lip. The crystal pony nervously smoothed down a sleeve of her own purple uniform.
Plenty, Flurry thought, but shook her head. “You will help me up and sit beside the throne today.”
“As you command, Princess,” Frosty Jadis agreed without any argument.
The alicorn walked the steps slowly, one hoof at a time. Jadis limped beside her, steadying the larger filly with her maimed hoof. Flurry collapsed sideways into the uncomfortable crystal throne; her legs couldn’t fold in the braces, so she propped herself up against the high back.
I look absurd. Flurry cleared her throat. “Rise,” she called out across the room.
The guards were mostly crystal ponies in the throne room, with only a dozen scattered griffons. As one, the creatures rose up and stood straight. The ponies stomped their right hoof three times into the floor, matched by the few griffons pounding their chest with a fist.
Jadis stomped with them, using her left foreleg and leaning heavily on her right. The foreleg shook from the effort, but her glittery, frosty blue coat sparkled in the light of the chandeliers.
“When did that become a thing?” Flurry whispered to her.
“What do you mean, Princess?” Jadis whispered back.
“The stomping,” Flurry clarified.
“It is a gesture of respect,” Jadis replied. “A salute that every creature can do.”
Flurry huffed and scanned over the throne room. The doors had been replaced, though the crystal used was cheap and thin. Thin, plywood boards had been conspicuously placed over a hole in the eastern corner. Above them, the hole in the ceiling was patched with similar wooden boards, except soppily painted to match the blue crystal.
The beam from the Crystal Heart blew a hole through every floor of the palace, all the way to the spire. It was a force that even Flurry couldn’t match. The Heart itself still resided in the basement, floating under its own power and pulsing with heat. It was under guard at all times with a rotating staff. Arex had arranged for changelings to check for any attempted infiltrators.
Yesterday, Flurry had asked Arex if it was possible for the changelings to feed off the Heart. The mare looked worriedly at the surface of the floating crystal, watching the shadows of flames swirl. Her wings buzzed against a purple jacket. The changeling said no, but Flurry suspected she did not want to try.
According to the guards, the Crystal Heart emitted an uncomfortable level of heat if one got too close. When Flurry walked under it in her leg braces, she felt a warm summer’s day. The Heart pulsed like a heartbeat, and whispers echoed in the magic. The guards heard nothing, and Flurry did not ask. She walked away as quickly as she could after the alicorn noticed her metal braces beginning to glow from the burning heat. She did not burn herself, and her coat was cool to the touch.
Flurry told no one what she saw, or heard. Telling them would make it worse. The stares she already got were uncomfortable, even from her closest advisors. Duskcrest quit drinking entirely. Dusty Mark still referred to her as ‘Empress’ occasionally, and her apologies were half-hearted at best. Heartsong and Arctic Lily believed Flurry was fated to restore the Empire. Even Rainbow was strangely deferential. Only Spike, Thorax, and Jacques treated her the same. The crystal ponies stared at her with absolute zeal and loyalty, and the look was spreading to the rest of her forces.
Flurry glanced over to the banner with her cutie mark. “Who made these banners?” she asked loudly.
The guards shifted in their uniforms. Slung rifles clacked against belts and pockets.
“Cloth is a valuable resource,” Flurry continued. “This uniform itself is already absurd.”
“You deserve something that shows you are our Princess,” Jadis replied.
“I already have wings and a horn,” Flurry snorted, “and my ponies deserve bedsheets and winter clothes. Remove these banners and put the cloth to better use. Each according to their need, or whatever Caramel Marks said.”
“The Princess has spoken,” one of the guards near the throne intoned. He stomped his hoof, and the rest of the guards echoed the beat three times.
Flurry gave Jadis an even look when she raised her hoof to stomp with them. The blue crystal pony hesitated and set her hoof down slowly. “If I ordered them to stop doing that, would they?” Flurry asked softly.
Jadis bit her lip. “We’d find something else, Princess.”
Flurry suppressed a sigh. “Send her in. She’s waited long enough.”
The four guards near the front doors pulled them open. The cheap crystal squealed as it rubbed against the floor. A fifth guard stood up straight beside the doors. “Yona of the Yaks!” she belted out and her voice carried across the room.
The figure that entered and slowly approached the throne could barely be considered a yak. Her shaggy brown coat was thin and matted, to the point that her muzzle and eyes were clearly visible. Her light brown eyes were tired and sunken into her muzzle. The yak wore no clothes. Her muscles rippled along her coat, but she was clearly malnourished. The guards at the base of the stairs formed a line before the throne and Yona stopped.
“You stand before Flurry Heart, the Princess of Ponies, the Princess of the Crystal Empire, the Princess of the Principality of Equestria!” the crystal pony at the front of the hall shouted. The guards shut the doors to the courtyard. “The Princess of Hope and the Miracle of the North!”
The guards stomped three times, and the pounding startled Yona. She blinked and looked up to the throne. Flurry frowned down at her, but switched her glare to Jadis. “What the hay?” she whispered. “Princess of Hope? Miracle of the North?”
“I thought you knew, Princess,” Jadis whispered back. “From the radio address. Ponies have called you a miracle since the Heart.”
Flurry crinkled her muzzle. They may as well add the Princess of Rope and Maar’s Daughter to the list. The bodies had only just been removed from the balconies and lampposts around the Empire. The warmer weather made them a concern for disease. Sunburst was flung into a shallow pit with the dead changelings and burned.
She noticed Yona’s wide-eyed look of worry and relaxed. “I apologize, Yona of the Yaks,” she said in a soft voice. “Some of my titles have taken me by surprise. You went to my aunt’s School of Friendship.”
Yona nodded. “Yona did, Princess,” she answered in a strong contralto.
“I must apologize again. I do not know Yak.”
“Not needed, Princess.”
“I am pleased that my scouts managed to find your enclaves in the mountains, Yona of the Yaks,” Flurry said. “My mother enjoyed warm relations with Prince Rutherford.”
“Rutherford is dead,” Yona said bluntly. “Yaks refused to bow before Changelings.”
Flurry chewed on her cheek for a moment. “I am sorry for what happened to your people.”
The first scouts that followed Thorax’s instructions had been fired upon by old rifles from hidden caves in the Yak Mountains. The yaks had no magic to detect who was a changeling or not. Only death could tell. Trimmel had made token efforts throughout the years to carry out the Queen’s will and exterminate them, but his failure to quickly deal with Starlight’s rebellion soured all relations between the Queen and her former Hive Marshal. Trimmel shelled their cities in the low valleys and left the survivors to starve in the mountains. As badly as her ponies suffered, they at least had uses to the Hegemony. Chrysalis wrote off the yaks entirely.
Flurry’s army now totally controlled the area under the shield. They had taken less than a hundred Changelings prisoner, and still scoured the fields and forests for hiding soldiers. Thorax reported that the scouting parties would string up Changelings in low branches and leave their bodies in the cold. Rainbow and Duskcrest always claimed that the scouts were fired upon, but there were very few deaths or injuries in the reported engagements.
Thorax begged Flurry not to pry.
Yona solemnly nodded at Flurry’s words. “Yona speak for Yaks.”
Flurry waited.
“Yaks…have nothing,” Yona sighed. “Yaks are few. Winters hard, but magic saved many.”
The shield raised the temperature.
“Yaks have little food, little weapons. Yaks have only strong back.” She raised a hoof and brushed aside matted bangs from her eyes. “Weaker now, but still strong.”
Flurry wasn’t sure that was a joke, so stayed silent.
Yona stood up straight. “Yaks will work for Princess. Fight for Princess.”
“You wish to be my subjects?” Flurry clarified.
“Yes,” Yona nodded. “I ask that you help us.”
“You do not make demands of the Princess!” a crystal pony at the base of the throne snarled.
“Be silent!” Flurry snapped. “Remove yourself, immediately, before I remove your head.”
Flurry’s horn sparked with a golden flame. The guard looked up over his withers, realized his Princess was speaking directly to him, then fled the room through a side door. Flurry wasn’t sure if he was crying tears of shame or fear. Her horn dimmed and she stared off towards the double doors.
When the Crystal Empire returned, the law codes were nonexistent. Her mother and father copied Equestria’s laws, including those of species rights. Cows, goats, breezies, buffalos, even griffons and dragons, all of them existed in legal loopholes. They were not equal to ponies, on paper or in practice. The Concordat of the Three Tribes was still the bedrock that founded Equestria.
The bat ponies suffered harsh discrimination for a thousand years during Luna’s banishment; Luna only managed to improve their situation with a vigorous public campaign and the help of Twilight and Celestia. The crystal ponies were legally considered Earth Ponies, but rarely ventured into Equestria. The ancient rivalry between griffons and ponies meant suspicion was mutual.
Twilight wanted that to change. Flurry looked down at Yona. The School of Friendship was silly, but Twilight wanted Equestria to be an egalitarian place of many races and cultures. Chrysalis ruined all of that. Flurry glanced at the two griffons standing under her throne, standing as proud as any pony.
“I have little to offer you,” Flurry finally said to Yona. “Only promises. Our fields and factories are still recovering. Rationing will be harsh.”
“Yaks are no strangers to hardship,” Yona replied.
“Do you speak for the yaks?” Flurry asked. “Will they accept your word and agreement?”
“Yes, Princess,” Yona nodded. “The royal line is gone.”
The Yak Khan’s crown is broken! We rule the north!
Flurry shook her head at the echo. “Kneel.”
The Yak knelt slowly and pressed her muzzle against the crystal floor. She bowed like a pony would, with legs outstretched.
Flurry shifted her forelegs and heard the leg braces click as they locked into position. She pulled herself upright and stood before the throne. She swayed for a moment with twitching wings. The throne was uncomfortable, hard crystal and one of her legs fell asleep. Flurry grit her teeth and forced her flight muscles to respond. Her wings extended, feathers wobbling as she raised her large wings up and flared them out.
“I, Flurry Heart, swear to protect and defend you with my life. Your enemies are my enemies. I cannot promise you life. I cannot promise you happiness. I can only promise that I will fight beside you. Yona of the Yaks, do you accept my pledge?”
“Yes,” Yona said quietly.
“I am your Princess,” Flurry confirmed. “Rise again, as one of my ponies.”
Yona stood as the guards pounded the floor three times. She blinked up at Flurry, mildly confused.
“Take word to the yaks,” Flurry ordered. “They may reclaim their mountains in time, but there is much to be done here. We need engineers, new train tracks, factory workers, miners, farmers. We need soldiers that know the snow and terrain of the north. You are welcome in my city, and anywhere in my Empire. We have far too many empty homes.”
Yona dipped her horns. “Yes, my Princess,” she replied, trying out the words. She had a small smile as she left the throne room. The guards opened the doors for her and closed them behind the yak.
Flurry stood, waiting until the doors shut. The moment they did, her wings slumped to the floor with twitching feathers. The alicorn released a hiss at the burn in her muscles. “Jadis,” she whispered, “have some ice brought up to my room.” The crystal pony nearly bounded down the steps, but Flurry extended a hoof. “Later. Help me get there first.”
They descended the steps together and the guards returned to their positions along the walls, except for two griffons. The griffons gave their rifles to their neighboring guards and flapped up to the tapestries, carefully taking them down as Flurry left the room.
On Hearth’s Warming Eve, Flurry stood in her bedroom, watching the sun slowly set to the west through her open balcony. The Crystal City sparkled with light as ponies set out extra enchanted crystals for the night. There were few decorations, but Flurry did spy some trees set up in the Crystal Plaza, decorated with crystals. They would most likely be taken for lumber in a few days.
“The yaks are very enthusiastic workers, Princess,” Arctic Lily reported, “but they don’t have the skillset to work in the factories. Yakyakistan was barely industrialized. Your mother helped Prince Rutherford set up railways just before the war started.”
“They aren’t smashing anything,” Spike snorted. “They’re on their best behavior, even with the Nova Griffonians.”
“Any problems?” Flurry asked. She stood up straight as the armorer, an old obsidian crystal pony, ran a tape measure around her barrel. Her leg braces were propped up against the wall, the only medical equipment still in the room. Flurry’s legs slightly wobbled.
“None worth mentioning,” Spike said.
“I do not wish to hear of any creature being treated poorly based on race,” Flurry stated flatly. “If the yaks must work the fields or the mines, fine, but they do so beside Ponies, not under them. The same for my griffons and changelings.”
“Of course, Princess,” Spike replied.
“And dragons,” Flurry added with a smirk. “When I say I do not wish to hear of it, that is not an excuse to say nothing when it occurs.”
“There is some grumbling that the yaks were given the crystal mansions. Some call it a waste,” Lily reported.
“It is a waste that so few ponies lived in so large houses. Crystal furniture is tough,” Flurry shrugged, “and we’ve already gathered all the expensive materials together. The yaks need the space as much as anypony.”
“That does raise the question of payment,” Spike said. “With the factories up and running, we have the Equestrian Bit, the Imperial Crystal Chip, and the Nova Griffonian Dollar floating around.”
“All of which are defunct currency,” Lily remarked.
“Regardless, things would run better with somepony in charge of the factory. Militia systems and worker management only get us so far.”
“I disagree, Sir Spike,” Lily said with a slight bite.
“Lily,” Flurry stated. “I don’t care how the factories are run, only that they meet the quotas. We need guns, artillery pieces, anti-air." She nickered. "We need anti-tank weaponry. If Caramel Marks and Steel Stallion rose from the dead and promised me that, I’d give them the economy. The Equestrian Bit was accepted everywhere because it was gold. Melt it down if you must.”
“I can do it,” Lily stated with absolute confidence.
“Work with Spike,” Flurry ordered. “With Spike,” she enunciated. The armorer chuckled and wrapped the measuring tape around her right foreleg, clicking his tongue at the note.
“Don’t start with me, Obsidian,” Lily snapped at the armorer, but without any true anger.
“You just gonna hoof everything over to the communists,” Spike huffed and folded his arms.
“As long as they accept me as their Princess, I don't care," Flurry snorted. "It was monarchists that made that ridiculous outfit.”
Her uniform laid on the bed. The alicorn was naked for the measurements. “Is everyone settling into the guest rooms?” Flurry asked. She ordered that the palace’s rooms be used as housing for the command staff, and any spare rooms be used for storage and stockpiling.
“As well as could be,” Lily shrugged. “The Nova Griffons and Equestrians are unused to a crystal bedframe. They desire more comfort.”
Flurry glanced at her own bed, stripped down to one mattress, a few pillows, and one thick sheet. The rest went to others. “They’ll adjust.” She levitated over a small bundle of plain hay from the plate on her nightstand. Flurry chewed through it expressionlessly.
“Comfort is not a crime, Princess,” Spike replied.
“I lived in the Crystal Palace while my ponies bled in trenches,” Flurry mumbled. “I remember salads while they rationed. The hypocrisy broke my mother during the war.”
“The Red Princess,” Obsidian laughed under his breath.
Another nickname, Flurry swallowed the last of her hay.
Spike looked uncomfortable. “Can we…” he trailed off, then rallied his courage. “Can we discuss your mother?”
Flurry levitated over another bundle of hay.
“The chewing disrupts my measurements,” Obsidian said quietly.
The alicorn floated it back over to the plate. “What is there to talk about?” she said flatly.
“Whenever you’re ready, we can hold a funeral. It’s…distressing to look at her in that cocoon by the Crystal Heart.”
“Good. Let ponies see what has been done to their Princess,” Lily spat.
“You never liked her,” Spike growled.
“She had too much of Amore in her,” Lily replied. “Too much fun and frivolity.” The crystal pony caught herself and sighed. “Princess Cadance made up for all of it, in the end.”
Flurry extended a wing at Obsidian’s gentle prod. “I am sorry that Amore was unkind at your mother’s funeral,” the alicorn commented to Lily. “I am afraid I do not know the customs.”
Arctic Lily rocked back, stunned. “H-how do you know that?” she managed after a long silence. “That was a thousand years ago.”
Flurry blinked. The Heart showed me. She instead said, “I asked around about why you started the Red Crystal Workers Party.”
“Your disdain for the crown was well-known, even a thousand years ago,” Obsidian chuckled.
Lily’s ears wilted into her mane. “It is a simple saying, Princess,” she said quietly. “Your mother said the words well, even if they hurt. I’ll make sure to have a book sent to your room.”
Flurry jolted as Obsidian ran the measuring tape around her flank. Her stubby tail twitched, trying to lash in agitation. “Do you need to measure that?” she whinnied.
“Apologies, Princess,” Obsidian said, not sounding that apologetic. He picked up a pencil in his teeth and jotted down more measurements of a loose piece of paper on the cart beside him. “This needs to be as accurate as possible to shape the crystal right.” He set down the measuring tape and held up a long, thin chunk of purple crystal between his forelegs. Obsidian closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, slowly bending the crystal like putty between his hooves. Spike, Flurry, and Lily watched in silence.
After several minutes, Obsidian opened his eyes and gestured for Flurry’s right foreleg. She leaned to the left to correct her weight and raised her leg. The Crystal Pony ignored how her legs shook and slipped the rough greave over her foreleg. It stopped just below her knee. He clicked his teeth and removed it. “I have the measurements. You need to decide on a design, Princess.” Obsidian took up several pages in his teeth and offered them to the alicorn.
Flurry floated them before her muzzle in her golden aura. The designs ranged from slippers and yoke to a full-body suit of crystal. One design looked strikingly similar to her mother’s armor. The purple barding and greaves did not fully cover the legs and cutie mark.
“Your mother chose that design,” Obsidian said quietly. “The crystal was thin, but enchanted to resist small-arms fire and plated onto a steel base. A good balance between mobility and protection. The design second to the right is the armor of the Spellguard of House Amore.”
Flurry looked at that one. It covered the body and barrel fully, but left the legs and neck exposed. Flurry chewed her lip and stared at the last sketch on the right. It had been drawn recently. A pony stood in full-body crystal plating, with a metal gorget around the neck and smaller metal joints around the knees. A crystal helmet completely obscured the pony.
“What’s this one?” Flurry levitated it back.
“Heavy,” Obsidian chuckled. “Thick crystal attached to steel plates. An earth pony would struggle to stand. Essentially, a walking enchanted tank.”
“I am an alicorn,” Flurry said quietly.
Obsidian smiled, revealing three missing teeth in his muzzle. His black coat glittered. “You could bear the weight, but it will not be comfortable. All that crystal means more enchantments could be placed upon it. You could survive an artillery round. I do not know if you could fly.”
“That one,” Flurry confirmed.
Obsidian clearly wanted her to pick that design. He quickly passed another sheet over to Flurry. It was a more detailed design of the helmet, with two alternates. There was a slot to thread the horn through, and a series of crystal spikes around it. One helmet was completely crystal, with a thin slit to see, then one with metal hinges, then a half-helm with metal along the jaw.
“Half-helm,” Flurry said and passed the note back. “I need to see to cast accurately. What about the crystals around the horn slot? Will those get in the way?”
“We’ll lower the spikes on the crown,” Obsidian added. “The crystal may blacken from the heat, but we can enchant the helmet to be resistant. Your eyes and chin will be partially exposed with the half-helm, but the gorget will provide some protection.”
A crown. Flurry had no crown, not since the golden band melted away. Her muzzle was still covered in bald spots, with the largest patches atop her head. They itched with her purple and blue stubble.
“Can you make a purple band?” Flurry asked. “Like my previous crown?”
“Of course,” Obsidian snorted. He passed her another sheet. “For the wings, we don’t have much experience with pegasi, so I’m working with Swift Strike. He was a royal armorer for Canterlot.” This diagram was for crystal plating on her wing joints. Sharp, wicked looking shards of crystal with metal bases extended down through her feathers.
“You will fly slower,” Obsidian warned.
“My wings will be outside the armor, anyway, correct? I need protection.”
He nodded and accepted the sheet back, making a note. “Now, it will be trivial to carve the cutie mark into the crystal and add coloring-”
“No,” Flurry interrupted.
Obsidian hesitated. “I have designs for the chest and barrel…”
Flurry shook her head. “Won’t that weaken the crystal?”
“Trivially, Princess,” Obsidian replied. “I have spent decades designing armor, and my team that still lives are experts in their craft. You will already need a hole for the tail, and we can add a slit to thread the mane through.”
“Unneeded.” Flurry shook her head and twitched her tail nub.
“Well, your hair will grow back, Princess,” Obsidian laughed awkwardly.
“I’ll shave it to wear the armor.”
Obsidian hesitated, then made a note. “Plain,” he said slowly. “Are you certain?”
“I will outgrow the armor anyway,” Flurry remarked.
“It is no trouble, Princess,” Obsidian replied. “We would be happy to add the Imperial Snowflake, or the Crystal Heart. Chrysalis’ armor was exquisitely detailed.”
Flurry blinked and reared her head back. “You made armor for Chrysalis?”
“Oh yes,” Obsidian chuckled. “That’s why my team lived. She was quite taken by your mother’s barding, and desired a better set. We worked for years on it.” He turned and showed the thin scars from lashes along his barrel. “They tried to rush quality.”
“You made armor for Chrysalis?” Flurry repeated. She glanced over at Spike and Lily, who looked completely unconcerned. The alicorn’s horn sparked.
“Yes, it was very finely detailed,” Obsidian laughed to himself. “My best work was the miniscule crystal spikes coated with manticore venom on the inside. Sharp enough to pierce chitin when the straps were tightened.” He sighed. “I wish she wore it. She shipped it out and put it on display in Vesalipolis, beside your mother’s raiment.”
Flurry’s horn dimmed.
“I’ll leave those out, Princess,” Obsidian chuckled. “Are you sure you wish to have nothing?”
“I am the only mare with a horn and wings," Flurry deadpanned. "I already stand taller than most stallions. I imagine I’ll be the only pony wearing full crystal armor. Ugly and efficient.” Like me.
“As you say, Princess,” Obsidian finally relented. He gathered his papers together and rapidly shuffled through them, making his own, disorganized scribblings.
Flurry stood patiently and thought back to the snarling Amore. “Did Amore have armor?”
“No, Princess,” Obsidian answered. “Princess Amore wore loose raiment.”
“A harness,” Flurry remembered.
There is a white mare. Her eyes are tired and sunken. Her crystal armor hangs loosely on her body.
“The Empire will be yours, my Amore.”
“Amore’s mother,” Flurry began. “Her armor was plain.”
Obsidian paused. “I…do not remember, Princess,” he admitted. “My father would have made it.” He closed his eyes. “I worked beside him in the forge.” The crystal pony pressed his gathered papers to his chest and sat on his haunches, trying to remember.
“I’m sorry,” Flurry apologized.
Obsidian burst out laughing. “I remember my father complaining that she cared not for comfort or craft.” He turned to Flurry, smiling with a tear trickling down his brown eyes. “How could I have ever forgotten his bellows of despair at her mundanity? Happy Hearth’s Warming, Princess. Thank you.”
Flurry nodded back and softly smiled. Obsidian gathered his papers on his cart and Arctic Lily helped him leave. Flurry waited until they were gone before stumbling over to the bed and collapsing atop it, ruffling the uniform. Her legs ached.
Spike crossed the room and sat down on the bed. “Whoof,” he huffed at the lack of spring. “You could’ve left more than one mattress.”
“It’s still more plush than the bed in Weter,” Flurry replied. She levitated over a clump of hay and chewed on it.
“Really? Thorax’s couch was nicer.”
“Should’ve ordered your fat, scaled ass off it, then,” Flurry muttered.
Spike laughed. “Did Celestia tell you about Amore’s mother? Or did she tell Cadance?”
“She was a white unicorn,” Flurry replied.
He swung his tail. “Nopony even remembers her name, only Celestia probably. I don't even know if they ever met.”
“I don’t know her name,” Flurry whispered. “She died during Discord’s reign. She wanted her daughter to retake the Empire, all the territory they lost to the snow.”
Spike frowned and rubbed a claw over Flurry’s back. “How do you know that?”
“I…” the alicorn trailed off. I should tell him. And Thorax, at least.
An explosion of light in every color of the rainbow flashed over the city.
Spike pushed himself off the bed and rushed to the balcony, shielding his eyes. Flurry stumbled after him on aching legs. Chrysalis’ bomb flashed through her mind. “Are we under attack?” the alicorn shouted.
“It’s from the east,” Spike answered. “Inside the shield.” He dropped the claw from his eyes and laughed, causing a jet of flame to erupt from his maw.
“What?” Flurry asked and pushed past him. A sideways mushroom-shaped cloud spread along the top of the shield to the east, over Stalliongrad. It pushed several clouds away and shifted through colors.
“A Sonic Rainboom,” Spike explained. “Rainbow Dash. I thought she couldn’t do it with her prosthetic.” A rainbow contrail screeched towards the city from the cloud.
Some Hearth’s Warming gift, Flurry nickered. Ponies were taking cover along buildings in the square below. Bells tolled in steeples. The alicorn stood on the balcony and waved Spike back with a wing. He clamped his claws over his ears.
“Be at peace, my Ponies,” Flurry shouted. “Rainbow Dash has gifted us a Sonic Rainboom. I wish every creature a Happy Hearth’s Warming!” The bells slowly ceased and ponies stood back up, looking around warily.
She stumbled back into her room and levitated the leg braces over. “Help me with these,” she grunted to Spike. “I have to get on the radio and reassure everyone. And Rainbow will have to apologize. I want her singing carols all night to orphans.”
“That’ll torment them. Have you heard her sing?”
Rainbow screeched to a halt at the balcony, skidding her hooves across the crystal floor and nearly slamming into Spike. The dragon caught her with an arm and his feet carved a short trail into the floor as he arrested her momentum.
Rainbow’s mohawk had been blasted back, and her goggles pressed rings into her fur. If she wore a flight suit or jacket, it had been blown away. She heaved for air and her wings spasmed. The metal wing was almost glowing hot.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Flurry said with false sweetness. “You have apologies and caroling to do.” She stuffed her forelegs into the braces and tightened them with a harsh tug of golden magic.
“Princess,” Rainbow rasped and pulled down her goggles.
Flurry registered the pegasus’ wild magenta eyes. “Tell me.”
“There’s a massive battalion of tanks outside Stalliongrad,” Rainbow panted. “Nearly a full division of dogs and some armored knights.”
Flurry’s heart leapt into her throat. “Has the Reich tried to cross? Attack the shield?”
Rainbow shook her head in Spike’s grip. The dragon released her. “They’ve been gathering there for days. Some griffon with a megaphone is standing close to the shield and asking to see you.”
Bronzetail. Flurry blinked. “Who? Name?”
“Gallus,” Rainbow panted. “He went to Twilight’s school. He’s from Griffonstone, like Gilda. I barely recognized him. That’s not why I came.”
The pegasus focused on the Princess. “The Herzlanders are freaking out. The tank battalion has a black and orange banner of a roaring Griffon. Edvald swears it’s the Kaiser’s personal war banner.”
Flurry tightened the straps on her hind legs.
“That’s insane,” Spike protested. “There’s no way the Kaiser of Griffonian Reich is at the frontlines. The last one that did that was Grover II, and he died!”
“Edvald swears it,” Rainbow insisted. “Says the dogs are the personal bodyguards.”
Benito. Flurry stood up and tested her legs.
“He sailed or flew across the ocean to the middle of a warzone?” Spike asked sarcastically. “Who’s back at the Griffenheim? The radio’s quiet.”
“Of course it is,” Flurry said. Her braces clicked as she walked to the balcony. “Why would he announce it? It’s dangerous, like you said.”
“He’s one griffon with no heir,” Spike said, exasperated. “It’s madness to go to the front. He’s practically abandoning the Reich.” He folded his arms. “Did anyone see him? It could be a trap.”
Rainbow flared her wings and began to argue back. “Look, the Herzlanders are spooked. You wanna fly there and tell ‘em to calm down?”
Flurry stepped onto the balcony and tuned out the argument. She extended her wings and let the gentle wind from the fading Rainboom flow through her feathers. High above her at the top of the spire, the Imperial Snowflake fluttered in the wind. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply while her horn glowed gold.
“Grover’s here,” Flurry said.
Spike and Rainbow stopped arguing.
“Uh, you sure, Princess?” Rainbow asked.
“I’m sure.” Flurry opened her eyes. “Rainbow, I need you to fly back, no Rainboom, and tell Gallus that I’ll be there tomorrow. I’m sorry you’ll have to spend Hearth’s Warming Eve in Stalliongrad.”
“No sweat,” Rainbow shrugged. “The Reds still have good vodka.”
“Spike, help me get to the radio room to reassure everyone about the blast. Then call a meeting. I’m not going to be able to fly there, so we’ll need a convoy.”
“That’s not enough time, Princess,” Spike replied.
“I’m supposed to be able to teleport,” Flurry reminded him. Her horn flickered. “My magic has barely recovered.”
“We could delay it. Make them wait.”
“No,” Flurry shook her head. “I need to get this done now.” She walked away from the balcony and jerked her head towards it. “Go, Rainbow.”
The pegasus bowed, then took a running leap off the balcony, flaring her wings and soaring east. The alicorn and the dragon watched her catch an updraft and soar away.
Flurry turned and looked at her rumpled uniform. “Let’s clean that up. I’ll wear it. The boots will hide the braces and the hat will hide the worst patches.” She levitated her black sweatpants from the small dresser and hitched them over her hind legs to cover herself.
“You still look…” Spike stopped.
“I look like shit,” Flurry laughed. “Hopefully, Grover’s into that. I met him covered in Chrysalis’ blood in a janitor’s closet. This is an improvement.”
“Flurry.” Spike worried with his tail and his wings twitched. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “No one knows about the deal.”
“Apparently, the Reich doesn’t either,” Flurry retorted. “Let’s find out.” She slowly walked to the door. “Give me a hoof, uncle Spike. Or a claw, in your case.”
Spike opened the door and followed Flurry out. The guards in the hallway stomped their hooves or pounded their chests. Flurry stood tall and slowly walked to the radio room. Spike kept a claw on her back, between her wings. Flurry Heart was grateful for it.
If you accept, consider Nova Griffonia a dowry.
The communists made their last stand in Stalliongrad, two days trot south of the Nova Griffonian border. The government in Weter had accepted the Equestrian refugees with open wings, anticipating an economic boom and cheap labor, but the followers of Caramel Marks and the Equalists of Starlight Glimmer were far too much trouble. Nova Griffonia had barely averted Highhill’s coup, and the bandits in the frontier were already predisposed towards Redtail’s communists. Nova Griffonia simply forbid Stalliongrad’s militias from crossing the border. Of course, ponies fled anyway, but many did so without their families and friends.
Many more stayed behind.
The ponies of northern Equestria had always been far from the Princess’ gaze in Canterlot, despite the great city of Princessyn standing in the north for centuries. It was no wonder they had birthed a new ideology, just as Starlight Glimmer did in her village within spitting distance of the Nova Griffonian border. It was also no wonder they renamed Princessyn to Stalliongrad after one of their early leaders.
Despite Starlight Glimmer’s renunciation of equalism and the Royal Sisters' wariness of communism, the Soviet of Stalliongrad did not attempt to flee. They stayed in their city with their ponies, and were blown apart in the artillery bombardment in the last days of the Great War. Chrysalis ordered the city shelled into oblivion, doubtlessly angry that some changelings readily accepted equality.
Ponies with more courage than an alicorn, Flurry huffed. She sat in the back of a half-track as it trundled down what was once a neighborhood street. The alicorn stared through a reinforced window at the rubble lining the road.
Stalliongrad had been utterly destroyed, and Chrysalis ordered it to remain that way. It made garrisoning the southern border of Nova Griffonia difficult for the Changelings. They lost their best possible supply hub and the largest trainyard in the north. Flurry watched the skeletal brick framework of small houses pass by. She didn’t see any movement.
“Ponies still lived here?” she asked Thorax.
“Princess?” The changeling blinked and stopped shuffling through a pile of papers in a folder. He bounced along on the opposite bench in the back of the half-track. Frosty Jadis bounced along beside him, staring out a small window and scanning the rubble. Both of them wore purple uniforms, complete with small caps with the Imperial Snowflake.
Where are they getting those? Flurry shook the thought from her head. “Ponies lived here? In the ruins?”
“The Changelings lightly garrisoned the north,” Thorax responded. “The Love Tax was centered in the heartlands around Canterlot and Manehattan. Severyana was always a poor area, and Chrysalis destroyed the only industrial core. The only use in holding it was to blockade Nova Griffonia.”
“They used incendiary shells, Princess,” Jadis added, frowning out the porthole. Her hoof shook against the stock of her rifle in agitation. “I can tell by the damage. Look at the scorch marks on the brick. They wanted the city to burn.”
Flurry turned back to the window. A chimney, all that remained of a house, drifted past. The red brick was black along the entire length. “Ponies lived here?” Flurry repeated.
“In basements and bunkers, raiding convoys and supply trucks for almost a decade,” Thorax responded. “Governor Lilac had been given most of the territory, but she didn’t even have the garrisons to control Manehattan and the outskirts.”
“Okay,” Flurry nodded. The alicorn shifted against the bench; she wore her purple and white uniform with navy pants. She laid on her side and her legs stuck out stiffly. Her tall hoof boots covered part of the braces, and her leggings covered the rest, but it was a poor disguise. The braces were bulky and the outlines were clearly visible. It’ll look better when I’m standing, Flurry assured herself.
She self-consciously tugged her purple cap tight against her ears with her horn. The band on the front of the cap was stamped with the blue crystal heart; it hid the worst of the fuzzy bald patches, but it made her head itch even worse. Her stubby tail was tucked in under her pants and purple skirt. Flurry caught her reflection in the glass. She still had several patches along her muzzle and around her eyes, but they were slowly filling in with pink fuzz. It was obvious her mane was either cut short under the cap, or entirely gone. Her pale blue eyes were still bloodshot, and the contrast between the red veins and her irises made it very noticeable.
Flurry looked back to her uncle. “Let’s review. According to the most recent refugees, the Reich has completely stalled just before the Everfree to the west. In the north, the shield is blocking their advance. In the south, Baltimare rose up and threw out the garrison months ago. Southeast Equestria is complete anarchy.”
“The Austral Protectorate was never governable,” Thorax chuckled bitterly. “Bat ponies, communists, anarchists, all united trying to kill Changelings. The southeast was the least-developed region of Equestria to begin with. Chrysalis wanted the oil and rubber. The governors resorted to using slave plantations with fortified walls and fences.”
“It’s an all-out war down there now,” Flurry summarized.
“With the Changelings falling back, yes,” Thorax shrugged. “Bat ponies in the jungles are fighting with Baltimare, the Ponies Republic of Baltimare is fighting with the Reich, and everypony is fighting the Changelings.”
“Grover’s position is incredibly weak,” Flurry stated. “He’s completely dependent of supply convoys from the Reich, and he only has Manehattan as a port.”
“There are other port cities along the coast, Princess,” Thorax countered. “If he crossed the ocean, he would’ve landed at Petershoof.”
“If?” Flurry nickered.
“This could easily be a trap, Princess,” Jadis said, still looking out the window.
Flurry took a deep breath.
“The Reich has the largest army in the world,” Thorax said quickly, interrupting Flurry before she could reply. “Chrysalis has the second. The Equestrians that came through the shield near the front line report that the fighting has been sporadic and disorganized for months.”
“Grover can’t bring his entire army across the ocean and leave the Reich vulnerable to the River Federation,” Flurry stated.
“This is a war of attrition,” Thorax agreed. “The more Chrysalis throws at the front, the more of Equestria she’ll lose to revolt.”
Revolt for me, Flurry thought. She glanced out the window again as the half-track slowed. “Stalliongrad never loved Princesses. Are we safe here?”
“That’s what I’m worried about, Princess,” Jadis nodded.
Thorax smiled and fully exposed his fangs. He rapped his hoof on the hatch to the driver and machine-gunner. After a moment, the earth pony in the turret opened the door and stuck his head through.
“Corporal Cranberry,” Thorax said genially, “do you believe it is safe for the Princess to see your home from the turret?”
“Of course!” Cranberry whickered. His tail lashed against his tan uniform in anger. Flurry realized it was an old Stalliongrad uniform, but the earth pony wrapped a strip of purple cloth around his right foreleg.
Thorax leaned over and helped Flurry Heart stand. She had to duck slightly in the half-track. Cranberry shuffled around them apologetically, rubbing against Jadis while she sat propped up and watching out the porthole. The crystal pony’s white tail cracked the earth pony across the muzzle as he shuffled along the bench.
It was a long struggle to stuff her stiff forelegs through the hatch, then rear up and lean against the machine gun. Her hat almost fell off, and Flurry held it in place with a burst of magic. She was a very obvious target, awkwardly sticking out of the top of the turret for any sniper to see. Her wings were pinned to her sides.
Flurry’s half-track was seventh in a line of nearly two dozen vehicles, half of them canvas trucks. All of them were Changeling equipment, painted with purple stripes and the Imperial Snowflake scratched over Chrysalis’ pronged crown on the hood.
Flurry saw nothing but low ruins, echoes of houses and families. The weather was brisk, but far too warm for the seasonal snow. It had completely melted and fully exposed the bones of Stalliongrad, all the houses and factories that had been destroyed. The convoy slowed as it approached the center of the city, heading south to the edge of the shield. For a moment, Flurry was lost, imagining the foundations covered completely by snow.
“Princess!” a tiny voice shouted.
Flurry blinked and looked down.
An earth pony filly was running along the side of the road, nimbly leaping over exposed bricks. She was barely more than a foal. “Princess!” she shouted again, trying to be heard over the engine.
Flurry strained her right foreleg to wave awkwardly.
The filly stopped atop of a pile of bricks and waved back with a wild foreleg.
The convoy slowed to a halt in a large square in front of the shell of a ruined building. It was a massive concrete foundation, but Flurry couldn’t even begin to guess what it once was. Parts of the building had been built back up with scraps of wood and loose bricks, resembling an apocalyptic shantytown.
Despite this, the ponies, griffons, and even a few changelings gathered about in apparent cheer, smiling and laughing. The ones waiting in the plaza wore a wild, clashing mix of uniforms, ranging from Stalliongrad to New Marelander. Griffon and pony alike had a purple armband. Some looked professionally made, some were reused scarves, and some were clearly torn bedsheets. They still wore them with clear pride.
“Princess!” a red earth pony shouted, pointing at the alicorn on the half-track. The call was taken up by several others, but the soldiers had enough restraint not to rush the stopped vehicles. “Happy Hearth’s Warming, Princess!” the stallion shouted in a Stalliongrad accent, raising a hoof. The crowd rapidly echoed the greeting. Some propped up colts and fillies on their back to see her better.
It is Hearth’s Warming, Flurry remembered. She stared at the red stallion, also remembering Red Dawn and the body swinging from a low branch. Then she remembered the crunch of the mare’s muzzle against her head. The stallion stood next to a younger griffon, smiling happily and jabbing the female griffon with a foreleg when he noticed Flurry staring at them. The griffon waved.
Flurry waved back slowly, then spotted Spike exiting the truck in the front, cracking his back with a low groan. The long drive was doubtlessly uncomfortable for him, and the dragon flapped his wings to stretch them out. Her soldiers formed a loose cordon around the parked convoy.
Thorax exited and stood beside the half-track. “Flurry!” he shouted up to her, then pointed up with a foreleg. Flurry followed it. The tallest remaining structure in Stalliongrad was a large three-story steel girder, now fashioned as a flag pole. A ragged Imperial Snowflake flew under a burning Crystal Heart, clearly homemade.
“Waste of cloth,” Flurry called down, frowning.
“Not to them,” Thorax called back.
Gold Muffin flew from the crowd, buzzing his wings. The changeling only wore a snow hat and purple scarf. For a moment, some of the guards in the convoy tensed, but Gold Muffin raised his hooves over his head. Flurry’s horn sparked as she tried to summon a shield around him, but she only managed a few golden flickers. She quickly dropped the spell.
Gold Muffin managed to approach and embrace Thorax warmly. “Welcome to Princessyn!” he called up to Flurry. The dual-tones of his voice made the Stalliongrad accent sound even thicker.
“What?” Flurry blinked.
“We renamed it. Or, uh, back to the original name.”
“Why?” she shouted down.
Gold Muffin buzzed his wings to fly up to the turret, but remained a respectful distance away. “It seemed fair to name it after the Miracle of the North, Princess. We could name it Flurrygrad.”
“That’s stupid,” Flurry said flatly.
Gold Muffin licked his fangs, looking incredibly embarrassed.
It was his idea. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I don’t care about the name.”
“I’m the last member of the Stalliongrad Soviet,” Gold Muffin admitted. “I was with Thorax when the city fell. We had a few smuggling routes over the border. The city is yours, Princess. Thousands died every winter to the cold. The shield saved them.”
Flurry stared out over the gathered crowd, at least over three thousand. Rainbow flapped her wings with some other pegasi just below the flags, waving her forelegs. She was too far away to tell for certain, but Flurry imagined the mare was probably very drunk.
“Step back,” Flurry ordered Gold Muffin. She inhaled and gave him a side-eye. Gold Muffin wisely landed and stepped away.
“Happy Hearth’s Warming to all of you, my Ponies,” Flurry stated in the full Royal Voice. The half-track rattled and Flurry watched the bullets jump in the belt affixed to the machinegun.
The crowd whinnied in a wild cheer.
“This city,” Flurry voice overpowered the combined noise, “shall remain Stalliongrad, in honor of the heroes that died defending it. Defending you, my ponies, in your darkest hours. I do not need a city named after me to do my duty. I do not need strips of cloth with my mark. Long live Stalliongrad. As long as we live, we have not lost.”
The crowd roared loud enough that Flurry’s ears pinned back. She stayed in the turret for several minutes, waving stiffly and awkwardly until Thorax helped her back down into the half-track. “Is there anything I could possibly say to make them stop?” Flurry muttered to the changeling, laying back down on the seat.
“No,” Thorax chuckled.
Flurry waited until Cranberry squeezed his way past and back into the turret. It was too cramped to bow in the back of the half-track, so the earth pony settled for just sobbing wordlessly at Flurry and trying to hug her. Jadis practically rammed him back and shut the hatch to the front. “That was reckless, Thorax,” she huffed. “Are you sure the area is secure?”
“When the shield came down and stranded what was left of the Hegemony’s garrisons, the Stalliongraders came out of hiding and ran them down as they tried to retreat,” Thorax replied calmly. “They hunted them down in the rubble with the Herzlanders and chased them to the shield. It was a great first impression for everyone.”
Thorax’s tone made something in Flurry’s stomach twist. “Uncle, are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Flurry,” Thorax assured her.
“You’re not fine.”
“Neither are you,” he shrugged.
“I don’t want this to be a war between ponies and changelings,” Flurry repeated.
“It is, Princess,” Thorax disagreed. “There will be a time where I’ll ask you for help, but it isn’t now.”
Flurry shifted her legs. “I don’t understand.”
“You will when I ask.”
Spike stuck his head through the door. “Last leg. Rainbow’s joined up with the scouts.” He gave Flurry a half-lidded look. “That was a bit reckless.”
“It was Thorax’s idea,” Jadis answered.
Spike glanced at the changeling. “Really? Next time, disguise yourself as Flurry and do it, so the sniper takes you out. You’ll survive a headshot, since you apparently lack a brain.” He shut the rear door. The half-track's engine rumbled, and the convoy restarted through the city.
“That was harsh,” Flurry commented.
“We needed to stop and get an update on the shield anyway,” Thorax answered. “I knew there was no way Rainbow was going to keep quiet, nor the Herzlanders. It does everyone some good to see you’ve recovered.”
“She’s hardly recovered,” Jadis snorted. “We should wait.”
“I’m supposed to be able to teleport,” Flurry reminded her, “and fly. It looks worse the longer I make him wait.”
“You look…” Jadis clamped her muzzle shut, unwilling to insult the alicorn.
“I look awful.” Flurry said the words for her.
“Your condition wasn’t a secret in the Crystal City,” Thorax said. “I imagine rumors have spread beyond the shield by this point. Grover was reclusive enough for a time that there were fears he’d been replaced. That cannot happen here.”
His blue eyes bore into Flurry. “Chrysalis claimed your mother was alive for years, along with Twilight. She felt confident enough in the lie to go to Aquileia as Cadance. It is dangerous, but the more ponies see you, the more hope they have that you are real.”
“The Princess of Hope,” Jadis whickered quietly. She rubbed her maimed hoof.
Flurry stared back at Thorax. “You don’t think Twilight is alive,” she guessed.
Thorax closed his eyes. “I want her to be,” he chittered and buzzed his wings. “I really do, but Grover is negotiating because you are the last true Princess of Ponies, no matter what you said in a letter.”
"You think they'll stop cheering if I admit I asked him to marry me?" Flurry asked softly.
Thorax considered it.
"It is clearly a sacrifice," Jadis nickered. "No."
The trio sat in silence until the half-track stopped again. They had been driving over dirt and grass for nearly an hour. Flurry’s ears flicked as Cranberry racked the machinegun. Jadis stepped out through the rear hatch and checked her rifle. She stepped to the side and disappeared from sight as Spike poked his head in again.
“We’re lined up at the edge of the shield, and on the other side is a full battalion of heavy tanks, plus several divisions of knights and dogs. With the Edvald’s griffs and the Stalliongraders, we’re only outnumbered four to one,” the dragon said with false cheer.
“They can’t take weapons across the shield,” Flurry replied. “Or tanks.”
“Do you know about enchanted armor?” Spike asked.
“No.”
“Then they could still rush us.”
“If they can even get through. To do what? Fly up and try to kill me?” Flurry asked. “This is a shit trap.”
Spike bit his lip. “Answer me honestly: If it came to it, could you fly or teleport away?”
Flurry paused. “No.”
“If something happens,” Thorax said, “I’ve told Spike to grab you and fly to Stalliongrad. We have an evacuation route setup.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“I also told Spike to punch you as hard as he can, until either your muzzle or his claw breaks.”
Flurry glared at Spike. “Good luck with that. You couldn’t even knockout Jacques.”
“He’s unnatural,” the dragon said stiffly. “My talons smarted for days.”
“Please, Flurry,” Thorax said. “No arguments. You can try to kill him once you've fully recovered.”
“Fine,” Flurry sighed. “Okay.”
Thorax stared at her.
“Okay!” she replied defensively. “I will leave with Spike. I promise.”
The changeling nodded, satisfied at her honesty.
“Edvald’s got some extra details,” Spike rumbled. “They can’t see you from this angle. You can step out.”
Thorax helped Flurry step down from the rear hatch. The cloth muffled the clicking of her braces. She stretched her large wings, extending the primary feathers and flicking them.
Edvald and Rainbow walked forward from around the front of the half-track. The moment the burgundy griffon saw the Princess, he clasped a claw to his chest. He paused only for a moment, then proceeded behind the half-track, out of sight from the opposing tanks. He was wearing the gray uniform of the Reich, but the color had washed out over time; a strip of purple cloth was tied around his right arm.
He bowed fully with spread wings. Rainbow copied him. "Rise," Flurry said. "Happy Hearth's Warming."
Rainbow swayed. "Happy Hearth's Warming, Princess," she hiccupped.
“Princess, many dogs and griffons,” Edvald said in rough Equestrian.
“Herzlander will be easier,” Flurry said in his native language.
“Just so,” Edvald replied in Herzlander, then stood and pressed his claw against his chest again. “The Kaiser’s personal detachment of guards are present, led by Benito.”
“I know him,” Flurry replied.
“Several knightly orders are also present. We spotted the banners and the Knight-Captains for Hellquill and Longsword, among many other minor chapters.”
“Have you seen Grover?”
“No,” he admitted. “Only the blue griffon named Gallus of Griffonstone.”
Spike didn’t know Herzlander, but recognized the name. “I remember Gallus from Twilight’s school.”
“So do I,” Rainbow wheezed.
“Are you sober enough to be here?” Spike growled.
Impressively, Rainbow actually stood up straight and glared up at Spike with bloodshot magenta eyes. “Yes,” she said in a perfectly clear voice. The pegasus wore a Wonderbolt flight jacket over a sleek, padded jumpsuit.
“Continue,” Flurry requested in Herzlander to Edvald.
“We have two defensive trench lines before the edge of the shield,” Edvald summarized. “You’ll see them immediately. The dogs are known for their tunnels and mining. We’ve been watching and listening, but they haven’t tried to dig under the shield.”
“You sure?”
“Yes,” Edvald said confidently. “They’ve been waiting, fairly nervously.”
“Why?”
“I haven’t seen any Aquileian ponies on their side,” Edvald shrugged. “I don’t know what defenses they have against disguised changelings.”
“There are a few potions and rituals,” Thorax replied in Herzlander. “None of them are easy, and most are native to Zebrica.”
“Anything else?” Flurry asked.
“They haven’t tried to cross over, not even the dogs. If shooting breaks out, aim for the griffons wearing winter coats.” Edvald gestured to his own short-sleeved uniform. “Or the knights.”
“If they attempt an ambush, the Princess is going to Stalliongrad,” Thorax replied.
“Just so,” Edvald agreed. “That was advice for you, good sir.” He glanced at the Princess and bowed again with wings extended. “By your leave.”
“Thorax, Spike, Rainbow, and Edvald,” Flurry stated. “You’re standing with me. Thorax, stick close and tell me if anyone lies.”
“Of course,” Thorax answered and checked his pistol, holstered near his flank. “We’ll go first.” Spike only wore baggy cargo pants. He cracked his neck. The changeling and the dragon walked around the half-track, followed by Edvald. The griffon checked his submachine gun, slung under a wing.
Rainbow touched up her mohawk with a hoof, then grinned at Flurry. “Age before beauty,” she winked, then slipped on a pair of aviator sunglasses from a pocket on her flight jacket. Her metal wing gleamed in the afternoon sun.
Flurry took a deep breath and followed, holding her head up high.
The two defensive trench lines weren’t very wide, but the ponies and griffons propped them with sandbags and Changeling heavy machine guns. Two anti-tank guns sat in embankments on either end, crewed by Herzlanders. Flurry followed Rainbow slowly, making it look as if she was taking her time. She glanced over her shoulder at the line of trucks and half-tracks behind her.
Beyond the shield, it was a very snowy Hearth’s Warming day. A decently strong wind blew snowflakes up against the shield, and they crackled and melted in small sparks. The edge where the shield touched the ground was muddy from the heat and melting snow, but immediately beyond it snowdrifts piled up. The Reich tanks were incredibly large, out-massing Trimmel’s panzers with long barrels and several machinegun ports, painted with orange and yellow stripes on a black hull.
Griffon crews struggled to sweep snow off of them, but most of that activity ceased as a line of knights advanced towards the shield. The metal-clad griffons wore full plate armor, which was either relics or enchanted to resist small-arms fire, and plunged their claws and paws into the snow, standing at attention with flared wings. The tank crews climbed back down with flapping wings, or crawled into hatches, shouting commands. The knights stood impassively as the snow gathered on their armor.
The armor’s big enough that they could be shivering, Flurry snorted. No one could tell.
A short blue griffon wearing a heavy black leather coat sat in the snow ahead of them, holding a megaphone in one claw and puffing his breath into the other. He was wearing black boots, black gloves, and black pants, but Flurry and her group stopped too far away to see his expression.
The griffon looked up and registered the tall pony standing in the middle of the diverse group. The griffon rubbed his yellow beak with a glove before lifting up the megaphone. “Princess Flurry Heart?” he shouted.
“Can you tell if someone is lying this far away?” Flurry asked Thorax.
“No, Princess.”
“You can shout back easily,” Spike replied.
“Yes, but that’s rude.” There was a plank of wood serving as a bridge across the second trench.
“You’re concerned about being rude?” Spike scoffed.
Flurry stepped forward and slowly walked over the wooden plank, listening as it creaked under her weight. Everyone else flapped their wings and hopped over. The alicorn nodded down at her soldiers in the trench, who either stomped a hoof into the frozen mud or beat a claw to their chests.
She stopped between the two trenches. “You need to be closer,” she said to Thorax.
He bit his lip with a fang. “Yes.”
“No,” Spike countered.
Flurry walked over the next wooden plank before an argument could erupt. She stopped just after crossing. The alicorn was close enough to Gallus that she could make out his expression. He was blinking rapidly in the snow, more focused on Rainbow and Spike than her, but realized that she was staring at him and raised the megaphone again.
“Princess Flurry Heart?” Gallus asked with nervous blue eyes.
“Gallus of Griffonstone,” she called back, not putting her full power into the Royal Voice. “You went to the School of Friendship with my aunt.”
Gallus paused. “Yes, that is why I’m here,” he said in Equestrian.
“You have a rank, Gallus?” Rainbow shouted in her drill-instructor voice. “You finally make something of yourself?”
“I am an advisor to the Kaiser of the Griffonian Reich,” Gallus called back.
“Really? That doesn’t sound like an actual thing!” Rainbow said mockingly. “You don’t need to make up titles to impress me, Gallus!”
“Rainbow,” Spike growled under his breath.
“Gilda’s fine, Rainbow!” Gallus shouted. “She’s a pilot now. She’s in Manehattan.”
Rainbow didn’t answer, and Flurry glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. The pegasus stood very still, breathing shallowly. Flurry returned to Gallus. “Why are you here, Gallus of Griffonstone?”
“The Kaiser asked me to be here. Are you Princess Flurry Heart?”
Flurry raised her wings. “Who else would I be?”
“A changeling,” Gallus answered. “You stand next to one, after all.”
“This is a trick to get you to come closer,” Thorax said quietly.
“What could I say to convince you?” Flurry asked.
“You could step through the shield,” Gallus suggested. “We have seen it burn changelings.”
“Are you a changeling?” Flurry countered. “Step through it yourself.”
Gallus hesitated. “I asked first,” he said weakly.
“My griffons pass through fine,” Flurry shrugged, “as long as you carry no weapons.”
Gallus looked back at the line of knights behind him and nervously took a step forward.
“He’ll be fine, right?” Rainbow asked.
“I have no idea,” Flurry admitted. She glanced at Rainbow and saw her concerningly looking towards Gallus and nibbling her lower lip. Gallus slowly walked forwards. As he reached the edge of the shield, the blue griffon stretched out a claw and closed his eyes.
Shit. “Wait,” Flurry called out. She trotted forward as quickly as she could.
“Princess!” Spike hissed under his breath and advanced after her. The others followed.
Flurry stopped several body lengths away from Gallus, standing on dead grass. “I don’t know if the shield will kill you, but best not risk it. Twilight would never forgive me.”
“Thank you, Princess,” Gallus said quietly. Flurry had to strain her ears to hear it.
“Is Grover here?” Flurry called out.
Gallus stared at Flurry silently, then gestured with a claw over his shoulder. Spike tensed beside the alicorn. A gray dog's head appeared over the shoulders of two of the knights.
Benito. A paw raised in a signal.
Gallus looked back apologetically. “I’m sorry, Princess,” he muttered.
Flurry’s heart skipped a beat. No.
“This is going to be very annoying,” Gallus continued muttering, then raised his megaphone up to his beak.
“Grover von Greifenstein, sixth of his name, Kaiser of the Griffonian Reich!” Gallus shouted through the megaphone in Equestrian. “King of Vedina, King of Cloudbury, King of Aquileia, King of Wingbardy, Grand Prince of the Evi Valley!” He stopped to take a breath. “Chosen of Boreas, Arcturius, and Eyr! The Kaiser of Griffonkind!”
Several trumpets sounded from behind the line of knights, and a tank fired off a colored firework shell. It lit up the sky in a bright flare to the south. Several of the dog divisions howled while the knights pounded their chest plates and screeched.
Flurry and her group watched the display expressionlessly. Gallus lowered the megaphone and rolled his eyes as subtly as he could. “None of you say a word,” Flurry said under the noise from beyond the shield. Rainbow bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood, shaking with muffled laughter.
“Before or after,” Flurry continued, “and plug your ears.” Edvald turned back and gestured a claw, giving a signal that was passed along the trench line. Flurry waited in silence until the noise stopped from beyond the shield. She took a breath.
“I am the Princess of Ponies.” Her voice echoed and rippled across the pink shield. Brief bursts of blue flames crackled into existence along the surface, then dissipated. Gallus took a step back on reflex.
Behind him, the line of knights parted and a gray dog wearing a heavy winter coat stepped through, followed by a tall griffon. Benito still wore his ceremonial saber on one hip and a pistol on the other. He kept one paw on the sheath as he approached in heavy black boots. The dog’s gray muzzle had whitened with age, but his brown eyes were still sharp. He eyed the dragon and the changeling warily.
Flurry only recognized the griffon from pictures. Grover VI wore a fur-lined black long coat with a high collar, partially open to expose a grey dress shirt and orange sash. The sash was covered in medals. He wore black boots and gloves, walking on all fours through the snow with his tan wings folded against the coat. Grover’s beak was no longer too large for his head, and thin, wire-framed glasses perched atop his beak and hooked into darker tan feathers swept back under his crown.
His bright blue eyes paused on Flurry for a heartbeat, then swept over her followers and the defensive line. His beak was still. He was wearing the Reichstone; the heavy golden crown had gathered a thin layer of snow, but the jewels were still visible. Benito and Grover stopped beside Gallus, perhaps three body lengths away from the edge of the shield, just before the ground turned muddy. Grover brushed some snow off his right sleeve with a casual swipe of his glove.
They stood closer to the shield than Flurry. She stepped forward, listening to the muffled clicking of her braces. “Flurry,” Spike hissed softly.
“He’s in far more danger than I am,” Flurry whispered from the side of her muzzle. Thorax, Rainbow, and Edvald followed without complaint or objection. Flurry stopped several hooves away from the pink wall, watching the wind blow snowflakes against it.
The Princess and the Kaiser stared at each other.
“I shall speak in Equestrian,” Grover said in a careful, received pronunciation, “so there will be no misunderstandings.”
“Herzlander is perfectly fine,” Flurry replied in his language. “I try to learn the languages of all my subjects,” she echoed.
Grover’s beak twitched slightly. “Do you, Princess of Ponies?” he said in Herzlander. “I was under the impression that every alicorn was awarded that title for simply existing.”
“Not all alicorns deserve it,” Flurry replied.
“You no longer claim Equestria or the Crystal Empire then?”
“Words are wind, so the Herzlanders say. I do not need words to claim what is mine by right.” Flurry raised her left wing and swept it towards the shield.
“I see a large wall of magic that is preventing either of us from advancing,” Grover replied.
“My ponies see hope.”
“Your ponies are trying very hard not to be liberated,” Grover answered. “They assault my supply lines, attack my garrisons, and loot my equipment. They attack the Reich and Hegemony alike. Your radio address has done more to hurt them than help.”
“Why should they believe you are here to help them, Kaiser? Because you claim it?”
“Yes,” Grover said bluntly.
Flurry glanced at Thorax, but the changeling just shrugged a gossamer wing, mouthing, “Too vague.”
The alicorn clicked her tongue. “You claimed you wanted to help your subjects, too. That griffons could leave if they wish, then your army chased them off the continent.”
“Rebels and Terrorists.” Grover clacked his beak in return. “I have heard stories that the lampposts and balconies of the Empire swing with the dead.”
“How’s my accent?” Flurry asked suddenly, tilting her head.
Grover blinked. “Katerin,” he said.
“I learned your language from a griffon from Katerin,” Flurry nodded. “Her name is Katherine. You had her entire family arrested for what? Socialism? Communism? They were peasants. They were no threat to you.”
“Revolutions grow from small seeds, Princess of Ponies. You stand just outside the result.”
“I stand outside a city flying my mark,” Flurry refuted. “Katherine would like me to kill you.”
Benito’s paw tightened around his saber and Gallus swallowed. Grover looked unimpressed, but he brushed his long coat back to reveal a holstered pistol. “I see. Do you take orders from your subjects?”
“She held a gun to my head,” Flurry said shamelessly, “on the final night of your bombing. My griffons are terrified I will make a deal with you and sacrifice them.”
“Your griffons? As the Kaiser of Griffonkind, am I expected to ignore the millions of griffons under your spell?”
“Yes,” Flurry said bluntly, “and I will ignore the millions of Aquileians and the ponies of the Borderlands.”
Grover snapped his beak and raised a claw to his chin, rubbing away some snow. He squinted at her, then pulled a piece of paper from his jacket and carefully unfolded it. It appeared to be blank, but his eyes scanned over the page. “You threatened to blow up my home.”
“I said I would kill you,” Flurry corrected.
“You should not make that claim in front of my guards or my knights,” Grover warned.
“It’s not a claim,” Flurry replied bluntly. “I was preparing to fly to Griffenheim and burn it to the ground the night your bombers turned away. You cut it very close.”
Grover scanned over the group, looking from Throax, then Spike and Rainbow, and settled on Edvald. “You are wearing a Reichsarmee uniform," he observed. "Not a high-ranking one, at that.”
Edvald looked to Flurry. She nodded. “Cloth is a valuable commodity,” Edvald answered in Herzlander.
“It is traditional for a griffon to bow before the Kaiser,” Benito growled. His voice was a deep, reverberating baritone.
Edvald swallowed and placed his talons flush against the earth. “I serve the Princess.”
“The Princess of Ponies,” Grover clarified. “Do you believe she cares for you? Do you know how many griffons she has killed?”
“She is far kinder than you ever were,” Edvald snapped. “You drove thousands of your subjects into the sea. We loved you and you spat on us from your palace.”
Benito snarled and drew his saber.
“At peace, Benito,” Grover said calmly. His eyes were hard. “My navy and air force screech for your horn, Princess.”
“I imagine they do. Why have you come here, in that case?”
“You made an offer, Princess of Ponies.” Grover raised a wing to shelter the paper from the falling snow. “The subordination of Equestria and the Crystal Empire in exchange for Nova Griffonia.”
“That is not what I offered,” Flurry stated.
“Among other things,” Grover said vaguely. He gave a pointed look at her followers. “You have not announced anything.”
“Neither have you,” Flurry answered. She stepped forward closer to the edge of the shield, waving her wing to keep her group back. “I can only imagine how your griffons will screech when they hear you have come to see your bride,” she said softly in Equestrian.
Grover’s eyes flicked over her group. Spike and Rainbow tensed. Thorax and Edvald remained impassive. Flurry looked at Gallus, who didn’t appear shocked, then Benito, who just looked upset and snarled at the alicorn. Standing on his hind legs, he was slightly taller than Flurry.
I’m taller than Grover, Flurry realized with a smirk. Of course I am, I’m a long-legged freak. “I’m happy to see you, Benito,” Flurry said with genuine honesty. “I’m glad you’re alright.”
“You threaten to kill my Kaiser then pour honeyed words into my ears,” Benito barked.
“I remember that you helped me escape,” Flurry replied. “Thank you.” She dipped her head, and her cap nearly fell off. She brought her head up quickly and clamped down on it in a flicker of golden magic. “How is Bronzetail?" she asked to Grover. "You were going to promote him.”
“Dead,” Grover answered. His eyes looked to Thorax. “He was in charge of the amphibious landing at Nouveau Aquila. You killed him.”
Flurry’s stomach sank.
“Liar,” Thorax hissed and marched forward.
“You trust the word of a changeling?” Grover asked.
Flurry bared her teeth at him. “Far more than you. If you lie to me again, I will step through the shield and tear your head off.” She said it loudly, loud enough for the knights to raise their machine guns or draw blades. Gallus slunk to the side, holding the megaphone in his claws.
“You would not survive the attempt.” Grover raised his wings and waved them. The knights stepped back and away from the shield. “Field Marshal Bronzetail is in Manehattan. It is the only port I fully control. Your ponies have done everything in their power to resist my soldiers. While we stand here, they attack my supply lines. If I did not know better, I would believe they prefer Chrysalis.”
“You couldn’t even get a pony on the radio to scream your praises.”
“Wind Rider offered,” Grover replied.
Flurry whinnied in laughter. “The pegasus supremacist? That’s who you’ve allied with?”
“He had the most militias ready, and was willing to cooperate.”
“He sucked Lilac’s cock for years,” Flurry said bluntly in Equestrian. “You’re allying with the ponies that sold out Equestria. No wonder you’re losing.”
Grover either blushed at the profanity, or flushed in anger. “I am not losing.”
“Starlight made it farther in half the time with salvaged equipment.”
“Starlight Glimmer lost.”
Flurry smirked. "She did."
“I am not the one hiding behind a shield,” Grover stated. His tone evened out. “You speak of coming for your ponies, but how long will that take? You have nothing. Chrysalis has her core of veterans, an army that dwarfs yours tenfold. Wars are not won by hope.”
“I need your army,” Flurry admitted. “And you need me.”
“I do not need you,” Grover countered. “I can let you sit behind this shield while I liberate your home. The ponies will know it was griffons that saved them, not their so-called Princess. You are free to sit on the radio and make speeches, Princess of Ponies.”
Flurry ground her teeth. “You’ve already admitted they won’t be grateful. I can wait behind this shield until the River Federation attacks the Reich.”
“Chancellor River Swirl can barely keep Parliament from voting her out,” Grover scoffed. “The communists gain numbers every year, and the dogs of Diamond Mountain oppose every policy. The old nobility of Wittenland whinny from their mountains while Lake City and Bakara run against her mandate. They will never attack.”
“Not now,” Flurry agreed, “but what about in two years? As your army wastes away in the fields of Equestria and the snow of the Empire? Chrysalis could not hold the continent, nor can you.”
“I have tried a soft claw,” Grover said in a low growl. His voice cracked slightly. “I have offered a claw in friendship. I offered it to you.”
“On the wings of a terrified student,” Flurry replied. “What happened to Frederick?”
“Who?” Grover asked blithely.
Thorax hissed.
“Frederick Sharp. You know his name. I told you to let him go.”
“What will you do if I said I had him executed?” Grover asked. “Will you step through this shield and kill me?”
“I will walk away,” Flurry said. “Fight your war as you wish.”
“I can win it without you,” Grover claimed. “I have tried to be generous, but I can easily order my garrisons to begin executions. It would be a harsh Hearth’s Warming present, for ponies to know that their Princess abandoned them. You have killed thousands of my soldiers. I could repay you with civilian blood.”
“That won’t work on me,” Flurry said quietly. “Others have tried. What happened to Frederick?”
Grover stared at Flurry, then over to Thorax and looked the changeling in the eye. “I released his entire family. I let them go without charges. I let him go, even though he defied my orders.”
Flurry glanced at Thorax. The changeling nodded.
Grover rolled his eyes and wiped snow off his glasses with a cloth. “They repaid my mercy by flying to the River Federation and lying about how badly I tortured them. I did nothing. Their accommodations were far better than most.”
“You did torture him,” Flurry accused. “You threatened to kill his entire family if he failed.”
“Words are wind,” Grover scoffed.
“Did you mean them?”
“Did you mean your words?” Grover asked back. “You offered a great deal.”
“Yes,” Flurry said. “Answer my question, Kaiser of the Reich.”
Grover stared at Flurry for a long time as snowflakes burst into little sparks against the shield. He looked to Thorax. “Yes.”
Flurry turned her head to look at the changeling. Thorax hesitated, but nodded after a moment. “He guards himself well, Princess, but he is honest.”
“Good,” Flurry replied.
“I offered you a chance to save your home, and you threw it aside for one griffon?” Grover asked in Equestrian.
“I threw it aside for my griffons,” Flurry clarified in Equestrian. “For the Aquileians and Herzlanders and Nova Griffonians that would’ve died fighting you. They are my ponies in all but name. You will never have them.”
“You offered marriage,” Grover said bluntly in Herzlander.
“I did,” Flurry confirmed in Herzlander. “With my hoof in marriage, you will have an ally and the legitimacy you badly need to end this war quickly. When the war is done, there will be no power on the planet that could oppose you.”
“Ponies and griffons cannot have cubs,” Grover countered. “That may not be a difficulty for you, Princess, but I have no reason to end my line.”
“Your grandfather was known for his consorts. I may not be immortal either.”
“Grover IV was a glutton that sowed the wind that nearly cast down my father,” Grover replied. “He installed a mirror on the roof of the bedchamber so he could watch his conquests.”
Benito coughed.
“I have no desire to repeat his mistakes,” Grover finished.
“It is a mistake to marry me?” Flurry chuckled. “You are blessed by Boreas, are you not? What better proof than marrying an alicorn? The only natural born alicorn in history?”
“Alicorns are nothing to the Gods,” Grover countered. “Our Gods raise the sun.”
Flurry gave him a look through the shield. “Equestria will be dependent on foreign aid to rebuild, so will the Crystal Empire. I can promise oil fields, gems, and crystals. Magical healing is far quicker and more effective than your best hospitals. Aquileia’s standard of living was better than the Reich’s for that reason.”
“You have not told your army about your desperate offer,” Grover guessed.
“Neither have you,” Flurry retorted. “I imagine it may spur the River Federation to attack, or for your griffons to revolt. Regardless, alliances are sealed in marriage between nobility. That is true for griffons and ponies alike.”
“You have admitted your griffons are afraid you will surrender them.”
“I will not give them up, and you will confirm it.”
“You do not make demands of the Kaiser,” Benito snarled.
“Benito!” Grover squawked. “Back to the line!”
“My Kaiser?” Benito whimpered and took his paw away from his saber.
“Do so immediately,” Grover continued. “Gallus, remain.”
The blue griffon nodded and huffed in the cold. Benito gave a withering look to Grover, but slowly trudged back. He walked backwards, eyes on Flurry Heart and a paw on his saber.
“Marriage is a sacred union for griffons,” Grover began. “I have been told herding is not as common as the stereotypes claim, but you surely understand monogamy.”
“Worry about your lineage, not me. I don’t care if you have a mistress to further your line,” Flurry whickered. “Surely a political union is not a difficult concept for most to accept. My ponies will understand in time.”
“Griffons expect the wife to follow the husband’s wings.”
“You can be on top,” Flurry offered. “I’m a bit bigger anyway, and that’s the normal position.”
The Kaiser choked on his reply. Gallus squawked. On her side of the shield, Spike huffed a short burst of flame, understanding some of what she said. Edvald coughed into a claw. Thorax heaved a chittering sigh.
Rainbow blinked. “Was something funny?" she asked in Equestrian. "Gilda didn’t bother teaching me shit.”
“You have a coarse tongue, Princess,” Grover managed.
“I certainly hope not,” Flurry said with high-pitched sweetness. “That will make things difficult. Beaks don't seem too practical in the bedroom.”
Grover pinched his beak. “Marriage is a sacred union, blessed by the Gods. Regardless of political reasons, we will be expected to share a bed on the night of the wedding. It is traditional.”
“Oh,” Flurry replied and squinted. “Do griffons like to watch?”
“There used to be an audience to make sure the marriage was consummated.”
“There’s an audience right now, if you wish. It’s very cold on your side. Can you preform?”
Grover stamped his claw into the snow. “You mock me,” he snarled. “I kept to my agreement. I promised to help you. You spat on my beak.”
“I will lift my tail as often as you like if it means my ponies will be free,” Flurry answered evenly. “Equestria and the Crystal Empire are mine, to govern as I please. Nova Griffonia no longer exists.”
“What do I get for this alliance,” Grover asked, “aside from vague promises? Marriage or death was your offer.”
“It worked for Guinevere,” Flurry shrugged.
“The Aquileians are wrong. She begged Grover II, on her knees.”
“I’m not one to beg.”
“Even to save your ponies?” Grover asked. His blue eyes burned.
“We need each other’s help to end this, or our empires will die together.”
Grover didn’t reply.
“You swore to Maar you’d help me,” Flurry prompted him, “and so you get Maar’s Daughter as a bride. You get something none of your ancestors ever had.”
“My ancestors did not dream of alicorns.”
“Since our species first met, we’ve fought each other. You get a Princess to bow to you and acknowledge the Reich. Grover the Great never managed that.”
“I am not marrying you in a snowdrift,” Grover spat. “Griffons will cry that you have cast a curse upon me, like with Hellcrest.”
“I didn’t do anything to him.”
“Really?” Grover scoffed. “He flew all the way to Griffenheim on bloody wings, but I was in Feathisia, overseeing the Roland in drydock. You destroyed the Artur and killed thousands of my Griffons.”
“It sank quickly,” Flurry answered.
“He died on the dock, stumbling up to me with a letter in his claw and screeching of a curse as his heart gave out. He said you cursed him to make his heart explode if he failed to deliver the letter.”
“I cast the changeling detection spell and bluffed,” Flurry replied with a slight shrug. “I teleported him halfway there to give him a hoof. He was a poor admiral anyway. I thought captains were meant to go down with the ship?”
Grover coughed, and it sounded like he was suppressing a chuckle. He brushed more falling snow off his sleeves, but the Reichstone was now more white than gold. The griffon shook his head.
“You will announce that you have reached an agreement with the Kaiser of the Griffonian Reich,” Grover stated, “I will cede you the territory of Nova Griffonia, and you will confirm your support of my army to defeat Chrysalis.”
“That’s very generous of you, Kaiser Grover.”
“The River Federation will panic if you announced our marriage, and it is trouble I do not need,” Grover admitted flippantly, as if an invasion of his home territory would be a nuisance at worst. “You will announce our marriage at the war’s end, and you will fly to Griffenheim and marry me before the Archons. It will be a griffon marriage.”
“Fine,” Flurry agreed. “The Principality of Equestria and the Crystal Empire are mine, to govern as I please.”
“Within reason,” Grover countered. “Your lands are in shambles. Our industry will grow rich off rebuilding it for you.”
“I am fully aware my home will be your puppet,” Flurry snarled, “but I will not. They are my subjects, and you will confirm that.”
“I will,” Grover shrugged a wing. “If you can keep control of them.”
“Can you keep control of yours?” Flurry retorted. “Don’t they screech for my horn?”
“It will be dealt with,” Grover replied.
“And I will deal with mine.”
“Start with Manehattan," Grover said. "Bronzetail spent a short time there during the rebellion, but he struggles with the boroughs.”
“You made a deal with Wind Rider,” Flurry whickered.
“He’s your subject. You deal with him.”
“I will,” Flurry smiled, “but he lost the right to call himself one of my ponies the day he marched up to Lilac.”
Grover laughed bitterly. It was a short, screeching laugh. “And you condemn what I did?”
“To protestors and loyal griffons,” Flurry answered. “Katherine and her family loved you.”
“They were not protestors; they were terrorists, fed by Kemerskai to lead another revolution.”
“Kemerskai couldn’t tie shoelaces together,” Flurry snorted. “I don’t need Thorax to tell me that’s a lie.”
“How many of your subjects have you killed?” Grover asked. “Or are they simply not your subjects because they refuse you?”
Flurry took a breath. “Like my griffons refused you, Kaiser? If you cannot see the difference between the griffons behind me and Wind Rider, you are truly lost.”
Grover stared past Flurry, to the trench line, then to Edvald standing behind her. His claw brushed against his holstered pistol, then he flapped his long coat closed. He stared slightly up at Flurry Heart. “I doubt your forces have sufficient fighting strength to make a difference. They will support my advance, manage the weather, and help the supply lines.”
“You underestimate them.”
“Starlight Glimmer fought with disorganized militia and lost everything. I will not weaken my army by relying on yours in combat. They will provide support, in peace and war.”
“Fine,” Flurry agreed. “I said that anyway in the letter.”
“I will not specify demands standing in a snowdrift,” Grover scoffed, “but Reich goods will not be tariffed, amongst many other things.”
“I’m stupid,” Flurry shrugged. “Write down a list and I’ll run it through my friends. When do you want me in Manehattan?”
Grover paused. “Is tomorrow not sufficient, Princess?” He was close enough to see some of the patches on her muzzle. Flurry looked down at her legs, but the boots and pants covered the braces.
“Four days,” Flurry deflected. “I’ll announce an alliance from Manehattan Radio.”
“Field Marshal Elias will speak in my name with you,” Grover added. “A ceasefire to focus on the true threat of Chrysalis. The River Federation dare not attack at that. They may claim our reports of labor camps and starving ponies are exaggerated, but Celestia is too dear to River Swirl.”
He is worried about the border, Flurry realized.
He looked past her towards Rainbow Dash. “The Element of Generosity is currently in a cell with several associates. She refused to speak for my invasion, and I suspect her word may be detrimental. She made uniforms for Chrysalis’ army.”
“I will deal with her,” Flurry said, “and the others.” She nodded back to Rainbow.
“So be it. They are your subjects,” Grover confirmed. He sat on his haunches in the snow. “I, Grover von Greifenstein, sixth of my name and the Kaiser of Griffonkind, accept your proposal, Princess of Ponies.”
In more ways than one, Flurry thought. “I, Flurry Heart, the Princess of Ponies, will honor our agreement.”
Grover removed his glove from his right claw and thrust his arm forward in an offered clawshake.
Flurry stared at the shield wall between them. Grover’s bright blue eyes smirked as he sat with folded wings. She thought of Kemerskai looking down at her dirty, disheveled feathers in the Capitol. Gallus stood behind the Kaiser with the megaphone, flapping his wings nervously.
“As we say, words are wind,” Grover commented. “I suppose you do not have to shake my claw if you do not wish to.”
“It’s a challenge to make you come to him,” Thorax whispered.
“It’s a trap,” Spike agreed.
“A trap to show weakness, perhaps,” Flurry said softly. She looked over her shoulder to Rainbow and Edvald, then the trench line and vehicles behind them. The soldiers were tense, and had watched the entire exchange with weapons at the ready.
Flurry stared back at Grover, waiting with an outstretched claw. She lowered her head and raised a wing, taking off her cap and tucking it underneath her folded wing. The wind would blow it way. Then, she pulled off her front right boot with a weak magic field and set it on the ground. The alicorn rolled up her sleeve to fully expose the metal brace along her leg.
“Flurry, no,” Spike said. He put a claw on her shoulder to hold her back.
“That shows more weakness than anything I could do,” Flurry said quietly. “Let go and stay behind. You think he’ll kill me, uncle?”
“No, because there’s no way he’ll fly fast enough to outrun Spike,” Thorax answered. “Or Rainbow. Or me.”
Spike released her and Flurry walked forward. Her leg brace clicked quietly until she stopped at the edge of the shield. The ground beyond was muddy for several hoof lengths from the melted snow. Flurry slowly raised her leg and hobbled forward on three hooves.
Flurry passed through the shield, and felt the temperature abruptly drop. The wind brushed snowflakes onto her thin patches of fur. They melted against the skin and itched. Her purple and blue mane stubble was too short to sway in the wind, but gathered melting snowflakes. Her boots were sucked down into the mud, and it took Flurry several moments to pull her stiff legs free and keep going. She flared her wings out for balance, feeling the strain in her muscles.
Grover’s beak twitched downwards and his claw lowered marginally. He stared blankly at her as she stumbled through the snow up to him. Benito stomped up through the snow behind the Kaiser, while the line of knights readied their guns. Grover’s head snapped away from the approaching Princess and he glared behind him. Benito stopped dead and the knights lowered their guns.
Flurry reached Grover and extended her hoof. Her leg brace clicked louder than the wind. Grover accepted the hoof and gently shook it up and down. His talons tapped against the metal.
When he sat on his haunches, Flurry and Grover’s eyes were equal. His black winter coat made appear him bulkier than he truly was, and his tan cheek fur still had a bit of a dimple. The glasses actually made him look a bit older. Grover looked above Flurry’s eyes, staring at her rough stubble and patches, then made eye contact with her bloodshot eyes.
“Are you all right?” he asked. His voice cracked, no longer as deep and authoritative.
“Don’t worry,” Flurry assured him in Herzlander. “At the rate your army is advancing, it will have grown back by the wedding.”
Grover blinked and his blue eyes sharpened. “That depends on your ponies, Princess,” he said in a deeper voice. He let go of Flurry’s hoof. “I need my supply lines.”
Flurry nodded. “You’ll get them.” She slowly turned around and trudged back through the snow, then went through the shield horn first. The alicorn was mildly surprised she wasn’t shot in the back. She set her hooves down on dead grass and shook the mud from her boots, then walked up to Spike, Thorax, Rainbow, and Edvald.
“That went well,” Rainbow said cheerfully. “I have no idea what you were saying to him, but everyone’s alive.”
Flurry pulled on her boot. “I need to work on flight lessons. We have a trip to Manehattan.”
“I’m going,” Spike said.
“You’re staying to help manage the Empire, so is Thorax. I’m taking Rainbow and some scouts.”
“What are we doing in Manehattan?” Rainbow asked.
“We’re going to kill Wind Rider,” Flurry answered, “and announce we’re fighting Chrysalis with the Reich.”
Rainbow smiled gleefully. “Awesome.”
Edvald turned to the trench line. “The Princess has spoken!” he screeched in Herzlander. He beat his fist against his breast three times, and the soldiers in the trench echoed it. The soldiers in the turrets on the half-tracks pounded against the metal.
Flurry looked over her shoulder as she replaced her cap. Grover had tugged his glove back on and walked back with Gallus and Benito. The knights moved to encircle them and block them from view before they disappeared behind the line of tanks. At the last moment, Grover stuck his head up and looked back over his shoulder. He stared back towards Flurry.
The Princess and the Kaiser were too far away to make out each other’s expressions.
They both looked back down and kept walking away.
“The Princess needs to rest,” Rainbow insisted.
“Mhm,” the white-furred griffon answered. He stopped and landed on a cloud, signaling with a claw for the other knights to fan out.
Flurry Heart landed heavily on another cloud beside Rainbow Dash. Her wings splayed out beside her barrel. “Just gimme a moment,” the alicorn panted.
“The Princess needs a few minutes,” Rainbow yelled again, calling out to the armored griffon.
“Mhm.”
“Does he even understand Equestrian?” Rainbow asked Flurry in a low voice.
“Yes, Captain Geralt understands Equestrian,” Flurry answered. She levitated her canteen to her lips and gulped down a mouthful of water.
The armored griffon scanned the sky with yellow eyes. His beak was hooked like it was perpetually frowning. He flexed his greaves against the soft, pillowy surface of the cloud while he waited.
“He never answers any of us,” Rainbow countered. “Only that weird grunt.”
“That’s what our dad did,” Murky added. The bat pony hovered nearby with a submachine gun cradled in his forelegs. “You just don’t understand it.”
“There’s nothing to understand.”
Murky screeched a high-pitched bat pony shriek towards the griffon.
“Mhm.”
The bat pony repeated the shriek at a lower volume and register.
“Mhm.” This grunt was slightly inquisitive.
“He says the area’s clear,” Murky translated, “but he wants to know if the Princess needs anything.”
“I’m fine,” Flurry called to him in Herzlander. Her wings ached.
The griffon nodded. “Mhm.”
“This is a load of horseapples,” Rainbow muttered. “The knights outnumber us, Princess. They could take you prisoner.”
“I can teleport,” Flurry responded. She gathered her legs under herself and stood on the cloud, testing her primary feathers in the cold wind.
“Can you?” Rainbow whispered, leaning in closer.
“Short distance,” Flurry answered quietly. The alicorn was wearing her purple uniform, now coated with a light dusting of snow. She scrubbed at her mane stubble with a hoof. Her cap was stored with dried hay and a few other provisions in a light saddlebag across her back. Flurry's leg braces had been left behind in Stalliongrad. Her legs ached almost as bad as her wings.
“Let’s go,” Flurry huffed. “Just needed to catch my breath.”
Rainbow eyed her warily. “Princess, any pegasus would tell you that flying from Stalliongrad to Manehattan is an all-day trip, even in the best conditions.” The pegasus looked down, below the cloud. They were incredibly high up, near the upper limits of what a pegasus could comfortably fly at. A winter storm raged underneath them. Thick, swirling clouds pelted the ground with hail and frigid winds.
“Just three more hours, right?” Flurry asked. “I can do that.” Her group of two dozen scouts had set off well before dawn, flying under the cover of night to meet an escort of nearly fifty knights from the Rosewood Order. The bat pony siblings suffered far worse than the alicorn. Murky, Echo, and Nightshade had been born in warm and sunny New Mareland, and bat ponies as a tribe hailed from the southeast jungles. They were not meant to fly in winter.
Flurry cast her warming spell on Murky, noticing his shivering despite the wooly coat he wore. “Thank you, Princess,” Murky blushed.
“Weak, brother!” Nightshade whinnied as she flew past. “You should be ashamed! Making the Princess spend her magic on your frozen hide!” Flurry eyed the mare and fired the spell at her retreating form, catching her between the wings. She screeched in protest. “Unfair!”
Geralt languidly signaled for his hovering knights to stow their weapons; they had tensed at the bolts of magic. He glared at the Princess. "Mhm."
“Sorry!” Flurry apologized in Herzlander. “We’ll follow you in.”
“Mhm.” The Griffon flapped his wings and lifted off the cloud, heading southeast above the storm cell. Flurry suppressed a wince as she stretched her wings out and followed. Her ponies were bracketed by the Herzlander knights.
They could easily fly us into a trap, Flurry thought for the hundredth time. It would be very simple. Griffons could hide in the clouds and strike down, taking out her guards and scouts, then trapping the Princess. A plane or ship carried the same risks. Or they could kill me.
Some of them must want to kill her. Grover had said as much, and Flurry believed it. She did not keep count of her kills, and her sense did not work on magic or spells, only physical weapons. She was left to guess her total.
While she flew, she extended her magic to the surrounding ponies and griffons to take her mind off the strain in her flight muscles. All of them were armed, carrying slung rifles, submachine guns, grenades, and pistols. The griffon knights carried short swords with their machine guns as part of their heritage. Most of the current knightly orders started under Grover II’s Grand Crusade against the Riverlands, the campaign that killed him.
Flurry hummed in curiosity. Captain Geralt had killed more with his sword than his gun, though his gun was new and the sword was several decades old. Still, it had seen the most recent use several weeks ago against a Changeling ambush. Rainbow’s wing also glowed with wisps of magic. She had gotten better at using it in combat during her scouting missions along the shield. Rainbow had killed twelve Changelings with her wing. She felt proud about it.
“You sharpened your feathers?” Flurry huffed, flapping her wings.
“What?” Rainbow asked. “Oh, yeah. It’s a bit more involved than preening, but I like doing it.”
“Good,” Flurry nodded.
Flurry Heart conserved her energy for pumping her wings until Captain Geralt signaled with a claw to descend. It was a cloudy day, but the worst of the storm was to the north. Manehattan broke through the clouds below. Her group descended slowly towards the outskirts, aiming for the tall glass and steel buildings of downtown Manehattan.
Flurry’s eyes swept over the devastation. The city itself was largely intact, but the outer neighborhoods and nearby towns had been leveled. It was old damage, leftover from the Equestrian Liberation Front’s initial takeover and last stand. Beyond the outskirts of the city, wreckage of tanks and equipment had been gathered into dump sites. Snow piled upon hollowed-out wrecks of Changeling and Reich vehicles alike.
The Statue of Friendship in the bay was missing, only the broken foundation remained. Manehattan itself was an island, bolstered by bridges and dams, a combination of earth pony engineering and unicorn magic. The dockyards were full of Reich ships, smaller convoy vessels unloading cargo by crane and by claw. Downtown Manehattan was surrounded by several smaller neighborhoods called boroughs. Flurry could see smoke and steam rising from the shorter brick buildings.
Flurry flew ahead to the Captain. “What’s with the smoke?” she demanded in Herzlander.
Geralt pointed a talon at the buildings downtown. The skyscrapers, the tallest buildings in Equestria, were unlit. All except one, a dark blue skyscraper near the center of the city with a stylized, carved statue of a pony's head at the top. It bore shell marks and obvious old battle damage, but several banners of the black roaring Griffon hung from the upper windows. The power’s out. Of course it is, the power stations are probably in the lower neighborhoods. Ponies were setting fires for warmth. The industrial sector to the north was dark; the factories remained closed.
The knights had obviously been expected. Captain Geralt stopped before a flying Reich officer and seemingly just glowered at her until she backed down. The cordon of flying Reich soldiers quickly made a gap. Flurry spotted several squads on lower rooftops with anti-air guns and spotters.
“Unbelievable,” Rainbow scoffed.
“What?” Flurry drifted closer to the pegasus, ignoring her aching wings.
“That’s Lilac’s headquarters, 84 Crystal Avenue.” Rainbow pointed a hoof at the building draped in Reich flags. “They’re using the same building.”
“It’s in the center of downtown,” Flurry replied. “It’s a good spot.”
“Yeah,” Rainbow snorted. “We could shell it from all directions.”
The knights flew through a slight snowfall down to street level. Rainbow and Flurry, trailed by her team, followed. They landed on a street lined with Reich soldiers. Sandbags and trucks blocked the ends of the street, with machine guns facing outwards into the city.
Several of the soldiers turned around and stared blankly at the tall alicorn standing beside a short, rainbow-maned pegasus with a metal wing. The bat pony siblings landed behind them, followed by several more pegasi. Flurry’s scouts formed a cordon around her, eyeing the gray-uniformed Reich soldiers warily.
Flurry folded her wings against her sides, retrieving her hat with a flicker of golden magic and putting in on. She used her height to her advantage, staring down the gawking soldiers and studying their expressions. Her horn glowed softly.
Most haven’t used their weapons, she mused. Trained, fresh soldiers deployed off the boats. Grover’s veterans are further inland. She glanced towards the sandbag checkpoints. They had been setup expertly to block off street access. The alicorn didn’t spy any ponies in the crowd.
She turned to Geralt. “Am I to wait in the street?” she asked.
“Mhm.” Geralt waved a wing towards the guards at the double-doored entrance. He glared at them until the younger soldiers opened the doors and stepped aside. He waited beside the open doors with a claw on his sheathed sword.
Flurry trotted to the doors with quick, even strides, looking every bit like she wasn’t about to drop to the ground in exhaustion. “I thank you for your escort, good sir,” Flurry said in Herzlander, stopping beside the Knight-Captain. “Extend my thanks to your knights. May your ancestors guide your wings and Boreas light your path.”
“You’re welcome, Princess,” Geralt responded in accented Equestrian. His yellow eyes crinkled with mirth that Flurry knew the traditional blessing.
“Asshole!” Rainbow barked, following Flurry Heart. “I’ve been trying to talk to you all the way from Stalliongrad!” Her metal wing raised in a challenge.
“Mhm,” the Griffon chuckled, walking back out into the street.
“Rainbow, let it go,” Flurry sighed. “Take it out on Wind Rider.”
The reminder of her enemy refocused the pegasus’ angry magenta eyes. She glared up at Flurry, then transferred the expression to the guards in the lobby. Flurry’s remaining group trickled in, forming another cordon around the Princess. The lobby was tightly packed, and the Reich soldiers were nervous.
All of them stared at her. She stared back with a blank expression, trying to see which ones looked angry. Most of the soldiers looked a bit terrified or nonplussed. Very few met her eyes. The older griffons hid it better. One soldier, an older gray male, was clutching his rifle tight enough for his talons to turn white. He glared at her with a twitching beak.
“You do not like me,” Flurry observed in Herzlander, addressing him. Her horn glowed softly as she sensed his rifle. He hadn’t fired it beyond the training yard.
“My brother was aboard the Antonius,” the griffon spat.
“Should I know that name?” Flurry asked.
“It was a heavy cruiser you sank,” he accused.
“I don’t remember it,” Flurry shrugged. “I am sorry for your brother’s death.”
His eyes narrowed with rage. He clenched his beak in a feral gesture of aggression and put a talon on the trigger. Nightshade moved her hoof to her slung rifle while the other ponies tensed. A few other griffons moved claws towards their weapons.
The elevator at the end of the lobby dinged. Flurry looked towards it. The griffon moved his rifle, and Flurry’s horn erupted with light.
Field Marshal Elias Bronzetail and two attendants stepped out from the elevator into the lobby. The black and gray Griffon paused mid-step with a raised claw and his attendants froze. They were the only griffons not immobilized by golden magic. The remaining thirty-three Griffons were frozen, claws and talons gripping their guns. Only their eyes could still move, and they flicked about the room with dilated pupils, struggling to free their limbs.
Flurry stood among her ring of guards. Rainbow had raised her metal wing towards the nearest immobile griffon, and leveraged a submachine gun between her hooves. The others had all drawn their weapons or sidearms. Echo and Murky drew hoofblades, stopping just before a pair of griffons. Flurry’s nose dripped with blood.
Elias was wearing a wide-brimmed, brown officer’s cap emblazoned with a golden roaring griffon. He removed it and smoothed out his fur with a claw. “Princess Flurry Heart,” he greeted and dipped his head, recovering from the sight quickly. His two attendants remained frozen with fear, not magic.
“Colonel Elias. Is it Field Marshal now?” Flurry asked in Herzlander. “I heard you were promoted.”
“It is indeed,” Bronzetail replied. “You have learned Herzlander.”
“I had many opportunities from the Kaiser’s refugees,” Flurry responded. She nodded and a few droplets of blood splattered onto the floor. "I'm glad to see you."
Bronzetail’s eyes swept over his immobile griffons. “Is there a problem?”
“I would like to prevent your griffons from doing something stupid,” Flurry answered. “Particularly the one aiming a rifle at my head. I fear I killed his brother.”
Bronzetail held out a claw expectantly, then glared at the attendant to his left. The griffon felt the stare and quickly surrendered a sheet of paper. “I speak with the Kaiser’s voice in these matters,” Bronzetail remarked. “The Kaiser has declared that the Princess of Ponies is under his wing. A strike against her is a strike against himself.”
The griffon stalked across the room, still holding the piece of paper. He wore a gray, fur-lined winter coat, and reached into it with his free claw. Rainbow aimed her submachine gun at him. Bronzetail slowly retrieved a cloth and offered it towards Flurry. “For your muzzle, Princess,” he clarified.
“Stand down, everypony,” Flurry ordered in Equestrian. She snorted and licked her upper lip, tasting blood. Rainbow aimed the barrel away from Bronzetail, but still held the gun at the ready. Flurry shook her head at the cloth. “I’m going to have a nosebleed as long as I maintain the spell,” she admitted.
Bronzetail tucked the cloth back into his coat and walked around the cordon of ponies until he reached the gray griffon. He traced the rifle barrel to Flurry’s head, then looked back at the immobile soldier. “His talon is on the trigger,” he commented. “I believe he intended to kill you.”
Flurry looked around at the other griffons. They had grabbed their weapons, but none had readied them in time to aim at her group. All of them were straining against her spell, and it was making her horn throb from the effort. Her magic was still weak.
“What do you want done with him?” Bronzetail asked.
“That’s your decision,” Flurry replied.
Bronzetail clacked his beak. “Please, step into the elevator and out of the line of fire. You cannot take your entire escort up at once, I’m afraid. They could use the stairwell, or wait for the elevator. We have some rooms set aside.”
“Murky, Echo, Nightshade, Rainbow,” Flurry ordered. The bat ponies and Rainbow trotted towards the two attendants and flanked the alicorn. The other guards advanced and fanned out around the elevator. “I’ll drop the spell.”
“In a moment,” Bronzetail requested politely. He stared at the immobile guard with narrowed eyes, then drew a pistol and shot him through the chin in one smooth motion. Flurry’s magic prevented the body from crumpling to the ground.
The ponies flinched. The two attendants did not.
“You may drop your spell, Princess,” Bronzetail announced in Herzlander.
“I did not ask you to kill him,” Flurry stated.
“He threatened a guest of the Kaiser,” Bronzetail replied. “And I ordered that you be welcomed to Manehattan. He disobeyed me, which earned his imprisonment and dismissal, and he disobeyed the Kaiser, which earned his death. I should order them all imprisoned, but I am short-staffed.”
Flurry released her spell. The guards collapsed, clutching their weapons and heaving deep breaths. Her magical grip had barely allowed them to breathe. A few took their claws off their weapons, fluctuating between staring at Bronzetail and Flurry fearfully.
Bronzetail holstered his pistol and walked back to the elevator unflinchingly. “Welcome to Manehattan, Princess,” he said in clipped Equestrian. “Have you been here before?”
“It’s my first time,” Flurry said.
“You expect us to be impressed by that?” Rainbow nickered at Bronzetail as he gestured for her to move aside to reach the control panel.
“You were a Wonderbolt. Surely, you understand discipline.” Bronzetail reached over her prosthetic to press a button for one of the upper floors. The doors closed.
“That’s not discipline,” Rainbow retorted.
“The troops I have here are green, fresh conscripts from the Reich,” Bronzetail answered. “The Kaiser lowered the tour of service for conscripts at his coronation, but did not end the practice. Most of them guard the border to the Riverlands, but we needed more troops than expected to garrison the liberated territory.”
“That’s very honest of you,” Flurry commented.
“I was promoted for my honesty,” Bronzetail answered in Herzlander. “I should be at the front with the tanks, instead I play at governing your lands.”
“You are governing them from Lilac’s command center,” Flurry said lowly.
“It is the best building to do so,” Bronzetail answered. “The Changelings chose it for a reason.”
“What is efficient is not always what is smart,” Flurry said. “Where’s Wind Rider?”
Bronzetail paused, then pushed a button for another floor. “He’s in the building, aiding in our patrols of the boroughs.”
“How many ponies does he command?”
“Pegasi,” Bronzetail corrected with a frown. “Wind Rider’s militia are exclusively pegasi, nearly three thousand. He was eager to offer help to his fellow ‘superior’ feathered beings upon our landfall.”
“You believe griffons are better than ponies?” Flurry asked bluntly.
“We are predators and you are prey,” Bronzetail deflected. “That claim has been made over the years.”
“Griffons claim their Gods raise the sun and moon.”
“They do,” Bronzetail answered with a hint of anger.
Flurry let that go. “They also claim I am Maar’s Daughter, do they not?”
Bronzetail couldn’t extend his wings in the cramped elevator, so he simply squawked. “You should not say that!”
Flurry laughed, high-pitched and with a hint of a giggle. “Does that frighten you?”
“Invoking…” Bronzetail hesitated.
“Maar,” Flurry supplied.
“It brings disaster. He is a wicked, evil thing.”
“I am sure many griffons say I am wicked and evil as well,” Flurry muttered. “Do you have a list of Wind Rider’s militia?”
Bronzetail turned to an attendant, who nodded fearfully. “We do.”
“Do you have rope?”
“Yes?” Bronzetail answered hesitantly.
Flurry’s response was cut off by the elevator dinging. The doors opened to a floor staffed by a mix of pegasi and griffons. "Nightshade, bring everypony up to this floor," Flurry ordered, then stepped out, eying the black-uniformed ponies with a snarl. There were far fewer of them than griffons, mostly sitting at desks next to maps and piles of papers, and eating an early dinner.
They were eating salads in winter.
Flurry stomped up to a green pegasus with a buzz cut. “Wind Rider?” she asked.
The mare looked up from her salad, annoyed, then registered the tall, angry alicorn leering down at her. Her mouth fell open and no sound emerged. Flurry stepped over to another desk, knocking scattered papers aside. “Wind Rider,” she growled. The stallion at the desk squeaked.
“Princess!” an older stallion exclaimed with a deep, pleasant baritone. A blue pegasus wearing a black military jacket with a swept-back gray mane swaggered across the office floor. He stopped several hooves from Flurry and bowed. It was a cheap bow, partially preformed with bent forelegs. He stood up with a grin. “It is so good to see you!”
“Wind Rider,” Flurry stated.
“I am honored, Princess, that you know my name,” Wind Rider said back, dipping his head. Bronzetail walked up beside the Princess. “Marshal,” Wind Rider said in halting Herzlander, “you never told me the Princess was visiting.”
“We weren’t expecting her so quickly,” Bronzetail answered.
“I am signing a ceasefire with the Reich,” Flurry added.
“Good, Princess,” Wind Rider said happily. “I heard you fought them in the north, but it is so much better to fight with our feathered friends.”
“You had no problem serving the Changelings,” Flurry said neutrally.
“Equestria was gone, Princess,” Wind Rider said with a hint of regret. “Forgive me for skepticism, but who would have believed Cadance’s little filly could do so much. I remember showing off for her coronation in Canterlot, long before you were born.” Wind Rider smiled warmly at her, ignoring the patches of fuzz on her muzzle and bloody nose. “You have your mother’s looks.”
Rainbow trotted up beside Flurry. Impressively, Wind Rider didn’t even flinch, but still maintained an easy grin. “Hello, Rainbow Dash.”
“Still think I’m not a real Pegasus?” Rainbow asked.
Wind Rider’s eyes flicked to her wing. “Well, one does need two wings to fly.”
Rainbow stepped forward, but Flurry extended her wing and blocked the mare from approaching Wind Rider. Flurry looked over her shoulder as more of her guards exited another elevator. She shook her head down to Rainbow.
“You served Governor Lilac, helping her oppress your fellow ponies,” Flurry said.
“Everything I did, I did for my pegasi, Princess,” Wind Rider said softly. “Lilac ordered horrible things. If I did not do them, Lilac would’ve ordered my militia shot.”
“You were always scum,” Rainbow snarled.
“Starlight and Trixie understood what I did was for the greater good,” Wind Rider answered. “They arrested me, not killed me in the street. A trial would’ve proven my innocence.”
“What about bat ponies?” Flurry asked, looking towards Murky and Echo. They had unslung their rifles, waiting by the elevator with the others. Over half her guards had arrived. They must also be flying up the stairwell.
“What about them?” Wind Rider asked, confused.
“Do you like them? I don’t see any bat ponies in your officers here.”
“Integration failed for years because they tried to be pegasi,” Wind Rider said, as if lecturing a foal. “It’s best to think of them as a separate tribe. I’m sure most of them would say the same.”
“Is that why?” Flurry said flippantly.
Wind Rider blinked. “I’m sorry?” he asked.
“Is that why you’ve helped two invading armies oppress my subjects? For the pegasi?” Flurry clarified.
“Princess,” Wind Rider blinked, shocked. “I am here to offer my support. I don’t know what lies Rainbow Dash has told you, but I have always done my best to help pegasi.”
Flurry prevented Rainbow from lunging forward by wrapping her tired wing around the shorter mare. “Stop, Rainbow.” She glanced over her shoulder. Her guards were assembled around the elevators. Nightshade met her stare and readied her rifle.
Flurry turned and gave Bronzetail a side-eye. “You seriously wanted his help?” she asked in Herzlander with a crinkled muzzle.
“It was not a question of want,” Bronzetail sighed. “It was a question of need. We needed somepony who could control the city.”
“Doesn’t look like it worked,” Flurry replied.
“Princess, I know what I have done is…distasteful,” Wind Rider said in rough Herzlander, then switched to Equestrian. “I have done my best to preserve pegasus culture in the face of the Hegemony. That is a noble goal, is it not? I freely offer my support to help you.”
“You offer something I should have by right.” Flurry flared her wings out. Her wingspan was twice as large as Wind Rider’s. “Will you serve me, as you served Celestia?”
“I…” Wind Rider looked to Bronzetail. “I have sworn myself to the Kaiser.”
Bronzetail unclipped his pistol from his wing holster, eying Flurry’s slight snarl. “I speak for the Kaiser. You are released from your oath, and he retracts his wings.”
Wind Rider swallowed. “Of course, Princess.” He bowed again, this time in complete supplication. “We stand ready.”
“Good.” Flurry nodded to Rainbow. “You will serve me best in death.”
Rainbow stepped forward with a whinny of triumph and swept her metal wing across Wind Rider’s throat as he looked up in shock. Her metal feathers came back coated in blood.
Wind Rider stumbled upright, choking as blood poured down his chest, eyes wide with panic. His wings flared out. Rainbow shoved him back down, stomping a hoof on his wing joints. They broke with audible snaps and his feathers spasmed. He tried to cry out, but only spat blood onto the carpeted floor. Flurry whirled around and seized the green pegasus in her magic, snapping her neck and throwing her from the desk chair. Blood dribbled down the alicorn’s muzzle.
“Kill them all!” she roared. “Kill every pegasus in a black uniform!” She repeated the order in Herzlander.
Bronzetail drew his pistol. “As the Princess commands!” he squawked in Herzlander. He turned and shot a uniformed stallion in the heart. The pegasus slumped over his desk.
The killing was over quickly. Wind Rider’s militia were unarmed in their office, and they were outnumbered three-to-one by the combined griffons and Flurry’s scouts. Most of them died screaming and begging.
Flurry wiped her bloody hooves on the carpeting, walking up to Bronzetail. She snorted more blood from her nose. “I need to shower. My guards need to rest and recover.” The alicorn flumped down in a nearby desk chair, grabbing a bowl with a cold and slightly wilted salad. She shoved her muzzle into it, chewing noisily.
“You could’ve warned me better, Princess,” Bronzetail said sourly. His coat sleeves were speckled with blood. “Given time, this could’ve been done cleanly.”
“You lose anyone?” Flurry mumbled through salad leaves.
"Only my pride." Bronzetail raised a claw. One talon was bent oddly. “A bad grapple, Princess.”
Flurry rolled her eyes, grabbing his claw in a flare of gold magic. She bent the talon back and cast a mending spell. A thin trail of blood streamed from her nose and landed in the salad bowl.
Bronzetail squawked in mild pain, then flexed his talon.
“Try not to use that claw for a bit,” Flurry advised. “The bone takes a few days to mend.” She looked down at the bowl and saw the droplets of blood. She sighed and stuck her muzzle back into the salad regardless.
“Right,” Rainbow sauntered up with a metal wing coated in blood. “No injuries, Princess.”
“Good,” Flurry grunted. She set down the empty bowl. She nearly wiped her muzzle on her uniform, but reconsidered. She turned to Bronzetail. “I’ll take that cloth now.”
Bronzetail blinked, then pulled it out of his jacket and walked over. He held it out in his other, unhurt claw. Flurry accepted it, wiped her muzzle, and offered it back.
“Keep it,” Bronzetail grimaced.
“You had a list,” Flurry reminded him. “I want everypony on that list killed, unless they’re under sixteen. Did that idiot have some youth organization?”
“Yes, Princess.”
“Wonderful,” Flurry groaned. “Probably rabid pegasus supremacists. We have enough orphans. Arrest them, then. Make it quick. Kill them if they resist.” She waved a hoof about the office. “String the bodies up from lampposts in the boroughs. Leave the uniforms on.”
“The Kaiser has forbid such displays. Griffons murdering ponies encourages reprisal.”
“It’s a display from the Princess,” Flurry replied. “I am not here to forgive and forget. Wind Rider and his scum made good, honest ponies bleed and suffer to sit in a high tower. Grover said you’re facing attacks? You think allying with Wind Rider helped?”
Bronzetail sighed. “Our ships are bombed at the dockyard. Crates go missing at night. And there are resistance cells using the old tunnels. They’ve been there since the failed uprising, striking my unprepared garrisons and retreating.”
“You were here for that.”
“Briefly.” Bronzetail waved a claw. “One shipment of tanks. Manehattan was already buckling under the weight of the rebellion, long before Canterlot. More ponies were protecting collaborators and Changeling prisoners than at the front.”
They were always going to lose. “Thank you for trying.”
“Of course, Princess,” Bronzetail replied quietly. “More thanks to the Kaiser. There was a great feud with Archon Eros for nearly a week. Benito’s guards barred the Archon from entering the palace for several days.”
“What?”
Bronzetail shrugged. “It was all swept under swift currents, of course. We were in the middle of a war with Wingbardy.”
Flurry stood and stretched her aching wings. “You said we had rooms set aside.” She stepped over several dead pegasi to reach the elevator.
“I, uh, might know somepony,” Rainbow interrupted.
Flurry closed her eyes. “Where is the Element of Generosity being held?” she asked Bronzetail in Equestrian.
“Manehattan Penitentiary,” Bronzetail answered. “We have a collection of collaborators and captured partisans. I’m wasting valuable griffonpower guarding them.”
“Somepony else,” Rainbow continued. She fluttered her wings in agitation and looked away. “I was in Manehattan for a while, after my wing got sliced off. Lemme take a look around the boroughs.”
“I’m going to go with you,” Flurry said.
“If it’s who I think that’s in charge of the resistance here, I’d prefer if you didn’t,” Rainbow admitted. “Price was always, uh, intense. Lemme set up a meeting first.”
“Fine, stay safe. Murky, Echo, Nightshade, with me. Everypony else, help string up the dead, then get some rest.” Flurry stepped into the elevator with Bronzetail.
Rainbow saluted with her bloody metal wing and stomped her hoof on the carpet three times. The others echoed the stomp. The doors slid shut.
Bronzetail glanced at her reflection in the elevator doors. “You could have warned me you intended to kill him right there, Princess.”
“You didn’t see that coming?” Flurry chuckled. “I broke into your hotel room, remember?”
“It haunts my nights,” Bronzetail replied. “I had hoped age might temper you.”
“Maar’s Daughter,” Flurry laughed, then laughed again at his uncomfortable expression. “Grover said I killed you during the landings in Nouveau Aquila.”
“I was not present. I have been trapped in Manehattan for months.”
“Not enjoying your promotion?” Flurry asked. “You should speak with Josette. I named her governor and I think she hates me.”
“My first command as Field Marshal was sending tanks through Griffenheim Square,” Bronzetail answered sullenly. He looked down at a medal on his chest and flicked it with a claw.
Flurry stared at her reflection in the elevator doors. She still had flecks of blood on her muzzle, and her cap was slightly askew. “You did that?”
“I did what the Kaiser commanded,” Bronzetail whispered. He looked at her reflection in the metal.
Flurry’s icy eyes stared back. “Trimmel said the same thing, just before I killed him.”
The doors opened and Flurry stepped out of the elevator with the siblings. This floor was once offices, but had been converted to sleeping quarters and private rooms. The cubicle walls were set around folded-out beds and ice chests. Flurry glanced around, seeing no one.
“This floor was set aside for your use, Princess,” Bronzetail said. He stayed in the elevator. “We can make a radio address in a few hours. The station is in the building. I speak with the Kaiser’s voice, today.”
Flurry nodded absently.
The elevator doors began to shut, but Bronzetail held them open with a claw. He opened and closed his beak a few times. “I prefer fighting an enemy that can shoot back, Princess,” he finally said in Herzlander. He let the doors close.
Flurry Heart wondered if he was talking about her or Grover.
Flurry Heart scanned over the paper sitting next to the microphone. Her purple hat with the Imperial Snowflake rested on the table beside her. “I have thousands of ponies from New Mareland,” she stated flatly. Her headset for the broadcast made the bald spots itch on her muzzle. The fur was growing back far too slowly.
“The Kaiser is surrendering all claim to his colony,” Bronzetail pointed out, adjusting his own earphones with a claw. “Furthermore, New Mareland’s capital and port, Sunset, is too vital to our southern supply lines.”
They sat in an audio room on the eighteenth floor of 84 Crystal Avenue, the Crystaller Building. The Reich’s propaganda broadcasts had been done from this audio booth along with Governor Lilac's, but it was the best transmitter Manehattan could offer.
“He can have the land,” Flurry dismissed. “I care about the ponies. They traded Beakolini for Grover.”
“An improvement,” Bronzetail answered empathetically, slapping a claw on the table. “Ponies are protected under the Species Rights Act, one of the Kaiser’s early reforms. Archon Eros simply established a military government over the area when it was taken. Life is better there now than it has been in six years.”
“Anypony who wishes to leave may do so,” Flurry replied. “They may return to Equestria or sail to the River Federation.”
Bronzetail clacked his beak. “That is difficult to arrange in the middle of a war. Changeling submarines are already harrying our convoys.” He fluffed his wings, sitting opposite the Princess with his own microphone.
“Once the frontline has advanced,” Flurry decided. "Any of my griffons that wish to return to the Reich may do so."
Bronzetail considered it for a long moment. “Agreed.” He raised a claw to the window opposite the table. “Are you ready to begin?” Flurry waved her own wing in reply, then leaned over the desk and stared at several pages of the intended script. She cleared her throat just before the red light turned on and the broadcast started.
“Good evening, my ponies,” Flurry began warmly, speaking clearly into the microphone on the desk. “This is Flurry Heart, the Princess of Ponies, broadcasting from Manehattan.”
She paused. “Some of you may doubt that. There is nothing I can say over a radio that will convince you. I have negotiated a ceasefire with the Griffonian Reich. For many months, I have fought and killed the Kaiser’s soldiers in the north. I did so for my ponies, the refugees in the north who have lost far too much. I did so for my griffons, my ponies in all but name. It was a misplaced war over disputed territory, but that has been resolved. The north is mine, and will remain mine.” The last bit she added to the script. Bronzetail gave her a look, but was too nervous to stop.
“I am Elias Bronzetail,” the black and gray Griffon read stiffly in Equestrian, looking at his sheet of paper. “I am a Field Marshal under Kaiser Grover VI of the Griffonian Reich. We have reached an agreement with the Princess of Ponies to continue the war against the Changeling Hegemony together.”
Flurry waited.
Bronzetail flipped the page over, beginning to sweat. “The Kaiser hereby forfeits his rightful claim to the territory once known as Nova Griffonia, and the griffons therein. The Kaiser acknowledges the boundaries of the Crystal Empire, as marked by the…Crystal Heart and the shield.” Bronzetail swallowed. “The Kaiser acknowledges that the griffons of the Crystal Empire are subjects of the Princess of Ponies, as long as they wish to be.” He looked to Flurry.
“I, the Princess of Ponies, affirm my support for the Kaiser’s invasion of the Changeling Hegemony. I ask everypony to cease hostilities with the Reich’s soldiers. To continue to do so is henceforth treason against the crown, and your fellow ponies.” She let the statement linger.
Flurry sighed into the microphone. “There are millions of ponies suffering in plantations, factories, and labor camps. They are suffering under Chrysalis, not the Kaiser. My ponies, we need the Reich’s support to win this war quickly. And we must win it quickly. The fields of the north are filled with the dead. The yaks have been nearly exterminated. I have heard nothing of the buffalo. We cannot lose again.”
Her eyes narrowed and she put extra effort into her pleading. “Griffons and ponies have squinted at each other suspiciously across the ocean for thousands of years. We have fought each other in the skies and in the fields. We cannot fight now. We must present a unified front against the Hegemony.”
“The Kaiser recognizes Flurry Heart, the Princess of Ponies, as the rightful Princess of the Crystal Empire and the Princess of the Principality of Equestria,” Bronzetail added.
Flurry closed her eyes. “I recognize Grover von Greifenstein, sixth of his name and the Kaiser of Griffonkind, as the legitimate and rightful ruler of the Griffonian Reich, and all titles and lands under it.”
Many years ago, her mother had added her signature to Celestia’s proclamation that the Griffonian Republic under the elder Kemerskai was the rightful government. I wonder how many remember that? Flurry asked herself. “I forfeit claim to the territory of New Mareland.” The words were unbearably bitter.
Bronzetail picked up where Flurry left off. “The Kaiser reminds the ponies of the former colony that they are protected under the Species Equality Act. Any who wish to leave for Equestria or the Crystal Empire may do so once the war has progressed. However, the Hegemony continues to practice unrestricted submarine warfare. The ports have been closed for safety concerns.” Bronzetail shuffled his papers audibly. He was sweating badly under his wings.
“My father died to the Reich,” Flurry suddenly said. Bronzetail gaped up at her from his notes.
“He died fighting for the Aquileian Republic, in a city named Flowena," Flurry continued. "I never got to say goodbye. He died so his soldiers could escape. The Reich allowed Chrysalis to come for me when I was ten, and I only escaped because Grover helped me at the last moment.”
Flurry shifted on the stool. “I have killed thousands of Reich soldiers and sailors. If Grover and I can look past what we’ve done to each other, then I expect my ponies to be able to do the same. As long as Chrysalis rules from her high tower in Vesalipolis, she is a threat to us all.”
Flurry met Bronzetail’s vaguely horrified look. “I promised I would come for you, my ponies. I will not sit meekly under a shield and hope for a better tomorrow. This is our last chance to reclaim Equestria. No one else has come. No one else will come. We must face Chrysalis together, or die alone.”
Flurry leaned away and waved a wing at Bronzetail. He flipped through several papers before skipping to the end. “The Kaiser thanks everypony for your cooperation,” he stuttered in Equestrian. “The further his army can advance, the more of your friends and families can be saved, and the shorter this war will be.” He drew a talon across his throat, signaling to the audio booth. The light switched off.
The griffon sagged against the table and removed his headset. His fur glistened with sweat. “Did you have to mention your father?” he asked in Herzlander. “We had a script.”
“I don’t do well speaking from a script. Are you going to claim that nopony has been killed by your soldiers?” Flurry retorted.
“Civilian casualties are inevitable. Doubly so when dealing with stubborn resistance movements.”
“The attacks won’t stop until word spreads,” Flurry replied. “Words are wind, yes? I have a meeting. We’ll see how it goes from there.” She shoved her hat down against her head.
“I can have a division of knights shadow you.”
“You think they aren’t looking for that?” Flurry nickered. “They’ve fought the Changelings for years. I go alone, and you accept whatever deal I arrange.”
“You think your subjects will obey you that easily?” Bronzetail asked, balling up his scrawled notes. He tossed it over a wing. “What if they refuse you?”
“I’ll deal with them.” Flurry stormed out of the room, nearly bowling over Murky and Echo. The two bat pony siblings were quietly sharing a chilled cider in the hallway, stamped with Applejack’s mark.
“You think the slave labor improved the taste?” Flurry snarled.
“Nope, but this one’s old,” Echo answered. “Just toasting New Mareland.”
The alicorn deflated and her wings sagged. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I can’t demand New Mareland after he gave me Nova Griffonia.”
“Fair trade, Princess,” Murky answered. “New Mareland fell apart during Beakolini’s invasion; we lost just about the whole army.”
“Celestia said we could reclaim Equestria,” Echo muttered. “Worthless. A lot of New Marelanders still treated bat ponies like trash, lumped us in with the griffon minority.”
“Is that what Nightshade would say?” Flurry asked. The older sister was waiting after receiving word from Rainbow Dash.
“She’d have better swears,” Murky replied cheerfully. He passed the bottle to his sister, letting her finish it. Flurry’s head hung down. The bat pony risked an approach and nuzzled her. “Aw, cheer up, Princess. Nothin’ to be done. Worth the Nova Griffonians.”
“Stop fondling your crush,” Echo hiccupped. Her brother blushed.
"Not my type," Flurry laughed and slightly pushed the stallion back. “Where’s Nightshade? Is the meeting set?”
Murky glanced at the Reich guards at the end of the hallway. “Yeah," he said vaguely. "Let’s go.”
“A moment, Princess,” Bronzetail requested from behind Flurry. He exited the studio with more folders in his claws.
Flurry turned around. “What?”
Bronzetail clacked his beak, hesitating. His wings fluttered. “We tried many things at first to encourage cooperation,” he began. “After the first attacks, we began imprisoning suspected revolutionaries in Manehattan Penitentiary with targeted collaborators. We keep them in separate blocks, of course.”
“I’m sure your army has quite a bit of experience rounding up suspected revolutionaries,” Flurry replied. “Why didn’t you execute the collaborators?”
“Are you asking about the Element of Generosity?” Bronzetail asked in response. “Griffons executing ponies never ends well, regardless of reasoning. We tried propaganda first, but so did Lilac, and she did quite a poor job.”
“Ponies have gotten very good at spotting liars,” Flurry stated.
“Sometimes, it is not a lie,” Bronzetail answered and passed her a newspaper. It was from Lake City in the River Federation; the words were Riverlander. Flurry couldn’t read the text. But she didn’t need to.
The front-page cover was a large photo of Celestia, wearing a little golden tiara with three gold medals around her neck. The tall white alicorn was standing on a podium, smiling and waving before an audience. There was a tiny ring around her horn, and her wings were bound with rope. Beside her was a pegasus and earth pony with sliver and bronze medals. Celestia’s mane and tail swirled around her in the photograph. She looked radiant, even in black and white.
Flurry held the newspaper between her hooves and stared at it. Her stubby mane itched under her hat and she felt her tail twitch uselessly.
“The Sun Princess participates in the River Games every year,” Bronzetail explained. “For a different state each year, in different categories. She binds her wings and wears an inhibitor ring to make it fair.”
“You are a fool if you believe that makes it fair,” Flurry replied in a pained whisper.
“It was controversial the first year when she participated for the River Republic, but Wittenland quieted down when she volunteered for them the next year.”
Flurry kept staring at the picture. “This is real?”
“We did not fake it. I swear it.” Bronzetail raised a claw. “We have hundreds of photos of them at galas with River Swirl, at games, operas, arts, events, everything.”
He offered her another newspaper. Flurry accepted it by hoof and laid it over the first one. This front-page had Luna wearing a silver tiara, standing before an easel. The tall and lean blue alicorn wasn’t smiling, but a beautiful night sky was on the canvas. It nearly matched her starry mane and tail.
“Nightmare Moon is quite the painter and patron of theatre,” Bronzetail commented. “Both of them also do work for various refugee organizations for griffons fleeing the Reich.”
Flurry passed the papers to the siblings, then stared at Bronzetail’s folder. “Is any of it fake?” she asked mirthlessly.
“No, but ponies do not believe it. They have been told too many lies from Chrysalis and Lilac. If you said something…”
“There is a lot of things I want to say,” Flurry snapped. “I’m not saying them now. Words are wind. I’ll take copies when I leave.” She turned back around. Her tail tried to lash in agitation under her pants and skirt. “Let’s go.”
Murky and Echo quickly stuffed the papers in their saddlebags and checked their rifles and blades. They trotted after the alicorn, trying to match her long strides. Flurry stomped to the elevator, then decided it wasn’t quick enough and moved to a balcony.
The Reich soldier on the balcony squawked when Flurry shoved the doors open. The griffon dropped a cigarette and fumbled her rifle; it nearly fell off the railing. The alicorn grabbed the rifle in her magic and shoved it against the soldier’s claws, glaring at her. Wordlessly, she flung herself over the railing and extended her wings out into the weather. Her purple hat blew away in the wind. Echo and Murky bowled past the recovering guard and chased her.
“Princess!” Echo yelled. The bat ponies’ heavy winter coats slowed down their wing flaps.
Flurry halted mid-air and waited for them to catch up. “Which way?” she called out over the snowfall. Echo had caught the hat and offered it to the alicorn, but Flurry stared unblinkingly at her until she responded.
“Bronclyn,” Echo yelled. “The old subway network. Nightshade’s waiting on 32nd Street. Please, follow us.”
Flurry followed her two guards over Manehattan. Flying Reich soldiers gave her room. Flurry half-expected a gunshot and a searing pain in her side, but it seemed no griffon wanted to make the attempt and miss. Just before the radio announcement, Bronzetail sent an alert that no Reichsarmee forces were to engage Flurry’s army for any reason, nor attempt to breach the shield.
More of Flurry’s scouts waited over Bridleway, waiting on separate rooftops from Reich garrisons. The signature square was pockmarked with craters from shells, but several posters were still visible on the closed theaters. An all-changeling cast once performed Gone with the Wind, complete with happy earth pony slaves in the background.
Beside the ad, there was a large poster of an enormously obese Princess Celestia shoveling cake into her mouth. Is this your Princess? the poster asked. Celestia’s muzzle had a mustache drawn over it. The mustache was new, but the poster was old and weathered.
Flurry slowed as she passed over the old poster. Her horn sparked as she gave it a long stare. She had a full escort of her pegasi by the time she landed in Bronclyn. The brick buildings were unlit with boarded-up windows. The streets were half-full with ponies, almost entirely earth ponies with a few scattered unicorns. They gathered around unlit lampposts, staring at the dangling corpses of black-uniformed pegasi. They had been shot before they were hanged, and the cold weather froze the blood to their uniforms.
Flurry followed Nightshade down, casting a warming spell, then the detection spell. She licked her upper lip and tasted blood. Manehattanites gave the armed guards space, shivering in the snow despite the residual spell. Flurry looked to the north. The sky was faintly tinged pink through the clouds, despite the distance from the shield wall. “What’s the situation?” Flurry asked Nightshade.
“In general? Or with the meeting?” Nightshade asked back. “Rainbow’s waiting at an old subway station down the block. It’s bitterly cold, Princess. The shield kicked a lot of wild storms back that are hampering the front lines. Griffons can’t manipulate the weather half as good as a talented pegasus.”
“Neither can bat ponies,” Echo added. She stepped up on three hooves and offered Flurry her hat back. The alicorn shook the snow from it and slapped it on her head with a hoof. It was still itchy.
“Wind Rider’s goons have mostly been rounded up,” Nightshade continued. “Some tried to hide; they ended up dead by stabbings and gunshots, probably the resistance. A few were flown down near Albion and Hayston. Griffons rounded up the youth clubs. They’re in a cell block at the jail.”
“You hear the radio? What’s the response?” Flurry looked over the heads of her guards. She was already taller than all of them. The ponies of Manehattan stared back with blank expressions, looking more tired and cold than elated to see her. A few wore coats for the weather, but most were bare-furred and malnourished.
Like Ponyville in Weter. Flurry shook her head.
Nightshade sighed. “I don’t know, Princess.”
“I’m sorry about New Mareland,” Flurry offered.
“New Mareland can suck my tail,” Nightshade suddenly spat venomously and hissed. “I had to join the expeditionary force because my application was denied. Hornheads feared a bat pony with a degree.”
“We followed her,” Murky added.
“Your grades were shit,” Echo replied to her brother. “You were going to end up a beach bum, cooking shrimp for other bat ponies.”
“Would’ve loved that,” Murky answered.
“Stow it,” Nightshade snapped at her siblings. She rubbed a hoof at the fluffy tufts of fur around her ears and bit her lip with a fang. “Princess, a lot of younger ponies didn’t even know who you were last year, or that you were in Nova Griffonia. The Changelings never said anything.”
“They tried to kill me,” Flurry replied evenly. “Several times.” I’m sure more times than Thorax will ever admit to knowing about.
“If they succeeded, I’m sure Chrysalis would’ve crowed about it for years,” Nightshade admitted. “Ponies are happy that Wind Rider is dead, but a voice on the radio isn’t enough.”
“I know,” Flurry sighed, looking again at the crowd. “Where’s the subway?”
Her guards formed another cordon that kept the gawking ponies away. Flurry stared at them as she followed Nightshade. They didn’t look angry at her, or relieved. The ponies stared at her in disbelief, shivering in the cold. A few returned to their dilapidated apartments, or broke down more furniture to burn for warmth. Flurry wanted to say something, but she just felt tired and drained.
Rainbow Dash stood beside the stairwell to an old subway, dancing on her hooves to stay warm. She saluted her metal wing. “Princess,” she chattered. “It’s cold as ice down there.”
Flurry cast a warming spell. It made Rainbow’s wing glow slightly. “Thanks,” Rainbow managed and bowed.
“Rise,” Flurry implored. “Who are we meeting?”
Rainbow chewed on her cheek and looked aside. “Uh, you gotta go with me, alone.”
“Unacceptable,” Nightshade snapped.
“Look, they knew me and still shoved a bag over my head and took my wing for a bit,” Rainbow replied angrily. Flurry squinted at the shorter pegasus and cast the detection spell again.
“Yeah, I’m me,” Rainbow muttered. “Not a trick. Price had a task force for deep operations during the uprising. He’s…really paranoid.”
“What else?”
“He doesn’t like Princesses. He spent some time in jail, I think, but nopony asks.”
“Great,” Flurry whickered. “Lead the way. Go get warm, everypony. Murky, Echo, do you have those newspapers?”
“Princess!” Nightshade exclaimed in disapproval. Her siblings offered the newspapers from Bronzetail, and Flurry tucked them under a wing to keep them safe from the falling snow.
“Let’s go, Rainbow.” Flurry trotted down the stairs before the mare could reply, forcing the pegasus to walk with her.
“What’s with the papers?” Rainbow asked. “Stuff your clothes for warmth?”
“That’s a thing?” Flurry asked, then remembered several ponies in Weter doing exactly that. “Never mind. It’s not for that.”
“Uh, okay,” Rainbow shrugged. “Lemme go first.” The pegasus stepped out onto a deserted and run-down platform.
The tiles had chipped off the floor in several places, with stains from water damage. Flurry’s horn sparked and sent a ball of light floating across the platform. She could see several bullet holes in the columns before the tracks, and some of the benches had been overturned and used as barricades.
“The ELF always had a presence in the tunnels,” Rainbow commented. “Lilac’s Jaeger teams went missing whenever they were sent down here.” The pegasus stepped off the platform and flapped her wings. “Down the tunnel to the left. Give me five minutes, then follow.”
“Am I supposed to wear a bag over my head?” Flurry asked sarcastically.
“No, but have a shield just in case,” Rainbow answered with unusual seriousness.
“You got any advice?” Flurry asked. “How well do you know him?”
“Uh, be yourself,” Rainbow offered.
Flurry blinked. “That’s the worst possible option.”
“Not in this case,” Rainbow answered. “Price is, uh, intense. And paranoid. He doesn’t like liars.”
Flurry Heart dispelled her orb of light and waited on the platform while Rainbow vanished. It was cold, and she ended up unbuttoning her jacket slightly to stuff the newspapers against her fur. After counting in her head, she followed the tunnel. A small shield crackled into existence around her. Her shields were golden now, like the magic field from her horn. The shield still crackled with arcs of blue electricity. Flurry felt a pain in the base of her horn and a growing headache. Magical Exhaustion. She ground her teeth and pushed through it, also ignoring the nosebleed.
The shield was the only light in the tunnel, and Flurry could barely see the tracks below her flapping wings. She passed by two more derelict stations before stopping in total darkness. She had flown slowly for a few minutes, but there was no hint of Rainbow. She swiveled her ears around, but only heard the hum of her shield. Did I go the wrong way? Flurry dropped the shield and cast a life detection spell.
A spotlight turned on ahead and nearly blinded her. It was attached to an old subway car, dismantled into a gun platform. Several Changeling heavy machine guns were bolted in front of an anti-tank gun, and nearly a dozen ponies stood under the platform with a spotlight. Two more spotlights flared to life around it, fully illuminating the tunnel. Flurry reformed the shield around herself, ignoring that it felt like a knife that been jabbed right under her horn. A bullet would be worse.
“You mind dropping the spell, Princess?” a thick Trottingham accent asked. Flurry waited for her eyes to adjust and glared through the spotlights.
A tall blue earth pony stood below the lights in a gray patchy ELF uniform. His mustache grew into his brown mane, following his muzzle. It looked ridiculous to Flurry, but he seemed very proud of it. It was the only combed and maintained piece of fur. The earth pony puffed a cigar and stared the Princess down with dull brown eyes. He made a show of adjusting his flat booney hat with a hoof.
“Price?” Flurry shouted. “Where’s Rainbow?”
The earth pony maneuvered the cigar to the other side of his muzzle. “Hard of hearing? Or do I need to say please?”
“Rainbow.” Flurry narrowed her eyes.
Rainbow Dash emerged from between a brown earth pony with a black mohawk and a dark red pegasus. “I’m fine, Princess!” she called out.
Flurry chewed on her lip. “Am I going to get shot if I drop this shield?”
“I could’ve had my snipers shoot you a moment ago when you dropped it.” The earth pony pointed to two white-furred unicorns crouched with rifles under the spotlight stands. “You make a good target, Princess. You should’ve approached in the dark.”
Flurry dropped the spell and stared Price down. He puffed on the cigar and waved a hoof. Flurry felt the detection spell wash over her as she flapped her wings in the tunnel, so she cast the spell back.
The two unicorns burst into green flames. They remained sighted on her and let their disguises burn off. “Defectors,” Price chuckled at Flurry’s snarl. “The one on your left is Ghost. The other’s Roach.”
“That’s not their real names. You trust them?” Flurry asked, drifting closer.
“More than you,” Price replied. “They’re here to make sure you’re honest.” Two of the spotlights switched off and Price motioned for Flurry to land at the front, beside the machine gun turrets.
Flurry landed and looked over the group. The train car was attached to several others, but she suspected it hadn’t moved for years. Rust accumulated around several of the welded metal armor plates. Four mares in ELF uniforms stood at the very back with submachine guns. Flurry noticed they were Reich models with the trigger guards broken off so they could be fired by hoof.
Price stared back, looking the alicorn over in the remaining spotlight. He didn’t seem to be impressed. “Right. How’d a moppet like you become a Princess?”
“I was born one,” Flurry replied.
“With wings like that? Your mother had fun.”
“She did not.”
Price smirked, then quickly recovered his scowl. “Gazette, Soap Box, check the tunnel and make sure the Princess wasn’t followed.” The two ponies next to Rainbow saluted and climbed off the side, disappearing into the gloom.
“Are you actually in charge of the resistance in Manehattan?” Flurry asked.
“Why? You think I was going to meet you at our base?” Price snorted. “Fat chance of that. You’re lucky I’m meeting you at all. Rainbow sings your praises.”
“If that was meant to be a compliment, you haven’t heard her sing.”
“It wasn’t. She’s easily impressed.”
“Price,” Rainbow said warningly. She didn't walk forward. “She’s not like the others.”
“Really? I heard a pretty speech from a pretty princess earlier.”
“Take a closer look,” Flurry replied and removed her hat with a wing. Between her spellwork and her bald patches, she looked awful. Her nose was crusted with blood. She stepped up to Price, eyeing the rifle barrels tracking her.
Price puffed on the cigar. “You lose a fight with a blender?”
“I won a fight with the Crystal Heart,” Flurry replied bluntly.
“Heard the shield does nasty things to the bugs,” Price admitted. “Just heard that I need to cuddle up to the birds and sing campfire songs.”
“Grover’s army is the one advancing and fighting the Changelings. You’re hiding in a glorified sewer.”
“You think you can swoop in and wave your horn about and we’ll all follow you?” Price snarled. “We followed Celestia and Luna to the trenches and died. Then we followed Starlight and Trixie to Twilight and died.”
“You didn’t follow Celestia and Luna,” Flurry countered. “They didn’t fight.”
“Oh,” Price asked with false confusion, “and you do?”
“Yes.”
“We’ve just heard speeches on a radio,” Price dismissed. “Same as Celestia and your mother. Luna's fieldcraft left something to be desired.”
“My mother died for her subjects.”
“Will you?”
“Yes, I would.” Flurry glared up at the snipers, daring them to call her a liar.
Price waved a foreleg through the cigar smoke, using the opportunity to look behind him. Ghost gave a slight nod. “Well, that’s an improvement, but it’s easy to improve on garbage.”
“I’m here,” Flurry huffed. She pulled the newspapers free from her jacket and flung them down at Price’s hooves. “This is what they’re doing.”
Price gave them a cursory look and spat out the cigar butt. “I know what they’re doing. What they’ve always wanted to do: Fuck off and leave us the mess. I tried to tell Starlight, but she didn’t want to hear it. She put everything on getting Twilight back, and I went along with it.”
Rainbow approached and looked down at the papers. After a moment, her muzzle scrunched and she turned away.
Price bared his teeth at Flurry. “We fought for them. And we lost. Why should we follow you?”
Flurry took a moment, ruffling her wings.
Price chuckled bitterly. “You don’t have an answer beyond those wings and horn, do you?”
“I am out there, fighting for my ponies, while you squat in a sewer,” Flurry snarled. “You think I wanted to make a deal with the Reich? You think I want to be down here? I don’t give a shit how you talk to me, but ponies are dying while I waste my time with you. What makes you better than Wind Rider? I don’t see anypony else stepping up.”
“Rainbow says you’re a one-mare army,” Price replied. “She says you’ve killed thousands of griffons and changelings. We’ve heard a bit from the Reich sailors, and a little from the defectors. Maybe that’s all true, maybe not. You want to lead? What are you going to do when the bugs start getting nasty?”
Flurry stared at him disbelievingly. “What?”
“Oh, that show with Wind Rider is very nice, Princess of Rope,” Price complimented. “What are you going to do when they don’t deserve it? When the bugs start holding ponies hostage, leaving them dying on the ground?”
“What the hay did you tell him?” Flurry asked Rainbow.
“She told me a lot,” Price shrugged before Rainbow could answer. “Rainbow Falls was a nasty bit of business, ordering your ponies to do that. Hard work, Princess.”
“I don’t give orders that I won’t carry out myself.”
“Really?” Price huffed.
“I killed a foal,” Flurry sighed.
Price stopped fiddling with a new cigar and stared at her.
“His name was Quartz,” Flurry said softly. “Trimmel was using him and several dozen others as hostages to prevent us from storming the Crystal Palace. I blew up the barricade. I watched him die with Trimmel.”
The earth pony tucked the cigar back into a pocket. “You regret it?” Price asked in a softer tone.
“I dream about him a lot,” Flurry admitted. “Luna abandoned that duty, too. Probably deserve the dreams anyway.”
“Not talking about guilt,” Price replied. “Regret. Do you wish you didn’t do it?”
“I wish I didn’t have to,” Flurry answered. “We needed to take the palace and end the battle. I could have ordered an assault; we would’ve lost too many and they would’ve died anyway. So I went in. If I had recovered enough, I would’ve gone to Rainbow Falls myself.”
Price glanced up at his snipers.
He didn’t reply for a long time, so Flurry continued. “I need you to stop raiding the Reich’s supply lines. We need their army to win this.”
“We’re trading bugs for birds.”
“The birds won’t suck out our emotions or work us to death in mines.”
“You sure about that?”
“I will kill Grover if he tries it.”
Price hummed. “I don’t know you, Princess," he said in a softer voice. "A lot of ponies don’t know you. You were a foal when our home fell. We didn’t get much news from Nova Griffonia. Stories that you went around on a birthday tour every year, shaking Blackpeak’s claw.”
“I grew up in a slum. The hot water didn’t work most days, and the electricity cut out every month.”
Price looked around the subway tunnel. “You expect me to pity that?”
“No, I had a fancy bedroom. It had its own shower and toilet, and the lights worked most nights. My mattress only had one lump.”
“You have a nice uniform.” Price gestured to her purple uniform and boots.
“I hate it. I left my sweatpants at home. Herzlanders get weird about clothes and my tail burned off.”
Price looked up to make eye contact with Flurry. “You going to kill me if I refuse to stop fighting the birds?”
Flurry exhaled. “I’ve been debating killing you for several minutes.”
Price took that in stride. “Why are we still talking, then?”
“I’d prefer not to kill you,” Flurry said honestly. “Please, I need your help. Ponies need your help. Unless you have a better idea, the Reich is it.”
Price heaved a sigh, looking up at the snipers. “Celestia, this is what my life has become, making overgrown fillies beg for my help in subway tunnels.” The earth pony tiredly nodded at Flurry. “Duty Price, captain of a task force that no longer exists, for an army that no longer exists.”
Rainbow pumped a hoof. She looked at Flurry and mouthed, “Nailed it!”
Price reached into a cargo pocket with his muzzle and pulled out two sheets of paper. “The resistance is organized into cells,” he muttered around the papers. “I can’t just order everypony to stop. I need something to prove it.”
“Prove what?” Flurry accepted the papers with her telekinesis.
“Prove you’re not just a bird puppet,” Price replied bluntly. “We got plenty of good soldiers locked up in Manehattan Penitentiary. Get them out.”
“I doubt they’ve killed more griffons than me combined.”
“They aren’t Princesses,” Price pointed out. “The other list is known collaborators. Trash that used ponies for slave labor. Starlight and Trixie locked them up, but couldn’t decide what to do with them. When we lost, they went right back to what they were doing. They were locked up for their own protection after the Reich landed.”
“Why?”
“We started killing them,” Price shrugged. “It was making things difficult for the occupation.”
Flurry looked over the lists. She didn’t recognize many names. “Rarity’s not on either of these lists,” she observed.
Price looked back to the four mares at the back of the converted carriage. “Crusaders, come up front.” A lean orange pegasus, a white unicorn with a leg brace, and two stocky earth ponies slung their submachine guns around their sides and trotted forward.
Rainbow smiled and nearly tackled the orange pegasus. “Squirt!”
“Ack! Rainbow,” the mare whinnied. “It’s been like three hours!”
“Three hours too long,” Rainbow replied quickly. “I even forgave you for throwing a bag over my head.” Rainbow turned to Flurry with a beaming smile. “Princess, this is Scootaloo, Babs Seed, Apple Bloom, and Sweetie Belle.” She pointed her wing at the mares while she wrestled with Scootaloo. “They ran the Cutie Mark Crusaders organization during the war.”
Flurry didn’t recognize any of them. “Rarity and Applejack’s little sisters,” she replied neutrally and dipped her head. Sisters of collaborators.
“And Rainbow’s honorary little sis!” Scootaloo added, shoving Rainbow back.
Sweetie Belle stepped forward and bowed. “My sister worked under Suri Polomare for several years, making uniforms for the Hegemony.” Her lips quirked. “They were terrible uniforms, prone to falling apart in vigorous exercise, like combat.”
“Rarity did a lot of good before the uprising,” Price added. “We lost track of her in Canterlot for a bit, but Sweetie Drops had complete faith in her.”
Flurry processed the information and tapped her hoof. “Okay, why is she in jail?”
“Starlight and Trixie had her temporarily detained,” Price continued. “The bugs found out about her after we lost, stamped her muzzle all over Manehattan as proof that even the Elements bowed before Chrysalis, same with Applejack and the cider.”
“My sis has no choice,” Apple Bloom snarled. “You know how many Apples the bugs got in camps?”
“You know how many slaves your sister’s got?” Rainbow snarled back. Scootaloo and Babs Seed stepped away while Rainbow puffed her wings out.
“They shot Big Mac!”
“Stow it,” Price rapped a hoof on the floor. “Applejack’s near Appleoosa; the bugs relocated her orchard when General Zecora pulled her trick with the Everfree Forest.”
Flurry glanced at the earth ponies. Apple Bloom looked close to tears, but Babs Seed looked away. “When we get there, I’ll hear her out,” Flurry promised. “What about Rarity?”
“Rarity was poster-mare for Suri after the last stand. Suri deserves the rope,” Price spat. “She embraced slavery with open hooves, ran her ‘employees’ into the ground. Rarity was part of it.”
“Please, Princess,” Sweetie pleaded. “She did everything she could. I know it.”
“Except pick up a gun and fight,” Rainbow replied bitterly.
“She made dresses!”
“I was a weatherpony! I watched her kick a manticore in the face!”
“Enough,” Flurry rumbled. Her voice echoed in the tunnel. “I’ll talk to her and decide.”
“I can get word to the other ELF cells once you get my ponies out,” Price nodded. He lit a new cigar. “Colonel Shimmer and General Berrytwist lead several thousand out of Ponyville in the Everfree. They’re part of the reason the advance stalled. Well, them and the forest.”
“We,” Flurry corrected.
Price frowned around the cigar. “I’m sorry?”
“You’re coming with me,” Flurry nodded. “So are the Crusaders.”
“Princess, I’m a wanted stallion,” Price mumbled around the cigar. “Before the war, even. I’ve seen enough prisons.”
“Too bad,” Flurry replied sweetly. “I came to you, now you come with me to hash things out with Field Marshal Bronzetail.”
“I’ve killed several of his soldiers.”
“I broke into his bedroom once and pinned him to a wall, naked.” Flurry considered her wording. “I was naked, not him. He was naked later. We’re friends now.”
The cigar fell from Price’s muzzle. He desperately looked to the changelings. They shrugged helplessly. “What the hay were you doing in Nova Griffonia?”
Flurry ignored the question. “You’re coming with me. We’ll have a nice, long chat, and hopefully I won’t have to kill anyone. My magic is still recovering. If he tries to kill you, I will kill him. If you try to kill him, I will kill you.”
Flurry lifted one of Price’s forelegs with her magic, also immobilizing the changelings and preventing them from firing. Without looking, she pulled the rifles from their hooves and set them down on the floor. Flurry Heart forced Duty Price to shake her hoof. For the first time, his ears pinned back at her wide smile. “Deal?” Flurry asked with high-pitched sweetness and a nosebleed, but it was not truly a question.
It's not the worst truck ride I’ve ever had, Flurry reflected.
Her thirteenth birthday was far worse. The tires had lost traction on a muddy road in the mountains during a wild thunderstorm. Flurry was bounced around the back, colliding with Jadis hard enough for the crystal pony to chip a tooth. The alicorn teleported out into the rainstorm just as the driver regained control. She climbed back into the truck and apologized to Jadis, soggy and miserable.
But it is close.
Elias Bronzetail stared at Duty Price. He narrowed his eyes. “That’s my cigar brand.”
“Yes.” Price blew a smoke ring. “Fresh off the docks. Good brand.” The earth pony glanced at the two griffon knights besides Bronzetail. “Celestia didn’t approve of smoking. We didn't have many good brands here. I could count them on a hoof.”
Bronzetail shifted his glare to the four mares with Duty Price. “You’ve been leading quite the army, I see. Fond of younger fillies?” Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Babs Seed glared back at him.
“Speak for yourself,” Price replied. “Princess told me about your romp in the hotel room.”
Bronzetail flushed. “That is not what occurred. The Princess was fourteen.”
“Dirty bird,” Price chuckled.
“Enough,” Flurry sighed. The griffons sat on one bench of the canvas truck, and the ponies sat on the opposite. Flurry Heart laid on the floor, pressed against the back. She folded her legs and scuffed mud off her boots. “That is not what occurred, though it was quite traumatic to Bronzetail anyway.”
“As you say, Princess,” Price laughed. He pulled a cigar box from a pocket and offered it to Bronzetail with a bent hoof.
“Empty?” Bronzetail guessed.
“Full,” Price corrected. He wiggled the box. “I don’t do exploding cigars, though if I knew it was your brand, I might’ve reconsidered.”
Bronzetail grabbed the box with his unoccupied claw and stuffed it into his jacket. He went back to scanning over the list in his other claw. “These ponies are terrorists.”
“Partisans,” Price corrected.
“They’ve planted bombs at the dockyards, stolen our supplies, assaulted our garrisons, and killed my soldiers.”
“I’ve killed more,” Flurry interrupted. “You free them, and the fighting stops.”
“I could simply have Duty Price arrested,” Bronzetail countered. “We’re on the way to the prison, anyway.”
“That won’t solve anything,” Price replied with absolute confidence. “We’re like a hydra, cut off one head and two take its place.”
“I could start ordering executions,” Bronzetail threatened back in clipped Equestrian.
“Elias,” Flurry warned. “I like you. Don’t try to go down that road.”
“Where is the justice for my soldiers?” Bronzetail squawked. He pointed a claw at Price. “You think he regrets killing my griffons?”
“I do not,” Price snorted. “You regret allying with that thug, Wind Rider?”
“He offered to help us.”
“He helped club us down, same as with Lilac.” Price thumped a hoof. “Manehattan is freezing and starving while you gorge yourselves at Lilac’s headquarters.”
“Your ‘partisans’ blew up two power stations,” Bronzetail yelled back. “You bomb our dockyards and raid our supply posts!”
“To eat!”
“We cannot share supplies that you blow up!” Bronzetail squawked.
Price glared at him. “Were you ever going to share?”
Bronzetail looked to Flurry, then removed his cap and smoothed out his fur. “No,” he admitted. “The front line is stretched thin, and we need fuel, food, rations, everything.” He glared back at Price. “Stealing what we have does not help with that. We can spare food and some medicine once the supply lines stop being attacked, not before.”
Price considered the idea. “Fix the power stations. Heat will go a long way.”
“If I send engineers, will they be attacked?” Bronzetail asked sourly.
“Not after today,” Price answered. “And keep your birds out of the boroughs. We’ll run our own patrols.”
“I never sent them there.”
“You sent Wind Rider.”
Bronzetail opened his beak to say something, but Flurry gave him an icy stare. “Wind Rider was a mistake,” he admitted slowly. “He turned coat quickly, and had plenty of soldiers. If you had come to us with an offer, we would’ve taken it.”
“Why should we have come to you?”
“We’re fighting the Hegemony,” Bronzetail said bluntly. “We’re here on the Kaiser’s command. Chrysalis would surely strike Griffonia. The Reich struck first. Helping us helps you.”
“Yeah,” Price nodded. “You fly your soldiers like a conquering army. This was never the Kaiser’s land. You aren’t fighting Wingbardy or Aquileia anymore. This isn’t some little breakaway that you can plant a flag on.” He folded his hooves. The ponies laid on the benches while the griffons slouched with their backs and wings against the canvas.
“The Kaiser affirms that Princess Flurry Heart is the rightful and legitimate ruler of Equestria and the Crystal Empire.” Bronzetail flapped his hat in a claw at Price’s smoke rings, dispersing them. "We make no claim to this territory."
“You just going to leave?” Price asked with a sneer.
“We’ll need help rebuilding anyway,” Flurry interrupted. “You haven’t seen the mines in the Empire. The Changelings were dumping the dead into fields.”
“I’ve seen a lot, Princess,” Price responded.
“After my mother died with the Heart, they cut her organs out and kept her in a pod. She’s still there, if you want to see her.” Flurry wasn’t wearing her hat; it was stuffed into her saddlebags.
Price chewed on the end of the cigar. He raised a hoof and brushed his moustache. “Sorry, Princess.”
“We are not the Changelings,” Bronzetail said.
“That’s a low hurdle to jump,” Price claimed, rolling his eyes. “We’re not hearing stories of happy ponies in liberated cities. You’re just advancing and leaving us.”
“The further we’ve gotten, the worse you’ve attacked our supply lines.”
“Excuses,” Price said without any true anger. “I can do that, too. Some of those attacks are infiltrators left behind your lines.”
Bronzetail sighed. “We weren’t even sure if freeing cocooned ponies was safe, at first,” he revealed. “We know nothing about how to treat Magical Exhaustion, or whatever it is the changelings do.”
“Aquileia,” Flurry replied, slightly confused. “Ponies were split between the monarchists and revolutionaries. You have to have some Aquileians here.”
“We have several thousand Aquileian ponies in mage companies, out of an army of nearly two million. Our army is nearly entirely griffons. We had no experience fighting the Hegemony until we landed.”
“The war isn’t going well,” Flurry said for him.
“The Kaiser has complete confidence in his army,” Bronzetail said irritably. The truck turned a corner and everyone swayed.
“There are more Aquileian ponies than that,” Flurry pointed out. “I have more.”
“Don’t tell the Kaiser that,” Bronzetail muttered. “Most are stationed along the Riverlands border, in the mixed territories.”
“Why?”
“The River Federation is entirely eastern ponies and the dogs of Diamond Mountain. Magic will be essential in holding off an assault for enough time to-” Bronzetail cut himself off with a clack of his beak.
“That army can’t hold the Federation if they attack,” Flurry guessed. “You’ll have to try to race back across the ocean.”
“The Kaiser has complete confidence in his army,” Bronzetail repeated. It sounded fake. “That is why he is here on Equus.”
“If that attack happens,” Flurry turned to Price, “the Changelings will push across Equestria without resistance. They’re pounding the Crystal Heart’s shield with bombs and artillery. It will be a mad gallop to the shield wall, and years hiding behind it.”
Flurry raised her head to stare Price in the eyes. “Tell me you have an army that can beat Chrysalis.”
“In spirit,” Price replied, “not in strength. Or equipment.”
“I don’t have that army either,” Flurry admitted. “The Reich does.”
“You have a giant shield,” Price pointed out. “Can you move it around?”
“Considering what happened last time,” Flurry scratched at a patch of pink fuzz, “I’m not eager to try. Besides, it kills every changeling that it touches.”
“That doesn’t sound like a problem.”
“Thorax has helped me from the beginning,” Flurry responded evenly. “So have hundreds of changelings. You okay with your friends burning?”
“No,” Price answered. He spat the cigar out onto the truck bed and it rolled between one of the knight’s paws.
"The Kaiser has ordered no griffon to attempt to cross the shield," Bronzetail said. "Quite convenient, having a glowing border for your territory, Princess."
"Our supply lines from the coast are severed," Flurry revealed. "That's hardly a secret. And we are in my territory right now."
"True." Bronzetail clacked his beak. "But you have no authority in Manehattan, not as it is. The Kaiser could have walked the streets of the Aquileian Republic as its rightful ruler and have no power."
"My ponies do not know me," Flurry sighed. "They hear a radio and see a faint glow in the north. Canterlot is the prize. We take Canterlot, and I am the Princess of Equestria."
"What about Twilight?" Sweetie Belle asked. "Princess Twilight?"
"I hope my aunt is alive," Flurry replied, "but they claimed my mother was alive for years."
"Sweetie Drops and all of S.M.I.L.E were convinced Twilight Sparkle was in Canterlot," Price stated. "Led us right up that mountain and we got crushed on the Celestial Plain beyond it."
Flurry was quiet. I can't take that risk.
The earth pony looked to Bronzetail and removed his booney hat. “You pardon my soldiers, and the attacks stop. Get the power stations back up and running, and we’ll start helping with the supply lines. The more you help us, the more we’ll help you.”
“That was my offer to you,” Bronzetail replied.
“Friendship is give and take,” Flurry said. “You’re both giving and taking.”
They stared at each other.
“This is the deal,” Flurry reminded Bronzetail in Herzlander.
“I am freeing several hundred ponies that have killed my soldiers,” Bronzetail said back in the same language. “Archon Eros would’ve already had them shot, but the Kaiser refused to implement such measures.”
“Suppose I should be grateful that old bird’s dead,” Price commented in Herzlander. “The bugs took your language,” he clarified to Bronzetail’s surprised expression. “Of course I learned it.”
“The attacks will cease,” Bronzetail said directly to Price. “Can you guarantee that?”
“Guarantee it? Like a new car?” Price snorted. “No.”
“You will help Bronzetail hunt down the cells that refuse,” Flurry stated.
“I didn’t sign up to be the new Wind Rider,” Price snarled.
“You will do whatever is necessary to stop the attacks,” Flurry rephrased. “I said it is treason to continue. I agreed to a ceasefire; I expect my subjects to do the same.”
“I’m not hunting down ponies like a damn Jaeger,” Price replied.
“This is the deal,” Flurry said forcefully. She slapped a hoof down on the metal bed and dented it. “Beg, plead, talk, threaten, kill, whatever it takes.”
Price grit his teeth.
“You gave me a list of ponies to execute,” Flurry reminded him.
“It is a long list,” Bronzetail added. “Almost as long as the ponies I need to pardon.”
Price heaved a great sigh. “Fine. If attacks keep happening, we go after them first. Try to talk it out.”
“What if talking fails?” Bronzetail asked.
“We’re not shooting first, but we’ll deal with it.”
“I don’t want public executions,” Bronzetail compromised. “At least, not for that. Just take care of it quietly, and I’ll look away.”
“How noble,” Price said bitterly.
“I have ordered executions for soldiers that disobeyed orders,” Bronzetail stated. He straightened out the bill of his officer's cap between his claws. “I have carried several out myself. The Princess can attest to one of them.” He waved a claw at her. “She has ordered the attacks to stop.”
“Don’t think of it like that,” Flurry countered with an angry glare at Bronzetail. “We need their army to push further into Equestria. We have to work together. If some ponies won’t do that, we don't have time to keep to the high road.”
“We like to keep an army together out of loyalty and friendship,” Price answered.
“You lost two wars,” Bronzetail pointed out.
“You had a revolution,” Price retorted, then stuck out his hoof.
Bronzetail blinked in surprise, but shook it. “We took everything back.”
“After thirty years.”
“You need our help after eight.”
“You had the bugs help you. Aren't you glad you gave up all your secrets?”
They argued for the rest of the ride, changing topics constantly to try and win some strange debate. Flurry shared looks with the Crusaders and one of the knights. Her ears wilted against her head, but there was no real anger in the barbed replies between the two. They were both smoking cigars when the truck pulled into the yard outside Manehattan Penitentiary.
Flurry exited last and stretched her legs and wings, hopping down off the truck. They were within the fence, and the guard towers were overstaffed with griffons. The building itself was a massive red brick square with high windows for plenty of natural light. The exercise yard was fenced in at the top to prevent pegasi from flying away, but it was large and spacious.
“Starlight and Trixie held the collaborators here,” Bronzetail commented. “I saw it once during the uprising. Had to station a lot of guards to keep ponies away.”
“Lilac threw everypony she didn’t like in here,” Price added. “All of us ended up in one place. Didn’t end well.”
“Didn’t end well for anyone,” Flurry said. “Don’t mix up the lists.”
Two more trucks pulled behind them, and Rainbow and several of Flurry’s guards shadowed the vehicles from above. Rainbow landed and waved her metal wing one of Price's stallions. He landed with the other scouts.
“Princess,” Rainbow bowed. For the first time, the Cutie Mark Crusaders bowed with her, seemingly remembering that Flurry was a Princess. The alicorn glanced down at her snowy and rumpled uniform. Some Princess.
Sweetie struggled with her leg brace. Flurry hauled the unicorn to her hooves with a burst of magic. “I’ve worn leg braces, don’t try it,” she advised.
“I’ve had one for two years, Princess,” Sweetie answered. “Took a rifle round just above the knee. Went clean through.”
Rainbow walked over and nudged Scootaloo. “What’s up, squirt?”
Scootaloo stood up straight. She was slightly taller than Rainbow now. “What’s down there, old mare?”
“Only the Princess can call me that!” Rainbow replied with mock anger. She raised her wing and the edges gleamed. “You wanna dance with the Dash?”
“Try me,” the orange pegasus challenged and they made a game of lunging at each other, feinting their strikes. Rainbow kicked some snow up to blind Scootaloo, then rolled away from a blind kick.
Bronzetail and Price watched, amused and puffing smoke rings. The guards in the tower moved to watch the impromptu duel. For one moment, griffon and pony stood side-by-side in the snow. Rainbow folded her wings and slid between Scootaloo's legs, then swept them out from under her. The orange pegasus recovered with a hop and buzz of her shorter wings, lashing her rear hooves and kicking Rainbow in the jaw. Rainbow laughed high and loud; Scootaloo laughed with her. A shadow passed over them.
A griffon in a flight suit and leather jacket crashed down atop Rainbow Dash, screeching a war cry. Scootaloo whinnied and rushed forward, but the griffon swiped her aside with a rear paw, pulling Rainbow up by her neck and pinning her metal wing with the other claw. The eagle-headed griffon glared down with yellow eyes accented by purple feathers. “What’re you doing here, dweeb?” she growled playfully. “Found a new sparring partner?”
Gilda. Flurry barely turned her horn away in time for the laser to sizzle past her beak. Her horn’s blast blew through the chain link fence behind the group and seared across the street, disappearing into an abandoned building. I hope that’s abandoned, Flurry grimaced.
The griffon felt the heat sear across her beak and looked up. Her mouth opened in horror, not at Flurry, but at the griffon scowling next to the alicorn.
“Lieutenant!” Bronzetail squawked. “What in Boreas’ name do you think you’re doing!?”
Rainbow laughed and shoved the stunned griffon off her. “You in trouble?” she asked the terrified griffon from the snow, then whistled. “Look at your new duds, G! They put you in a uniform like Gallus!” Rainbow rolled away, laughing.
“Sir, I apologize immediately,” Gilda said and dipped her wings. She lowered her head to the ground. “I was not aware you were here. I’m sorry.”
Rainbow laughed harder, not understanding the Herzlander.
Bronzetail stalked forward. “You assault a guest of the Princess? After my orders went out that they are to be welcomed?”
Flurry choked on her intended words, looking up at the dozens of watching Reich soldiers. Shit. Bronzetail was looking around at them as well.
“No, sir!” Gilda answered. “Rainbow Dash is a friend! An old game sir, nothing more.”
“Are you arguing with me?” Bronzetail asked in a low tone.
“No, sir.”
“You are in trouble!” Rainbow laughed in Equestrian from the ground.
“I was happy to see my friend again. I forgot my place,” Gilda said desperately. “It won’t happen again.”
Bronzetail looked up to one of the towers. “You are stationed at the air base. Why are you here?”
“I saw Rainbow Dash flyby.”
“You have a pass to leave?” Bronzetail asked. He held out a claw expectantly.
Rainbow finally stopped laughing and stood up. “Hey, she’s a friend,” she called out in Equestrian, frowning.
Gilda didn’t pass him anything. She blinked rapidly. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“Your air wing may have lax standards,” Bronzetail brushed his coat back with raised wings. “I do not.”
“No!” Flurry screamed. Her voice rattled the fence and blew out the nearest window.
Everyone in the yard flinched. Sweetie clamped her good foreleg over her head and stumbled. One guard fell out of the tower, barely flapping his wings in time to stop himself from hitting the ground. Flurry ran to Bronzetail while he stumbled with his pistol in claw. “No,” she repeated at a lower volume.
Bronzetail glared at her and gestured to the glowing hot hole in the fence with the pistol. “You nearly killed her yourself!” Gilda, Rainbow, and Scootaloo looked behind them.
“It was an accident and stupid,” Flurry replied. “She’s a friend.”
“She is one of our pilots,” Bronzetail corrected. “And she deserted her post to fly halfway across the city.” He set the claw holding the pistol on the ground.
“Hey,” Rainbow interrupted. “She’s my friend. We’re fine. I’m not angry. We did that all the time in Flight School.” The pegasus stood in front of Gilda, eyeing the pistol.
Bronzetail turned to look at Flurry. “I understand how your army lost if this is how they conducted themselves.”
“No,” Flurry repeated again.
Bronzetail looked around. The shout had attracted the entire prison’s attention. “She just made a massive show of this," he whispered in a strangled voice. "So did you. I have every right to shoot her.” Bronzetail did not raise the pistol off the ground, but he squinted angrily at Flurry. “I do not take orders from you, Princess. I will lose enough credibility from releasing prisoners that killed my griffons.”
“That’s the deal.”
“She is not part of the deal.”
Rainbow raised her wings. “We’re all fine, okay!” she said in Equestrian. “No problems.”
“She is Rainbow’s friend,” Flurry said in Herzlander. “I’m not letting you kill her to soothe your pride.”
Bronzetail glared at Flurry, slowly breathing, then took his claw off the pistol and left it on the ground. “Lieutenant,” he announced in Equestrian, “you will return to your air base and scrub toilets for the foreseeable future. Do so immediately.”
Rainbow frowned. “We just met! Come on! We’re all fine!”
Thank you for being so stupid, Flurry internally sighed in relief. “Rainbow!” she barked in Herzlander. “Fall in line! The Field Marshal gave an order!”
Rainbow stared at Flurry, not understanding what she said until Flurry waved a wing and beckoned her away. She trotted over to the Princess reluctantly. Flurry grabbed her roughly with both wings and dragged her muzzle to muzzle.
Gilda stood up with snow on her beak from pressing it to the ground, saluted Bronzetail with a claw clasped to her chest, and flew away without looking back. Rainbow watched her leave with pained eyes. “Rainbow,” Flurry whispered, “he was about to kill her for desertion. She left her post.”
“She’s my friend!” Rainbow hissed back.
“Go apologize to Bronzetail.” Flurry shoved her forward. The Field Marshal was watching Gilda fly away with half-extended wings. He picked up the pistol. Price and the Crusaders watched warily with the gathered scouts.
“What?” Rainbow glared back.
“Go bow in front of him and beg,” Flurry ordered with a whisper. “She can still be shot later.”
“I’m not gonna let them do that!”
“This is how you do that!” Flurry bared her teeth at the smaller mare. “If you care about her, beg. Make a big show of it.”
Rainbow glared at the Princess, then slowly slunk over towards Bronzetail. He noticed her approach; his wings and tail twitched in agitation. The pegasus knelt down and pressed her head against the ground. “I’m sorry that I got in your way. Gilda was my friend from foalhood,” she said loudly in Equestrian.
“Your friend is an idiot and a deserter,” Bronzetail snarled. “You try my patience.”
“Thank you,” Rainbow apologized with a rasp. She managed some tears and clasped her front hooves together. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Bronzetail looked to the watching guards in the towers and the roof before replying. “Consider it mercy.” The griffon stuffed the pistol roughly back in his holster and walked into the prison with raised feathers. Flurry nodded deferentially as he passed. He did not return it.
Rainbow laid on the ground until Flurry signaled her to stand and come over. She did so slowly, dragging her hooves on the ground. “Keep that up until we’re inside,” Flurry hissed from the side of her muzzle. “I nearly took her head off.”
“It was just an old game,” Rainbow answered quietly. “Didn’t I tell you that?”
Flurry shook her head in exasperation and entered the lobby.
The prison lobby was stereotypically Equestrian, despite the near decade of Changeling rule. The faded wallpaper was of a bright, sunny field with tall grass and flowers. There was a welcome booth, staffed by a Reich soldier that seemed to be in a state of perpetual confusion and torment by the wallpaper.
Bronzetail sat next to him with two knights, straightening his uniform. Each knight held a sheet of paper. Duty Price and the Crusaders stood from them, frowning. “Right,” Price chuckled, “that was a bit bracing.”
“Thank you, Elias,” Flurry apologized. “I’m sorry.”
“It is absurd to risk everything for one griffon,” Bronzetail scoffed. “Is that how you won over the Nova Griffonians?”
“Some of them,” Flurry shrugged. “I killed a lot, too.”
“We heard reports,” Bronzetail said. “Conflicting reports, but I suppose all of them are true. Boreas preserve us.”
“What do you want me to do?” Flurry asked.
“We’ll do a repeat broadcast after the release,” Bronzetail replied after a second, surprised at Flurry’s deference. “Reinforce your order to stop fighting with us, and the consequences of ignoring it.”
“I’m not going to give the go ahead for Reich soldiers to execute my subjects,” Flurry countered. “I’ll look like your puppet.”
“I have no wish to look like yours,” Bronzetail answered flatly. “Find a wording that suits you.”
“We’ll take care of it ourselves,” Price sighed. “Right. We got the lists. Let’s get the soldiers released, then the others.”
“You mean the ones you want dead,” Bronzetail retorted.
“We’ll do it,” Price repeated. “Looks better, anyway. Plenty of Manehattanites will look forward to it. How do you want it done, Princess? Like Wind Rider?”
“If you think that will be most effective,” Flurry answered evenly.
“We’ll make a big show all over Manehattan,” Price nodded. “Clears out the prison and sends a message. We're here to right wrongs.”
“It’ll free up the soldiers here,” Bronzetail added.
“Come on, ponies,” Price ordered. “Lot of happy muzzles to see us. Some, far less so.” He sat on his flank for a moment and retrieved a new cigar. Sweetie hesitated, looking at Flurry. Her purple and pink mane bounced while she stared at the alicorn with desperate green eyes.
Flurry looked away. “Where’s Rarity?” she asked Bronzetail.
“I’ll lead you to her,” Bronzetail offered. He glanced at Price. “I am extending trust to you.”
“I walked in here,” Price countered.
Bronzetail scoffed, but he walked down a hallway. “Collaborators were separated from the partisans. Too much violence otherwise.” He stopped and waited for Flurry. She followed with Rainbow trailing behind her.
Sweetie stepped forward. “Belle,” Price ordered. “With us.”
“My sister-”
“Come along,” Price said softly. “Princess will talk to her, right?”
“We’ll talk to her,” Flurry promised. "That's it."
Sweetie stared at Flurry Heart, then slowly limped over to Duty Price. They trotted through a checkpoint and disappeared down the opposite hallway. Flurry, Bronzetail, and Rainbow moved down a very full cell block. Several Reich soldiers patrolled the upper walkways and stole looks down at the trio. Flurry stared straight ahead; Rainbow followed behind her with pinned ears and a slow, plodding gait.
Bronzetail looked over his shoulder. “The Element of Loyalty is a poor actor,” he said in Herzlander to Flurry. “My cub can beg better.”
“I’m sorry that you did not get to kill Gilda to reestablish dominance or whatever,” Flurry sneered back in the same language. “She lived by less than a hoof. It was stupid. She was stupid. Rainbow’s stupid. I’m stupid, and I’m sorry.”
Bronzetail stopped and turned around. His tail swung in agitation. “I have lost soldiers to Duty Price. My soldiers will see the release of these ponies as a betrayal. They will try to be violent, and I will have to order more executions to keep them in line. The veterans are at the front, not here. These are fresh-feathered soldiers that have lost friends for nothing.”
“I have killed more.”
“Do you think I have only had to kill one griffon for you?” Bronzetail asked with hard eyes. “The Kaiser is on his third spymaster. The Admiralty is gutted, whoever you did not kill has been replaced or imprisoned. Our navy suffers. Lieutenant Gilda is possibly the only griffon in a plane that has not sworn vengeance upon you. You have killed families and friends all over the Herzland.”
“I have executed my soldiers as well,” Flurry stated in a harsh whisper. “Never for lack of decorum.”
Bronzetail narrowed his eyes. “The Reichsarmee is not a militia; it is a professional army millions strong, dependent on chain of command. You have not been shot because the Kaiser’s subjects fear the consequences.”
“I did not want the war,” Flurry whickered.
“I saw where you lived,” Bronzetail said, tapping a claw on the floor in thought. “It was a hovel. Why did you even bother flying for Blackpeak? Just to take over later? You didn't need to fight.”
He doesn’t know, Flurry realized. He doesn’t know about Frederick and the message. “My griffons are terrified they are all going to be shot by the Kaiser,” Flurry deflected. “Will you tell me that would not have happened if the Reich landed in Nova Griffonia?”
“The army follows the will of the Kaiser,” Bronzetail said evasively.
“I heard you ran down students quite well,” Flurry continued. “I heard a lot about the protests, from the griffons that fled them. I heard about soldiers dragging families out of homes.”
“I heard there is a crater in Weter.”
“Kemerskai was armed.” Flurry stared him down. “What would’ve happened if the Kaiser’s army landed in Nova Griffonia?”
Bronzetail did not tell her. He turned back around in a whirl of feathers and led Rainbow and Flurry to a cell on the ground floor. There were two ponies inside, laying on opposite bunk beds. They hadn’t gotten up, but their neighboring cell mates did.
“Princess!” a thin gray unicorn cried from the cell to the left. “Please, let us out of here!”
“Svengallop,” Rainbow growled. “You had fun stage managing the bugs. They sing as badly as I do.”
“They forced me!”
“They forced you to make a profit?” Rainbow asked angrily.
“Please, Princess,” Svengallop begged, staring at Flurry with tears on his narrow muzzle. “I can explain everything!”
“He’s on the list,” Bronzetail commented.
Flurry nodded and looked away. She stepped up to the other cell. The two ponies inside had difficulty getting out of the beds, but for wildly different reasons. Spike had told Flurry Heart about Rarity, often going into concerning levels of detail. Flurry didn’t remember her, and she had only seen pictures from before the war. She was a beautiful pearl unicorn with dazzling blue eyes and a coiffed purple mane.
Was beautiful, Flurry thought. The unicorn in the cell was thin and disheveled. Her purple mane had been pulled into a tight, short ponytail; her tail was frayed at the ends. Rarity’s pearly coat was matted, and her fetlocks had grown out. Her sleeves on her gray jumpsuit were rolled up and exposed chipped hooves. She was not as thin as some, but her legs were all lean, corded muscle.
Her eyes still matched Spike’s description. Fierce and intelligent, the blue pupils bore into Flurry. “Princess Flurry Heart.” Her voice was raspy, but she still sounded elegant. Rarity bowed; Flurry heard her knees pop from the motion. Her horn had an inhibitor ring upon it.
“Sweet Celestia, Rares!” Rainbow exclaimed. “You look worse than I do.”
“My grooming habits have slipped, darling,” Rarity answered with a rasp. Her eyes widened at Rainbow’s metal wing, then to the scar running down her muzzle. “Gracious! Are you all right?”
“Yeah, Canterlot was rough,” Rainbow shrugged. “Got a cooler wing now.”
Rarity clicked her tongue. “It clashes terribly with your coat.”
“I can make anything look good.” Rainbow fluffed up her mohawk with her good wing.
“Princess,” the other occupant of the cell wheezed. Flurry turned to her and blinked in shock. She did not know Suri Polomare. The pink earth pony had rolled off the bed during the discussion. Her belly strained the drab blue jumpsuit nearly down to her hooves.
Suri was fat. She was the first fat pony that Flurry could ever remember seeing. Ponies had always been thin in Nova Griffonia, and the Empire was far worse. The alicorn stood there mutely, trying to remember if there were fat ponies in Aquileia. Surely, she thought, but couldn’t remember any. It was actually startling. Flurry had gotten used to seeing the outlines of skulls under stretched fur and sunken eyes.
Suri stood up. Simply by girth, she forced Rarity to step to the side and back up against her bed. The earth pony had flaps of skin under her muzzle, suggesting she had been even heavier at one point. Her muzzle wobbled and tears sprang to her grayish-brown eyes. “Princess,” Suri sobbed. “Please, let me go! This was all a dreadful mistake!”
Flurry slowly gave Bronzetail a side-eye. “How did you get her in a cell?”
“Lots of shoving,” Bronzetail answered. “It was quite difficult.”
“They put you in a cell with a pig, Rares,” Rainbow chuckled. “Farm life finally found you.”
“Princess, please!” Suri wheezed. She trudged forward to the bars in the cell door. “This is all a misunderstanding! The bugs forced me to do it!”
“They forced you to eat pies?” Flurry asked. “This city is starving.”
Bronzetail coughed into a claw, suppressing a laugh.
“T-that wasn’t my fault!” Suri sputtered. “I tried to keep my workers safe from her!” She raised a flabby hoof and shoved Rarity. “The bugs made me work with her!”
“I worked under Suri before the uprising, amongst other things,” Rarity admitted.
“I heard about the uniforms,” Flurry replied. “They were awful?”
“I had substandard material,” Rarity nickered. “Hardly my fault they were prone to falling apart in strenuous exercise. I’m sure some poor Jaeger lost their life because of it.”
“After the failure, it was so much worse!” Suri continued. “I can’t be held responsible for what happened in my factories!”
“Sweatshops,” Rarity clarified with a nod. “I dealt with a great deal of Suri’s bookkeeping, and some management of the factory floor.” She gave Suri a glance. “She wasn’t willing to walk the floor, as it were. She watched sometimes.”
“She admits it!” The hoof shoved Rarity again. “I wined and dined Lilac, I confess, but I did so to keep ponies safe! Rarity was in charge of everything, all the whippings and beatings!”
Rainbow’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Rares?” she asked.
“I was not in charge of them,” Rarity defended. She laid back down on the bed to give Suri more room. “The Changelings set harsh quotas, not Suri, and I was usually brought in to…observe punishments.”
Rarity hesitated. “They liked doing that, making me watch.” Her eyes were bitter and she glanced to the earth pony. “They liked making me single out ponies that failed to meet quotas.”
Flurry glanced at Suri. I’m sure she was part of ‘They.’ “You whipped and beat ponies?” she asked.
“I did not,” Rarity answered. “The Changelings did, or sometimes a floor manager that Suri appointed.” She looked around the cell. “Very few of them are in here. I suspect most of them are dead in ditches.”
“She was part of everything, all the operations,” Suri said rapidly. The earth pony stamped a hoof and jiggled like jelly.
“I was.”
“Rarity,” Flurry said slowly. “I have executed ponies for less than what you just confessed to.”
“I’m afraid I haven’t gotten much news for quite a while, Princess,” Rarity apologized.
“Grover said you refused to speak for his invasion,” Flurry pointed out.
“The Kaiser? I am tired of being a piece of art to be propped up on a wall,” Rarity spat. “Lilac did not even realize I was working for Suri. The Changelings didn’t know where I was until after Starlight lost.”
“Why didn’t you fight with us?” Rainbow asked angrily. “You could have fought!”
“I am not a soldier,” Rarity replied with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, darling, but I don’t have it in me to kill. I thought I could do more good where I was." She looked to the side. "I was making some good progress in Canterlot before the uprising.”
“Rarity,” Flurry began with a snarl. “Everypony in this cell block is going to die. They are all being executed.”
Svengallop was listening and burst into harsh sobs. Flurry turned and bucked the cell door with one hoof, bending the metal bars inward. “Quiet!” Flurry shouted. Svengallop screamed and backed up, scurrying like a rat. The alicorn turned back to Rarity and Suri. “You have confessed to being a Changeling puppet and Suri’s pawn. What good did you do?”
Rarity met the Princess’ eyes fearlessly. “They will never love me for it, but I kept thousands of ponies alive; they were given rations when they would have gotten nothing. The Love Harvests hurt many, but none died. I put orphans in the factories. I played my part as best I could.”
“You used foals?” Rainbow said despairingly. Her muzzle was twisted between anger and grief.
“Yes!” Suri whinnied. “It was all her idea!”
“Yes,” Rarity replied. “I needed their little hooves to clean the gears and thread needles. It was quite necessary. No Love Harvests for them, and far too many to count.” The flippant remark hung in the air.
Flurry sighed. “Rarity, I am not Twilight Sparkle. I am a deeply stupid mare. If there was some plot to save ponies, say it.”
Rarity blinked. “I cooked the books. Suri was too busy gorging herself and the Changelings were too overstretched after Starlight’s rebellion. There were several hundred more ponies working and eating than the Changelings ever knew about, and they did very little.”
Suri turned and gaped at Rarity. The earth pony quickly recovered and shoved her back on the bed. “She’s lying! It was my idea!”
“Can that be verified at all?” Flurry asked Rainbow. “Get with Price.”
“Suri offered her help during the early days of the invasion,” Bronzetail interrupted in Herzlander. “Unlike Equestria, the Reich has an appreciation for wearing clothes. We didn’t need uniforms.”
“I disagree, darling,” Rarity replied in smooth Herzlander. “Your hat is quite garish.”
Bronzetail put a claw on his hat protectively. “I am about to save your life!” he squawked. “There were several hundred more slaves in Suri’s factories than she claimed, particularly foals. It was a surprise to the soldiers. Several of her managers were killed before we reopened the prison.”
“How long did you think that would work?” Flurry asked the unicorn.
“As long as I could make it work,” Rarity answered. “They would have shot me once they found out.”
“You’re okay with dying?” Flurry narrowed her eyes.
“For foals? Yes. They would have died otherwise. They had nopony left to look out for them.”
“You let the Changelings use you.”
“I tried to use them back.” Rarity sighed. She laid on the bed. “I do not fear death, Princess, not anymore. Death is easy. Life is difficult.”
Flurry stood up straight and stared down her muzzle at Rarity. “You’re out on parole.”
“Pardon?” Rarity asked, lifting her head from her hooves.
“You’re not pardoned,” Flurry quipped. “You are on parole. Despite my best efforts, my army keeps trying to make purple uniforms a reality, and we have many orphans. You will help them.”
“Your uniform looks quite nice, Princess.”
“Thanks," Flurry said, amused. "I hate it. You will help Manehattan, and my army. Price will verify your story; I suspect he will also keep you from being lynched.”
Flurry sneered down at Suri. The fat mare stood in the cell with a wobbling muzzle, sniffling. “I would say you would hang, but there’s not a lamppost in Manehattan that could bear your weight.”
“Please,” Suri sobbed. “It was all her idea!”
“To try and save ponies?” Flurry asked. “Or work with Lilac? She makes a convenient scapegoat, doesn’t she? Who set up the factories in the first place?”
“I had to do it! Lilac would’ve killed me!”
“The Changelings didn’t even know who you were until you waddled up to them,” Rainbow snarled. She raised her metal wing and slashed it against the bars. Sparks flew into Suri’s flabby chins and she stumbled back.
Suri shrank back as best she could, raising her hooves over her head and laying on the floor in the back of the cell. “Please, Princess! Mercy!”
“I do not enjoy ordering her dragged out of the cell,” Bronzetail remarked, “nor will Duty Price.” He signaled with a wing for the cell door to be unlocked. The door clicked open after a moment and the bars rolled back.
“You’re right,” Flurry agreed. “Can I borrow your pistol? I'd prefer to reserve my magic."
Bronzetail unholstered his pistol and offered it to Flurry. She plucked it out of his claw in a golden aura, flicking the safety off. “Come on, Rares,” Rainbow said softly. She helped Rarity off the bed and tugged her away from the open door.
“Princess, I must protest!” Rarity pleaded. She stumbled against Rainbow on unsteady hooves.
“Please!” Suri sobbed. “It’s not my fault! It’s not fair!" The earth pony jabbed a hoof towards Rarity. "She helped! She did everything!”
“She confessed,” Flurry said lowly. “I’m tired of hearing excuses.” The pistol floated in front of Flurry's muzzle and she lined up Suri’s head with the sights. The earth pony was in the very back of the cell, laying on the ground and sobbing wretchedly. Squealing like a pink pig. Flurry chuckled at the image.
Rarity stepped in front of the barrel just as Flurry pulled the trigger. “Prin-”
Rainbow reacted quicker than Flurry, flaring out her metal wing in front of the pistol. The bullet ricocheted off the feathers and back at the Princess. Flurry felt a sharp pain in her left foreleg as the bullet tore her navy sleeve and grazed her leg. Flurry snarled in pain and hobbled back, holding her hoof up. Bronzetail flinched as the alicorn’s horn erupted in bright golden light. She nearly crushed the pistol in her magical grip.
“What the hay?” Rainbow screamed and shoved Rarity into the hallway. The guards on the walkways above tensed and looked down. Bronzetail waved a claw for them to back up, hat askew. Ponies in the cell blocks started whinnying, calling out to Flurry.
“Princess!”
“Let us out!”
“Please, Princess!”
“I didn’t do anything!”
Flurry Heart inhaled and Bronzetail clapped his claws over his ears.
“Shut up!” Flurry screamed and blew out the windows in the hallway. Glass shards rained down; everyone took cover while snowflakes poured in from outside. “Talk and you die!” The shouting stopped as the cell bars rattled. The guards on the upper walkways braced themselves on the floor with paws and claws.
The cell block was silent, only a slight wind brushed broken glass from the windows. Flurry limped forward to Rarity with a feral grimace. The gun floated wildly about her and she felt blood stick to her sleeve. “You think she’d stand in front of a gun for you?” Flurry spat.
“I’m sorry, Princess,” Rarity apologized, looking down at the sleeve and the blood trickling from it. Her muzzle scrunched in regret.
Flurry set the pistol on the floor, rolled up her sleeve in her magic, and looked at the gash through her pink fur. The injury was shallow and the ricochet skipped along the ground after hitting her. Flurry cast a blood clotting spell and tore the sleeve off, binding it around the wound messily with her muzzle. “Despite everything, this is the first time I’ve been shot,” she ground out with venom when she was finished. “Thank you, truly generous.”
“I’m sorry, Flurry,” Rainbow apologized rapidly. “She just rushed forward. It’s my fault.”
“It’s hers,” Flurry corrected, glaring at Rarity. “I just spared your life and you rush to get killed for that pig?”
Rarity swallowed, looking slightly up into Flurry’s angry blue eyes. “Suri is a horrid, horrid mare, but I don’t wish her dead.”
“I do,” Flurry countered. “A lot of ponies do.”
“A lot of ponies wish me dead, I’m sure,” Rarity replied. “Despite the Reich’s reputation for cruelty, they are not executing ponies in the street. These ponies can reform, Princess. They can work and be better, learn better.”
Flurry looked to Rainbow. “Wind Rider watched with a smile as Rainbow’s father died. Tell me one thing that Suri did that helped anypony other than herself.”
“Employ me,” Rarity answered readily. “She gave me a chance to help ponies, intended or not.” Rarity bowed before Flurry; blood trickled down onto one of the alicorn’s white boots from the gash. “Please, Princess. Forgiveness is an aspect of generosity. I can take Suri as an assistant and she can help me. I will need the help.”
“I’ll do it!” Suri screamed from the back of the cell. “Please! I’ll do anything! I swear it, Princess!”
“Forgiveness,” Flurry echoed, staring up at the cells and the cowering ponies inside them. Even after months of being in prison, they still looked healthier than the ones outside. The griffon guards stared down at her with wide, fearful eyes. Bronzetail adjusted his officer's cap.
“Celestia forgave her sister. We forgave Discord. The hardest thing to do can be reaching out a hoof,” Rarity said.
“Very generous of you,” Flurry remarked, “to extend such faith in them. In Equestria’s darkest hours, they turned on my subjects.”
“I try to be generous,” Rarity answered. “I don’t always succeed. Where would we be without it?"
Flurry nodded. Without breaking eye contact with Rarity, she grabbed the pistol in her magic, raised it up, and shot Suri Polomare though the head. The earth pony died mid-shriek, sounding more like a pig than a pony.
“Celestia risked the fate of the world to save her mad sister,” Flurry replied down to the stunned mare. “She cares for Luna more than her crown. Discord should’ve been killed after he sided with Tirek. Letting him out at all was a mistake. Where is he now? He abandoned us.”
Flurry’s wings trembled in anger. “Chrysalis stands atop a mountain of corpses. She would laugh and knock away your outstretched hoof. Do you imagine her earning forgiveness?” Flurry clicked her tongue. “Sometimes, generosity is wasted.”
“Why would you spare me, then?” Rarity asked blankly.
“You were an Element of Harmony and a national hero,” Flurry replied. “I will not kill Sweetie Belle’s last remaining family and alienate half of my subjects, though the other half might approve. If your story is true, you’ve done enough to earn a chance.”
She narrowed her eyes and lowered her muzzle to Rarity. “Never step in front of my gun again.” Flurry stood straight and extended her wings, ignoring the pain in her foreleg. “Rainbow, please bring Rarity to her little sister. They have a happy reunion.”
“Uh, yeah,” Rainbow nodded. She hauled Rarity up, despite the unicorn being taller than her, and dragged her down the hallway, stumbling away from the pooling blood in her cell. Flurry Heart flicked the safety on and offered the pistol back to Bronzetail. He delicately grabbed it out of her magical field.
“If I had insisted on Gilda being shot,” he asked quietly, “would you have killed me over it?”
Flurry didn’t reply and watched Rainbow leave. “I’m glad it didn’t come to that,” she deflected.
Bronzetail holstered the pistol. “Griffenheim was a hard day,” he sighed and rubbed his beak. His wings twitched. “The protestors were burning flags; they stormed the Temple of Boreas and defiled the statues. Some of the guards died around the Archon's tomb. The first revolution started that way, you know.”
“Do you regret it?” Flurry asked softly.
“I would have nothing but regrets if the Reich fell apart again while I could have stopped it,” Bronzetail answered with a painful sigh. “I’m sure the Kaiser feels the same.”
“Do you speak with Grover often?”
“Updates,” he shrugged a wing. “Nothing else. I am simply one of his Field Marshals.”
“Having friends and subjects is hard,” Flurry sighed. “You warned me.”
“There is always a price,” Bronzetail said. “Griffons know this well.”
There really is. Flurry grimaced and limped forward, favoring her left foreleg.
“I can have a medical officer look at that here,” Bronzetail offered. He followed behind the Princess.
“Just give me a medical bag,” Flurry muttered in Herzlander. “It needs some stitches. I can do it myself.”
“Just so,” Bronzetail agreed. Flurry and the Field Marshal returned to the lobby, finding a large group of disheveled and thin ponies in jumpsuits with Duty Price. Rarity and Rainbow stood with the Crusaders. Sweetie was clutching to Rarity and weeping; her left foreleg bent stiffly in the leg brace. Rarity whispered into her ears with her own tears streaming from her muzzle.
Everypony stopped what they were doing to look at the Princess beside Bronzetail.
“Listen up!” Price shouted. “The Princess and her big pink shield cut a deal with the Reich. The birds need our help to win their little war. We’re going to fight the bugs together!” He walked up to the Princess and stood beside her. “That means no more attacks! You can go back to your families, say your loves, then spread the word!” Nopony refused, but Flurry could see pinned ears and lashing tails.
“This is the way forward,” Flurry called out. “Together. Chrysalis will kill us all. We will not lose to infighting. I will not allow my ponies to die because we couldn’t put aside our differences.”
“We can restore the power stations and share supplies,” Bronzetail added in Equestrian. A few in the crowd glared at him.
“You heard the Princess!” Price shouted. “Trucks are outside. Birds are awful drivers, but we’re going home, everypony. Thank the Princess.” He chewed on an unlit cigarette as ponies began to file out into the snowy yard. A few did thank her with tired nods, but most just shuffled out into the snow, enjoying the sky.
“How’d it go?” Flurry asked the earth pony.
“Better than whatever you were doing,” Price muttered. “We heard your shout over in the other cell block. Half the city probably heard that.” He glanced down at her leg and whistled. “Some bird take a shot at you?”
“I shot myself in the leg,” Flurry shrugged a wing. She stared at the reunion with the Crusaders, Rainbow, and Rarity. There was less roughhousing and more crying this time. “Can I borrow the Cutie Mark Crusaders for a moment?” she asked.
“They’re a bundle of trouble,” Price admitted. “Just go by Crusaders now. If you want them as guards, they’ll get you into more trouble than get you out.”
“I’ll give them back in a second,” Flurry said. “Mare stuff,” she added.
Price’s eyes widened. “Crusaders! Up front!” he shouted brusquely. “Stop the weeping and hugs, you’re making us look bad in front of the Princess! She has need of your sorry flanks!”
“Medical kit and the nearest bathroom, please,” Flurry requested to Bronzetail.
“For, uh, mare stuff?” Bronzetail asked lamely, clearly uncomfortable.
“For my leg,” Flurry clarified with a scrunched muzzle. “Gross.”
“Of course, just so,” Bronzetail said quickly. He looked around the room, but didn’t see any griffons. He quickly ran to the hallway with flapping wings. “Grizelda! Escort the Princess to the bathrooms. Bring a medical kit!” he screeched in Herzlander.
Grizelda squawked something back that Flurry didn’t hear.
“Just do it!” Bronzetail ordered and disappeared down the hallway.
“You want to see us, Princess?” Scootaloo asked with an easy grin. “Rainbow said you’re a pretty good pilot.”
“Pretty good?” Flurry replied with mock offense. “I’m better than her.”
“You cheat with that horn,” Scootaloo retorted.
Sweetie Belle sniffled. “Thank you, Princess.” She tried to bow again.
“Stop,” Flurry ordered.
“Whatcha need us for?” Babs asked in a thick Bronclyn accent. “Princesh,” she tacked on at the end.
“Advice,” Flurry said vaguely.
Grizelda, a black, owl-like griffon exited the hallway with a large medical bag between her claws and a rifle on her back. Flurry levitated the bag over and flung it on withers, balancing it with her wings. “Thanks.”
The griffon blinked at her empty claws.
“Bathroom?” Flurry prompted.
“Y-Yes,” Grizelda stammered. “This way.”
Flurry limped after the griffon until she reached a large shower room; the four mares followed her. Flurry entered through the single door and brushed past Grizelda, followed by the Crusaders. The tile was moldy and the room had clearly not been used for months. The lights flickered. Flurry dragged a bench up to a row of sinks and tested the faucets, finding that they worked. She set the medical bag down. “You can leave,” she said to Grizelda. “Shut the door behind you, please.”
Grizelda practically slammed the door shut.
“If you’re hurt, Princess, I’m a medic,” Sweetie offered eagerly.
“A pretty good one,” Apple Bloom added. The yellow earth pony set her submachine gun down and looked around the room.
“You're not here for that,” Flurry said. “I got it.” She unbound the strip of cloth and tossed it into the sink. Flurry unbuttoned her collar and shirt. She slowly undressed with her horn while the water heated up. “You offered fillies advice on their cutie marks, right?” She rolled the sleeve back as far as she could, nearly up to her barrel.
“Before the war,” Apple Bloom answered with a drawl.
“I got my cutie mark late,” Flurry replied.
“That’s pretty common, Princess,” Scootaloo said. “Since the war, a lot of colts and fillies are struggling to find their talents.”
“Most are more concerned with surviving,” Sweetie added sadly. “We’ve seen a lot of younger soldiers with guns and grenades. Crosshairs, explosions, a lot of things.”
Flurry hummed. “You don’t approve?” She set her boots below the bench, beside her long-sleeved jacket and flank skirt. She was only wearing her navy pants around her flank. Give a Herzlander a heart attack right now, she chuckled quietly.
“Well, it’s not exactly their choice,” Babs said languidly. “Not like they have a say about what appears on their flank. Grow up fighting and get a mark about fighting.”
“It’s not fair,” Sweetie countered. “Somepony so young shouldn’t have to deal with that.”
“War ain’t fair,” Babs snapped back.
Flurry set her foreleg on the bench. She retrieved a razor from the bag and alcohol wipes, shaving off the fur around the gash and wiping it down. Her spell stopped the bleeding. Flurry frowned while she worked; her tongue stuck out between bared teeth. Her audience watched the Princess quietly.
Flurry glanced at her reflection in the mirrors above the sink. Her mane looked like a haphazard buzzcut, matched by the obvious pink patches where her fur was still filling in. Flurry retrieved a needle and thread from the bag, biting off the loose thread and holding the needle in her magic.
“I could use your interpretation,” Flurry Heart said. She used her other foreleg to push her pants down and expose her flank. “I got my cutie mark in the Crystal Empire.”
“You shaved your tail, Princess?” Babs blushed.
“Burned it off getting the mark,” Flurry answered.
“We’re all mares here,” Apple Bloom shrugged. “Nothing we ain’t seen before.”
Sweetie squinted at the cutie mark critically. “It’s the Crystal Heart, right?”
“Just tell me what you think,” Flurry said. She jabbed the needle into her leg and began to close the gash. Her eye twitched, but she was otherwise expressionless.
Sweetie and Scootaloo shared a concerned look.
“Well, it’s the Crystal Heart,” the pegasus began. “With a shield around it. There’s the largest shield, like ever, up around the Crystal Empire. You're good with shield spells, right? Just like your dad.”
“There’s flames around the shield,” Apple Bloom pointed out. “The shield’s protecting the Heart.”
“The shield and the flames are the same color,” Babs retorted. “Doesn’t the shield burn the bugs?”
“How’d you get the mark, Princess?” Apple Bloom asked.
“Same way I lost my mane and tail,” Flurry answered with a slight hiss of pain. She pulled the thread through and closed the wound. She tossed the needle and thread in the sink with the rag. Flurry wiped down her leg again and wrapped a bandage around it. Shouldn’t scar. Mending spell will close it up in a few days.
The alicorn looked up at the Crusaders. “The Crystal Heart was broken,” Flurry summarized. “I fixed it, forced it together to banish the storm. It nearly killed me.”
“Getting a cutie mark should be a happy moment,” Sweetie replied.
“My heart stopped. Magical Depletion.”
“Ain’t that fatal?” Babs asked, seeing Sweetie’s horrified open muzzle.
“Usually,” Flurry replied.
“What were you thinking about?” Scootaloo asked warily. “When the cutie mark manifested. That’s usually a big hint.”
“Dying,” Flurry answered quietly.
Sweetie shook her head, distressed. “No need to overthink it,” she said quickly. “Your father’s talent was shield spells, and your mother had the Crystal Heart. You have both.”
“Yeah, uh, you’re protecting the Crystal Heart from the fire,” Scootaloo added.
“Nothing wrong with protecting ponies,” Apple Bloom finished.
Babs was quiet. She looked away rather than argue with the others.
Flurry looked them over. They got their marks before the war, before Equestria fell. She decided not to mention anything else. “Thanks.”
“Course,” Apple Bloom nodded. “Was that it?”
“I just wanted an expert opinion,” Flurry lied. “I don’t remember getting my cutie mark.” The alicorn pulled her uniform back on, one piece at a time. Sweetie bundled up the medical bag with her green magic and slung it on her back, turning off the sink.
“Princess,” Apple Bloom hesitated. “Can I ask about Applejack?”
“I’ll talk to her,” Flurry promised. She slipped her boots back on and turned the sink off.
“Might not even make it to that,” Babs muttered under her breath.
Apple Bloom didn’t hear her cousin. She was too focused on smoothing out her gray ELF uniform. The gems of the Elements of Harmony on the armband was faded. “Please,” the stocky earth pony pleaded, “if Applejack didn’t pull back during the uprising, the ‘lings woulda shot every Apple they ever saw. My sister did her best to keep ponies healthy and safe in the orchard.” Apple Bloom’s rosy red mane was clipped short and pulled into a ponytail. She looked like Applejack did in Rainbow’s old pictures.
“I’ll talk to her,” Flurry promised. Apple Bloom looked like she wanted to say far more, and opened her mouth.
“Lemme give ya a hoof,” Babs offered and interrupted her cousin. She hauled Flurry upright with her earth pony strength and steadied the larger mare. “How’s putting weight on that leg?”
Flurry tested it. “I can deal with it.”
“You’re one tough mare,” Babs complimented. “Sweetie whined for days.”
“Shut up, Babs,” Sweetie nickered.
“Go check on that griffon outside,” Babs said over her shoulder to the others. “You’ve seen how these birds get about clothes. Probably think we're doing some slumber party in here. I'll give the Princess a hoof.”
Flurry picked up on the hint. “Babs will help me. I’ll be right out. Thanks.” Scootaloo, Apple Bloom, and Sweetie trotted out, bumping into each other and jostling their slung submachine guns. Flurry waited until the door closed again. “What did you want to say about my mark?” she asked softly.
“I figure you got a better idea than any of us,” Babs responded, “and you were hoping we’d say something else.” Her hazel eyes looked sympathetic. “Wanted to talk about my cousin’s sister.”
“I’ll talk to her,” Flurry repeated.
“Kill ‘er quick,” Babs said bluntly.
Please, kill Sunburst quickly.
“What?” Flurry asked.
“Look,” Babs sighed, “Rarity might be able to walk around Manehattan without gettin’ her head caved in with a pipe, but we had no idea she was workin’ with Suri until she surrendered during the uprising. Applejack was on that orchard and yuckin' it up with the bugs since the beginning. There’s no Suri. It’s all her.”
“Apple Bloom says it was to protect her family.”
“Apple Bloom is fighting with us,” Babs countered. “Her sister had the chance when the Everfree swallowed Ponyville, and she went with the bugs to Appleoosa. She’s got an even bigger orchard now, and more slaves. Maybe she treats ‘em better than most, but I’m not going to be an excuse for her. A lot of Apples would rather have died to the bugs than be used like that.”
“Including you?” Flurry asked.
“Damn right,” Babs nodded. “A lot of family hates her, Princess. And there’s a lot of Apples.”
“Rarity was in the same situation.” Flurry waved her wings and refolded them.
“Rarity ain’t wearing a bug outfit like some old earth pony show the unicorns would put on,” Babs snorted. “She didn’t stamp her mark onto bottles and ship ‘em to the bugs. She sure as shit didn’t make money. You walk up to an Apple and say AJ did everything to keep ponies safe, and you’re picking one Tartarus of a fight.”
“She’s an Element of Harmony. She was a general,” Flurry said evenly. “You want me to string her up in a tree? Half my ponies don’t even know who I am.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout that,” Babs replied. “You don’t have to kill her. We’ll do it. Apples take care of our own.”
Flurry narrowed her eyes. “You tell your cousin that?”
“Many times,” Babs said unashamed, “and it always starts a fight. The bugs wiped out the damn buffalo to get to the oil and clear more room. That’s all Appleoosa is now, orchards and oil fields.” She walked with Flurry towards the door. “She should’ve hung herself from a tree branch in Appleoosa,” Babs finished. “Saved us all the trouble. Family’s going to tear itself apart over it if you let her live.”
Flurry stopped Babs Seed with a wing and held her back. Despite Bab’s stockiness, the alicorn held her in place easily. “I decide.” Flurry glared down at her. “Not you.”
“Princess,” Babs bowed on the moldy tile. Her stolen gun bumped against her flank.
“Rise,” Flurry ordered. She stepped through the door with a slight limp. The other Crusaders were apparently interrogating various Reich soldiers for the whereabouts of somegriff named Gabby, and getting nowhere. Part of the reason was their atrocious Herzlander. “Let’s go,” Flurry shouted. “Don’t test their patience.” The griffons looked very grateful for the reprieve.
The remaining Crusaders broke off and formed a loose group around Flurry Heart. “My sister can fix that sleeve for you,” Sweetie gestured with her horn to Flurry’s torn pant leg. "It's a very nice uniform, Princess." Flurry just nodded.
The lobby was nearly empty. Price and Bronzetail were still shooting each other vaguely frenemy-level glares, but they were smoking together. Progress. Rarity and Rainbow were waiting at the door, arguing quietly. Rainbow’s metal wing twitched as she bared her teeth at Rarity. Flurry couldn't hear the conversation, but Rarity kept shaking her head mutely.
“Are we ready to go?” Flurry asked in Herzlander.
“I convinced ‘Bronzebird’ to set up in Carneighie Hall,” Price responded. “New headquarters. Crystaller building has too much baggage from Lilac.”
“It will take time,” Bronzetail tacked on. “We can do a radio broadcast tomorrow. Loop it for a few days.”
“I’ll visit the boroughs then while the power stations are repaired. Help smooth things over,” Flurry decided.
“You going somewhere?” Price asked.
“Baltimare,” Flurry replied. “Rainbow, make sure Nightshade and her siblings are ready to go in a week.” Rainbow broke away from the conversation with a huff and nodded to Flurry decisively. The pegasus left Rarity by the doors.
Price frowned around the cigar. “You know that Baltimare’s full of insane communists, right? Call themselves syndicalists or something.”
“I’m fine with communists,” Flurry said honestly.
“They aren’t fine with you,” Price retorted.
“Golden Delicious is in charge,” Apple Bloom added. “He’s part of the Apples.”
Babs glanced at Flurry with a weary eye and scuffed a hoof on the floor. “He ain’t gonna like you,” she warned.
“Duty Price didn’t like me either,” Flurry replied. She took her hat off with a wing and scrubbed at her stubble. “I won him over.”
“I don’t like making little fillies cry,” Price coughed into a hoof with a slight blush. “What’s your plan if you can’t win him over?”
“Same plan I had with you,” Flurry said flippantly. “For Baltimare’s sake, I hope that’s not necessary. The Reich just needs the port.”
“Right,” Price swallowed nervously. “We’re ready to go.”
“Duty Price will ride with the Princess, as will I,” Bronzetail announced.
“Crusaders, get with the others, fourth truck,” Price ordered. Flurry watched them leave together. Apple Bloom and Babs walked together, but their legs moved stiffly. They didn’t walk like friends or family.
“Miss Rarity, you may accompany the Princess and myself,” Bronzetail offered in Equestrian. “I apologize for your detainment.” He removed his cap and preformed a half-bow.
Rarity took a moment to respond. “That’s alright, darling,” she said absently. The pearl unicorn looked over her shoulder down the hallway to her cell block. Flurry followed her look. The hallway was cluttered with guards.
“The executions will begin shortly,” Bronzetail said to Flurry in Herzlander. “Ponies will do it; Price selected a few to begin that he trusts. The bodies will be strung up publicly for a few days in designated areas around the city, so Manehattan will know they are truly dead and not changelings.”
“Changelings make a lot of things difficult,” Flurry sighed in Equestrian. “I’m sure Rarity wants to spend time with her sister."
“Whatever you command, Princess,” Rarity responded icily. She did not look at Flurry.
Flurry bit her lip to stop a snarl. She walked with Bronzetail outside, and Rarity followed with an escort of Reich knights. The snowfall had stopped. A faint pink tint was in the sky to the north. The canvas tops of the military trucks had a thin layer of snow, and a few guards flapped their wings and bushed it off with gloved claws.
Flurry flapped her wings and settled into the truck guarded by a squad of armored knights. Bronzetail followed. Duty Price was already inside, waiting in the middle. Bronzetail and Price sat across from each other, puffing smoke rings. It seemed to be a contest on who could blow a bigger ring. Stallions. The truck’s engine started with the others.
A guard squawked angrily and Rainbow appeared, flapping her wings from above. “Can I ride with you, Princess?” she asked nervously. “And, uh, Field Marshal Bronzetail?”
“Thought you wanted to be with the Crusaders?” Price asked.
Rainbow wrung her hooves as she hovered. “I, uh, don’t wanna start a fight with Rares.”
Flurry Heart sighed. “It’s up to Elias,” she told the pegasus. She gestured to Bronzetail with a hoof.
Bronzetail gave the floating pegasus a long, severe look, then sighed and pinched his beak with a claw. “Get in the Maar-damned truck,” he squawked.
He swore in Herzlander, so Rainbow just floated awkwardly.
“He said get in,” Flurry translated.
Rainbow sat in the very back and carefully brushed snow from her metal feathers. The convoy made slow progress through the city due to the snowfall. The four creatures sat tiredly in the back of the truck. No one spoke. Flurry Heart idly watched and counted the lampposts and balconies on the streets they drove through.
By the time she left for Baltimare, the lights were on in most of the city. The attacks had stopped on the garrisons. Bronzetail moved the headquarters to Carneighie Hall, and Duty Price began patrols through the outer boroughs. A few Reich trucks dropped off excess winter clothes in Bronclyn. They were too large for ponies, but the Manehattanites made do. The public fires ceased.
The prison was empty. Bodies swung from lampposts in the cold winter air. Svengallop and Suri were hauled up to an unused crane at the Manehattan docks next to a warehouse. Suri took an entire squad by herself, and needed an industrial-grade wire instead of rope. They dangled over a large crowd of dock workers, mostly earth ponies, that helped unload the incoming ships flying the flag of the Griffonian Reich. Beside the crane, the warehouse wall had a large, faded poster of Celestia stuffing her muzzle with cake.
Is this your Princess? the poster asked, but the words had been painted over.
THIS IS was splattered across the words, with an arrow pointing at the bodies.
Below it, there was more writing on the wall.
LONG LIVE THE PRINCESS OF HOPE ROPE
Grover von Greifenstein, sixth of his name, had a crick in his neck.
He groaned and dropped the report on the most recent engagement east of the Everfree back onto his desk. The Reichstone was heavy, a mass of gold and studded with gems that depressed his tan feathers and seemed to physically weigh down his head. Doubtlessly, Grover the Great had it forged that way, as a symbol for the burdens of leadership.
As if I need a reminder, Grover thought. He removed the crown with two claws and let it drop to the oak desk with a thump. He noticed his pen and several reports jolt from the impact; he pushed the crown to the edge of the table with an elbow and out of the way. Grover leaned forward in the chair and stretched his wings. The cushioned chair had not been made for a Griffon, nor for any creature with wings. An earth pony, doubtlessly. Manehattan is an earth pony city.
“My ponies,” the radio below his desk crackled in Equestrian, repeating a speech. “We must present a unified front with the Griffonian Reich to face Chrysalis. There cannot be division.” Flurry Heart’s voice sounded scratchier on the radio than it truly was. “I have signed a ceasefire, and I expect my ponies to follow my wish. I ask for cooperation with the Reich’s soldiers. There will be no more raids on the supply lines, nor attacks on their garrisons. If you continue to do so, you are jeopardizing the fate of millions of ponies still in chains across Equestria. I cannot allow that to happen.” Grover kicked the radio off with a bare paw.
While he stretched, his left claw rubbed the back of his neck, smoothing down the fur and attempting to relieve the strain. Grover removed his glasses with his other claw, setting them on the table and blinking rapidly to clear his eyes. There was a series of rapid knocks at the door, following a well-established pattern.
“Enter, Benito,” Grover called out across the wide room. It was once a dining area for a large indoor theater in downtown Manehattan. His voice cracked slightly, registering back to a higher-pitch. Grover grumbled through his beak and coughed to clear his throat.
Benito pushed the doors open, eyeing the armed dogs on the outside of the wooden double doors, back in the hallway. He wore a black leather coat over his boots, pants, and gray shirt. His coat dripped with slush from melting snow. Benito knelt in the open doorway with a paw clasped to his chest. His sword rattled against his side from the motion.
Grover squinted at the blurry gray shape in the doorway, then hooked his glasses back into his head feathers, settling the lenses on his beak. “Rise.”
“My Kaiser,” Benito intoned, then stood with a paw still clasped to his chest. “Field Marshal Bronzetail, General Thundertail, and General Mudbeak are here as requested.” He stood straight at attention, not quite making eye contact with Grover, instead staring straight ahead. “Chief Grimwing and Gallus have their reports as well.”
Grover glanced over at the wall clock. Already? He stood up, tail swishing thoughtlessly behind him, and pulled his long coat off the back of the high chair. “Very well. What else?”
“There is a messenger from the Empire, a griffon. Says she brings important news.”
“What news?” Grover slid the coat on. He was only wearing a white buttoned-up shirt and black slacks. The coat was heavily embroidered and stylized with the roaring griffon of the Reich. He popped the high collar and smoothed it out.
“Reports on Changeling movements.” Benito’s lips curled. “She refuses to share them with anyone except yourself.”
“Is she an officer?” Grover asked, standing before the Reichstone and delaying putting it back on. He considered his boots and gloves, but they were back in his makeshift chambers on another floor of Carneighie Hall. He buttoned his coat.
“Who can tell with the Princess’ army?” Benito scoffed. “She has a purple uniform, as do her escorts. She did not offer a rank, nor give one when pressed.”
“I do not want her pressed,” Grover sighed. “Send her through the checkpoints, have her searched and disarmed. She comes up alone.” The chandeliers above his head hummed with electricity.
“My Kaiser.” Benito clicked his boots together and thumped a paw against his chest. “I will have her escorted here.”
“Do so.” Grover waved a claw. “Have them sent up. I am ready. Dismissed.” He folded the front of his jacket and grabbed the Reichstone with both claws, pulled at the padding on the interior, then carefully placed it back on his head. I can hear my neck screeching in protest already.
“My Kaiser.” Benito knelt again, then left the room. The guards swung the doors shut with a loud thump. Grover grabbed the reports he deemed important and carried them in a claw.
Grover paced to the large, rectangular table in the center of the room and stood at the head. A map of Equus was spread out upon it, with miniatures of tanks and knights facing wooden carvings of Changeling soldiers. The line of opposing miniatures abruptly stopped just before Rainbow Falls, and Grover ignored the large, sweeping oval drawn atop the north of Equus on the paper map. He set the reports down and organized them.
It was a table made for ponies, and so sat lower than it properly should for a griffon. The legs were too short, though intricately carved with stylized depictions of the Princesses of Ponies. Each leg had its own Princess: Twilight Sparkle, Mi Amore Cadenza, Luna, and Celestia. Grover leaned down and picked at the wide muzzle of Celestia with a talon while he waited. Out of date, now. There is only one Princess of Ponies worth anything.
Every griffon entered the same way. They would knock on the door, waiting for their Kaiser to allow them entry. Grover would say "Enter." They would bow in the doorway with a claw clasped to their breast and remove their cap. They would extend their wings. Grover would call “Rise,” and they would walk to one side the table and stare straight ahead, looking at nothing.
They would remain standing at the table with wings folded; paws and claws would be flat against the wooden floor. Their assistants would stand against the far wall with folders and reports, ready to be called on. Knights in full body armor and heraldry on their chest plates entered last with Benito, spreading along the walls and standing at attention. They carried assault rifles at the ready and swords sheathed under their wings.
Grover waited until he had Bronzetail, Mudbeak, and Thundertail to his left, and Gallus, Grimwing, and Benito to his right. All of them were technically staring at each other, but none spoke. None of the knights or assistants spoke either. Grover stood straight and looked around the room imperiously. His neck protested the wide, sweeping gesture.
“Field Marshal Elias Bronzetail,” Grover enunciated sharply. He did not make eye contact with him.
“My Kaiser,” Bronzetail replied and thumped a claw to his chest. Bronzetail also did not look at Grover, instead staring across the table, vaguely at Benito.
“According to all reports, the attacks around Manehattan have ceased. Is this accurate?”
“Yes, my Kaiser. The most recent attack was six days ago, and linked to Changeling infiltrators left behind in Albion.”
“The ponies killed them and produced their bodies, yes? Is it possible they were lying?” Grover asked. He pulled the relevant paper free and scanned over it.
“It is possible, my Kaiser,” Bronzetail admitted. “Though they gain nothing from the deception, and risk losing everything. The Princess authorized all available means of suppressing rogue elements.”
“Do you have any evidence that they are using all available means?”
“I have Duty Price’s word, my Kaiser,” Bronzetail answered seriously. "Situations are being dealt with discreetly."
Grimwing raised one of her wings. Black-winged with a hooked beak, Grimwing was destined for spycraft. Her black long coat and flat cap completed the ensemble. Her red eyes flicked towards Bronzetail for a moment, then resumed staring ahead.
“Chief Grimwing,” Grover acknowledged. "You have something to add?"
“There have been two observed shootouts between ELF cells since the Princess’ announcement,” Grimwing stated. “Casualties unknown. They occurred in Hayston after a violent attack on our garrison in the city.”
“I already made that connection,” Grover replied. He slid another sheet of paper out and added it to the first. “If you have any evidence of reprisals, suppress and destroy it. It will only weaken our position. I suspect the ponies will do the same. The Princess and I have both decreed the violence is ended.”
Grimwing and Bronzetail nodded.
“On our side, the garrison is being remarkably cooperative with the locals. You have done well, Field Marshal,” Grover said. He did not raise his voice nor sound particularly warm. “What was this incident at the prison?”
“The Element of Generosity interrupted a summary judgement from the Princess. The bullet ricocheted and struck the Princess in the leg,” Bronzetail answered. “She wished to tend to the injury herself, and was provided the materials to do so.”
“I was referring to the incident in the courtyard,” Grover clarified. “The executions were a matter for the Princess. I understand that Rarity has relocated to the Crystal City regardless.”
Bronzetail looked down at the table. “Lieutenant Gilda abandoned her position to chase Rainbow Dash across the city. The Princess interrupted and intervened.”
“Do you know why?” Grover asked. He looked towards Gallus for a moment, and the blue griffon made brief eye contact. Gallus stilled a wing and looked across the table blankly.
“She is friends with the Element of Loyalty,” Bronzetail removed his cap and lowered his head. “I admit I acted rashly and inflamed the situation. I ask for your forgiveness.”
“You acted within your station.” Grover waved a claw. “Where is Gilda now?”
“Scrubbing toilets at the airbase.”
Grover held up an envelope and slid it down the table. It was passed down to Bronzetail. “Have her reinstated with the Air Marshal. I want Gilda flying at the front wherever Rainbow Dash may be. She is an excellent pilot, regardless of her lone flier tendencies.”
Grover held a claw up with another folded piece of paper. A griffon in a plain shirt and pants walked up to his side and bowed with claws stretched out. Grover placed the paper in his talons. “This is a corresponding order for the Air Marshal. I want Gilda given room. Tolerate her. She is friends with the Element of Loyalty, and we can use that to build bridges.” The servant backed away with a bowed head.
“Onto the executions,” Grover announced. “The executions of collaborators is entirely a pony matter. We have no opinions or say in this. Before she began to travel to Baltimare, did the Princess leave orders regarding the bodies?”
“No, my Kaiser,” Bronzetail replied. “I have left the matter with Duty Price. Most bodies are unclaimed and burned. Some remain at the dockyards as...attractions.”
“Just so,” Grover nodded. “General Thundertail, the Changelings have given us little opportunity to match tanks. From the equipment we have captured and destroyed, I expect little resistance. 3rd and 4th Armored Divisions will mass at the Everfree line. We can cross to the north if we must.”
“My Kaiser,” Thundertail said nervously. “I cannot recommend attempting an assault on the Everfree. The initial scouts were lost entirely.” The speckled griffon swallowed and stilled his wings.
“The Princess will have to deal with the ELF remnants inside, but we have experience with monstrous forests in Herzland.” Grover clacked his beak. “The Scheißwald is similarly miserable and accursed. We can go around Mount Canterhorn to the north if we must.”
“That is poor terrain for armored warfare until the Celestial Plain,” Thundertail pointed out. He leaned over the table and traced a claw on the projected path while his tail swished nervously. “The Changelings will have the advantage.”
“In terrain, not equipment,” Grover said evenly. “That is the plan for now.” He stressed the final two words of the sentence. “General Mudbeak, how many soldiers are still trapped in the southeast?”
“Twenty thousand, my Kaiser,” Mudbeak dabbed some sweat from his head. The griffon was old with entirely gray fur, and his white wispy mustache atop his beak drooped. “Since the uprising in Baltimare, they have been cut off to the north. However, the Changeling forces have been entirely wiped out in battle or attrition.”
“Continue massing the relief force north of Baltimare,” Grover ordered. “We will keep flying in supplies to the encircled divisions near the Badlands. If we push through the southeast, we can knock the Appleoosan Protectorate out of the war and cut off Chrysalis’ remaining oil fields.”
Gallus coughed into a claw.
“Of course,” Grover amended, “that plan depends on the Princess failing to negotiate with her communists.”
Mudbeak chuckled, along with Grimwing.
Grover did not laugh, so they immediately ceased.
“Chief Grimwing,” Grover asked, “how has Chancellor River Swirl reacted this week?”
“There was an emergency session of the River Parliament to address the ceasefire,” Grimwing said in a low, raspy voice. “Chancellor River Swirl dismissed Diamond Mountain’s call to declare a preemptive war, and they descended into infighting. There may be a vote of no confidence.”
“Is that your best report, Grimwing?” Thundertail chuckled.
Grover stared at him. “Did I call on your assessment, General?” he asked neutrally.
“I apologize, my Kaiser,” Thundertail replied and dipped his wings.
Grimwing took a deep breath. “Arclight and OHS continue to stymie our efforts. Our network is too divided between monitoring the River Federation and here.”
You mean your network is too gutted from me, Grover thought. “Your two predecessors preformed better from Griffenheim. You will fly back shortly.”
“My Kaiser!” Grimwing squawked. “I must protest. Your safety is paramount!”
“I concur with Chief Grimwing,” Benito nodded.
Grover held out several folded and sealed letters in a claw. A servant stepped forward and collected them, then brought them to Grimwing. “These are your orders once you return.”
Grimwing remained silent, but Benito’s muzzle twisted. “My Kaiser,” he implored, “while you are here, our network is best served-”
“I have gotten more accurate information on Equestria from Gallus than I have from an entire spy network,” Grover interrupted sharply. “My decision has been made.”
“My Kaiser,” Benito and Grimwing said together, dipping their heads. Gallus preened a wing as discreetly as he could.
Grover looked through the few remaining reports. “Now, next is-”
One of the guards in the hallway knocked on the double doors. Grover cut himself off, annoyed at the interruption. “Enter!” he snapped.
The two dogs opened the doors, allowing a purple-uniformed dark red griffon to enter, flanked by two knights. She was short and very young, with lighter feathers running through her wings. Her strikingly sharp golden eyes peeked out from a cap too large for her head. From the moment the doors opened, she locked eyes with Grover and walked towards the table. She did not bow and ask for entry.
The uniform was a mix of a purple jacket, navy pants, and a white undershirt. She also had an armband of the Imperial Snowflake on her right arm, along with purple gloves and boots crusted with snow. The uniform was not professionally made, but she wore it with a straight back and obvious pride. The griffon walked to the other end of the table and stared across the length into Grover’s eyes.
Grover stared down at her. He was taller than her, and he guessed older as well. Her feathers were still short above her eyes. “You did not bow to me,” he said bluntly in Equestrian.
“I don’t know the etiquette,” she replied in flawless Herzlander.
“Her name is Katherine,” one of the escorting knights announced. “She refused to give a surname.”
“I said I didn’t have one,” she said to the knight, annoyed.
Benito immediately clasped a paw on the hilt of his sword. Gallus took one preemptive step away from the table.
Mudbeak fluffed his wings. “The Princess sends a lowborn peasant from where? Katerin?” he guessed by her accent. “This is an insult! You should not even be in the Kaiser’s presence!”
Bronzetail gave Mudbeak a vaguely offended glance, along with Gallus.
“I have a report from our front line,” Katherine said directly to Grover.
“You speak only when addressed by the Kaiser!” Benito barked.
Grover slapped a claw down on the table. It made some of the miniatures on the map rattle and fall over. The table fell silent and returned to staring ahead, except Katherine, who looked vaguely amused. “Do you not bow for the Princess?” Grover asked.
“She never asks us to,” Katherine responded flippantly. “We do it because she deserves it.”
Grover took a deep breath. “You are from Katerin.”
“Your old thug said that.”
“You are very young to hold rank. You did not serve in the Reichsarmee.”
“Oh, I don’t have a rank,” Katherine admitted. “I volunteered for this.”
“To kill me?” Grover guessed. The knights readied their guns and aimed them at Katherine. Benito drew his sword and held it up to her throat. He was standing closest to her, at the end of the table.
“No,” Katherine replied innocently. “They took my gun downstairs, and the knife in my boot. I just wanted to meet you.”
Grover cocked his head, then reared up and leaned his elbows on the desk. He clasped his claws together and leaned his chin atop them. His officers and advisors glanced at him for a moment. “You held a gun to the Princess’ head,” he said in Herzlander with a mocking lilt. Katherine’s eyes widened; Grover rolled his blue eyes. “Oh yes, she told me about that incident. You taught her our language and she called you a friend.”
“I was afraid of you,” Katherine responded defensively.
“Because I had your entire family arrested,” Grover answered. “For communism or some such nonsense.”
“They weren’t communists.” Katherine narrowed her eyes. “They bought into everything about the Grovers being blessed by Boreas. Their only crime was accepting pamphlets.”
Grover shrugged a wing lazily. “What is your report? Or was that a lie?”
Katherine raised a claw and shoved it into her jacket in an aggressive motion. Benito stepped forward to stab her, and she withdrew a stuffed envelope. “Little jumpy?” she asked with a squawk. “Your friends already searched me, practically made me strip naked to come up here. Getting used to being in Equestria, huh? You know, sometimes the Princess attends meetings naked.”
Everyone except Gallus, Grover, and Katherine shifted their wings uncomfortably. Benito bared his teeth in disgust. Katherine noticed the looks and clacked her beak. “None of you have ever been poor,” she sneered. “I grew up too poor to afford clothes in your precious Reich.” She flung the envelope onto the map. Benito sheathed his sword and picked it up, opening it away from the table and retrieving several dozen pictures along with two folded papers.
“The Changelings have stopped trying to bomb the shield,” Katherine stated in Herzlander. “The bombers have stopped. We have yak mountaineers looking along the northern mountains with Yona of the Yaks.”
Gallus flinched.
“We’ve been watching to see if they’re trying to dig under the shield,” Katherine continued, “but our pegasus scouts spotted artillery units moving south, towards Equestria.”
She leaned forward on the table to look at the map. “We’re guessing they’re taking the railway from Vanhoover to Canterlot to move up things for an offensive. We sent some scouts through the shield to verify it. We don’t have the numbers to harass them.”
“You have proof?” Bronzetail asked.
“Pictures,” Katherine pointed to Benito’s paws. “We figured you should know, since we’re allies now.” Benito passed the pictures down to Grover, through Gallus and Grimwing. Gallus stared at them for a moment, shuffling through them. Grimwing set them down to verify them later rather than offer them to the Kaiser.
“This information could’ve been passed to any griffon,” Thundertail pointed out.
“What are the odds it would’ve found the way here?” Katherine asked. “Besides, I wanted to meet the Kaiser of Griffonkind. Never saw him before. Only pictures.” She turned back and stared at Grover with narrowed eyes. “I was afraid of you,” she repeated. “I don’t know why. Not much to look at beak-to-beak.”
Grover stared back, expressionless. “If your family was arrested, they are in a reeducation camp. Is it wise to march in here and insult me?”
Katherine stared at Grover for a long time, then raised her beak and laughed a high, shrill, screeching guffaw. Benito nearly ran her through with the sword, but looked to Grover for permission first. He waved a claw for Benito to step back.
“I was scared when I held a pistol to Flurry’s head,” Katherine admitted with smiling eyes. “I knew that I was going to die on that rooftop. Instead, she gave me a hug and told me it was okay. She saved the lives of hundreds of Herzlanders when we arrived in Nova Griffonia. I serve the Princess of Ponies,” Katherine said proudly.
“It is a new year,” Grover remarked. “The Blue Moon Festival is tomorrow. I could order your family released as a token of good will. Or I could order otherwise.”
“Just so.” Katherine shrugged a wing. “Do what you will, Kaiser. You have the report. We have the shield. It’s a little tingly to step through, but we are her ponies in all but name.” She winked at Benito and turned around, walking up to the double doors and waiting for the knights to open them. She did not turn back around to look at Grover.
Grover’s wings twitched. “Let her out,” he called to the knights. They responded slowly, pulling open the doors and watching as she sauntered through.
In the hallway, she turned around and waved a wing. “We’ll be in touch if we learn something else!” she shouted informally. The guards in the hallway shut the doors.
Grover pushed himself off the table and stood on all fours, adjusting the sleeves of his coat. “As I was saying, the Equestrians use a different rail gauge than we do. I am still waiting on the adjustments from the Reich shipments, but they should be inbound. We will need to prepare for that.”
“My Kaiser,” Benito said awkwardly, “you cannot just let her fly away.”
“Why not?” Grover asked.
“The Princess intentionally sent a peasant to antagonize you!” Mudbeak screeched. “It is an insult, an unforgivable slight!”
“The Princess is in Baltimare, or will be shortly,” Grover responded. “That is to the south, not the north. She had no part in this.”
“It is still a slight!”
“Of course it was,” Grover scoffed. “Katherine did not hide that.”
“You have every right to have her seized and executed,” Thundertail added.
“We can easily find her family,” Grimwing said.
“She is the Princess’ personal friend,” Grover said evenly.
“The Princess will not risk our alliance for one griffon,” Mudbeak scoffed.
She already has. “Have you met the Princess?” Grover turned and looked him in the eye. He leaned on the table and slowly stuck his wings out.
The old griffon was not used to the Kaiser directly staring at him with severe blue eyes, and coughed into his sweaty cloth. “N-no, my Kaiser.”
Grover raised his beak. “When the Princess was ten,” he lectured, “she was brought before the Archon and myself in the ruins of Aquila. She stood surrounded by changelings and griffons. She had an inhibitor ring on her horn and a surprisingly flamboyant dress. Her father was dead, and she was alone.”
Grover reached across the table and retrieved one of the wooden Changeling soldiers that had fallen over. He held it upright in his palm. “When Chrysalis came to her with mother’s muzzle, Flurry Heart chose to stab the pretender with her horn, surrounded by enemies at all sides.”
“She did not know it was Chrysalis,” Benito interrupted.
“She knew it was not her mother,” Grover answered softly. “That is the Princess of Ponies. Do not tell me what she will or will not do.” He set the figure down upright on the Celestial Plain. “Words are wind. I do not care about insults, nor will any of you tell me what I should be insulted by. There is more, and it will be dealt with later. Dismissed.”
The Griffons stepped from the table and bowed with wings dipped to the ground and beaks scraping the floor. Benito knelt. “Dismissed,” Grover repeated. One by one, they filed out the doors with their attendants. The knights followed by groups of three, marching in unison.
“Not you, Benito,” Grover called out. “Or Gallus.” They stopped and stood together at the end of the table. The blue griffon stood tensely in his jacket, while Benito’s tail swung about in agitation behind him. “You reacted to the name Yona,” Grover observed to Gallus. Gallus’ eyes sagged in relief.
“She was a graduate of Twilight’s school,” Gallus replied in Equestrian. “I didn’t think she was alive.”
“You know her well?”
Gallus nodded.
“We could use that,” Grover hummed. “First, get with Gilda and repeat her new orders. I suspect the offer will mean more coming from you. She was incredibly belligerent when I questioned her.”
“More than that, my Kaiser?” Gallus asked, gesturing to where he stood at the end of the table.
“Katherine did not swear at me,” Grover answered. “I found it amusing at the time, and she was right to point out the neglect of Griffonstone. Archon Eros spent token efforts on attempting to rebuild it. It will be our capital again one day.”
“My Kaiser,” Gallus bowed.
Grover held up several remaining reports. “I also have several estimations on the abilities of the Princess that you have labeled as ‘trash.’ Do you wish to elaborate?”
“I do not know the Princess,” Gallus responded, “but I knew her aunt Twilight. Any guess that does not say Princess Flurry Heart could lay waste to most of a continent is inaccurate.”
“Twilight Sparkle did not show that much power, nor have any of the other Princesses.” Grover walked to his desk. He opened a drawer and pulled out a book with a purple star on the cover. The book was worn and faded. “Starlight Glimmer fought her to a standstill. Princess Twilight confessed it herself in the Friendship Journal.”
“Princess Twilight had restraint,” Gallus said flatly. “And she had no desire to kill Starlight Glimmer. I can’t speak for the Sisters.”
Still better counsel than I have gotten from most. “Dismissed, Gallus. Thank you.”
Gallus bowed again and left. Benito still stood at attention at the end of the long table. Grover dropped the Reichstone back on his personal desk and sighed, rubbing his neck. "Ensure Katherine leaves untroubled by my soldiers. Also ensure Grimwing understands her family is not to be touched. I am not Grover III screeching, 'Will no griffon rid me of this turbulent priest?' I will not have blood spilt."
"My Kaiser," Benito nodded.
Grover glanced at him and huffed. “You have thoughts and I wish to hear them.”
“Why are your guards outside, my Kaiser?” Benito asked. “They should be inside the room, and outside at the doors.”
“They stare at me while I work.”
“That is their job.”
“It is distracting.” Grover waved a claw. “There are no windows. The room was searched thoroughly, several times a day. We even had Aquileians cast spells.”
“You are not safe.”
“I am on a continent ravaged by the largest war in world history,” Grover replied ruefully. “Of course I am not safe.”
“Exactly why you should return to Griffenheim,” Benito said urgently. “It was unthinkable to be in Manehattan even a few weeks ago.”
“Exactly why I cannot return,” Grover pointed out. “I need to be here. I cannot manage the war from Griffonia.”
“My Kaiser, you have reached an agreement with the Princess." Benito clasped his paws together, pleading. "You do not need to be here.”
“An agreement you disagree with wholeheartedly.”
Benito looked to the doors with folded ears, then stepped forward to Grover’s desk. Grover had discarded his coat and left it folded on the back of the chair. He set his glasses down again and squinted at Benito’s approach. Grover rubbed his beak tiredly. “Whenever you get this close, Benito, it is always a poor discussion.”
“You have no reason to marry the Princess.”
“I have every reason. She is the Princess of Ponies and I am the Kaiser of Griffonkind. A marriage is the end of our rivalry, in my favor.”
“The ponies will not see it as a concession.”
“She does,” Grover retorted. He cracked his talons. “That is why she offered it. Herself for land and subjects.”
“You cannot marry her. You will not produce an heir.”
Grover scoffed. “I could lay with a servant and produce an heir. The Princess will not care.”
Benito’s ears wilted. “That is not a true lineage.”
“Guto’s line began that way,” Grover pointed out. “And the cub will have my blood and name. That is lineage enough. Who would you choose for marriage?”
“Princess Sköldsvärd of Vedina,” Benito offered.
“Her father’s crown is in Griffenheim. Eros executed King Wingstrom and I have his title.” Grover clacked his beak. “She lives as a gesture of mercy. She was bethroned, and my army killed her fiancé. If you wish a bride that will not kill me in bed, she is a poor choice. She is also several years my senior.”
“I have a better chance of killing her if she tries to kill you,” Benito replied.
Grover laughed. “The troops that fought her army would dispute that! Who else?”
“Vivienne Discret is still in exile in the Riverlands.”
“She is even older, and I would end up executing her for plotting against me in less than a week.” Grover considered it. “Or she would worm her way into Gabriela’s graces. The nobility has been declawed. No.”
“There is the Princess of Lushi…”
“Lushi did not even deserve to be called a kingdom,” Grover replied shortly. “Dukedoms were larger than that. For the first time in a generation, there is a true Kaiser of Griffonkind. The Reich is the largest empire in the world. I have no equal in Griffonia.”
Grover looked at the book with purple binding on his desk and carefully put it back in the drawer. “In all of history, there have only been five alicorns. Two are dead, and two will never marry. By Celestia and Luna’s admission, Flurry Heart is unique, the only natural born alicorn in history. Whatever I lose in marrying a pony, I gain triple in marrying her.”
“Unless she kills you at the end of the war.”
“The Princess is not as stupid as she pretends to be,” Grover said flatly. “That will cause a blood debt between the races that will last for thousands of years. For all of Celestia’s blustering, she never intervened in Griffonia. Not for Grover the Great, or his son’s Grand Crusade in the Riverlands. Regardless of how griffons feel about me, the Princess killing me would cause an endless war.”
“She did threaten to cause exactly that.”
“With no other option,” Grover answered. “She wants her subjects and her throne. I have agreed to give her both.”
“Do you truly believe she will kneel before you in the marriage ceremony?” Benito asked, pacing in front of the desk.
Grover thought about it. “The staging may need to be adjusted,” he admitted, “but yes. The radio addresses already suggest that she approached me for an alliance, not the reverse.”
Grover looked under his desk at the radio, then quickly scribbled a note out with his ink pen. “That reminds me, Bronzetail needs to stop looping the speeches from the Princess. Ponies will suspect it is fake.” He held out the note to Benito, who accepted it and tucked it into a jacket pocket.
“My Kaiser,” he nodded. “What about the bedding and afterwards?”
“What about it?” Grover scoffed. “I am not my grandfather. My father had the mirror on the bedchamber’s ceiling removed.”
“The Princess is quite large…” Benito trailed off with a blush and twitching whiskers.
“Blessed Boreas.” Grover clacked his beak. “We will not lay together. Who will say we did not consummate the marriage?” He gave Benito a severe look, hampered by his need to squint without his glasses. “You? One of the guards? We shall see each other once or twice a year, then return to our continents. We will make speeches on the radio. We will say we love each other dearly, and how our union is a beautiful symbol of love between traditional enemies. Let the Changelings call us liars. None will believe them after they lose this war.”
Benito folded his arms and frowned, exposing his fangs. “Ponies may practice herding, but the Princess taking a lover in Equestria makes you a cuckold.”
“Herding is exaggerated,” Grover dismissed and raised a claw. “Though I would not be surprised if it makes a comeback, considering the population decline. You think the Princess will sleep around publicly?”
“There were rumors about her mother.”
“Unsubstantiated rumors. She only professed love to one stallion,” Grover answered. “One mortal stallion, I might add.” Grover looked at the blurry ceiling and laughed. “You remember that book the Archon banned? The Secret Letters of Celestia, where Celestia confessed she could not meet Grover the Great for fear her lust for him would overtake her?”
Benito flushed fully and his tail tucked between his legs. “A forgery, my Kaiser.”
“Technically, one of my reforms unbanned it,” Grover chuckled. “I know it is a forgery, but so did Grover II, and he found it funny enough to have his court act out the letters. He made them wear rainbow wigs. Expensive, back then. I should give a copy to the Princess.”
“She will take it as a slight.”
“She will find it funny,” Grover countered. “Flurry Heart has my ancestor’s acerbic sense of humor.”
“Grover II was blessed with a fine wit,” Benito offered.
“He was an absolute dick, Benito,” Grover sighed. “He has been dead for centuries; you can admit it.”
“He struck the chains from our paws and gave us Bronzehill,” Benito said stubbornly, as he always did when Grover said something uncomfortable about his ancestor. “For all his faults, his Grand Crusade liberated us from Diamond Mountain.”
He had Bronzehill because he executed the entire noble family that ruled it. Grover changed the subject. “You have seen the work camps. It will take generations for Equestria to recover from the Hegemony, even with the Reich’s economic support. Flurry Heart knows this.”
Benito looked to the side, uncomfortable at the comparisons to slavery. “The Princess has time to spare.”
“You think she’s immortal?” Grover asked. “She doesn’t act like she is.”
“She is sixteen, my Kaiser, as are you. My pups act immortal at ten.” Benito waved a paw. “What if she outlives you?”
“A pony cannot sit on Grover’s throne,” Grover VI said dourly, “nor a female griffon. It is law. Gabriela Eagleclaw may stare longingly upon it, but she will never sit the throne. She must content herself with the diminished estate in Strawberry and praise Boreas the Archon spared her life for her relation to my father.”
“That is another matter, my Kaiser,” Benito said seriously. “Every moment you spend away from Griffenheim is another moment that the regency council and Gabriela scheme.”
“I fully agree,” Grover answered, “but their authority comes from what I have allowed them. When I return to Griffenheim triumphant, they cannot oppose me.” Grover stood and walked back to the table, bare claws clacking against the wooden floor. “This is my Grand Crusade, Benito.” He stood before the map and the miniatures. “Grover II led his army at the front, and died doing so for a reason.”
Benito walked with him. “He enjoyed the thrill of battle; he was an excellent commander.”
“He knew there could be no retreat,” Grover said instead. “His father forged an empire, but so did Arantigos the Great thousands of years ago. When Arantigos died, everything collapsed. Grover II failed his Grand Crusade; I will not fail mine.”
“The Reich will collapse if you die here,” Benito said. “The River Federation will attack.”
“Yes,” Grover agreed. He plucked a tank off the map and held it between two talons. “But I am here, and so is the Princess. We have both come too far now.” He furrowed his brow and struggled to focus on the blurry little tank. “I am in blood stepped in so far, that, should I wade no more, returning were as tedious as go o'er.”
“My Kaiser?” Benito asked, frowning.
“Garbeth,” Grover said absently. “An old play. I return to Griffenheim with a victorious army and Chrysalis’ head, or I do not return. This war will be my legacy, no matter what else I may accomplish.”
Benito shuffled his paws. “How did that play end?”
Grover set the tank down next to the Everfree, looking at Canterlot and the Celestial Plain beyond it, bracketed by the Duskwood forest further to the west. “Though Scheißwald wood be come to Griffing, and thou opposed, being of no griffon born, yet I will try the last. Before my body I throw my warlike shield,” Grover quoted.
He crossed back to his desk and retrieved his glasses. “How our plays usually end,” Grover shrugged. “A great deal of misfortune, violence, and death.” He nudged the Reichstone out of the way with an elbow. “Dismissed, Benito. I have work to do.”
“Just to remind you, Princess,” Nightshade stammered, “none of us have been to the southeast.”
“Y-yeah,” Murky agreed behind his sister. Echo just nodded alongside her younger brother.
Flurry sighed and cast a heating spell on the siblings, not that it seemed to be needed. A chill wind blew from the ocean, swirling a few snowflakes around the large cloud the four were laying atop. The bat ponies were able to manipulate clouds like their pegasi cousins, but they rarely received cutie marks for weather control.
Nightshade’s mark was a bouquet of flowers; she stubbornly insisted they were poisonous flowers, but Flurry picked up enough from her siblings that she once loved gardening. Murky and Echo had similar marks of a cloudy, moonlit night sky. Stereotypical marks for bat ponies, but they had a knack for disappearing into the darkness.
Which is good for right now, Flurry thought. She raised her binoculars back up to her eyes with her hooves. Her eyes glowed with a night vision spell. The dockyards of Baltimare stretched out before her, completely intact with a few seized merchant ships waiting at piers. There were a few wandering ponies, too spread out to truly be called patrols, but her eyes swept the cranes on the docks.
Griffons with broken wings swung from ropes attached to the dockyard cranes. All of them were in some state of decomposition from the ocean air, and all of them wore the gray uniform of the Griffonian Reich. Grover’s forces landed virtually uncontested at Baltimare and rapidly pushed into the collapsing southeast. The ponies of Baltimare welcomed them with open hooves, in contrast to Manehattan, and the army made rapid progress into the jungles.
It was a trap. The moment the supply lines began to strain, Baltimare rose up and seized the ships in the ports, assassinated the garrison’s commander, and began stringing up the Reich soldiers beside the Changelings. The Ponies Republic of Baltimare was proclaimed shortly afterwards. The army forces found themselves trapped in a jungle and attacked from every angle, retreating into the Badlands and fortifying their positions. A few griffons simply flew back, but most remained trapped in the awful terrain, unwilling to abandon their equipment. The only positive outcome was the Changeling garrison, already on the brink of collapse and overstretched, was annihilated.
On the long flight to Baltimare, Flurry used a radio to listen in on any broadcasts. Surprisingly, Golden Delicious himself often gave radio updates. “Comrades,” he had broadcast earlier that day, “we continue to fight for our right to exist. To survive! We will not yield to the monarchist scum in the jungles, nor the birds beyond the sea! We have suffered too much for too long to ever kneel again! Long live Baltimare!”
The other announcers referred to him as ‘Comrade Delicious.’ Probably a dictator, Flurry guessed. She hoped he was a dictator, at the very least. I don't know how to negotiate with anarchists. Headbutting?
Flurry twisted around on the cloud and looked behind her in the open ocean. She didn’t see any Reich ships, but she knew they were out there. They could bombard Baltimare from the ocean and land in a naval assault. Grover doesn’t want the optics. She had to admit it was a smart move. No matter how insane the communists were, they were still ponies. It ruined the shaky image of liberators to start shelling them.
Then again…Flurry’s line of thought trailed off when she looked at the corpses swinging from ropes at the docks. Baltimare was intact; it was the hub of the Austral Protectorate. She could see the factories beyond the dockyards, sprawling into a city less developed than Manehattan, but still brickwork and glass. It was the most developed city in southeast Equestria.
“Everypony, huddle up. We’re going in,” Flurry decided. “I’ll cast a shield.”
“You good for that, Princess?” Murky asked.
“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t,” Flurry replied shortly, standing up and extending her wings. She hovered off the cloud and waited for the siblings to group around her. Murky carried a radio; everypony else wore saddlebags full of provisions and canteens. After over a week, the saddlebags were looking distressingly light. Echo and Nightshade checked their submachine guns, then left them hanging by their straps.
Flurry formed a golden shield around the four of them as they flapped their wings in the sky. Murky landed at the bottom of the bubble shield and sat with a rifle braced against his shoulders. “Moth for brains,” Echo chided, “you can’t shoot through it.”
“They don’t know that,” Murky pointed out. Flurry flapped her wings in the center and slowly descended towards the docks. She didn’t hear an alarm ring; in fact, nopony seemingly noticed her approach. She dropped the shield for a moment and let the siblings land on a concrete dock below, then landed herself and reformed the shield.
Nightshade looked at the Reich merchant ship parked at the dock. The name and flag had been sloppily crossed out with streaks of red, but it hadn’t been renamed. It was before dawn, and the dockyard was deserted. There were some lights on in downtown Baltimare, but the surrounding neighborhoods were dark.
“I don’t like this, Princess,” Nightshade whickered. She gave a pointed look to one of the bodies swinging from the cranes. “Only one of them was shot. The others’ wings were bound.”
“They were alive,” Echo realized. Her leathery wings flapped jerkily.
“We’ve done the same,” Flurry replied noncommittally.
“Yeah,” Murky agreed, “not sure we can be freaked out. But I still am.”
Nightshade pointed at a sign around one griffon’s neck. “Read that for the Princess.”
Flurry squinted at the wooden sign. She had dropped her night vision spell and it was too dark. “What’s it say?”
“‘Thus to the stooges of Tyrants,’” Murky snorted. “Welcoming.”
“Let’s keep going.” Flurry shook her head and started trotting down the dock. She was wearing her purple uniform again, minus the hat. Her purple and blue hair had grown back enough to be considered the worst buzzcut in existence, but the pink patches on her muzzle had filled in sufficiently to not be noticeable at a distance.
Flurry reached the end of the dock, still looking around for anypony. She had spotted some disorganized, wandering patrols from the ocean, but nopony was in sight. “We’ll head downtown on hoof,” she said aloud. “I’m keeping the shield up.”
The bat ponies didn’t argue. They slung their weapons under a wing and moved with her.
Flurry walked down several factory rows, pausing to look into open cargo bays and doors. Most of the factories had been looted or ransacked, but a few looked perfectly functional. She still didn’t see anypony. Some of the distant factories had lights on, but Flurry didn’t want to deviate and pushed towards downtown. They passed through several apartment blocks, closer to tenements from Nova Griffonia than Equestrian housing.
Nightshade walked in front of her; she suddenly stopped and hissed into the darkness. The bat pony's ears pinned back and her golden eyes grew very wide. She readied her submachine gun and jammed the barrel against the edge of the shield.
“What?” Flurry asked and squinted. The street was still dark. She saw some movement in nearby apartment windows; figures peeking down and backing away. Price said the shield was too noticeable. Flurry raised her head up and stuck out her wings. “I am Princess Flurry Heart!” she shouted into the street. Her voice echoed against asphalt and brickwork.
Nopony replied. Nightshade continued staring down the street, breathing shallowly.
“What is it?” Flurry asked. “Nightshade, talk to me.”
The bat pony stepped forward to the edge of the shield, staring blankly ahead. “Don’t drop the shield,” she whispered. “Not for a moment. Murky, Echo, have your guns ready.” She didn’t stop staring forward. Flurry stepped forward and the shield moved with her.
Flurry Heart did not understand until she reached the first lamppost next to a tenement.
A bat pony mare dangled from it. She had been up there for a long time, and her wings hung limp and tattered; they had been broken before she was hanged. There was a sign around her neck labeling her a ‘Monarchist.’ The mare was naked, and Flurry could see old scars from whip lashes, suggesting she worked in the factories or the plantations.
There was another hanging from the next lamppost, then another beyond it. The siblings moved very slowly down the street, and Flurry didn’t hurry them. Their dark tails lashed in agitation and fear. Several sets of eyes peered through dirty windows, watching the golden shield move down the street. Flurry tried to make eye contact, but the eyes just darted away whenever she looked into a window. The tenements didn’t have any electricity, and it reminded her too much of the ghetto in Weter.
Flurry stopped in an intersection and closed her eyes. “Nightshade,” she asked. “Are there more on the other streets?” It was still too dark for her to see. Nightshade looked down a street and squinted. She nodded almost imperceptibly. Flurry gave her a hug, then continued and counted twenty-one bodies before she reached downtown.
Downtown Baltimare replaced bat ponies with changelings in Hegemony uniforms. Some of the bodies were old and stank badly. Flurry considered it an improvement, but her stomach still twisted with anger from the ghetto. Her shield already sparked and crackled with blue currents.
There were still no ponies in the street. No banners or flags had been hung up, not even old Equestrian Liberation Front flags. Manehattan had at least gathered to watch the Princess arrive, and a few waved goodbye when she left.
Occasionally, Flurry glimpsed muzzles peeking out of corners and alleyways, or shapes leaping from roof to roof, but nopony emerged to greet her. At this point, Flurry wasn’t sure if she wanted them to. The city was far more intact than Manehattan; the fighting progressed beyond it quickly, and the ELF never reached the southeast.
By the time the sun started to rise, Flurry had enough. “Put on your earmuffs,” she ordered brusquely and stomped a hoof into the asphalt. Flurry moved to a broken sidewalk next to a looted grocery store. Echo, Nightshade, and Murky clamped earmuffs over their sensitive ears and laid down with hooves over their heads.
“I wish to speak to Comrade Delicious.” Flurry Heart yelled. She intentionally didn’t put her full volume into the Royal Voice for the sake of the siblings. “I am Flurry Heart, the Princess of Ponies.” The shield warbled with blue currents.
A bullet fired from a window and pinged off her shield. Flurry waited for more gunfire, but nopony took another shot. She narrowed her eyes. “One hour,” she said bluntly.
“What happens in an hour?” Murky yelled over his earmuffs.
Flurry looked down at him with an icy glare.
“Oh,” Murky realized. “Will we be safe in here if you do that?” He took off his earmuff and his fluffy ears wilted.
“Yes,” Flurry answered, “but stick close.”
Murky shuffled over. “Good enough for me.”
Flurry checked her watch every five minutes while the shield pulsed and crackled with energy. Her nose began to bleed as she waited. She held Bronzetail’s cloth up to it, noticing that it was embroidered with his initials. Flurry rolled her eyes.
“Princess,” Nightshade asked quietly. “Are you going to negotiate with them?”
“If they want to,” Flurry replied. “Doesn’t look like it.”
Nightshade chewed on a lip. “Some of the bat ponies were your age, Princess.”
Flurry closed her eyes and sighed. “I know. If I blow the shield here, I’m killing hundreds of thousands at the least. I’d prefer it not come to that.”
“Princess,” Nightshade nodded deferentially. Flurry checked her watch.
Time's up. She had waited longer than she claimed she would, and the sun peeked through a cloudy morning to the east. She waited another several minutes, dabbing at her nose. The shield crackled with energy.
“Movement,” Echo said quietly. “Side street to the right.”
Flurry turned to look. A dozen ponies were slowly walking forward with rifles at their flanks. They were all earth ponies in clashing outfits; only a few wore gray militia uniforms with red bands. They looked to be sailors or dockworkers with stolen griffon guns. Flurry could tell from the way the trigger guards had been snapped off and the long stock. All of the makeshift militia had a red band somewhere. One wore a bandana and another wrapped it around her short-cut mane and pulled it back.
The ponies trotted out of the side street and took positions along the opposite sidewalk. They were thin and lean, but nowhere near as bad as the north. She picked out scars from lashes on the naked militia members. The stallion with the bandana took cover behind an old overturned mailbox, bracing his rifle against it and aiming at Flurry. She stared back blankly from the other sidewalk. None of the ponies spoke to her. They all just glared hatefully with narrowed eyes and frowns.
“I’ve done this dance before,” Flurry said loudly. “It didn’t end well last time. I didn’t come here to fight.”
“You are not welcome here, Princess,” a stallion in a gray uniform replied. He was a golden earth pony with a full brown beard and severe green eyes. He had braced a rifle in a shadowed doorway. His mane was wild and unkempt, barely contained by a commissar's cap.
Flurry squinted at him, then waved a wing at Echo. The mare retrieved a small picture from her saddlebags and looked critically at it, holding it up to the edge of the shield. She nodded. “It’s him.”
“Comrade Delicious?” Flurry asked. She checked her watch. “You’re seventeen minutes overdue.”
“You’re lucky I came at all,” the stallion shouted back harshly.
“Not really,” Flurry shrugged her wings. “This city is very lucky, however.”
“You are not welcome here,” Golden Delicious repeated with a snarl. “Leave.”
“No,” Flurry answered. “I’m here to negotiate. The Reich needs the port.”
Golden laughed with a harsh guffaw. “Our port. You do the bidding of your bird masters?”
“We’re working together to save Equestria.”
Golden smirked. “As always, monarchists stick together.”
Flurry sighed. “I don’t have a problem with communism. I don’t care. A large chunk of my army is from the Aquileian Republic.”
His smirk returned to a frown. “Yes, ‘the Red Princess’ is quite a joke, isn’t it? We’re not communists, not that I expect you to understand that.”
“I don’t,” Flurry admitted. “I don’t care what you do as long as you’re not hurting anypony.” She looked down the road towards some of the corpses. “What did they do?”
“The bugs held us down for years,” Golden spat, “just like the Princesses. You never raised a hoof to help the south.”
“I was a foal,” Flurry replied, “and I don’t care about the Changelings. You know I wasn’t asking about them.”
“I thought the signs were clear,” Golden shrugged. He eyed the bat ponies. “Of course you brought more with you.”
The siblings hissed in unison.
“How many did you kill?” Flurry asked.
“I admit things got out of hoof,” Golden said with little regret, “but the bats in the jungle keep fighting us and slaughtering our militias. There’s consequences. They’ve never adapted well to cities.”
Echo snarled at him through the shield and raised her leathery wings.
Golden gestured to her as if she proved his point.
Flurry hugged Echo with a wing. “Why are you fighting with them?”
“Baltimare needs room to expand,” Golden shrugged. “The bats just see us as stuck-up invaders, same as the ‘lings. We need the jungle soil to grow crops for our communes.”
“I thought Syndicalism was an urban movement,” Flurry commented. “Why are you bothering with communes?”
Golden blinked. “Allowances have been made to be self-sufficient. We can’t afford infighting,” he managed after a pause.
“I don’t appreciate you hanging my ponies,” Flurry warned. “I don’t like infighting either.”
“Oh, are we all your ponies?” Golden asked. “No matter what? The bat ponies in the jungle worship the moon; they don’t even know who you are. They’re backwards. The only one they love is Luna.”
“They are my ponies.”
“They don’t want you,” Golden said slowly, “nor do we.”
“Why?” Flurry asked. Her shield crackled with blue arcs of electricity. She removed her cloth from her nose and narrowed her eyes at him. “I haven’t done anything to you.”
“You are everything wrong with Equestria and ponies,” Golden snorted. “You wave your wings and horn and expect us all to follow. We are done following alicorns to war. Starlight Glimmer sold out. We waited for the ELF to make it to Baltimare, and she threw everything at Canterlot.”
“Ponies are dying while you play games here.” Flurry looked around at Baltimare. It was a large city, nowhere near as large as Manehattan, but it was the most important city in the southeast. The city was nowhere near as damaged or war-torn as Manehattan, but the buildings seemed worse off; the years under the Austral Protectorate eroded the city.
“I can say the same to you,” Golden retorted.
“Stalliongrad had the sense to fight for everypony,” Flurry tried.
“And they lost everything,” Golden snorted.
Flurry took a deep breath. “And you are coming very close to doing the same.”
Golden set the rifle down and sneered at her. “The Reich can try to land. We’ll blow the dockyards; we have enough captured equipment to do it. Your nose is bleeding from keeping that shield up.”
“It’s bleeding from the power I’m putting into it,” Flurry answered.
The shield crackled and sparked. One of the militia ponies backed up with her tail tucked between her legs, leaving the rifle behind. “That won’t help,” Flurry commented to her. "You can't run far enough."
Golden stepped out from the doorway. “I’ve heard a lot of stories about you from captured sailors. Heard some more from the radio.”
“The worst ones are true,” Flurry replied. “I don’t want to kill you, but I need this port.”
“Sounds like you’re going to blow up the port,” Golden said blithely. Despite his words, he swallowed and consciously kept his ears from pinning back. “You’re in the middle of a packed city.”
“I’ve made that choice before,” Flurry answered. “I can make it again.”
“Typical,” Golden Delicious chuckled. “This is your idea of negotiation.”
"Your idea was to make me wander through your city," Flurry said.
"What did you want? A parade?"
Flurry pitched her voice up. "Hello, I'm Comrade Delicious and welcome to Baltimare," she said with false cheer. She immediately dropped back into a frown. "Maybe a hoofshake," she deadpanned. "I'm tired of standing on streets under a shield."
"Go ahead and drop the shield."
Flurry gave a long look at the armed militia around her shield and decided that some would probably try to shoot her out of pure spite. “I’m willing to recognize your autonomy within Equestria,” Flurry offered. “After the war is over, you can organize whatever little commune you want. I’ve been friendly to militias. I’ve redistributed wealth and housing.” She gestured with a booted hoof to her uniform. “This is basically the only nice outfit I own.”
“A worthless promise at horn point,” Golden scoffed. “You won’t surrender the southeast.”
“I never said I would,” Flurry countered. “You want Baltimare? Fine, have fun with it. Sit in your city while better ponies fight and die to save others. See how many friends you have when the fighting is done.”
Golden looked above her at some of the buildings. Flurry followed his hard green eyes. Many windows had been shattered and boarded up. A few ponies looked down, staring through the boards. “What guarantee do I have that you will keep your word?”
“None,” Flurry replied bluntly. “I’d be in a better mood if you weren’t hanging innocent ponies.”
“You think everypony you’ve hanged is guilty?” Golden asked.
Flurry ground her teeth. “Probably not,” she admitted, “but I’m not doing it for ‘monarchism.’ You just need an excuse to keep control of Baltimare. I’m sure the Changelings used the same tactics.”
“The Changelings sent dissenters to the rubber plantations in the jungle,” Golden answered angrily. “Most died there, while the damn tribals assassinated leaders and ambushed patrols. Every time they did, the governor brought in squads to punish Baltimare. The idiots thought the bats cared about us.”
Flurry sighed. “What do you want?” Her nose dripped blood onto the sidewalk.
“I want you to leave,” Golden said bluntly.
“I want the port,” Flurry answered.
“Even if I give you the port, it’s worthless,” Golden shrugged. “The tribals have been ambushing the Reich’s supply trucks and raiding them. The Reich can’t get through the jungle, not without burning it down.”
“I’m going to talk to them next,” Flurry retorted. “Stop the reprisals. I’ll get them to stop attacking you.”
“You can’t threaten to blow them up,” Golden laughed, “not without blowing up the entire jungle. They know it far better than anypony.”
“Well, considering they are ‘monarchists,’ I expect to have an easier time,” Flurry quipped. She narrowed her eyes. “No more violence. Start hanging your own if it persists.”
“Should I bow to you, Princess?” Golden asked mockingly.
“I don’t give a shit,” Flurry spat. “This isn’t about me. Ponies are still dying in the south.” Flurry scanned him over with icy blue eyes. Golden Delicious was nervous, but he kept up an appearance of nonchalance for his soldiers. His eyes were dilated. “Stop acting tough. I am not my aunt. I will blow this city apart if it means saving more ponies down the road.”
“You’ll destroy the docks,” Golden pointed out.
Flurry shook her head. “You let me get too far into the city. I’m far enough away.”
Golden walked up to the edge of the shield. Small blue flames and arcs of electricity crackled around the half-sphere. Murky, Echo and Nightshade aimed at him as a precaution. Flurry lowered a wing and motioned for them to shuffle back and lower their weapons.
“How old are you?” he asked. He had to look up into her eyes slightly. Golden Delicious was a tall earth pony, but Flurry was already taller due to her long legs.
“Sixteen,” Flurry answered. “Seventeen in two months.”
“And you’re willing to destroy an entire city to get what you want? You have any idea how many you'll kill?”
“Weter,” Flurry replied evenly. “You’ve heard that story.”
“You blew apart the Republicans to cement your reign in blood,” Golden nodded. “You went from block to block scorching the earth, turning weapons against their wielders. You turned your horn on your own to solidify control.”
Flurry didn’t reply.
Golden clicked his tongue. “Quite the contrast from the stories of a little filly sharing her birthday cake or serving at soup kitchens.”
“Kemerskai planned on betraying me,” Flurry clarified, “and most Republicans surrendered quickly. I prevented my militia from hanging children from trees.”
“The stories are more bombastic,” Golden shrugged. “What do you think they will say about you blowing apart Baltimare? Do you think they’ll remember we were hanging bats? Or will they just remember you?”
“They’ll call me a monster and a terrible Princess,” Flurry said after a moment. She licked blood off her muzzle. “I’ve been called that my entire life.”
Murky looked worriedly at her.
Golden took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes. He exhaled shakily. “We’ll give you the port. The Reich can unload their ships and move their supplies through Baltimare. They will not post soldiers within our city, nor will you. The Ponies Republic of Baltimare is independent from Equestria.”
“I’ll recognize Baltimare as an autonomous zone,” Flurry countered. “If you’re independent, I’m not protecting you from the Reich invading to avenge their dead garrison. Where’s your border, anyway?”
“Our territory extends to Maredia.”
Flurry suppressed a laugh. “Try again.”
Golden snorted. “We need farmlands.”
“I’ll negotiate something with the bat ponies,” Flurry promised. “Release every prisoner you’ve taken and stop pushing into the jungles. Stop attacking the Reich.”
“We haven’t attacked the birds since the uprising,” Golden replied. “The bats drove the army into the Badlands, not us. They’ve been encircled for weeks and the air force is flying in supplies.”
Flurry shrugged a wing. “What else?”
“You will never set a hoof in Baltimare again.”
“As long as the ponies in charge don’t want me to,” Flurry answered sweetly. “Do you have enough control over your militias to enforce all this?”
“Yes,” Golden answered confidently.
“Good. Once the agreements are in place, let the bat ponies in Baltimare leave.”
“What?” Golden asked.
“Let them leave,” Flurry shrugged. “They are welcome in my territory as equals.” Nightshade stood a little taller and smiled, showing off her fangs.
“We need them to deter attacks.”
“They’re won’t be any attacks,” Flurry replied evenly. “They can choose if they want to stay with the ponies that will hang them out of fear, or they can follow me.” She bared her flat teeth like Nightshade. “Or do you just want cheap nighttime labor?”
“Fine,” Golden ground out. “Hypocrite. You were willing to kill them a moment ago.”
“So are you, comrade.” Flurry drew out the title with a sneer. The arcs of fire and electricity stopped, but the golden shield remained around the four ponies.
“Comrade Silver,” Golden called over his withers. “Take the Princess to the edge of the jungle. She wants to speak to the bats.”
“Of course, Comrade Delicious,” a unicorn answered. He lowered his glowing pistol and holstered it. The stallion approached the shield nervously, looking at the bat ponies more than the Princess.
“You can drop the shield, Princess,” Golden stated. He waved a hoof at the surrounding soldiers.
“I would prefer not to,” Flurry answered. “Take me to the edge of the jungle. I’ll come back to hash out terms with the bat ponies.”
“We don’t want you back.”
“You’ll have to suffer me regardless, one last time,” Flurry said; her tail twitched in her pants, trying to whip in irritation. “If you are so eager to reject me, I can just give Grover the go ahead to shell Baltimare.”
“Yes,” Golden sighed, “he has experience suppressing freedom, doesn’t he?”
Flurry choked on her intended retort. She looked around at the angry militia ponies, realizing that a few were just as young as she was. A few held their rifles poorly, unused to a weapon in their hooves, and they didn’t have any uniforms. One thin mare only wore saddlebags for ammo.
They stormed the Archon’s tomb. Guards died. Flurry argued with herself for a moment. This is different. They weren’t at war; they weren’t hanging ponies.
…you do that, Princess of Rope.
Golden Delicious waved a hoof down the street. “Escort the Princess to the jungle. Don’t be surprised if she never returns.” The siblings relaxed their stance, but still glared at Golden Delicious with harsh yellow eyes. Nightshade licked her fangs.
Flurry Heart followed Comrade Silver and his squad quietly, lost in thought.
“Well, that’s ominous,” Murky said quietly.
“I’m surprised you know that word,” Echo snorted. Her ears pinned back into her dark blue mane.
Flurry Heart ignored them and stared at the line of stakes before a collapsed fence. Each one had a changeling head speared atop it, usually wearing a Hegemony helmet or black officer’s cap. She wrinkled her nose at the smell; the heads were old.
She flapped her wings and leapt over the fallen fence to the interior of the plantation. Most of the buildings were shoddy wooden structures, partially collapsed and burnt away. In the months since the start of the war, the jungle had already reclaimed the exterior. Flurry flapped her wings and ascended while a golden shield flickered around her. The Changeling ‘manor’ had been burnt to a framework of brick and mortar, and the heads doubtlessly belonged to the guards and garrison.
It was the third plantation she’d encountered on her trip through the jungle, and it matched the others. Nightshade brushed a hoof over some jungle leaves and kicked up some shell casings. From above, Flurry could see the remnants of shrapnel from grenades and craters along the fence line.
Probably attacked during the night, slaughtered the Changelings and freed the slaves, Flurry summarized. It’s what she would have done. The staked heads were new; the other plantations had just piled and burned the dead before disappearing back into the jungle.
Flurry checked her compass, dangling from a string around her neck. It was the middle of winter, and it was the harshest winter on record, but the southeast had always been jungle. She was sweating under her uniform. “Let’s keep pushing for Tenochtitlan.”
“Princess,” Echo responded, “just so we’re clear, we were born in New Mareland.”
“I know,” Flurry called down.
“Did you just bring us along cause we’re bats?” Murky shouted up to the floating alicorn.
“Yes.”
“I dunno any tribal talk,” Murky retorted. “Useless, that.”
“You should’ve brought Dusty Mark,” Nightshade flapped up to Flurry, hovering outside the shield.
“She only spent time in the north; she’s not Daring Do,” Flurry replied. She dropped the shield and cast a life detection spell, immediately recoiling at the overload of signals from the jungle. Too many to pinpoint.
“Hello?” Flurry called out into the surrounding jungle. The trees and vines swayed in a slight breeze. It was quiet. Flurry wanted to credit that to winter silencing the insects, but she felt very out of her element. Mother never came down here. I’m named after snow. The Baltimare guards had simply left her in a clearing beyond the city.
“We’re not welcome here, Princess,” Nightshade said.
Flurry stared into the jungle, trying to pick out yellow eyes. “They know we’re here.”
“We’re being watched,” Nightshade nodded. “If they wanted to talk, they would’ve talked.”
“We keep going,” Flurry commanded. “We need their help.”
“I don’t think they want to help,” Nightshade answered. She whistled to her siblings and the four ponies flew above the plantation and further inland. Flurry checked her compass again while untamed jungle stretched out before her. It looked more like a postcard from Zebrica than Equestria.
“Tenochtitlan had an airstrip, Princess,” Nightshade said. “We could go back and take a plane.”
“If it’s still there,” Echo added. “Jungle might’ve taken it back by now.”
“We’re traveling by hoof and wing,” Flurry reminded them. “It’s slower, but we’re flying under the radar. I’m not getting shot down in a metal tube trying to save time.”
Murky adjusted the straps on his backpack radio. “Not looking forward to flying back to Manehattan, Princess.”
“We get the southeast sorted out and we can take a convoy back,” Flurry replied. "We'll sail up the coast and save time."
"You sure you want to ride a Reich ship back?" Nightshade asked.
No, Flurry thought, but kept that to herself.
They continued flying over the jungle until dusk, stopping at rogue clouds to drink and eat small bits of dried hay. Echo spotted lights in the distance and the group turned towards them. Flurry summoned a large bubble shield on approach. So far, nopony had taken a shot at them from the jungle.
An ancient flattop pyramid sat in a small clearing in the jungle. The lights were attached to the top and ran down the carved stone stairs. An anti-air gun was placed at the top of the pyramid, partly covered with a tarp for camouflage. Below the pyramid, a few wooden structures were built along the sides with tin roofs.
Hardly a village, Flurry thought. Outpost, maybe. We’re still a day away from Tenochtitlan. If the bat ponies had a capital, it would be their ancient ancestral city. The southeast was clearly neglected and far from Canterlot. Flurry read that bat ponies were still ‘uneducated’ in the southeast, but those books were written before Luna’s return. Nova Griffonia hardly had a good selection available.
Flurry circled the pyramid with the siblings, looking for anypony. Nightshade shook her head. “It’s deserted,” she whispered. "I don't see anypony."
Flurry Heart landed next to the anti-air gun anyway. The pyramid was about three stories tall, and the alicorn peeked under the tarp and inspected the gun. “It’s one of ours, not the Changelings,” she announced.
“Why would they just abandon it?” Murky asked.
“Bug planes are all over the Equestrian heartlands,” Echo said. “Maybe they just don’t need it?”
Nightshade pointed a wing to the stone floor and unslung her submachine gun. Flurry followed the leathery wingtip to a burning cigarette next to the anti-air battery. She paced to the edge of the roof and looked down towards the buildings, then out into the jungle. Her ears prickled at the hum of a generator, and she stamped a hoof against the stone. It echoed. Pyramid’s hollow. Rooms inside.
“I am Princess Flurry Heart,” Flurry called into the jungle. “I just want to talk.”
Murky walked up next to her and squinted into the jungle. “Maybe they don’t know Equestrian?”
“Everypony in Equestria knows Equestrian,” Echo nickered. She walked up to her brother and swatted him with a wing.
“Just makin’ suggest-” Murky cut himself off with a hiss and snapped his tail. “Damn bugs!” He shook out his leg.
Flurry Heart paused for a heartbeat, then seized Murky with a hoof and pulled him to her. She grabbed Echo with her magic and tugged her away from the ledge. “Nightshade, to me!” The mare dove towards Flurry as a shield flared over the four of them.
Flurry pinned Murky down with a hoof. “Don’t move.”
“What?” Murky blushed and wiggled under the alicorn. Flurry’s golden shield provided enough light to see the thin dart sticking out of Murky’s pants, right over his cutie mark. She plucked it out with her magic and examined the orange tip.
“What?” Murky repeated. He couldn’t see what she was doing.
Nightshade looked at the dart and crouched beside her brother. “How do you feel, little bro?”
“Annoyed,” Murky answered. “A little itchy from the bug bite.”
“It wasn’t a bug bite,” Echo said. “Somepony shot your fat ass with a dart.”
Murky’s eyes widened. “Sweet Luna, am I going to melt? There’s mushrooms out here that make you see things!” He twisted to look at Flurry straddling him. “Oh, it’s already goin’ down!”
“Shut up,” Flurry groaned. “Keep your heartbeat steady.” She stood and stared at the dart floating in her magic.
Nightshade pressed a wing to her brother’s head. “You’re sweating.”
“I got poisoned and I’m goin’ to die! Why wouldn’t I sweat!?”
“Just tell me how you feel,” Flurry ordered.
“I feel…” Murky trailed off. “Little itchy around the flank. Actually, not that bad.”
“Take your pants off,” Nightshade ordered.
Murky looked at Flurry and blushed. “Uh, sis.”
“Moth brain,” Echo whickered, “we gotta check for a rash.”
Flurry sighed and turned around while the siblings fumbled behind her. She glared out into the jungle through the shield. Her eyes glowed as she cast a night vision spell.
“Got you right on the cutie mark,” Nightshade mumbled behind Flurry. “Long distance and good aim.”
“Lemme see the dart,” Murky said.
Flurry passed it back and felt one of the siblings pull it out of her magical grip.
“Smells like mangos.”
“They shot you with mangos?” Echo asked.
“There’s some swelling. It’s definitely something. I don’t know what.” There was a thump as Nightshade slapped Murky. Her brother yelped. “Still have your reflexes,” she commented. "No dilation in the eyes."
“Don’t hit me there!”
“Are you finished?” Flurry called over her shoulder. She didn’t see any movement in the jungle.
There was a brief silence and Flurry heard shuffling as Murky slipped his pants back on. “Yeah, Princess.”
“Cover your ears,” Flurry ordered. She inhaled as the siblings crouched down. “Whatever you just shot my friend with better not kill him,” she threatened at full volume. The golden shield crackled. “I am Flurry Heart, the Princess of Ponies. I am here to talk.”
Flurry stood at the edge of the roof for several minutes. The generator below sputtered off, and the lights turned out. The rooftop was dark, except for the light from her shield.
“That wasn’t a coincidence,” Echo muttered. She braced her submachine gun against her shoulder at the rooftop edge, scanning the jungle.
“They want to play at horror, fine,” Flurry snorted. She dropped the shield and stepped back from the ledge. Her horn lit up and she fired a bright golden flare above the pyramid. The jungle around them lit up. “Last chance.”
Echo whinnied and raised a hoof. A thin dart stuck out from her elbow. She sprayed into the jungle with her other hoof on the trigger. “Bucking dammit!”
Flurry snarled and her horn blazed with golden flames. She stepped to the edge of the roof. “Princess, stay back!” Nightshade shouted.
Flurry unleashed a wide golden laser into the surrounding jungle. The trees were blasted apart from the concussive force, and the ground was set alight with blue flames. Wooden shrapnel sprayed through the jungle. Flurry charged her horn again as she inhaled, then fired another shot with an exhale. More jungle was blasted apart. She stepped to the next edge of the square rooftop and repeated. Golden lances of magic fired from the top of the pyramid for the next minute, destroying the surrounding jungle and setting the charred remains burning with blue flames. Each blast cleared away a dozen trees, making a shallow crater in the ground.
Flurry’s ears perked as she heard a screech of pain from the jungle. She turned back and her eyes glowed with the night vision spell. A bat pony struggled to crawl away from a crater, dragging a hind leg. Flurry’s horn flared; she seized the mare in her magic and pulled her through the air. The bat pony shrieked again.
The mare was dressed in a mix of Changeling and Equestrian equipment. Her leathery wings were bloody from bits of wooden shrapnel and covered in black war paint. She only wore faded gray pants and a Hegemony bandolier.
Flurry’s grip was imprecise. The mare struggled against the golden magic, biting down into her bandolier and pulling out a stick grenade. She pulled the pin with a fang.
Flurry ripped the grenade from her jaw and held it in her magic. The alicorn summoned a small bubble shield around the grenade as she flung the mare to the rooftop. The grenade exploded with a muted puff, and Flurry dispelled the shield.
The bat pony struggled to stand, only for Nightshade to club her across the head with the stock of her submachine gun. “Stay still, bat.” Nightshade shoved the submachine gun under the stunned mare’s muzzle.
Flurry summoned another bubble shield around the roof. The jungle smoked and burned from every direction. She stalked towards the mare and pinned her to the ground, restraining her movements with her horn.
Flurry Heart wiped her bloody nose. “Talk. Now. I tried to be nice.”
The mare spat something in a tribal dialect Flurry didn’t know.
“Equestrian,” Nightshade hissed.
“Leave,” the mare rasped in accented Equestrian. “Begone, false one.”
Flurry studied the gray pants, recognizing the ELF uniform. “Were you part of the Equestrian Liberation Front?”
“I am of the Tzinacatl,” the mare sneered. “You destroy our jungle.”
“You shot my friends.” Flurry’s eyes narrowed. One side of the bandolier across her barrel was covered in darts with cloth coverings around the tips. “What is this poison?”
“Poison,” the mare laughed. “It is no poison. It reveals things for what they are.”
Echo pulled the shaft from her leg with her muzzle, spitting it out. “It itches like Tartarus.”
One of the tribal’s rear legs was bent awkwardly and bleeding. Flurry straightened the leg in her magic and cast a mending spell. The mare screeched in pain as the bone corrected. “Keep talking and I keep healing,” Flurry said. “Are there more of you?”
“We are everywhere.”
“Who’s in charge?”
The mare hissed up at Flurry. The alicorn slowly pulled a long chunk of wood from her wing. She removed it at an awkward angle, and the mare tried to squirm in pain, but Flurry’s magic held her still.
“Who’s in charge?” Flurry repeated. “I want to talk.”
“The Tlatoani has nothing to say to you.”
“She or he can listen, then, because I have a lot to say,” Flurry growled. “What does the dart do? Is there an antidote?”
“It reveals false faces,” the tribal rasped. “The bugs come to our jungle and destroy it, just like you. They take away our family and return wearing their muzzles as masks. We found a way.”
“I wouldn’t have destroyed anything if you had just talked to me,” Flurry spat. She fluttered her wings. “How hard is it to say hello?”
“We have nothing to say to you, false one.”
“Why do you call me that?”
The mare looked at her wings and horn. “You are not the Moon.”
Flurry raised an eyebrow. “You know there’s more than one alicorn, right? I am the daughter of Mi Amore Cadenza,” Flurry pulled more shrapnel out of the mare’s wings and cast a blood-clotting spell. “You know who I am.”
“Who you claim to be,” the mare corrected.
Flurry pointed a wing beyond the shield to the burning jungle. The fire was beginning to spread through the trees. “You think a disguised changeling could do that?”
“Love never came here,” the mare stated.
“I am here, right now,” Flurry said bluntly. “My mother officiated several weddings for bat ponies in the Crystal Empire. She never discriminated against you.”
“Thestrals,” the mare corrected. “We are Thestrals, and we are not born for snow and cold.”
Flurry sighed. “I would like to talk to whoever leads the Thestrals.” She finished pulling shrapnel from the mare and cast another spell. “You’ll live.”
“Why have you come here?” the mare asked warily.
“I need your help. There’s a war, in case you haven’t noticed.” Flurry released the mare from her magic. Nightshade still kept the submachine gun trained on her, as did Echo and Murky.
The mare laid still on the rooftop, glaring at Flurry with yellow eyes. She twisted her head to the side and gave a low, warbling screech. The jungle screeched back and three dozen Thestrals emerged from the treetops and smoke. They carried assorted weaponry and hovered around the shield. Some were naked and covered in streaks of war paint; some wore bandoliers and shreds of a uniform.
Murky and Echo shifted their guns away from the mare and to the hovering bat ponies. “Not good, Princess,” Murky whickered with his tail lashing in agitation.
Flurry looked around, then returned to glaring back at the mare. “I’m not worried.” She clicked her tongue. “Is your Tlatoani or whatever at Tenochtitlan?”
“Princess, we should just leave,” Nightshade pleaded. “Teleport out.”
“I am the Princess of Ponies,” Flurry stated back. “All ponies, even Thestrals.”
“Are you?” the mare laughed with an eerie shriek. “The Sun claimed that title as well, and she did not warm us with her rays.”
“I am not Celestia.”
The mare looked up at Flurry with half-lidded eyes, then clicked her tongue and screeched a short cry. The surrounding Thestrals lowered their guns and landed below the roof, along the stone structure. Flurry Heart narrowed her eyes, then dispelled the shield.
She turned back to the burning jungle and fired a wave of frost from her horn. Flurry moved in a circle along the roof. The plants wilted under the frozen stream, but the fires guttered out. The night air was chilled by the cone of frost and the Thestrals shivered.
“Ice and fire,” the mare muttered.
Flurry turned back to her and doused her horn. “Good enough?” she challenged.
“No,” the mare shook her head. “Prove you are not false.” She slowly retrieved a dart from her bandolier and held it between her hooves. Nightshade shoved the gun barrel against the back of her head.
“Nope,” Nightshade snorted. “Absolutely not.”
“It is harmless if one is not a changeling,” the mare retorted. “We will escort you to Tenochtitlan.”
“Murky, Echo, how do you feel?” Flurry asked.
“Little itchy, but I’m fine,” Murky offered. “Still a solid no, Princess. Let’s just get.”
“Not worth it,” Echo added. “I don’t trust these bats.”
The mare bared her fangs at Echo. “You have forgotten all the old ways.”
“Yeah, I like literacy, moth brain,” Echo retorted.
The mare said something in her own language that was doubtlessly very offensive. Echo shrugged a wing in reply.
Flurry looked over her withers to the edge of the roof, past the anti-air gun. A few sets of golden eyes stared back, peeking over the edge of the stairs and watching her. Flurry returned to the mare. “What’s your name?”
“Amoxtli,” the mare answered after a pause.
“I saved your life and stopped you from bleeding out,” Flurry stated. She waved a foreleg at the mare’s bloody wings, then took the dart from her and held it with her horn.
Amoxtli stood up and tested her rear leg with a wince. “You shall not be harmed.”
“Nor my friends.”
Amoxtli glanced at Nightshade, who aimed at her head with narrowed eyes. “As you say.”
“Say it,” Flurry ordered.
“We believe in what you call hospitality,” Amoxtli said, annoyed. “You and your tribe shall not be harmed.”
Flurry brought the dart close to her muzzle and sniffed it. It does smell like mangos. “Nightshade, lower the gun.”
“Princess, no,” Nightshade answered.
“Everypony lower your guns,” Flurry repeated, “or I’ll just take them from you.”
Murky set his rifle down. “Ain’t worth this, Princess.” Nightshade and Echo nodded in unison, but set their guns down as well. The Thestrals gathered around the edges of the roof, watching.
Flurry unbuttoned her high collar and held the dart between her forehooves. She stared at Amoxtli and raised the dart to her exposed neck, then jabbed it forward before she reconsidered it. This is so stupid.
She felt a prickle and a mild itch. Flurry pulled the dart out and tossed it to the ground. Her neck burned like a mosquito bite, but nothing more. Flurry blinked and felt a little embarrassed. “Okay, now what?” she asked Amoxtli.
The pyramid under her rumbled. “Now, you go to Tenochtitlan,” a voice called up. Flurry stood and turned to the edge. A thin bat pony limped up from the steps; the tribals stood aside and let him past.
Flurry called him a bat pony instead of a Thestral. He wore a tribal necklace of assorted claws and feathers around his neck, and red war paint around his golden eyes, but his vest, worn blue bandana, and black cowboy hat were decidedly Equestrian. A braided dark blue mane rested uneasily under the hat.
He was also scarred. His left front leg was a wooden prosthetic, carved in an intricate design of a curled snake. The bat pony’s left eye was also covered with an eyepatch; a scar ran down his muzzle under it. The bat pony removed his hat with his left hoof and bowed his head. “I am the Tlatoani,” he said in a Baltimare accent. The Thestrals around the roof bowed low.
“You’re not a native,” Flurry replied dubiously.
“Baltimare is part of the southeast,” he pointed out, “but no, I am not of the Tzinacatl tribes. My name is Light Narrative. I was a journalist before the war. I covered your mother’s wedding, Princess Flurry Heart.”
“You were here the whole time?” Flurry asked. “I know the pyramid’s hollow.”
“There are rooms inside, and tunnels below,” Light Narrative replied. “You have been watched since you left Baltimare.”
“You could’ve said hello,” Flurry answered.
Light Narrative looked over his shoulder at the devasted jungle. “I apologize for your treatment. The Tzinacatl distrust outsiders.”
Flurry looked over her shoulder at Murky, Echo and Nightshade. They hadn’t picked their guns back up and looked unconcerned. Amoxtli still bowed. “Why’d they make you leader, then?”
“The Moonspeakers of the Tzinacatl know the Thestrals needed leadership, and none could agree on one of their own. Have you read any of my articles?” he asked hopefully.
Flurry shook her head. The Tlatoani deflated.
“Do you know anything about us?” Light Narrative asked. “Our customs, our history, our legends?”
Flurry opened her mouth, then closed it with a click of her teeth. “No,” she admitted. “Not really.”
“And yet you come here and make demands,” Light Narrative accused softly.
“I’m sorry I didn’t have time to get a crash course in cultural appreciation,” Flurry apologized sarcastically. “I didn’t exactly have access to reading materials about Thestral culture. And asking to talk to somepony isn’t a demand. ‘Talk to me or I burn down your jungle’ is a demand, Tlatoani. I was far shorter with Baltimare, no offense to your home.”
Light Narrative smirked. “Your pronunciation is off. My name is fine, Princess.” He waved a scarred left wing. “Come with me. I can give you the short version of our history.”
“Nightshade,” Flurry ordered. “Everypony, with me.”
“Your friends can remain,” Light called over his shoulder. He limped down the steps of the pyramid and out of sight. “You are protected, as are they.” Flurry looked behind her at the siblings.
“We’ll be fine, Princess,” Nightshade whickered and waved a hoof. “Go on.”
Flurry blinked, then followed Light Narrative through the circle of Thestrals. Some of the steps receded into the pyramid and light poured from the opening. Flurry squinted at the hanging electric lamps on the interior, eyeing the wires strung along the ceiling.
“We’ve gotten with the times,” Light chuckled. “Infrastructure has always been poor in the southeast. Not many ponies are eager to brave the jungle. The largest cites are Baltimare, Stableside, and Mareida. All port cities along the ocean where we are a minority at best.”
Flurry matched his pace, following behind. He limped down more steps and pointed at a carving of the Mare in the Moon. “For a thousand years, the Thestrals were left to the jungle, developing their own languages and culture. The Sun did not warm us with her rays; we reminded her too much of her lost Moon.”
“Amoxitl said something about that,” Flurry recalled. “Things were better before the war. Twilight helped with an acceptance campaign.”
“We were ignored and abused for a thousand years,” Light Narrative replied sourly. “That pain is not easily forgotten. I spent my life writing articles about the abuses of the nobility, the low nighttime wages, and harsh workplace conditions.” He glanced at her wryly with his right eye. “I was never paid as much as the other reporters.”
“I am sorry,” Flurry apologized. “It wasn’t right.”
Light Narrative stopped at an intersection, then turned left down another hallway. They passed by more carvings of Thestrals dancing below the moon. “You were a foal,” Light said softly. “I do not expect you to cry from the cradle for our rights.”
“I know my mom officiated marriages between bat ponies.”
“Those who could travel to the Empire, yes,” Light nodded. “The blessing of Love extended into mixed marriages between a Thestral and another Pony Tribe. Quite scandalous. I interviewed her about it.” He paused. “Your mother was quite extraordinary. Your father treated the Night Guard as equals.”
“My parents were good ponies,” Flurry stated softly.
“Are you?” Light Narrative asked neutrally.
“No,” Flurry answered without thinking.
Light Narrative nodded. “Perhaps that’s for the best. War is not a place for good ponies.”
“You know why I came here,” Flurry continued.
“Tell me anyway.” Light shrugged a wing.
“I need your help. I need the Tzinacatl’s help to move the supply lines through the jungle.”
Light Narrative winced. “Please, avoid attempting to pronounce our words.” He stepped down another stairwell lined by electric torches.
“Sorry.”
“A valiant attempt.” He turned his head to look at her as he limped. “You speak of the Griffonian Reich, not your own lines. We have heard of your Miracle of the North, though we are too far south to see the shield.”
“Bat ponies pass through it fine.”
“We don’t like the cold, Princess,” Light Narrative chuckled.
“It’s warmer inside the shield. We’re growing crops.”
Light Narrative hummed and shook his tail. “Before the war, there was a campaign to have us recognized as the Fourth Tribe. Every Princess of Ponies participated. The Sun, the Moon, Love, and Friendship. You were too young.”
“Do you hold that against me?” Flurry asked. “I am sorry. My opinion on bat ponies at six was that they were very fluffy and I liked their fangs.”
“I do not hold it against you,” Light replied. “Some of the Moonspeakers will. I am not the supreme leader of the Thestrals, just their spiritual guide and advisor. You will need to make your case before the Moonspeaker Conclave in Tenochtitlan, and they will vote.”
They passed by another mural. Flurry stopped and stared at it. She crinkled her muzzle. “Repeat carvings?” she asked.
“I’m sorry?” Light asked back.
Flurry brushed a wing against the carving of bowing tribals. “We passed this one before. Do Thestrals worship Luna, or the Moon, or both?”
“Depends on which Moonspeaker you ask,” Light chuckled nervously. “Some view her as a herald, or a guardian, or a steward. The tribes rarely agree on an interpretation. These carvings were done centuries ago. Art has evolved since then.”
“How many Moonspeakers are there?” Flurry asked. “One for each tribe?”
“Yes,” Light nodded. “Sixty-four, currently.”
“That’s…” Flurry hesitated. “Am I expected to know all of them?”
“The hardliners expect you to,” Light replied, “but they are looking for an excuse to reject you.” Light Narrative turned another corner and stopped before a dead end. Flurry stumbled to a halt.
“Why are you here?” Light Narrative asked. He faced the dead end, looking at a carving of a snarling mare descending from the moon. The Thestrals below raised spears and blades, not to fight the mare, but to join her.
Nightmare Moon, Flurry realized. “I need your help.”
“The Moon called to us once, and we answered,” Light Narrative stated. “We paid the price: a thousand years of hatred and torment for past sins.”
“Equestria is falling apart. We need to stand together to defeat Chrysalis. All of us.”
“We’ve driven the soldiers into the Badlands and away from the jungle,” Light replied. “Baltimare troubles us like a thorn in our frog, but they will never take the southeast. We are free.”
“Millions of ponies aren’t free. They still suffer in camps and mines.”
Light Narrative lashed his tail. “Why should we care? They did not care about our suffering for a thousand years.”
“All you are doing is proving them right,” Flurry said softly. “I had the same conversation in Baltimare. I hoped you were different.”
Light Narrative sighed and rapped his prosthetic hoof against the stone wall. The wall rumbled and descended into the floor, revealing a doorway into a cave. “I know,” he admitted. “We are not in this war alone, but be blunt about what you ask.”
Flurry followed him out into a large cave. Stalactites dripped water from the ceiling. A large mosaic of the moon was in the center of the cave, lit by a hole in the cave ceiling. The moonlight shone down on a silver bowl in the center of the mosaic moon. This moon was unblemished with the Mare in the Moon.
“When did we go underground?” Flurry asked. “Is this under the pyramid?”
“Most pyramids are temples,” Light Narrative answered, “and connected to deep cave systems. This is in Tenochtitlan.”
“We didn’t walk that far,” Flurry stated.
“There is another in Tenochtitlan,” Light Narrative rephrased. He stepped around the low silver bowl and waved a wing for Flurry to approach.
Flurry walked forward slowly, stepping over the mosaic and into the moonlight. She looked up and squinted, but the light was too bright. “What is this place?”
Light Narrative removed his hat and tugged his eyepatch off. A ruined eye socket stared at her. “Be blunt. Why are you here?”
Flurry chewed on her cheek. “I need the Thestrals to fight. For everypony. For me.”
“The Nightmare said the same, once,” Light Narrative started. “It came and promised us an end to our isolation. We bled for it, and found ourselves more isolated than ever before. It took a thousand years for Friendship and Love to make things right, and then the Sun and Moon asked us to bleed once again.” He rubbed his wooden leg with his other hoof. “And we were abandoned in the jungle. Now you have come, Hope, and still ask the same.”
“I know what I’m asking. I know Thestrals will die.”
“You ask us to bleed.” Light Narrative bared his fangs. “Will you do the same?”
Flurry looked down into the bowl and saw a knife with a silver hilt. The blade was sharp and curved. She blinked at it. Was that always there? “What?” she asked. “You want my blood like a vampony?” Flurry immediately recoiled and wilted back with pinned ears. “I’m sorry, that just slipped out. That was offensive.”
“Legends start somewhere,” Light Narrative shrugged. “You may refuse, and I will tell the Conclave otherwise.”
“You’ll lie for me?” Flurry asked.
Light Narrative looked to the side. “We cannot stand alone. You are correct. We must work together.” He tapped the bowl with his wooden leg. "It will be difficult."
Flurry picked up the knife in her golden magic. She pulled her boot off and rolled up her sleeve, stopping at the thin gash in her fur from the bullet in Manehattan. She lightly brushed the knife over her injury, then looked to Light Narrative’s wooden leg.
“What happened to your leg?” she asked. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“Same as my eye,” Light Narrative answered readily. “I liked to report from the front lines. I interviewed Luna from the command center, but the real stories were in the trenches.”
Flurry stared down at the shallow silver bowl. “Do I need to fill the bowl?”
“You don’t need to do it at all,” Light answered. His bare socket stared at her. “I will lie. Offer what you will.”
Flurry glanced at his eye socket, then the leg. “Okay,” she nodded and the blade drifted above her head. The metal edge gleamed in the moonlight.
“I will lie to the Conclave,” Light nodded. “They will not doubt my words.”
“Words are wind,” Flurry retorted. “Bring them proof.”
She brought the knife down through her right ear. It flopped into the silver bowl below her head. Flurry screamed in pain loud enough to rattle the stalactites in the cave, and felt the blood pour down the side of her head and spill down into her right eye.
Light Narrative stepped back, aghast. Flurry squinted at his blurry, shimmering form. “Not enough?” she growled and brought the blade around to the left side. “You want more blood?” Her ear tried to pin back against her head from the pain, but Flurry forced it up.
“Fine.” The knife came down again and her left ear splattered into the bowl. The cave shimmered and wobbled through her tears, and Light Narrative flickered. Flurry snarled through the haze of pain and glared at her lopsided ears in the bowl, feeling the blood spill down her muzzle.
The silver bowl collapsed into a puddle of blood and liquid silver. It swirled into a whirlpool around Flurry’s hooves as the mosaic shattered. She fell into the crumbling moon, tumbling towards an ocean of stars that ebbed and flowed like a tide. Her ears spiraled below her, burning into white orbs and joining the stars.
Flurry Heart jolted awake on a grass bed, feeling her ears twitch and spasm atop her head. “What the fuck?”
She pressed her forelegs against her head and felt her intact ears press against the stubble of her mane. She lowered her hooves to her neck and brushed against a necklace of flowers. Flurry rolled to the side, spying her boots laying in a row beside the grass bed.
“That’s new,” a rough voice commented. “You weren’t supposed to be awake for a few more hours.”
Flurry lit her horn and whipped her head towards the sudden noise. The voice belonged to an older earth pony stallion with a patchy gray beard. His black mane was swept back and unkempt. He was naked except for a floral print shirt and dusty cargo shorts.
Flurry grabbed him in her magic and flung him against the stone wall. She looked around. The alicorn was in a small stone room, like the ones she walked through. The ones I thought I walked through, she corrected herself.
The stallion wheezed. “No need, Princess. I surrender.”
“Where am I?” she snarled. Her eyes narrowed into slits. “Where’s my friends?”
“The siblings are fine,” the stallion coughed. “On another floor. You’re in Tenochtitlan.”
“Liar,” Flurry spat. “I was a day away, at least.”
“You’ve been asleep for a day. You were carried here,” the stallion rasped.
Flurry placed his accent. “Who are you? Where are you from? Puerto Caballo?”
“My name is Caballeron,” the stallion rasped. “Please, you are crushing my lungs, Princess.”
Flurry stared at him, then cast the detection spell. “The Daring Do villain? He’s not real.”
Despite her words, the spell did nothing. The earth pony was indeed actually an earth pony. She released him and let the stallion stumble to the floor. He spent a moment gasping for air; the stallion tugged on a red neckerchief with white spots, loosening it.
“I am indeed real, and so is my doctorate,” Caballeron coughed.
“Right,” Flurry said noncommittally. She inspected her uniform and jacket, touching the necklace of flowers briefly.
“You are a guest,” Caballeron recovered. “Those flowers mean you are an honored guest in Tenochtitlan. No harm will come to you.” He raised his hoof and brushed his necklace of snake fangs and feathers. “This means I am a trusted friend of the Tzinacatl.”
Flurry looked around at the stone walls and electric lights. The walls were weathered stone and very old, but there were no carvings. She turned back to the bed and brushed a hoof over the braided grass. It wasn’t very comfortable. “Where am I?” she asked.
“As I said, Tenochtitlan,” Caballeron replied.
“Don’t play dumb,” Flurry warned.
“One of the bedchambers of the temple, above the caves,” Caballeron clarified. “The great stone temple at the heart of the city, perhaps you have heard of it?”
Flurry shook her head.
“Ah, the state of education in the world,” Caballeron sighed theatrically. “The Tlatoani will wish to see you.” He brushed a hoof against his shirt and trotted to a stone door. It opened easily with a push.
“Take me to my friends,” Flurry said instead. She shoved her boots on brusquely with her magic, lacing them together. Caballeron watched the display of magical finesse with a frown.
“I do not know where they are, currently,” he replied.
“Then I shall go looking for them,” Flurry answered. The light around her horn briefly took a flame-like quality.
“Light Narrative will know,” Caballeron offered with a nervous glance at her horn. “The Dreamspell leaves one groggy. Are you capable of walking?”
Flurry took several hesitant steps forward and shook her legs one at a time. “Yes. Was that the poison? Dreamspell?”
“It has a different name in the tribal tongues,” Caballeron answered. “The Tzinacatl know of several plants that have magical properties, allowing one to step into another’s dreams.”
“So what? Light Narrative was actually there?” Flurry followed him into a hallway. Several tribals leaned against the stone walls with sheathed glaives under their leathery wings. They blinked in surprise at Flurry, then quickly followed behind her.
Flurry glared at them over her wing. Like the Thestrals that ambushed her, they wore a mix of appropriated Changeling uniforms. One wore a Queen’s Guard spiked helmet decorated in white war paint. He glared back at Flurry with narrowed, yellow slit pupils.
“Yes, the Tlatoani questioned you himself,” Caballeron said. “An honor, I assure you. Your necklace means you passed the Bloodletting.”
“That’s actually a thing?” Flurry asked.
“It was an ancient rite of judgement for outsiders. The bowl is made of pure silver, quite striking. And valuable.” Caballeron glanced at her wryly. “Age has tarnished it.”
“Why are you here?” Flurry asked.
“Where else would I be?”
“Dead in a ditch,” Flurry responded.
“You mean like Daring Do?” Caballeron chuckled bitterly. “It is poor to speak ill of the dead, but the mare was content to raid temples without regard to the natives.” He stopped and brushed his fur on a foreleg. “I passed the Bloodletting years ago, quite willingly.”
“You cared?” Flurry asked bluntly. “You sold off their treasures to the highest bidder.”
“Not the highest bidder,” Caballeron snorted. “Celestia paid Daring quite well. That didn’t make it into the books. Unlike her, I did share some of the bits with my team. And the natives.”
“I doubt it was a fair bargain.”
“No,” he admitted, “but it was still more money than most had seen in their lives. The jungle was always poor. The government had no regard for their native languages, and encouraged their foals to forget their culture. A little respect can go a long way.”
“Their culture of shooting strangers with darts,” Flurry snarked. “Why didn’t it affect my friends?”
“Your friends are Thestrals,” Caballeron answered. “You are not. A Changeling wearing a Thestral’s face would collapse as well, to be questioned in the Dreamscape or simply to have their throat slit in their sleep. Usually both.”
Flurry swallowed. “Efficient.”
“A culture is only as savage as you believe it to be,” Caballeron lectured. “The Tzinacatl have honor, debts, and guest rights. After all, you killed seven in the jungle with your spells. They could have slit your throat.”
Flurry stopped and looked over her shoulder. The Thestrals stared back at her. “They attacked first," Flurry defended. "None of that would’ve happened if somepony stepped out to talk.”
“That is a factor,” Caballeron nodded, "but one does not wait for the serpent to strike." He motioned for Flurry to resume. They descended down a stone staircase, lined with more electric lights.
They passed into a large community storeroom. Ponies sat amongst boxes, using crate lids as makeshift tables to count ammunition or play cards. Changeling weapons were stacked high in the crates. Flurry realized there were no Thestrals amongst the several dozen ponies. They all wore mixed uniforms and necklaces like Caballeron.
“We’re below ground,” Caballeron replied. “The caves provided shelter from the bombing runs. The Changelings tried napalm for several years. Do you know what that is?”
“Flames,” Flurry said quietly. "I'm familiar. The jungle seems intact."
“They risked burning their precious rubber,” Caballeron laughed ruefully. “They soon gave up and fortified their plantations. The Austral Protectorate was always under supplied and far from Chrysalis' tower. Governor Larynx started to hire mercenaries to patrol the plantations. He used Thestrals as labor, guessing most ponies would not care.”
“And you did?” Flurry asked.
“Not at all,” Caballeron scoffed sarcastically. “I am the villain, no? My greed and avarice is known across the world, all thanks to Daring Do.” He spat on the stone floor. “Larynx welcomed my help. Soon, we were patrolling every major plantation and supply route.”
Flurry ground her teeth. “Did they pay you well?”
“Oh yes,” Caballeron laughed, “in knowledge more than bits. We learned their schedules and their numbers. We took losses to the jungle, of course. Our patrols were ambushed like the Changelings, vanishing into the jungle with no bodies to be found. Waiting with the Tzinacatl. The artifacts and reported victories ingratiated me quite well to Larynx's inner circle.”
"And he never suspected you would betray him?" Flurry asked skeptically. "You tricked a changeling?"
"He was quite the avid reader of Daring Do," Caballeron answered. "He believed I was no better than him. Perhaps he was right, once. A heart can be guarded, no?"
Caballeron stopped at a makeshift table. The stallion and three mares nodded up to him, sitting on barrels and playing cards. “The Tzinacatl waited for the Moon for a thousand years. They remembered the prophecy when practically nopony else did. Revenge can be patient. We did not rush to Canterlot like the Equestrian Liberation Front and Daring Do.”
Flurry held her tongue.
“The Griffonian Reich’s landing was unexpected, but welcome,” Caballeron continued. “My associate Jungle Trek led part of the assault on the plantations.” The blue stallion playing cards offered a shallow nod to Flurry. Caballeron looked over Jungle Trek’s shoulder and scrunched his muzzle at the cards the stallion was cradling between his hooves.
The mares laughed. Jungle Trek flung the cards down with a huff. Flurry looked at the table; they were playing for cigarettes. She scrunched her muzzle as well. Gross.
“I suppose the southeast owes Daring Do a debt,” Caballeron sighed. “Her legacy for me wasn’t what she intended, and I take some joy in that.” His words were spiteful, but his eyes didn’t match his tone. "She should have been here, not in Canterlot."
“What happened to the governor?”
“Which one?” Caballeron laughed. “Larynx was the third. He’s dead. Saw to it myself. His trucks burned in our ambush.”
Flurry nodded. “You have a lot of equipment.”
“The Tzinacatl have a lot of equipment,” he corrected. “The southeast is theirs. They were the first to settle here, thousands of years ago. That is known, if nothing else.”
“Look,” Flurry sighed, “you know why I’m here. The southeast is the gateway to taking back southern Equestria. The Reich needs supply lines through the jungle, and the bat ponies are the best nighttime combatants in the world.”
“You’re here to negotiate for the Griffonian Reich, Princess?” Caballeron asked. “Their army is encircled in the Badlands. They tried blazing through the jungle, just like the Changelings. There is no love for them here.”
“The Thestrals can help them through the jungle,” Flurry replied. “I don’t see any tanks or heavy artillery down here. If Chrysalis drives off the invasion, she’ll crush the southeast.”
“Thestrals have endured a thousand years of suffering.”
“Under Celestia,” Flurry pointed out. “Neglect, not outright cruelty. How many died in the plantations?”
“Many,” Caballeron sighed. “I know your point, Princess. I do not need convincing. Or payment. We must fight.”
“You’ll help?” Flurry asked hopefully.
“You’ll make your case to the Moonspeakers," Caballeron shrugged. "They will decide if you are a Princess worth following.”
Flurry and Caballeron resumed walking, passing through several stone rooms with more crates and soldiers. The next stairwell was older, carved into the rock of a natural cave system and slippery. Several bat pony foals flapped little wings as they skidded on the steps, laughing. Flurry’s guards broke rank to usher the foals aside.
“You have any advice, Caballeron?” Flurry asked.
“Doctor Caballeron,” the stallion replied. "I did graduate."
“Sorry,” Flurry apologized. “Doctor Caballeron, do you have any advice?”
“You have the necklace, which means you passed the Bloodletting,” Caballeron repeated. “It’s a small ceremonial gesture, but important.”
“Small?” Flurry whickered.
“A shallow cut to the frog and a few drops of blood,” Caballeron clarified. He looked over his shoulder at her, confused. “The Tlatoani is not an accomplished Dreamwalker, but surely he explained that." The stallion snorted. "It is absurd that the vampony myth started from some skittish explorers getting cold hooves at a prick of the hoof.”
“Oh,” Flurry said lamely. “Yeah, I guess he did.”
“What did you do?” Caballeron asked.
“I passed,” Flurry said evasively. Her ears pinned back.
“Well, you won’t have time to learn the languages, nor the tribes.” Caballeron stopped at the end of the stairs and flicked his tail in thought. “I wouldn’t risk mentioning legends either. Every tribe has variations and bicker constantly.”
“Okay, how did bat ponies start?”
“Debated.”
“What did Luna do?”
“Debated.”
“My mother helped with the reforms before the war,” Flurry stated. “Would that help?”
“You are not your mother,” Caballeron said kindly. “You are an unknown. We have heard your speeches on the radio, and stories about blood in the snow. It is easier to say what you shouldn’t talk about. Chiropterra should be avoided.”
“What?”
Caballeron hesitated. “Ah, best avoided anyway.”
“No, explain.”
Caballeron sighed and lowered his voice. “Nightmare cultists in northern Zebrica. They quarreled with Mount Aris and Seaquestria during the Great War, along with Colthage. The Hippogriffs were defeated and battered.”
Flurry wracked her memory. “Is that why Queen Novo didn’t help?”
Caballeron lowered his voice to a whisper. “The short version is that they are descended from the legions that followed the Nightmare, staying in secrecy for a thousand years. They are cruel and vicious and do not speak of them,” he repeated. “The Moon and the Nightmare are not interchangeable for most of the Tzinacatl.”
“Most?” Flurry nickered.
“It’s debated,” Caballeron sighed. “Come, Light Narrative could explain this better than I, if you wish to learn.”
The cave system was massive, sprawling into several tunnels. Lights had been strung along stalactites on the ceiling, providing a dim light for those below. The Thestrals didn’t seem to need that much light to see. Flurry felt a warm air current blow through her feathers; the air was damp and humid.
Houses were carved directly out of the cave walls with open windows and doorways. Crystals glowed with faint light from within the homes, indicating that some unicorns were around to recharge the lights. Flurry and Caballeron trotted down a worn path in the cave floor, towards the center of the cave. She could hear the faint buzz of generators over several different languages.
A few statues of Thestrals with spears were dotted along the low buildings, standing guard. There was a large marketplace arranged in a circle over a mosaic of a full moon. Thestrals bartered with each other in a variety of dialects. All of them wore a mix of clothing and tribal paint; there were similar, repeating patterns on the leathery bat wings. Flurry also spotted braided manes and tails for couples standing together. Most gave Flurry an uncertain look and whispered as she passed.
"Are the markings on the wings for the tribes?" Flurry asked conversationally.
"Tribes, families, connections," Caballeron listed. "It's not permanent paint, but it's hard to wash away. Wasn't popular before the war for bat ponies trying to fit in."
Flurry’s pink fur stood out from all the gray, black, and purple. Combined with her long legs and horn, she stuck out in the crowd. Flurry gave the Thestrals a neutral smile that was rarely returned. She was given plenty of room.
A few foals pointed at her feathery wings, so she extended them and splayed the feathers out. One brave filly reached out a hoof and ran it over the pink feathers, then looked at her leathery wings. Flurry’s smile turned genuine for a moment.
“Light Narrative will be just ahead, Princess,” Caballeron requested. “Please.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?” Flurry asked, following the stallion and refolding her wings.
“Not at all,” Caballeron replied. “You are the first Princess since Luna to visit inner Tenochtitlan.”
They climbed a short staircase, then crossed a bridge over a flowing river. Flurry paused and looked towards a waterfall along the far side, where an underground river cut through the cave. Several more statues of rearing Thestrals bracketed the waterfall, lit up by glowing crystals that caught the light and reflected it across the water. The statues' eyes glowed in the darkness.
Caballeron stopped and backtracked to her. “What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful,” Flurry murmured.
“Yes,” Caballeron nodded. “The Tzinacatl bicker over which tribe carved the statues.”
Flurry motioned him to continue with a wing. The stallion led her to an unassuming stone house located in the middle of the cave, along a normal street. The only indication it was important was the Thestrals armed with rifles guarding the roof and entrance. And the screaming in Equestrian from the open windows.
“I will skin you!” Nightshade screeched.
“As you saw, she was fine!” Light Narrative screeched back. “Please, calm yourself!”
“I’ll rip your damn heart out and eat it!”
“Nightshade!” Flurry called out in the street. The guards jumped at the voice. There was muffled thumping from the second floor. Light Narrative stuck his head out a second floor window; his eyepatch was hanging on by a thread.
“Please, come in!” he greeted in a strangled voice. “The Princess is outside!” he called over his shoulder. There was more muffled screeching and the Tlatoani disappeared.
Caballeron hesitated past the doorway and Flurry Heart squeezed by. She moved through a modest kitchen and dining area, then ascended a staircase to the second floor. The thumping and muffled swears grew louder. She rounded a corner to a large office lit by glowing crystals.
Echo, Murky, and Nightshade had been tied to a couch. Murky had one black eye, Echo sported a bandage around her ears, and Nightshade’s entire muzzle was bruised. She glared at Light Narrative with one eye; the other was swollen shut and smeared with an ointment. All of them were gagged, but Nightshade had apparently chewed through the cloth with her fangs. A rag was stuffed into her mouth, part of her torn pants.
The six Thestral guards in the room looked exhausted. One guard, a mare, clutched a bloody muzzle and cradled a loose fang between her forelegs. Light Narrative’s wooden leg looked like it had chunks bitten out of it. He slumped against the office table; it was made of a solid chunk of stone. “Hello, Princess,” he rasped. His golden eye was badly bloodshot from stress.
The siblings strained against the ropes and shouted muffled encouragement to the Princess. Flurry’s horn lit up and she cast several healing spells on each of the siblings. Echo and Murky sagged in relief, but Nightshade began to chew through the rag with renewed vigor and a murderous glare at Light Narrative.
“I apologize for their treatment, and yours as well,” Light Narrative said. “Your collapse surprised them. We have treated their injuries.” The stallion gestured to the torn necklace of flowers on his desk. Murky and Echo still wore their necklaces. “They are protected guests, as are you.”
“Caballeron explained it to me.” Flurry nodded back to the earth pony standing behind her.
Caballeron took one look around the office and backed down the stairs. “I’ll be outside. Across the bridge. Shout if you need me, Light.” He disappeared before the Tlatoani could answer.
Smart decision. Flurry gave Light Narrative an even stare. “So, I was drugged and you led me around a dream.”
“Yes,” Light Narrative said nervously.
Nightshade chewed through enough of the rag to speak. “I’ll strangle you all if you harmed her!” she whinnied. “Princess, are you alright!?”
“I should ask you that,” Flurry said to her. “Did they torture you?”
“No!” Light exclaimed. The guards looked upset and tensed. They had hoofblades instead of guns for close quarters.
“You dropped like a sack of rocks after you stuck that stupid dart in your neck,” Nightshade explained. “You fucking dumbass! They jumped us and dragged us here!”
“You assaulted them,” Light Narrative interrupted. “You killed two.”
“Good!” Nightshade huffed.
“I am sorry Amoxtli did not communicate what would occur,” Light Narrative said to Flurry. “Your guards fought very well, Princess. We do not hold it against you.”
Flurry turned around and walked to the table. She stared at Light Narrative unblinkingly as he swished his tail on the other side. “Untie them,” she ordered. “Give them medical treatment. And return their weapons.”
The Tlatoani waved a wing at his guards. They stared at Flurry warily, then moved behind her to the couch. “I assured them myself that you would not be harmed,” Light claimed. “Nightshade was shown where you were brought. They were quite belligerent.”
“What would’ve happened if I failed your little test?” Flurry asked. “Would you have slit my throat?”
Nightshade hissed behind Flurry.
“No,” Light Narrative replied readily. “You would have awoken in the jungle, unharmed. Your guards would have been fine.” He licked at his fangs. “I am surprised you are awake.”
“Am I?” Flurry asked sarcastically. “I suppose this isn’t a dream. No repeat carvings so far.” Flurry traced a hoof over the stone table. The surface was carved with a legion of Thestrals marching with spears through jungle fauna.
Flurry stared at the carving for a long moment, then reared back and slammed her head down. The stone table cracked into two pieces and collapsed to the floor. Light Narrative and the guards jumped.
Flurry Heart raised her head and hummed. “That hurt a little. Guess I’m not dreaming.” She brushed some dust off her muzzle with a boot. “I understand I killed several with my spellwork. My apologies, but it was entirely preventable.”
“Yes,” Light Narrative responded shakily, staring down at the two halves of solid stone. His wings twitched.
The guards untied Murky first, which proved to be a mistake when he followed Flurry’s example and headbutted the guard untying him. He quickly stole her knife and began freeing his siblings, snarling at the other guards. They backed away and reared up with their blades at the ready. Flurry quickly lit her horn and froze the guards in her golden aura.
She did not freeze Light Narrative. “Please, no more violence!” Light pleaded. “I’m sorry, I truly am. The Tzinacatl have suffered enormously at the hooves of outsiders. You saw Baltimare. You've seen the plantations.”
“Just blast this asshole and leave,” Nightshade spat. “Blow a hole in their precious cave. We’ll go to Baltimare and burn it to the fucking ground. Job done.”
Flurry closed her eyes. “I’ve already killed enough,” she sighed. Her horn dimmed and she released the guards. The Thestrals stumbled and gasped for breath. “Don’t try anything,” she said in a low warning. “You said you’d speak on my behalf to the Moonspeaker Conclave,” Flurry said to Light Narrative.
“Yes.” Light sagged in relief.
“When?”
“They gather tonight to discuss…” Light Narrative trailed off. “Well, to discuss you. You are welcome in Tenochtitlan for as long as you wish to stay. I swear we will make up your welcome.”
Flurry trotted to the open window and stared back into the city. Thestrals flew through the cave or walked along the streets just like any other pony, speaking and laughing to each other. “There’s a war beyond this cave,” Flurry stated. “I’ll speak to them tonight.”
Flurry watched impassively as the chef placed the bowl of fried grasshoppers in front of her with a fanged smile. The grasshoppers were piping hot; a few popped like popcorn kernels. Echo leaned over and snagged some with a leathery wing, tossing them into her mouth dexterously. "Pretty good," she offered through crunches.
“Is this another delicacy?” Flurry asked Amoxtli. The Thestral had a bandaged wing, and sat at the far side of the open bar, next to Echo. Several guards stood around the little restaurant, deterring the gathered crowd from approaching. Thestrals looked curiously at the large filly in a purple uniform leaning on the counter.
“It is a common snack,” Amoxtli replied, smoothing down her purple mane. “They pop and jump in your mouth.”
Flurry sat up straighter on the stool, staring down at the chef and owner. He smiled back and gestured to the bowl with a wing and a winking golden eye. Flurry understood it was a challenge.
She picked up the stone bowl between her forelegs and poured a large amount of the grasshoppers into her mouth. She chewed noisily and kept her blue eyes from twitching. The bugs were indeed hot, and seasoned with a peppery spice. It overpowered the taste of grasshopper enough for Flurry to swallow. She set the bowl down with a thud on the countertop.
“Not bad,” she coughed, then retrieved her canteen from her saddlebags with her horn and gulped down the aftertaste.
The chef did look impressed; he pushed a stone cup forward with a hoof and returned to the open stove. A roaring fire was underneath the metal plate. The Thestral began chopping several fruits and vegetables with deft hooves, searing them on the hot surface.
Flurry pushed the bowl to Murky. He sampled a grasshopper critically and shook his head. “Not as good as shrimp,” he announced. “What good is a bat pony that can’t fry shrimp?”
“They don’t have shrimp,” Nightshade sighed. She slumped on the countertop beside her brother. Her muzzle was still bruised and swollen, but the sticky ointment had drastically reduced the swelling. She scratched at it whenever Flurry wasn't looking.
“They should get some shrimp,” Murky retorted. “We’re not that far from the coast.”
“Shrimp are gross,” Amoxtli said from the other side of Flurry. She leaned forward to glare at Murky. “We do not eat from the sea.”
“Missing out,” Murky shrugged. “Shrimp are the insects of the sea.”
“No, they aren’t,” Flurry sighed. “Different taxonomy.”
“You wanna tax shrimp?” Murky asked, aghast.
“Forget it,” Flurry groaned. Her stomach growled. The chef’s ears twitched and he beamed over his shoulder at the Princess, chittering in a tribal language. He began to chop faster and throw more things onto the stove.
“He says he has just the thing for your hunger, Princess,” Amoxtli translated.
“Looking forward to it,” Flurry replied. She took another swig from her canteen.
“Why do you not drink from your cup?” the Thestral asked.
“Is that an insult?” Flurry asked back. “I'm sorry. I don’t drink from open sources out of habit. Changelings.”
Amoxtli said something to the chef; he left the stove briefly, then returned with a bottled soda. It was an old Fizzleberry Pop from before the war; the soda was doubtlessly very flat, but the cap was intact. Flurry inspected the bottle and popped off the cap.
“Thank you.” The chef nodded and returned to his stove. She took a swig from the soda. As expected, it was flat, but the fizzleberry still tasted better than grasshopper.
“The natives broke Murky’s radio,” Nightshade whispered.
“You told me,” Flurry reminded her. “Caballeron’s fixing it.”
“I don’t trust him.”
Echo nodded along with her older sister. “They’re only playing nice cause of these,” she said, rubbing a hoof against her flowery necklace.
“There are hundreds of thousands of bat ponies right here in Tenochtitlan,” Flurry replied. “Millions across the southeast, surely. We need their help. I’ll eat crickets and grasshoppers all day if it buys Equestria a chance.”
“Night,” Echo corrected. “It’s nighttime, Princess. The Moonspeakers gather at midnight.”
“Right,” Flurry acknowledged. One good thing about getting knocked out, at least. I don’t feel tired. The chef flared his wings behind the counter, humming some wordless tune. His leathery wings were decorated with blue paint, including several swirling symbols that didn’t match his cutie mark of a chef’s hat.
Flurry leaned back on the stool and studied Amoxtli's wings. She had deep purple markings on her unbandaged wing, with only a few similar symbols. “Are you a different tribe?” Flurry asked over Echo's head.
“Yes, but our tribes are from the same area. We share the language,” Amoxtli replied. She extended her wing with a wince. “You will not understand the meaning.”
“We would if you explained it,” Echo muttered.
“We do not explain our ways to outsiders,” Amoxtli replied with a whicker.
“I don’t want to be an outsider,” Flurry retorted.
“You are. You cannot change that.”
“I am the Princess of Ponies,” Flurry answered. “You are ponies.”
“Are we?” Amoxtli asked. She poked her bandaged wing with another wince.
Flurry closed her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “All you had to do was talk to me. I didn’t fly out here to start a fight.”
“You want our help in your war,” Amoxtli stated.
“It’s your war, too.”
“And where were you?” Amoxtli asked with a hiss. “Where were you when we were forced to work in the sweltering sun? When we were beaten and whipped? We saved ourselves.”
“The Princess has risked more than you could ever know,” Nightshade snapped. “You haven't seen her fight. She came here alone and played your stupid games.”
"You've never seen a miracle," Murky whispered quietly, then returned to his bowl. Flurry almost missed what he said.
“You abandoned all the old ways,” Amoxtli sneered. When she leaned forward on the stone countertop to glare at Nightshade, Flurry saw the lighter fur along her back in narrow strips. She had seen it on the ponies from the mines. Whips.
“You were in one of the plantations,” Flurry said quietly.
Amoxtli leaned back. “We saved ourselves,” she repeated, “as we always have.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You are not one of us,” Amoxtli said, more resigned than angry. She gestured to Echo. “Switch seats.”
“Why?” Echo asked back suspiciously.
“I will not harm your Princess,” Amoxtli promised. “Switch, please.”
“Go ahead,” Flurry nodded.
Echo grumbled and hopped off her stool with fluttering wings. Amoxtli scooched over and pushed Echo’s bowl down. The Thestral regarded Flurry Heart with tired eyes. “I am told that alicorns have the best of all tribes.” She laid a foreleg on the table. The thick gray fur was matted and coarse. “Your leg, Princess.”
Flurry pulled a boot off and rolled up her sleeve. Her left foreleg had a bare patch and the gash from the ricochet had healed into a thin red line. Otherwise, her pink fur was svelte to the touch, even when dirty.
“Your fur is not like ours,” Amoxtil commented. She lowered her foreleg and stared into Flurry’s icy blue eyes. Her slit pupils seemed sad. “Your eyes are not like ours.”
Flurry Heart was quiet.
Amoxtli extended her leathery wing again. Flurry did the same; her wingspan attracted a few looks from the crowd. “Your wings are not like ours,” Amoxtli continued. She raised her upper lip in a sneer, exposing her fangs. “Your teeth.” She pointed a foreleg up. “Your horn. Your ears. What do you have from us?”
“Stubbornness,” Nightshade stated.
“We have heard the stereotypes of earth ponies,” Amoxtli dismissed. “We are not known for that. You are not like us. You never were. The Moon claimed us as her own, but the Nightmare came the closest. Is it any wonder why we followed her?”
I’m not going to convince them to help. The thought struck Flurry like a blow from a hammer. The chef placed a bowl of fried vegetables and fruits before her, waving his wings through the steam. “How does the Conclave work?” Flurry asked. “A vote?”
“Yes,” Amoxtli nodded. “A simple vote. The Tlatoani has a vote as well. Sixty-five votes. My tribe will vote against you.”
“Why?”
“You killed the Moonspeaker’s cousin,” Amoxtli said without any anger.
Flurry turned to the bowl and ate quietly. It was delicious. Light Narrative will vote for me. Maybe that will swing some of them. She glanced back at Amoxtli's wing, then the chef’s. “I didn’t come here to hurt anypony.”
Amoxtli nodded in acceptance. "Do not worry." She pointed to symbol at the base of her wing, a swooping swirl in a figure-eight pattern. “This means unity. All of the Tzinacatl bear that mark now, sworn to set aside old grudges and band together. In practice, not so much.”
“Can other ponies have that mark?”
“Trusted friends,” Amoxtli responded. “Eat. It is almost time.”
Flurry finished the bowl, thanked the chef again, then spent several minutes in a bathroom beside the stony diner. It was really just a glorified hole in the ground with a bucket of water, but Flurry was used to squatting along roadsides and avoiding jungle fauna. She looked at the burning Crystal Heart on her flank before adjusting her pants and purple uniform.
“Yep,” Murky nodded as she left. “The mark of fine bat pony cooking, that.”
“Enough,” Nightshade hissed. She pointed a wing down the street to Light Narrative.
The Tlatoani had donned a feathered headdress instead of his black cowboy hat. He walked stiffly on his wooden leg, but had discarded the eyepatch in favor of a glowing amber jewel in the eye socket. “It’s time,” he nodded to Flurry Heart. “Please, follow me to the Conclave.”
“That’s quite a look,” Flurry offered.
“I prefer the eyepatch, but somepony tore it up,” he turned the jewel towards Nightshade. “The headdress isn’t optional.”
“Can my friends enter?” Flurry asked.
Light Narrative bit his lip. “I would recommend they do not.”
“They’ll be on their best behavior,” Flurry gave the siblings a warning look.
“That is not why.” Light shook his head. “They are not…”
“Oh,” Nightshade whickered. “Say it, big boy. Say the words.”
“They are not of the Tzinacatl,” Light Narrative finished.
“No, we’re not real Thestrals,” Nightshade snorted. “We’re just half-breeds. Bat Ponies.”
“They go with me and stand to the side,” Flurry decided with a hard look. “They are my friends.”
“So be it,” Light Narrative sighed. “The vote will be cast after a period of debate and discussion.”
Flurry Heart followed the guards down several streets, across three bridges and towards the waterfall. There was a small path that led around the waterfall and behind it, and another cave beyond that. The underground city watched the small procession leave; a few Thestrals waved. Flurry waved a wing back, uncertain if they were waving towards her or Light Narrative.
The statues of rearing Thestrals bared their fangs. The gems in their eyes reflected the light from the cave, making their eyes glow in the dark. Flurry Heart passed under them, then behind the waterfall and down a small tunnel. The guards bracketed the group, carrying spears and holstered pistols.
The tunnel abruptly ended in a large, spherical cave. A mosaic of the full moon was upon the floor, worn down with time and countless hooves. If Flurry hadn't recognized it from her dream, she wouldn't have realized what it was meant to be. Seats of white marbled stone had been carved into half of the cave’s walls, forming an amphitheater. It was shaped like a crescent moon.
Thestrals sat amongst the stone seats, chattering loudly in several languages. A hole in the roof poured down moonlight. Several mirrors reflected and amplified the moonlight, catching the moonbeams and throwing them about the room. The moon must be directly overhead. The Thestrals wore a mix of Equestrian clothes, beads, headdresses, and feathers. Some were very old, and a few appeared to be as young as Flurry herself. One was clearly a filly. All of their wings had unique markings in a variety of paint colors, but Flurry could pick out the swirling figure-eight on each Moonspeaker’s wings.
A few noticed the Tlatoani and screeched, but most were still involved in their own discussions. Caballeron and Jungle Trek stood to the side with a few other non-Thestrals as observers. Nightshade, Echo, and Murky joined them. Light Narrative coughed and advanced to a pearl gong, slamming his wooden leg against it. It reverberated through the room.
The Moonspeakers quieted and looked down from their seats. They shuffled together to sit in the middle of the crescent. There was a circle of moonlight in the center of the mosaic below them, and Light walked towards it. Thematic, Flurry resisted snorting. A full moon within a full moon.
“Moonspeakers,” Light Narrative said gravely.
“Tlatoani,” the crowd answered in unison.
“We have gathered to hear the appeal of Hope,” Light began. “Flurry Heart of the Crystal Empire seeks the aid of the Tzinacatl. She has passed the trial of the Dreamspell.”
Some of the Moonspeakers murmured under their breath.
“We shall hear her words, and question her. And we shall vote.”
The Moonspeakers stomped a hoof against the stone seats. Flurry removed her hat and gave it to Echo. Light Narrative stepped aside from the pool of moonlight and waved a wing for Flurry to step forward.
Flurry took a breath and pushed it out with a foreleg. She trotted forward into the moonlight and stared up at the Moonspeakers. The Thestrals stared back with varying levels of interest. A few looked bored; some looked outright contemptuous, glaring back with narrowed eyes.
“Thank you for hearing me,” Flurry began, speaking clearly and loudly into the hall. Her voice echoed. “I am Flurry Heart, Princess of the Crystal Empire, Princess of Equestria, and the Princess of Ponies.” She smiled; it felt fake on her muzzle. “This is my first time in the southeast, and the first time in your city. Thank you for allowing me entry.”
One of the Moonspeakers snorted. Flurry ignored it.
“I am here to ask for your help,” Flurry continued. “I have signed a ceasefire with the Griffonian Reich. I fought with them in the north over the borders of the Crystal Empire, but now we are fighting together against the Changeling Hegemony.”
“We,” Flurry paused when Light Narrative shifted a wing. “I need the Reich’s army and tanks to push through the south to Appleoosa. We can cut off the oil fields and liberate the south. This war will determine the fate of Equestria for the next several centuries. Please, help me fight for it.”
“Let them die!” an older Moonspeaker screeched. “They did nothing for us!”
Several more voices cried out in agreement or refusal, devolving back into tribal languages that Flurry didn’t understand. A shoving match broke out amongst the Moonspeakers. Light Narrative trotted over to the gong and slammed his hoof into it, sighing. I suppose that explains how he got the job.
“Please, Hope, tell us your plan,” Light Narrative requested.
“The Kaiser’s army can match the Changelings in the field. They need their supply lines through the southeast. The army encircled in the Badlands needs to regroup.” Flurry licked her lips. “I need your help. I need your scouts and your soldiers, your warbands. We can push the Changelings out of Equestria and finally end this. I cannot offer what you have already claimed. The southeast is yours, and I will respect that. I know that Equestria has wronged you-”
“You understand nothing!” a mare screamed. “You slaughtered my cousin! There is nothing left to bury!”
“I wanted to talk,” Flurry said back. She tried to keep her voice level. “I said I wanted to talk. I did not attack first.”
“Liar!”
“She does not lie,” Amoxtli shouted from the sidelines. “She gave a warning. She healed my wings and took the Dreamspell willingly.”
The Moonspeaker spat something at Amoxtli that made the younger mare physically reel back as if struck. The other Moonspeakers beside the angry mare hissed and shoved her, arguing over the words. Light Narrative slammed the gong again.
After the reverb faded, one of the younger Moonspeakers, a filly with pierced ears, asked, “Tlatoani, you questioned Hope in the dream.”
“I did,” Light Narrative confirmed.
“What was her bearing?”
“Civil, if confused,” Light replied. “She followed readily, and offered apologies that are unneeded. She is a year younger than you, Moonspeaker. She does not share the sins of the Sun. Love offered us many things, if you recall.”
An even younger Moonspeaker spoke up with a squeaky voice. “And she offered her blood willingly?”
Light Narrative adjusted his headdress. “She offered flesh.” He gave Flurry a look with his eye to stay quiet.
A ripple passed through the Conclave. “Truly, Tlatoani?” one stallion asked. “What did she offer?”
“Her ears,” Light clarified. “Both of them in succession, before I could respond.”
The Moonspeakers spoke quietly amongst themselves. Flurry’s ears pinned back, twitching at the memory.
“Why?” a mare asked loudly. She was wearing an open dark shirt with tribal emblems stitched onto it. Her golden eyes peered down at Flurry suspiciously. “Perhaps she knew it was a dream?”
“The Moon offered her eye and said we would be all she needed!” another mare added.
“Only one eye!” another retorted.
"For knowledge!"
“A wing!” an older Moonspeaker screamed. “We know it was a wing!”
“You think the Moon did not know she was dreaming?” a stallion asked harshly. “Yet you think a filly can outwit the Tlatoani?”
Light Narrative banged the gong again. Flurry subtly looked at Caballeron. He mouthed “Debated,” to her with a wink.
“Moonspeakers,” Light Narrative requested, “I was chosen because I was an outsider. The southeast is our home, and our home is part of Equestria. Hope has come to us to ask for our help to reclaim it.”
“Why did Hope cut off her ears?” the mare in the shirt asked. “I wish to hear her answer.”
Flurry looked at Light Narrative’s wooden leg. “I was told to ‘offer what I would.’ I chose my ears.”
“Did the Tlatoani not explain that only blood is needed?”
Flurry gave Light Narrative a look. She wasn’t going to say anything about his offer to lie. “He tapped the bowl with his wooden leg and removed his eyepatch. I know that Thestrals will die if the Conclaves accepts; I know they will be maimed. I will never ask you to do something I would not.”
“You misunderstood,” the mare laughed. “You took it as a challenge.”
“And I still cut off both my ears,” Flurry replied. “Even on alicorns, those don’t grow back.”
“I just tapped the bowl,” Light Narrative nickered. “It wasn’t a signal or suggestion.”
“You removed your eyepatch.”
“For the ceremony!”
“Why ears?” the mare interrupted Flurry and Light Narrative. “Why not a leg or eye?”
“I need everything else to fight,” Flurry answered bluntly. “One of my commanders is missing an ear. He’s fine.” I should’ve just torn out a few teeth.
“And you intend to fight,” the mare hummed.
“I have fought,” Flurry corrected. “I intend to keep fighting. I fought in the sky over Nova Griffonia. I fought in the fields of the Crystal Empire. I fought in my home. I will fight with my army, for as long as I am able to.”
“Why should we fight for you?” a stallion challenged. “Because you came here and asked?”
“You don’t have to fight for me,” Flurry answered. “Fight for yourselves. If Chrysalis wins, she’ll come back here. They'll burn the jungles to the ground. We have to work together.”
“Let her come!” a Moonspeaker shouted. “We beat her armies once! They’ll never take our caves.”
“They will burn the jungle, foal!” the Moonspeaker next to the other replied. “Our caves will wither in smoke and fire.”
“We have endured a thousand years of suffering,” an old Moonspeaker pronounced with a faint voice. It took Flurry a moment to locate her in the crowd. The mare’s yellow eyes were clouded over, blind from age, and her muzzle wobbled. She had a young colt whisper in her ear, describing something. “Who have you brought with you, Hope?” the old mare asked.
Flurry glanced at the siblings. “My friends from New Mareland. Siblings.”
“I shall speak to one,” the old mare announced in a feeble voice. “The eldest, if they are siblings.”
Light Narrative gave Flurry an even look with his eye. Flurry waved Nightshade forward with a wing, then stepped out of the moonlight. Nightshade walked into the pool of light, staring around at the Moonspeakers. She touched her shabby necklace of flowers with a wing, and adjusted her uniform and purple band. The Imperial Snowflake caught the light and seemed to shine.
The old mare leaned down, as if looking at Nightshade. “What tribe are you from?”
Nightshade grit her teeth. “I am from Sunset, in New Mareland.”
“You have no tribe,” the old mare decided. She spoke something in one of the tribal languages, then her cadence changed with the next sentence. It changed again with another. “Do you know what I said?”
“No,” Nightshade ground out.
“My grandson says you have no markings upon your wings,” the old mare stated mockingly. “You have no allegiance?”
“I serve the Princess of Ponies.”
“As her little pet bat,” the old mare spat venomously. “She dragged you down here as if you could help. You are a half-breed like the ones in Baltimare.”
Nightshade hissed. “You wretched old nag. You think your markings make you better? You think that justifies shrugging off their lives?”
Light gave Flurry a desperate look. Flurry scanned over the Moonspeakers in the audience. They glared down at Nightshade.
“You think you’re all better than me, huh?” Nightshade challenged. “Because I was born a city bat instead of in a stinking cave?”
The Moonspeakers screeched angrily at the insult.
Nightshade screeched back. “Guess what? It didn’t help! You think the hornheads or the featherwings saw me any differently? You think the mudponies gave me the time of day? We’re all the same!” She flared her wings. “We’re all bats to them! Sit in your cave and act smug. Pretend you’re better!" Nightshade's muzzle twisted. "Or go join those lunatics down in Zebrica!”
The Conclave erupted into angry screeches. One of the Moonspeakers leapt down from her seat with a feral snarl in a glide. Nightshade countered the lunge with a roll and smashed her hoof down into the back of the mare’s head. The Moonspeaker slammed down into the circle of light, hissing and struggling with Nightshade atop her.
Light Narrative pounded the gong with his hoof; it didn’t help with the chaos. Flurry pulled Nightshade off the Moonspeaker with her magic. Despite her injuries, she was utterly trashing the older mare.
“You wanna pretend to be better!?” Nightshade roared. Her New Mareland accent grew incredibly thick. “You wanna sit in a cave and laugh as Baltimare hangs fillies!? You’re just as bad as all the others that punched down on us!” Nightshade jabbed a hoof towards Flurry. “I follow her cause I want to! Cause she’s worth it! Cause she treats us like we’re worth something!”
Light Narrative slammed the gong and ushered a line of guards forward. They stamped spear butts into the stone and circled the crescent, quieting the raging Moonspeakers. Flurry noticed that several were fighting amongst themselves in the seats rather than directing their anger at Nightshade. Caballeron and the others had backed against the wall. He rolled his eyes at Flurry when she caught his look.
Flurry dragged Nightshade to her. “I ain’t apologizing. Room full of Wind Riders,” Nightshade spat. “Just the other direction.” The alicorn drifted her over to her younger siblings and dropped her with a low sigh.
Flurry trotted into the moonlight and helped the Moonspeaker up, casting a healing spell onto her muzzle. One of the mare’s fangs was chipped. She glared hatefully at Flurry, then flapped her wings up to the others and folded her forelegs in a pout.
“I know you have been neglected!” Flurry shouted. “I know you have been spat on and forgotten! Do you think it will be better afterwards? You can stay here and nothing will change!”
“We outlasted the Sun!” a Moonspeaker answered. Several screeched in agreement. “The Moon will come again!” Several more voices screeched in disapproval.
“The Moon abandoned us!”
“Lies! We shall wait a thousand years more if we must!” another yelled.
“What is your plan?” Flurry interrupted. “What will you do? Wait? Watch as ponies die?”
“As they watched us die!” a mare agreed readily. “As they used us!” Several Moonspeakers whinnied in support.
“All you will do is prove them right to hate you!” Flurry argued back.
“We will outlast them!”
Flurry looked down at the mosaic of the faded full moon, then glanced at Caballeron and Light Narrative. They both looked resigned. Debated, Flurry thought.
“What did Luna tell you?” Flurry asked. Her voice overpowered the arguments in the seats. “What did she offer?”
“You know nothing of us,” a stallion insisted angrily.
“Then tell me,” Flurry said at a normal volume.
“We were the Moon’s favored! She promised us the night!” another stallion spoke up.
“She promised we would be the stars in the sky!” a mare disagreed.
“She taught us the Dreamscape.”
“We taught her that!”
“How did you get here?” Flurry interrupted. “Why is the southeast your home?”
“We were driven here!”
“No, it was a gift!”
“A blessing from the Nightmare!”
Several voices hissed at that. “A curse!”
“We fled the cold!”
“Who built the statues outside?”
Nearly half the room immediately tried to claim credit and descended into shoving matches.
The old Thestral mare attempted to speak, only to be drowned out by the arguing. The little colt flapped his wings and screeched a high, warbling blast that made Flurry’s ears pin back. The Moonspeakers cringed and looked to the colt.
“Thank you, grandson,” the old mare said politely. Her voice immediately turned dangerous. “You mock us, Hope.”
“You don’t know,” Flurry stated. “None of you can agree. Your histories did not survive a thousand years.”
Most of the Conclave hissed down at her.
“You come into our sacred home and insult us.”
Flurry shook her head. “I understand.”
“You understand nothing!” the old mare coughed. Several Moonspeakers hissed with her. “You stand before us and laugh!”
Flurry took a deep breath. “I do understand. What do you know of my home?”
“We know enough of Equestria,” a stallion insisted.
“I was not born in Equestria,” Flurry replied. “I was born in the Crystal Empire. I was born before the Crystal Heart. May I tell you about my home?”
The Conclave quieted. Light Narrative lowered his hoof from the gong and waited.
“We don’t know how the Empire started,” Flurry began. “We don’t know how old it is. We don’t know who made the Crystal Heart. We don’t know who the first Crystal Empress was or what she did. We have no history, no records, and no legends. We have nothing but scattered ruins through the north.
“The Empire was gone for a thousand years. It did not suffer in silence; it was lost. King Sombra killed Amore. His destructive reign was so cruel and so complete that the crystal ponies do not remember their grandparents. They barely remember Amore. They remember suffering in the mines, praying for the Sun and Moon to save them.”
She raised her wings. “The Crystal Ponies cannot tell me about Amore’s mother, not even her name. She has been forgotten. Everything the Empire ever achieved is gone. Not forgotten, gone. My mother did not even know if she was descended from the Amore dynasty. I doubt it. The only proof I will ever have is the mark on my flank. I cannot trace my lineage back to even my grandparents.”
Flurry looked around. “My mother and father are dead. My mother grew up in a village, a pegasus adopted by earth ponies. I don’t know what their names were, and I never will.”
Flurry’s eyes narrowed. “Before the Thestrals were abandoned, the Crystal Empire was failed by the Sun and Moon. They failed to defeat Sombra. When it returned, the Sun and Moon failed again a thousand years later. It was Friendship and Love that ended him.
“You have legends and stories to argue over. You still have history. The crystal ponies have nothing. We have nothing. We have every reason to sit behind the shield and watch Equestria burn. Instead, we fight.”
Flurry stuck a wing at Nightshade. “The crystal ponies stand beside Nightshade and fight. How many saw a bat pony a thousand years ago? We stand beside griffons and changelings and yaks. We stand beside the ponies that left us to die because it does not matter what happened in the past. Whatever the Crystal Empire was, it is something new. This is your chance; there won't be another.”
“You are not one of them,” a mare pointed out.
“I am a crystal pony,” Flurry replied. “I was born before the Crystal Heart in the north. I am from the Crystal Empire.”
Flurry sighed. “I am asking for your help, not demanding it. If you vote against me, I will leave. I will not trouble your cities and caves. All I ask is that you do not interfere with the supply lines and let the Reich's army withdraw. You can have the southeast. Maybe we will win regardless. In a thousand years, your descendants will argue over what I said, if they remember I came here at all.”
The Moonspeakers spoke quietly with each other.
“And if you vote to follow me, you will follow me as the Fifth Tribe, not the Fourth. Unicorns, Pegasi, Earth Ponies, Crystal Ponies, and Thestrals will stand as equals. We will fight as equals and rebuild as equals.”
“And what will you do when they spit on us again?” a stallion challenged.
“I will tell them not to,” Flurry said simply, “and I will kill them if they continue. I killed pegasus supremacists in Manehattan. I will not allow some of my subjects to abuse others. I am not the Sun. I will not coddle my ponies and ignore their faults.”
“An easy promise, Hope.”
“I intend to keep it,” Flurry answered. “I could stand here and make promises all night. The Herzlanders say that words are wind.” She stepped out of the circle of moonlight and nodded to Light Narrative. "Do what you will."
The Tlatoani licked his fangs and stepped forward. “We will vote. The Tzinacatl shall follow Hope to war, or we refuse her and remain in the southeast. I vote in favor.”
“That is unusual, Tlatoani,” a Moonspeaker interrupted. “You vote last.”
“I was chosen to bridge the gaps between the tribes,” Light Narrative responded. “Hope has come here to ask for our help. If we refuse, we will be remembered as the monsters history always claimed we were. My home has descended into madness with that excuse.”
“Perhaps it was a mistake to choose you,” the stallion replied. A few Moonspeakers hissed back and forth.
“Perhaps,” Light Narrative admitted. “We vote tip-to-tail. If you wish to accept Hope’s offer, cross to the tip. If you decline, go to the tail.” The Tlatoani limped to the right side of the crescent, near the gong. He stood at the edge of the marble seats.
The Moonspeakers sat in the middle for a moment, then the filly with pierced ears stood with a huff and strode to Light Narrative. She folded her forelegs and sat down above him. Nine younger Moonspeakers followed.
“You are false,” the Moonspeaker that argued with Amoxtli called down angrily at Flurry. She stomped over to the left. A few more angry-eyed Thestrals joined her, glaring down at Flurry Heart.
“Ears,” the mare with the shirt chuckled. She glanced down at Flurry. “You offer ears. You are impulsive, rash, and arrogant. We will not follow you to war.” She stood and swaggered over to the left, flicking her tail.
“Exactly,” a Moonspeaker called out and broke to the right. “At least she offered something more.” Four followed him. The mare in the shirt looked surprised that only two others followed her lead. She scowled and her wings fluttered in agitation.
Flurry stood and watched as the Conclave voted. The Moonspeakers seemed to take cues from each other, or vote out of spite against a rival in some cases. Two hissed at each other from opposite ends of the crescent. The Moonspeakers that voted for Flurry were young, some younger than herself. The other side of the room trended towards older mares. Flurry noticed that all nine stallions on the Conclave voted for her, and resolved to never ask why.
The mare with the bruised muzzle from fighting Nightshade narrowed her eyes and snarled down at the Bat Pony, but crossed to the right and sat down. “Rematch!” she shouted across the room.
“Name a time and place!” Nightshade called back.
"You can't kill more Changelings than I can!"
The old blind mare remained seated with her grandfoal whispering in her ear. She blinked languidly. A few Moonspeakers approached her to whisper a question, but she bared her gums at them and shooed them away with a scabby wing. She was the last one seated in the middle.
Flurry counted the votes and her wings lowered. Counting Light Narrative, it was thirty-two votes against thirty-two. It was up to the old mare. Flurry gave Nightshade an icy glare. Nightshade looked like she was about to collapse in pure despair. The old Moonspeaker cackled and waved her grandson away. He fluttered down to the mosaic with a squeak. “Is it up to me?" she asked. "Hope rests upon the edge of a knife, it seems.”
“You are the last vote, Moonspeaker Meztli,” Light Narrative confirmed.
“Shut up, Light,” Meztli snapped. “I voted to name you Tlatoani out of pity. Your articles were terrible.” She stared towards the center of the room, blinking slowly. “Come, Hope. Stand in the moonlight.”
Flurry Heart walked forward across the mosaic, hooves clopping on the stone. She stopped in the moonbeam. Meztli’s ears twitched as she listened. “You stand where the Nightmare stood, according to some idiots. She promised Hope. She called us to war. She gave us nothing but misery.”
Flurry was quiet.
“Have you nothing to say as Hope dies?” Meztli asked with a low, bitter laugh.
“I think you made your decision long before I ever walked into this room,” Flurry answered. "I've known people like you all my life."
"People," Meztli hummed. "All creatures are more similar than we wish to believe." She smiled with more gums than teeth. “My daughter would say the same. By right, she should be here in my place. She would vote for you.”
Meztli fumbled with a slow wing, pulling a letter out of her dress. It was yellow with age. The old mare opened it with shaking hooves. “This was from the War Office in Canterlot. All of us here have received a similar letter. The Sun and Moon regret to inform me of her death.” She scowled at the letter. “They spelled her name wrong. There is no signature, only the stamp of two cutie marks. I still see this letter before me, even though my sight left me years ago.”
“What was her name?” Flurry asked.
“Why?” Meztli snapped. “She is dead. I have no body to bury. I do not know how she died. And I am lucky. By the end of the war, there were no letters, only death. Only empty places at tables. What would you write?”
Flurry blinked. “What?”
“How would you restore Hope to a grieving mother? To a father or son or daughter?”
Flurry took a moment to think. “My mother wrote the condolence letters herself.”
Meztli laughed harshly. “Every letter? Do you truly believe that, filly?”
“It ruined her to do it.”
“She could not have written every letter,” Meztli dismissed. “She would have spent every waking moment, and she would have still fallen short. Even then, those letters would lack Love, just as this one.” She brandished the yellowed paper like a knife between shaking hooves.
For the first time, Flurry realized that her mother could not have possibly done what Flurry always believed she did. Her wings sagged to the floor and the feathers absorbed the moonlight. “I thought she did,” Flurry admitted. “I knew it hurt her. I remember her trying.”
“I did not ask about your mother,” Meztli wheezed. “What would you write, Hope?”
Flurry looked up at her and answered from the heart. “I wouldn’t write anything. I would be on the front, making sure her death meant something. No amount of words on paper can ease that pain. No medal. No speech.”
“You understand better than the foals in Canterlot,” Meztli sighed. “What do you think of your name, Hope?”
“I’ve been called worse things. Hope can be a weapon.”
“How so?”
“Hope can be a light in the darkness,” Flurry said slowly. “It can be a bullet, or a sword, or a spell. A victory. A burning convoy. Crates of weapons. Heads on sticks outside a ruined plantation.”
“You think that is hope?” Meztli asked.
“You do,” Flurry answered. “I never called myself Hope.”
“Who are you, then?”
“The Princess of Ponies.”
Meztli folded the letter back up and reverently tucked it into her dress. “My daughter had hope,” she said softly. “She enlisted before the war, just after the reforms. She was one of the first to die. She fought for the Princesses, and I received this letter.”
“I’m sorry,” Flurry said.
“I think you truly mean that,” Meztli admitted with a long blink. “What will you do when you fail?”
“Try again. Or die.” Flurry shrugged her wings. “I won’t run. My mother and father didn’t.”
“Words are wind,” Meztli rasped. “I like that saying. Shame the birds invented it.”
Flurry was quiet.
Meztli stood up on shaking legs. “You came a long way to ask for our help, Hope. Was it worth it?” She brushed a wing against the stone seats for guidance as she moved to the left. A few of the Moonspeakers smiled viciously as they won.
“At least I met my ponies,” Flurry sighed.
“Are we?” Meztli chuckled. "We sneer at you and your half-breeds."
“You're still my ponies."
“You do know me well,” Meztli smiled. “I made my decision the moment I smelled you out in the city. You smell of blood and gunpowder. Like a soldier. Or my daughter.”
Meztli paused halfway across the crescent. “Oh,” she announced loudly. “I got turned around.” Meztli shuffled back and limped towards the right. “I will give you the chance to prove your words, Hope.”
“She lies!” the mare that argued with Amoxtli snarled.
“Your cousin was an idiot,” Meztli snorted over her shoulder. “She shouldn’t have been in charge of a pantry, let alone a scouting party.”
“You are blind,” the mare in the shirt added. “She is an overgrown filly!”
“So are you,” Meztli responded. “At least Hope is honest about what she is.” The old mare stopped and sagged into a seat next to another younger Moonspeaker.
Flurry Heart almost collapsed to the floor.
“Thirty-three votes in favor,” Light Narrative announced. “It is decided. The Conclave votes to follow Flurry Heart!”
The right side of the room cheered with a screech and the guards slammed their spears into the ground. Nightshade, Echo, and Murky screeched as well, glaring up at the left side. Murky stuck his tongue out. The opponents hissed, but did not rise from their seats and pick a fight. Caballeron pointed over Flurry’s shoulder with a hoof, signaling her to wait.
“There is one last thing, Hope,” Light Narrative stated. “You entered this city as a guest, and will leave as a friend.”
Two guards dragged a large bowl forward and set it down in the moonlight, backing away. The silver bowl was heavily tarnished with age, and dented on one side. Some brown stains were in the middle, and Flurry wasn’t sure if it was rust or old blood.
Light Narrative drew a sharp, thin blade with a leather strap on the handle. It wasn’t the blade from the dream. “Just a prick on the frog,” he smiled wryly. Flurry accepted the knife with her golden magic. She pulled her left boot off her foreleg and rolled up her sleeve as a precaution.
Another guard stepped forward with a small box on his back. Light opened it with his wings and retrieved a silver necklace adored with fangs and feathers. Unlike the bowl, it looked pristine and glittered in the moonlight. “This necklace names you a friend of the Tzinacatl.”
Flurry saw the looping figure-eight swirl in made of silver in the center of the chain. She glanced at Light Narrative's wings and saw the same symbol, then up to his headdress. It was there as well. The alicorn stared across the room at Caballeron. He raised his necklace with a hoof and jingled his own symbol made of brass. Jungle Trek shook one that was made out of refurbished shell casings.
“That symbol means unity,” Flurry half-asked. She looked down at the old silver bowl. It barely reflected the moonlight from above; it looked nothing like the bowl in her dream. A thousand years.
“Yes,” Light Narrative nodded. “As long as you wear it, you are a friend. Symbolically speaking. You don’t have to wear it forever.”
The patches near her stubby mane itched as Flurry thought about her crown. “Am I a friend, or a Princess?”
“You are Hope. We shall follow you where you lead us. All are bound to the Conclave's decision,” Light replied with a slight frown.
That wasn't an answer. Flurry turned back to the knife, then stared over at Amoxtli.
"What do you have from us?"
Flurry looked at the Thestral. Amoxtli looked unhappy, staring up at her Moonspeaker with teary eyes. It cost her something great to speak out. The Moonspeaker did not look down at her.
Flurry raised her left leg, turning it to look at the healed gash. The fur was still short around the injury from where she shaved it off. She sat on her flank and raised her right leg, gesturing for the necklace. Flurry laid it in her right hoof; she stared critically at the swirling figure-eight symbol.
“Princess?” Light Narrative asked warily.
“Am I?” Flurry asked quietly. “Am I your Princess?” she called out, louder. The Conclave quieted down. “What did you offer Luna? What did Luna offer you?”
“You heard the versions,” Light whispered.
“Keep the necklace,” Flurry stated. "Silver is not forever." She pulled the leather strap off the knife in her magic. “I am impulsive. I am rash. I am arrogant. I am stupid.” Flurry jammed the leather strap into her teeth and bit down. And I am your fucking Princess.
The knife swirled in the air and stabbed down into her left leg at the top of the shaved patch. Flurry stared at the symbol in her other hoof as she worked, carving deep into the skin so the wound would scar. The thin blade made it easy to follow the pattern, and she finished in a few seconds. Blood splattered down into the bowl.
Nightshade stepped forward with a horrified whinny while Light Narrative reared back. Flurry snarled at both of them through the leather strap, then spat it out as she finished. She set the knife down in the shallow pool of blood in the old bowl. Flurry smirked painfully after comparing the scar to the necklace. Got it right the first time. She set the necklace back in the box with a flash of magic. The guard didn’t react; he stared at her leg in shock.
For once, the Moonspeaker Conclave did not need the gong to fall into complete silence. Flurry huffed, brandishing her leg in front of her and glaring at the left side of the crescent. A few stared back in anger, but many more looked away in shock or shame.
Moonspeaker Meztli cackled as her grandfoal whispered into her ear. Flurry turned to that side. “I do not have your wings, your eyes, or your fangs, but I will have your symbol for as long as I live.”
Nightshade rubbed a hoof over her muzzle, muttering. “Thorax is gonna kill me.”
Flurry Heart thrust her left foreleg above her head, feeling the blood mat down her fur and trail into her rolled-up sleeve. The moonlight illuminated the mark for the entire chamber to see. “Tzinacatl,” she pronounced flawlessly, “will you follow me to war?”
Meztli's grandson screeched high and loud, followed by the mare with pierced ears, then several guards. Nearly the entire chamber erupted in screeching that made Flurry’s ears ring with pain. It didn’t hurt as bad as her foreleg, but it was close.
Light Narrative shook his head in denial. “Absolutely not.”
“This is our rightful territory!” Golden Delicious answered. He thumped his hoof on the table for emphasis. His left hoof, specifically, probably to goad the maimed Thestral.
“Your militias never even made it that far into the jungle,” Light responded dryly. He scanned the map with one yellow eye, then traced the tip of one bat wing down an area just beyond Baltimare. “We’ll give you that.”
Golden laughed. “We’re sitting outside that boundary right now.”
“By my invitation.”
“By my permission,” Golden frowned. “Our artillery can reach this far.”
“Your artillery,” Flurry interrupted, “cannot break my shield.”
She sat between them on one end of the rectangular folding table. It was made of cheap wood and metal, dragged from Baltimare in an appropriated Grifftruck with a herd of militia. The Tzinacatl provided the stone stools. Flurry’s bubble shield surrounded the three ponies.
She kept the shield translucent so the soldiers on both sides of the clearing could see that no harm was coming to their leaders. It had been a long, tense week of intermediaries and negotiations to even get them at the table. Light Narrative agreed easier than Golden Delicious. Before she sat down, Flurry had a vain hope that the two could find some common ground about Baltimare.
But this wasn’t Duty Price and Elias Bronzetail. Light Narrative and Golden Delicious hated each other far beyond the enmity of professional rivals. They weren’t soldiers, and the animosity ran far too deep. After three hours, they hadn’t agreed on the most basic concessions.
Flurry stared blankly at the map, looking over the scribbled-out lines of proposed territories. Baltimare needed jungle land for their farms and communes, and Light Narrative was loathe to give anything to the city, not after it hanged his own kind. Flurry picked up a pencil and traced along a river beyond Baltimare and further into the jungle.
“Natural border,” she announced. “There’s the divide between you.”
“That’s not enough,” Golden sneered. “You’re cutting us off from the fertile ground.”
“It cuts right through several tribal territories,” Light agreed.
“I wasn’t making a suggestion,” Flurry groaned. She raised her left foreleg and laid it on the table, tilting the bloody bandage towards Light Narrative. “Compromise means nopony’s happy.”
“Animals,” Golden muttered, flicking his green eyes along the bandage. “Was meeting them worth it?”
“Says the stallion hanging innocents,” Light retorted.
“I did this to myself,” Flurry said, shutting down the argument.
Golden chuckled in a harsh baritone. “You truly belong with them, Princess.”
“If you meant that an insult, you failed,” Flurry quipped. “Next issue.”
Both of them opened their mouths to argue further, but Flurry raised her lips in a sneer with a twitching eye. The two stallions reconsidered. “You will release the Thestrals in Baltimare,” Light said to Golden.
“Oh, are they considered Thestrals now?” Golden asked with mock surprise. “They don’t want to abandon their home.”
“You’re keeping them hostage, segregated in ghettos,” Light accused.
“And most rather stay there than in the jungles with you,” Golden shrugged a hoof.
“They get to make that choice,” Flurry intervened. “Doctor Caballeron will speak with them and escort any that want to leave out of the city.”
“I am not letting an armed battalion into Baltimare,” Golden scoffed.
“You’re already going to let the Reich unload at the ports,” Flurry said with fluttering wings.
“I haven’t agreed to that either.”
The alicorn turned fully to Golden Delicious and stared the tall stallion down. “Those are the terms.” She floated a piece of paper over. “I will recognize Baltimare’s independence in exchange for military access and supply lines.”
“For you,” Golden pointed out, “not the birds.”
“I am allied with Grover.”
“You really do his bidding, don’t you?” Golden asked and rolled his eyes.
Flurry sighed slowly. “The only reason I haven’t killed you is because Baltimare will fall apart and I don’t have the time to crush the rebellion.” Her horn sparked. “I have far more important things to do.”
Golden pushed a piece of paper over to her with a smug look. “You still haven’t signed this.”
Flurry didn’t need to look at it to know what paper he meant. It was the vow that she would renounce her claim to Baltimare and its claimed territories in perpetuity. It would be an independent state, probably for the first time in known history. Flurry Heart would also promise to never set a hoof in Baltimare again.
At this point, an appealing prospect. No doubt that Golden would use her signature to solidify his hold over the city. Copies would probably be plastered over Baltimare like those posters of Celestia in Manehattan. “You haven’t agreed on Baltimare’s territory,” Flurry replied evenly.
Golden tapped a hoof on the table in thought. “Fine,” he agreed. “Along the river.”
Flurry waited until it was properly written out between the two of them. Light glanced at her bandage before signing with a quill between his teeth. Golden signed with a large, looping signature and spat out the quill. Flurry signed with neat hornwriting underneath him.
There were several more agreements between the Tlatoani and Comrade Delicious about the bat ponies in Baltimare. While they bickered at a much softer volume, Flurry looked to the surrounding jungle through the shield. She could see Murky, Echo, and Nightshade in the treetops with Amoxtli, taking aim at the opposing syndicalist militias. Thestrals lined the jungle floor with glimpses of golden and yellow eyes through the leaves in the slight morning light. It was a cloudy day.
On the opposite side of the clearing, the varied Baltimare militias braced their weapons against trunks with sweating hooves. The communist militia were nervous to be out in the jungle, even though Baltimare was less than a day away. The two sides stared at each other with far more hatred and fear than anypony in Manehattan.
This won't last. Flurry knew that this agreement was only delaying the issue until after the war, but it bought time Equestria desperately needed. The final paper only needed her signature; Golden Delicious laid it out before her like it was a holy text of Griffonkind. Flurry signed with a wild swirl.
Flurry Heart, the Princess of Ponies
She floated the declaration of independence over to Golden Delicious. “Enjoy utopia, comrade,” Flurry offered. “I hope you succeed, for the sake of Baltimare.”
“Your arrogance is noted,” Golden stated. He took the paper from her aura with his hooves and placed it atop his own stack of papers. The concession made him far happier than anything he got from Light Narrative. “You have three days to leave Baltimare,” he added as an afterthought.
Flurry nodded. She’d radio ahead with her secure codes and hitch a ride on a Reich convoy. The alicorn wasn’t looking forward to it, but the stallion’s presence oddly made her long for the subdued hostility of the Reich’s sailors. Golden Delicious stood up with a swagger, offering a wide smile to the hunkered-down militia behind him.
“Comrade Delicious,” Flurry requested. The stallion glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Flurry narrowed her own eyes. “No more reprisal hangings. The violence is over.”
Golden scowled. “You have no say in Baltimare, Princess.”
Flurry clicked her tongue. “I would still cut down the dead and burn them before the Reich arrives. They won’t be happy to see their sailors swinging from the docks. As you said, I have no say in protecting you.”
Golden lashed his tail and waited for Flurry to drop the shield. She slowly retracted half of the bubble and allowed the stallion to leave. She abruptly resumed it once he passed over the threshold. The edge sliced through the last of the hairs on his brown tail.
Golden Delicious obviously felt the catch from the way his ears twitched under the commissar’s cap. He marched back towards his side of the clearing with the folder clenched between his teeth. The Baltimare militia cheered in victory. The earth pony did not look back.
Light Narrative rubbed at his brown eyepatch with an elbow. “No Thestrals in his army,” he observed quietly. “I knew him before the war. He never hated us.”
“War changes you,” Flurry answered. She thought about Sunburst. “You sure the Tzinacatl can’t take Baltimare?”
“Not before they blow the port,” Light shook his head. “And it will be a pain in the fangs to hold onto. If you want the port intact, it has to be through him. The other leaders are gone.”
“How many bat ponies can you take in?”
“However many want to leave,” Light Narrative said readily. “I am worried that some will stay out of fear. We’ve always been good for night shifts with half-pay.”
“You think he’ll give them up?”
“Probably,” Light Narrative shrugged. “The harder issue will be encouraging the city bats to leave their homes. We have Mareida on the coast and Stableside, but those already have bat pony minorities.”
“I thought you were a city bat,” Flurry quipped.
“Once,” Light acknowledged with a hint of longing. The stallion flapped his painted wings. “Your arrival helped. Please, get on the radio as soon as you can and confirm you’ve reached an agreement with us. They’ll trust your voice sooner than they trust us.”
“You can’t talk to them?”
“Not after we kept attacking the militias and Golden hanged their relatives,” Light dismissed with folded ears.
“That’s not your fault.”
“Perhaps,” Light agreed, “but how many will see it that way?”
I wish I could kill that earth pony. Flurry floated over her paper. “As agreed, the southeast will be placed under a governor within Equestria, similar to Nova Griffonia. Bat ponies are acknowledged as the Fifth Tribe and equal to the others.”
“Does Nova Griffonia even exist anymore?” Light asked. He drummed a wing on his folder of documents, looking more like a reporter in his cowboy hat than a spiritual leader of the Tzinacatl.
“An approximate territory is controlled by Governor Fierté,” Flurry clarified vaguely.
“Good answer,” Light chuckled.
“Do you miss being a journalist?” Flurry asked back.
Light looked back to the foliage. “Every day,” he admitted. “Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Flurry shrugged with a slight smile. “My crown melted. Still waiting on the replacement.”
Light Narrative looked up to her purple cap. The patches had mostly filled in, but her mane still appeared brittle and short. The purple and blue stubble no longer itched. “There’s a story there.”
“Yep,” Flurry confirmed. She did not explain further.
Light used his good hoof and a wing to shift through the papers. “Who will you appoint?”
“You,” Flurry replied, “unless the great Tlatoani has somepony better in mind.”
“The southeast is home to many Thestrals,” Light said after some consideration, “but many of the other pony tribes still live here, especially on the coast. It shouldn’t be me.”
“Think there will be rebellions?”
“There will be…” Light Narrative trailed off. “Problems,” he finished.
“Do you have a recommendation?”
“Doctor Caballeron,” Light stated with a decisive nod. “He commands enough respect amongst the Tzinacatl and he has contacts along the coast.”
“I’m not sure I can appoint a Daring Do villain as governor,” Flurry remarked with a slight laugh.
“Better than a bat,” Light Narrative retorted bluntly.
Flurry stopped laughing and stared at him.
The Threstral stared at the bandage on her hoof with his one eye. “We’ll always be different, but maybe our grandfoals won’t be shunned. If one of us is your governor, there will be attacks.”
“You have my permission to deal with them,” Flurry said.
“There’ll be enough violence already,” Light Narrative said vaguely. He looked over his shoulder again, then slid a report back over to Flurry. It was a copy of one of the earlier agreements, but a long line of names had been written on the side. Tzinacatl names.
Flurry counted them. Thirty-Two.
“You’re close with Thorax, right?” Light asked. “I spoke to him once, when I interviewed your mother.”
“Yes.” Flurry’s horn glowed and the shield rippled, cutting off the sound to the outside.
“He has changelings helping him, right?”
“Yes.”
“Anypony that knows poisons? Rare ones?”
Flurry licked her lips. “Are you in danger because of the vote?” she whispered. "Tell me now."
“Not yet,” Light replied.
Flurry looked down at the list. Targets.
“It’s not for all of them,” Light assured her, “but some will move against you. And me.”
“How many?”
“Three or four,” Light shrugged. “Certainly, Amoxtli’s Moonspeaker. Please, take her with you. She was disowned at the Conclave.”
Flurry looked to the treetops out of the corner of her eye. The young mare was focused on watching the Baltimare ponies leave. “What does that mean?”
“She’ll be dead within a week if she stays. I won’t be able to keep her safe.”
Flurry twisted her leg and stared at the bandage. It needed to be changed out again, and the figure-eight swirl was lightly imprinted with blood. She closed her eyes and exhaled.
“We use paint,” Light said softly. “Paint can wash off. Not all of us have your conviction.”
Flurry kept her eyes closed. “If her Moonspeaker dies, can Amoxtli be reinstated?”
Light Narrative hesitated. “Well, the new Moonspeaker could overturn the decision.”
“Is that likely to happen?”
“If I tell them to do it,” the Tlatoani admitted.
Flurry opened her eyes. “Whoever else you kill; she dies as well.”
Light Narrative nodded after a long pause. He blinked his eye. “As you say, Princess.”
“She’s probably already plotting against me.”
“Most likely, yes. Her death will send a message.”
Flurry tucked the paper discreetly into a pocket on her uniform and buttoned it with her horn. “Thorax is probably back in the Empire,” she explained. “Under the shield. I’ll have to send a flier from Manehattan, then they have to fly back here. It will take time.”
“There are things I can do in public,” Light answered, “but the quicker the serpent is struck, the less poison is pumped from its fangs.”
"You mean the quicker I get somepony down here, the less you'll have to kill to get the point across."
Light Narrative looked worriedly behind him.
"They can't hear," Flurry said. "I cut the sound."
"You can do that?" Light blinked. He pulled out a cigar.
Flurry lit the end with a golden flame. “Do whatever you need to do,” the alicorn confirmed.
Light puffed on the cigar and nodded. Flurry stood and stretched her wings, flapping them a few times and looking towards the morning sun over Baltimare. She rolled her sleeve down over the bandage and winced. Flurry hadn't cast any pain relief spells on herself, preferring to reserve her magic use.
“I admit that I’m surprised you agreed to Golden’s terms,” Light Narrative prompted.
“I don’t have a problem with communists.”
“They’re syndicalists.”
“Whatever.”
The Tlatoani huffed. “Still, Appleoosa and the south have always had an independent streak. Vanhoover has as well. Las Pegasus is a major port and gambling hub. News that you gave Baltimare independence will spread. It might embolden others to ask for the same.”
“Baltimare is alone,” Flurry answered. "There is no great communist nation, not in Griffonia, Equus, or Zebrica. They have nothing, cut off just like Nova Griffonia. Golden can have his independence, but Baltimare will never be self-sufficient."
"You expect it to collapse."
The alicorn smiled slyly. “Off the record?”
Light raised his good hoof in a swear. “Of course, Princess.”
“Comrade Delicious thinks I am Celestia.”
The Thestral worried his lower lip with a fang. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
“He thinks that my signature on a piece of paper is a shield." Flurry dropped her golden bubble shield, watching the last of the departing Baltimare militia. "He thinks he has a powerful weapon to use against me.” The last one, a young aqua mare with an assault rifle, glared hatefully at Flurry and trotted away with a flicking tail.
"I consider words an effective weapon," Light Narrative said slowly, still on his stool. "The pen is mightier than the sword."
Flurry smirked. “It’s just ink and parchment without action to back it. Paper is a poor shield."
"I see," Light Narrative replied after a moment of silence. "You aren't what I expected."
"What did you expect?" Flurry asked.
Light Narrative puffed on the cigar. "It seems that the best and the worst stories about you are true, Princess. I thought it would be one or the other."
"Do you regret voting for me?"
"No," Light shrugged a wing, "but I can't help but feel like I hitched our wagon to the Nightmare again."
"She was wearing armor designed to show off her ass and got her flank kicked by six civilians. I'm an improvement."
Light Narrative coughed and dropped the cigar, thumping his chest with his prosthetic hoof. The Thestral blinked one wide eye at Flurry, then began to laugh with a screeching warble. Flurry Heart snorted at the sound and laughed with him after a heartbeat.
Grover stood before the large map on the table, shuffling through reports with his claws. The map had not changed as much as he wished it to, but it was pointless praying for a miracle. A little wooden alicorn had been added to the figures on the map, standing over Manehattan alongside several metal griffons. The alicorn had been poorly carved; it was a simple pony with a stubby horn and bumps for wings.
Grover also pointedly ignored the two knights standing straight at the doors to his makeshift office. They were not quite staring at him, but the two were wearing helmets. They could be staring at him, or asleep standing up. The knights stood very still, not even rustling their wings over the slung assault rifles. I should shout at them and see what happens, Grover thought. Probably sleeping. He opened his beak, but reconsidered and slowly closed it with a clack, looking away.
Flurry Heart abruptly kicked open the double doors with a hoof. Benito followed her with a half-drawn saber and a worried snarl. The guards jumped and flared their wings, grabbing their rifles and whirling around. The one on the left shoved his rifle against her muzzle.
Flurry slapped the gun barrel out of her muzzle with a wing. “Safety’s on,” she grunted in Herzlander. The alicorn didn’t look at the rifle.
The knight quietly shifted a claw and flicked a switch. His wings jittered.
Flurry Heart was wearing the same purple uniform she wore when she met Grover; the sleeve on her left foreleg was rolled up and a bandage stuck out above the high white boot. The threads around the flank skirt had begun to fray.
Grover adjusted the cuff on his brown coat, then carefully placed the Reichstone back on his head. The padding needed to be replaced, but his pants and shirt were freshly ironed and pressed. He took his claws off the table and stood on all fours, extending his wings. “Princess.”
Flurry stopped at the end of the table, standing where Katherine stood. “Kaiser.” Her eyes had bags under them. The alicorn flared out her own pink feathers, then refolded her wings against the uniform. “Your messenger said you demanded my presence.”
“I said you were to come at the earliest possible convenience.”
Flurry pursed her lips. “Oh. Well, that’s not what your goon told me.”
Grover flicked his eyes to Benito. “Gallus deals with communications from now on.”
Benito nodded. The dog slowly sheathed his sword.
“What do you want?” Flurry asked bluntly.
Grover took a deep breath and shoved down the anger. “If there is a better time for this-”
“I’m busy. And I’m here. What do you want?” Flurry repeated.
Benito snarled and half-drew the sword again.
Grover’s tail swung against his rear leg. The feathers on his wings spread out in an instinctive show of aggression. “I want,” he snarled in Herzlander, “for you to…”
He trailed off, staring above her muzzle. Flurry wasn’t wearing her hat, and her mane had grown into a patchwork collection of pink and purple stubble. Grover’s eyes stopped above her mane.
“Benito,” Grover said flatly.
The dog swallowed. “My Kaiser?”
Grover’s eyes did not leave her horn, nor did he blink. “Why is the Princess wearing an inhibitor ring?”
“The guards insisted,” Flurry shrugged.
Grover slowly turned his head to stare at Benito. “Which guards?”
“The ones at the front entrance,” Flurry answered again.
“You mean my guards,” Grover connected. “The dogs that report directly to Benito.”
Flurry shrugged a wing.
“My Kaiser,” Benito tried with a low whine, “I swear to you that I did not order this.”
“Find who did,” Grover ordered bluntly. He turned back to Flurry and blinked. “I am surprised you allowed them to do that. Benito, remove the ring.”
Flurry clicked her tongue and her horn glowed. The magic gathered at the base of her pink horn and stopped at the ring. For a moment, the golden magic wobbled, then the ring fired off the top of her horn and embedded itself in the ceiling. Some plaster drifted down onto the table. A wave of magic washed over the room, knocking some of the metal figures on the table down and scattering loose papers. The wooden alicorn stayed upright.
Benito, Grover, and the two knights stared up at the hole in the ceiling. Flurry glanced up at the roof and her horn glowed softly. The melted ring tumbled down and landed on the map, smoking. Flurry levitated it up and tossed it over her shoulder. One of the knights caught the ring in a gauntlet and squawked from the heat, nearly dropping it.
Grover paused. “I recall one ring being quite satisfactory in Aquila,” he eventually managed.
“I was ten,” Flurry responded evenly, “and I could’ve blown that one off, but I would’ve taken out most of the building.”
“Celestia wears a ring during the River Games.”
Flurry gave Grover a severe, half-lidded stare. She smacked her lips.
“I see,” Grover said neutrally. He looked again at Benito and narrowed his blue eyes. “Find who ordered it.” He pointed a claw at the two knights. “Assist him.”
The knights slapped a claw to their breastplates.
“Dismissed,” Grover declared. “Leave us.”
Benito hesitated, but Grover’s angry glare at the pause made him back out of the room. The two knights followed. One gingerly picked up the inhibitor ring as he left, tossing it between his claws. The other shut the doors behind him. They closed with a dull thump.
Grover picked up one of the fallen little griffons and placed it upright on the map. Flurry’s horn glowed again and the remaining figures were lifted back into their positions. Flurry stared at him; Grover ignored her and pushed one of the changelings slightly to the left with a talon, then looked up at her.
“How was the journey back?” Grover asked in Equestrian.
“None of the Herzlanders tried to slit my throat and toss my body off the ship, but I could tell they wanted to,” Flurry said sardonically.
Grover looked to the Badlands in the southeast. The figures representing the stranded army had been moved back to the north. “The first shipments have docked in Baltimare,” the Kaiser stated. “It would have been an excellent forward base, but the communists are of no help.”
“Syndicalists,” Flurry corrected.
“We can use the rails to supply a southern push,” Grover continued. “The army retreated in good order with the aid of your bat scouts.”
“The Tzinacatl,” Flurry interrupted, “or Thestrals.”
“I thought they were called bat ponies,” Grover said idly, still looking at the map.
“Don’t call them just bats,” Flurry warned. “They’ll shoot you with darts and you’re not going to have a fun time.”
Grover glanced down at the bandage sticking out of her boot. Flurry followed his look.
“Nah,” Flurry waved a wing. “That’s intentional.”
“Any other difficulties?”
Flurry snorted. “Outside of being dragged here to make small talk, no.”
Grover clacked his beak and shoved a folder forward on the table. “These are the preliminary conditions to finance the rebuilding efforts. Right now, we are shipping fuel from the Reich. If we can get the oil from the Crystal Empire, we can advance quicker. Speed is paramount.”
Flurry unbuttoned her jacket and shoved the folder against her shirt. She rebuttoned the high collar with a flash of magic. “What else?”
Grover blinked and tapped a claw on the table. “Do you want to read it?”
“No.”
Grover’s beak twitched into a frown. “Why?”
“I said I was stupid and that you should write a list,” Flurry reminded him. “My ponies will look at it.”
“And you trust them?”
Flurry tilted her head and blinked. “Yes, I trust my command staff. How about you?”
Grover did not want to answer that question, and so looked back down at the map. “The fuel lines are the priority.”
The alicorn glanced at the map. “We can’t ship you fuel from the Empire.”
Grover exhaled. “And why not?”
“There’s one railway from the Crystal City to Canterlot.” Flurry pointed to the map with a feather. “Right now, it’s bisected by the shield, and Canterlot is controlled by the Hegemony. You want to build a whole new railroad from Manehattan to the Crystal City?”
Grover switched back to Herzlander. “That is not feasible right now.” He leaned over the table and his tail swung behind him. “We will revisit the issue when I take Canterlot, but I need a route through the Everfree.”
“There is no route through the Everfee,” Flurry replied in Equestrian.
“A large portion of the ELF remains within,” Grover said. “They have stalled the advance as much as the forest. My scouts disappeared. Your ponies can move through it.”
Flurry hummed and her eyes roamed over the figures. “You think you can take Canterlot before my birthday?” she asked. “How thoughtful.”
“I am not thinking about your birthday,” Grover replied.
Flurry’s ears pinned back and she lowered her head to look up at Grover from the table. “Aw, that makes me sad,” she answered in a high, grating falsetto.
An overgrown foal. “I expected far too much of you,” Grover snapped.
Flurry lifted her head up and stared down her muzzle. “You’re trying to take Canterlot in a pincer attack from the north around Mount Canterhorn and the south from the Everfree,” Flurry said in her normal tone. She pointed a wing at the lonely mountain, then at the small tanks to the north. “You’re doing it before they solidify their defensive line; you’re trying to force them to come to you to relieve the siege.”
“Yes,” Grover admitted after a long pause. “Canterlot is the symbol of Chrysalis’ victory. She cannot lose it.”
Flurry tossed her head back. “That’s how Starlight Glimmer lost,” she nickered. “Trying to rush to Canterlot.” She rolled her eyes. “I expected far too much of you,” the alicorn echoed.
“We have this fight now,” Grover said evenly. “Before the ground thaws and the rains come. Before the ground turns to mud. Our armies are dependent on speed. It is called Lightning War for a reason.”
“How are you planning on taking it?”
Grover picked up the wooden alicorn and placed it on Canterlot. “Your army. As much as you can scrape together. I am planning on encircling the city and forcing the Hegemony to respond. They will have to break through our armor to get to it.”
“You said you didn’t want to rely on my army,” Flurry countered.
“I do not want to,” Grover agreed, “which is why your only job will be holding the encirclement.”
“I have on-hooves units,” Flurry replied. “We can’t stand up to a mechanized army.”
“Chrysalis did not drive tanks and trucks up the mountain,” Grover scoffed. “The army stationed there is on-hooves divisions with pony garrisons. My tanks can cut them off. All you need to do is maintain the siege.”
Flurry stomped a rear roof. “I’m not sending them up Canterhorn to die.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Blow it off the side of the mountain.”
“I am not ordering my army to destroy the most important city in Equestria,” Grover laughed.
“I’ll do it,” Flurry sighed. She picked up the wooden alicorn in her aura and brought it close to her muzzle. “It’s basically hanging off the side anyway.”
“You think blowing up your home will endear you to your subjects?” Grover asked incredulously.
“Nope,” Flurry admitted. “I was born in the Crystal City, and I considered blowing that up too. You want us to hold it? Gimme everything you’ve captured from the Hegemony.”
“What?”
Flurry set the figure down next to Canterlot. “It’s all built for hooves and horns more than paws and claws. Are you even doing anything with it?”
Grover risked turning his back on her and walking over to his personal desk. The griffon shuffled through paperwork until he retrieved an inventory count and returned to the table. Flurry flicked her ears while she waited. She looks bored. “We have a good stockpile around Fillydelphia of captured equipment. Anti-tank rifles and planes,” Grover summarized.
“That’ll work,” Flurry plucked the paper from his claw with her horn and shoved it in a pocket. “We’re producing guns and logistical equipment, but the shield is bottlenecking our supply lines to a few tunnels. I’ll get everypony together. Let your soldiers know we’ll cross at Stalliongrad and take the trains to Manehattan, then Fillydelphia.”
“Just so,” Grover nodded. The Reichstone shifted slightly and he rebalanced it.
Flurry looked down at the map again. “Trying to shove tanks through the Everfree is pretty desperate.”
Grover did not dignify that with a response. “When will you leave?” he asked instead.
“After you tell me why you actually wanted to talk to me,” Flurry retorted.
Grover hesitated. “I meant when will you leave for the Everfree.”
“You didn’t dismiss all your guards to talk strategy,” Flurry rolled her eyes with a wry smile. She crossed the room and leaned against the wall with a glowing horn. “I can ward the room if you want, but there’s no eavesdropping spells.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Grover answered.
They stared at each other for a moment.
“I’m waiting, husband,” Flurry prompted with a smirk. She crossed her front legs.
“We are not married yet,” Grover replied.
Flurry waited.
Grover stared blankly at her.
Flurry looked to the side. “I’m getting older here,” she commented in Equestrian. “Might not matter for me, but probably matters to you.”
“Griffons and ponies cannot have cubs,” Grover finally said.
“A known issue,” Flurry agreed. “What of it?”
“I am the last of my line.” Grover felt the Reichstone weigh down his feathers. “My father was a fool not to remarry after my mother’s death. My dynasty will not end with me.”
“Okay,” Flurry shrugged.
“I will take a mistress,” Grover announced, “and she will bear my cubs. They will be legitimized and you will recognize them as the rightful heirs to the Griffonian Reich.”
“Okay,” Flurry shrugged again. “I don’t care.”
Grover clacked his beak. “You will be expected to remain faithful. We will be married before the Archons at Griffenheim.”
“Oh,” Flurry whickered. “You think I’ll run back to Equestria with a flagging tail, huh? Have my hunky guards form a line outside the bedroom?”
“There were always rumors about your mother,” Grover scoffed.
Flurry pushed herself off the wall and her horn sparked. Grover stood his ground at the end of the table. The alicorn stalked towards him slowly. “I’ve heard all the rumors,” Flurry began. “They got worse after her death. Probably Chrysalis. The Princess of Lust and her voracious appetite.” The alicorn stopped and tilted her muzzle down, less than a hoof from Grover’s beak.
Grover did not flinch.
“My mother,” Flurry carefully enunciated in Herzlander, “always maintained that Shining Armor was more than enough stallion for her.” She smirked down at the griffon. “She screamed it quite loudly and quite often, usually at night. It’s natural to be worried about your performance.”
Grover glared up at her. “You’ll be expected to bow before me and say your vows first.”
Flurry took several steps back from the table. She smiled with dazzling white teeth and dipped her forelegs in a half-bow with extended wings. “Like this?”
Grover did not immediately respond. “Lower,” he ground out with a snarl.
Flurry pressed her muzzle to the wood and lowered her hind legs. Her forelegs extended in front of her; the white boot and bandage scuffed the floor. Her large pink wings raised up from her sides with splayed feathers. “This?”
Grover stepped forward, stopping just before her head. Flurry’s horn stuck up from her head at an angle. Grover stood up straight and extended his own wings. Even nearly prone, her horn almost reached his chin.
Grover stared at her wings, how the feathers caught the light from the chandeliers in the high ceiling. They almost glittered like crystals. And they were larger. She was bigger than him. She always had been, even in that broom closet.
It is such a petty thing, Grover admitted to himself. Traditionally, griffons exchanged rings to signify an unbroken bond blessed by the Gods. His father died still wearing his wedding ring, even after all the years apart.
Grover looked to the boots. Hooves, he huffed. So impractical. As a test, he reached up with his left claw and held it next to her horn. He had to reach up higher than propriety would suggest appropriate, almost to his beak.
I will have to stand on a dais, Grover imagined the scene. She will approach on hoof from below, then bow. He reconsidered. No, that means I will have to come down to her. She ascends the dais, then bows a step below.
The griffon looked down to meet her pale blue eyes. Flurry blinked languidly and stared at his outstretched claw. Like this means nothing to her. His feathers twitched.
“So,” Flurry whispered, “like this?”
The fur around her mane was a lighter shade of pink, still filling in. It was noticeable when he stood that close to her. The alicorn also smelled like she hadn’t bathed in a week. She probably hasn’t. The smell is probably worse for her ponies and my dogs. She did not even wear a crown. Grover remembered her wearing a cheap golden band in pictures, but now she only ever wore that hat, if anything at all.
Grover’s neck hurt and the Reichstone shifted again. The movement made him lower his claw. Might as well get a stepstool, he snarled in his mind. Of course it means nothing to her, it would be a farce for all to see.
Grover stepped back and adjusted the Reichstone. Flurry Heart did not react.
She looks nothing like a Princess.
He stepped back again and watched how her feathers caught the light like little pink crystals, only matched by the spirals on her horn. Grover closed his eyes.
She looks everything like a Princess.
“Yes,” Grover said neutrally, “like that.” He beckoned her up with the claw and crossed to his desk. Flurry stood and cracked her neck with an audible pop. Grover turned his back to her and opened up a drawer. He brushed aside the purple Friendship Journal, considered the broom-handle Changeling pistol, then grabbed a small package wrapped in thin paper.
“Here.” Grover lobbed the package over to her with a claw.
Flurry caught it in her magic just before it would have impacted her muzzle. “Nice throw,” she said approvingly. “What is it?”
Grover sat down at his chair and picked up a folder.
Flurry unwrapped the package and beheld her silver tiara floating in her golden magic. It looked very small and delicate. She sat down on her flank and took it in her hooves.
“I told you I had it,” Grover said idly. He did not look up from the munitions count.
Flurry was very quiet. “I forgot about it,” she said in a small voice.
“What happened to your other crown?”
“It melted. To my head.”
Despite himself, Grover looked up. Flurry sat with the little crown in her hooves and ruffled her wings. “You survived?” he asked dryly.
“Alicorn,” Flurry answered.
“I suppose that explains the bald patches,” Grover allowed. “What happened to your leg?”
Flurry tugged off her boot and unwrapped the bandages. She tilted her hoof and held it up, balancing the tiara on her other hoof. Grover squinted at the figure-eight swirl. The fur around the scar was growing back white. “Magic burn?”
“Knife.”
Grover set the report down. “Did you carve that into your leg?”
“Yeah,” Flurry admitted. “Means ‘unity’ for the Tzinacatl. The Bat Ponies.”
Grover tilted his head and smirked. “Do you routinely mutilate yourself? I need you alive for the wedding.”
Flurry laughed. “Better than my ears.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” Flurry waved her scarred hoof and rewrapped the bandages around her leg. She pursed her lips in thought. “Does Elias know about the deal?”
“What do you mean?”
Flurry rolled her eyes. “Does he know that I’m supposed to marry you? He didn’t know about your offer.”
“No,” Grover said flatly. “Field Marshal Bronzetail does not know.”
“Benito knows, right?”
“About your proposal, and some of Nova Griffonia. Gallus knows less.”
“Who else?” Flurry asked and trotted over. She levitated the tiara up placed it on her head. It was far too small and bounced between her ears. Her horn glowed and held it down.
“I do not make a habit of telling all my secrets to my command staff,” Grover chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Who have you told? Your changeling and dragon?”
Flurry tapped a hoof to her chin. She began mouthing names and counting with extended primary feathers. Grover waited for the alicorn to roll her eyes and laugh at him.
She did not.
“Blessed Boreas,” Grover sighed in Herzlander. “How many know?”
“Not that many,” Flurry shrugged. “A few Aquileians, some of the Nova Griffonians, the Herzlanders-”
“Did you tell Katherine?” Grover squawked.
“Yes?” Flurry replied.
“The one that tried to kill you?” Grover asked, caught between a laugh and a growl. “She showed up while you were gone with reports about the Hegemony’s front. She was quite disrespectful.”
“Sounds like her.”
“You truly think she is loyal to you?”
“Yes,” Flurry stated evenly. “She’s my friend.”
“You are a fool,” Grover muttered in Herzlander.
“It was foolish to tell Rainbow,” Flurry replied in his language, “and even she keeps her mouth shut.”
“Is it even a secret?” Grover remarked bitterly. He rubbed his beak with a claw. “You think your griffons are that loyal, Princess of Ponies? Why would you even consider telling them?”
“So they knew I wasn’t giving them up to you,” Flurry answered with cold eyes.
Grover took a deep breath his wings fluttered against the chair. “We are done here. Get a route through the Everfree.”
“I’ll need to gather some ELF veterans,” Flurry said in Equestrian. “Borrow Duty Price for a bit.”
“Just so.” Grover picked the folder back up. “He’s your subject.” Grover listened to her hooves as she crossed the room. The alicorn stopped at the door.
“Why’d you bring the crown?” Flurry asked softly.
“It was easy to carry,” Grover dismissed. “I planned on giving it back, had you accepted my offer.”
“And you still brought it over?”
“I forgot I packed it,” Grover waved a claw. He did not look up from the report and flipped the page.
“Thank you,” Flurry whispered.
Grover flipped another page in silence.
“I look ridiculous, don’t I? Quite the joke.”
Grover marginally lowered the folder to stare over the top. Flurry tossed her head, constantly having to readjust the tiara with her magic to keep it steady. The bands were too small to fit next to her ears. She smiled at the far wall, but her eyes were distant and far way. Probably back in Aquila with her father.
“I forgot I packed it,” Grover lied and returned to the report.
“I forgot about it too,” Flurry admitted. She left through the doors and the hallway guards closed them behind the alicorn.
Grover sat alone in his room, like he preferred. The griffon carefully set the Reichstone down at the edge of the table, then flipped another page over, humming quietly. After a minute, he set down the report and reached a claw into the open drawer. He grabbed the purple-bound Friendship Journal. Grover stopped before he pulled it out, then shoved the book deep into the drawer and slammed it shut.
Rainbow kept looking back at the mass of ruined clouds to the southwest. Her ears were flat against her head. After nearly a decade of neglect, Cloudsdale was nothing but scattered cumulus barely held together. Changelings could stand on clouds, but they lacked the mastery of innate weather magic. As valuable as Cloudsdale was as a floating airstrip, it posed too much of a security risk to have pegasi maintain it.
Rainbow’s home was left to decay, and the years of unregulated weather tore it apart. The weather factory was gone, as were the pools of rainbow. A few clouds still looked like buildings, but most were just smashed together, jumbled messes.
One looked like a rabbit to Flurry Heart, but she kept it to herself. Their small group stopped well before the edge of the Everfree Forest, climbing down from the trucks and proceeding on hoof.
In Gallus and Gilda’s case, they proceeded on paws and claws.
“You have leave to be here this time?” Duty Price asked Gilda in Herzlander. His accent was a rough blend of Trottingham, but it was intelligible.
“Yes,” Gilda snapped back with flushed feathers. “You can speak Equestrian. I lived here for a few years.” Her wing pointed to the mass of clouds. “Up there.”
“Everyone here speaks Equestrian,” Flurry commented.
“Little generous in regards to Price, Princess,” Barrel Roller chuckled. “You never heard him bark into a radio.”
“Wanker,” Price muttered.
“I heard that,” Barrel called back.
“Surprised you did with half an ear,” Price retorted.
Barrel Roller kept his mane short; it made the ear nub obvious. His other ear twitched in irritation along with his clipped tail. “You were always prickly,” he sighed and rolled his orange eyes.
“I’m here on the Princess’ command,” Price responded.
Spike gave Flurry a side-eye and clenched a claw. Thorax walked with Jadis beside him, seemingly unconcerned. He was disguised as a gray, unassuming crystal pony, but still wore his purple uniform all the same.
The Everfree Forest loomed before them. It was a twisted mass of trees and shrubs. Flurry could feel something in the base of her horn, an uneasiness and general wariness that pricked at a pony’s instincts. The Everfree proved a literal thorn in the fang for the Hegemony. Whatever Zecora did, it grew exponentially, only stopping after consuming Ponyville and several surrounding valleys. It was plainly visible from Mount Canterhorn and Canterlot, and no amount of napalm or bombs could drive it back.
Flurry Heart stopped to regard the rusted-out hulk of a Changeling panzer. The black paint was stripped and covered with rust, with several holes punched clean through the body. She pawed at the soil with a boot, then looked over to the forest. Their group was still well out of sniper range.
“Was this dragged out here?” Flurry asked.
“The vines carried it,” Barrel replied. He pointed a hoof at the holes in the armor. They were twice the width of his hoof.
“Vines?” Gallus asked. “The Everfree was never that malicious.”
Gilda picked up a rusted helmet and poked a talon through a wide hole. “Doesn’t look like a bullet, huh?” She tossed the helmet to the other griffon. Gallus caught it with a squawk.
“Nasty way to go,” Price shook his head. His tone wasn’t at all sympathetic.
Flurry stared at the forest from their position on a slope. They were slowly descending into a valley. The treetops had a dusting of snow, and most of the group were wearing coats over their uniforms. Only Spike and Flurry did not.
Spike was wearing a monogramed white shirt with rolled-up sleeves. It was a good fit, and very simple for a ‘Rarity Original.’ The pants were also rather plain camouflage. The holstered pistol still looked pitifully small next to his claws. He had spoken with the unicorn in the Crystal City, but whatever discussions the dragon had with his former crush were kept between them.
Flurry’s uniform was frayed and clearly needed repair. The rush stitching on her left pantleg was loose again, and the flank skirt had loose ends. Her white and black boots were worn down as well. Flurry Heart had forgone the cap entirely, instead wearing the crystal band Thorax brought with him from the Crystal City. The crystal was plain purple and circled her ragged mane. It was hardly a proper crown or tiara, but it didn’t get in the way.
And Flurry liked it. It was simple and efficient.
The group paused on a hill. Barrel Roller, Spike, and Duty Price were all ELF veterans and commanders. Flurry could’ve waited to gather more, but the weather had cleared for several days. It was a window she couldn’t ignore. The sky was still tinged pink in the north; the massive shield over the northern half of Equus played havoc with the rogue weather.
“It doesn’t look as bad as the southeast jungle,” Flurry said idly.
“The Everfree’s not a joke,” Spike responded seriously. “Plenty of nasty things inside it. Cockatrices, Manticores, Hydras…”
“Warped by Discord’s chaos,” Thorax added. “Add Nightmare Moon’s rebellion.”
“The weather takes care of itself and animals don’t listen,” Rainbow muttered.
“That’s most of Equestria now,” Flurry said.
“And most of Griffonia,” Gilda added. “We never bothered with that shit. Ponies were always weird about this place. Like with clothes.”
“Well,” Rainbow huffed, “it was weird before the war.”
“I never understood why the Royal Guard just didn’t shoot them,” Gallus said. “You can burn Timberwolves with a flamethrower, easy.”
“They’re endangered species,” Spike countered. “A lot of rare species and plants called the Everfree their home. We weren’t torching it.”
“It’s why Zecora moved here in the first place,” Rainbow said.
“I don’t see anyone,” Flurry announced, refocusing the discussion.
Jadis raised her rifle and peered through the scope along the tree line. “There’s movement. Probably animals.”
“I radioed ahead that we were coming,” Price stated. “Used our codes.”
Flurry shook the snow off one of her front boots. “How many does Colonel Shimmer have?”
Price stamped out his cigar. “Dunno, Princess. A lot of soldiers retreated to the Everfree during the fall back from Canterlot. It was a hardpoint. The bugs went around. They learned their lesson from dealing with it the first time.”
“You never discussed it?” Thorax asked.
“Begging your pardon,” Price nickered, “but we weren’t in the habit of discussing numbers over secure channels. We used code words.”
Flurry tried to pick out Ponyville from the incline. She could see Twilight’s crystal castle sticking out above the trees, but nothing else. The alicorn didn’t know Ponyville; she didn’t remember the last time she visited it.
She knew of Sunset Shimmer, the former student of Princess Celestia that disappeared for several years, but Flurry had never met her. Not that she remembered. And Flurry Heart had no idea who Fizzlepop Berrytwist was, nor was anypony particularly helpful in briefing her about the mare.
“Should we just walk down and risk it?” Flurry asked the group.
“No,” everyone answered in unison.
“We’re at the edge of the Reich’s front line,” Thorax explained. “There could easily be infiltrators within range.”
Flurry charged her horn and released the detection spell. It pulsed over the hill and spread into the Everfree. Thorax’s disguise burned away and he blinked his solid blue eyes.
“Sorry,” Flurry apologized.
Thorax stood behind Spike and out of immediate sight range of the Everfree.
“You don’t think they’ll recognize you?” Flurry asked.
Thorax waved a holed hoof at his fangs and black chitin with a frown.
“I recognize you,” Flurry snorted.
“And I have no idea how,” Rainbow shook her head. “I confuse him with Arex all the time.”
“She’s a mare,” Flurry responded.
“They look the same in uniform.”
“Movement,” Jadis called out. “White flag northwest.”
Rainbow pulled out a pair of binoculars and scanned the trees. Gilda did the same beside her. Flurry slowly brought a shield down over the group. Rainbow whistled and lowered her binoculars after a minute. “G, give your binoculars to Gallus.”
“Why?” Gilda squawked. She was wearing a brown leather jacket over her flight suit for warmth.
“Just do it.”
Gilda tossed her pair to Gallus fairly unprofessionally.
“Don’t you outrank her?” Flurry asked the blue griffon.
“He grew up with me,” Gilda responded before Gallus could. “I don’t care how often he preens the Kaiser’s feathers.”
“How have you not gotten shot before Manehattan?” Gallus scoffed.
“I’m a damn good pilot,” Gilda shrugged a wing. “Survived Maar’s Daughter.” She pointed a wing at Flurry.
Flurry blinked. “What? You nearly got your head blown off.”
“I was about to duck.”
Flurry opened her mouth to respond, but Gallus squawked out, “Blessed Boreas, Sandbar!?”
Rainbow whinnied in laughter. “You believe it?”
“No,” Gallus chuckled. “He filled out.”
Spike squinted down the hill. “Sandbar was one of the first students at the School of Friendship,” he explained to Flurry.
“Awkward gangly little earth pony,” Gallus said.
“Right,” Rainbow nodded. “I’ll go down with Gallus and Spike. Light a flare if everything’s okay.”
“Could be a changeling,” Price retorted.
“Not with the radius on my spell,” Flurry said. “Wouldn’t get here in time.”
“That spell doesn’t have range.”
“It does when an alicorn casts it.”
The dragon, pegasus, and griffon descended to the edge of the forest.
Jadis watched, laying prone with her rifle. “There’s more movement in the forest. They’re covering Sandbar.”
Flurry looked back to the other side of the hill. She could see her own extended forces and Gallus’ escort watching. They had kept back for the initial contact, so it didn’t appear to be an armed standoff.
“Rainbow’s making fun of his eyepatch,” Gilda commented, watching through her binoculars.
“How do you know?” Jadis asked. “You read lips?”
“No,” Gilda said, “but I know Rainbow and she’s got that mocking smile on.”
Flurry felt Barrel Roller’s stare on the back of her neck. “She needs to be here,” the alicorn said aloud. “So does Duty Price.”
“What?” Price asked. “Am I not the pinnacle of diplomacy?”
“No,” Flurry stated, “but neither am I.”
A green flare lit up along the forest edge. Rainbow held it with her metal wing and waved it around. Flurry reformed the bubble shield. “Let’s go.”
The group descended down to the forest edge. The feeling of wrongness intensified, but Flurry pushed through it. Sandbar had an eyepatch over his right eye. The fur was rugged and patchy along that side of the muzzle, suggesting burn tissue underneath. The pale green earth pony wore old gray cargo pants with a black jacket. Flurry noticed it was a Changeling leather coat, worn and patched.
Despite his rough look, he was smiling genially and speaking with Gallus in an upbeat tone. “We’re doing real well,” he said, finishing some conversation with his old friend. Gallus nodded; the griffon shook his hoof vigorously.
“You got matching coats,” Rainbow laughed.
Gallus looked down at his own black coat and refolded his blue wings against it.
“Serving the Kaiser work out?” Sandbar asked sardonically.
“The nobles screeched at a Griffonstone griffon in the inner circle,” Gallus shrugged. “Short of being Kaiser myself, this is the highest any of us have ever climbed in a long time.”
Sandbar fully left the forest edge and stood in front of Flurry’s shield. The edge crackled softly. He bowed fully with legs extended. “Princess Flurry Heart of the Crystal Empire.”
Flurry nodded. No other title. She made a note of it. “Do you have a rank?”
“During the war, Corporal,” Sandbar answered. “I’m an adjutant to General Berrytwist and Colonel Shimmer.”
“Are they in command?”
“Of this group,” Sandbar said vaguely. “Since Starlight is still missing and Trixie is…gone, they are the Duumvirate of the Equestrian Liberation Front.”
“I see,” Flurry said with equal vagueness. “I would like to speak with them.”
“Of course,” Sandbar agreed readily. “I would ask that your greater escort remain away from the Everfree.”
“This group goes with me.” Flurry dropped the shield.
“I hope you’re prepared to walk,” Sandbar warned. “The trees and foliage are too thick to fly in. You can fly above it, but good luck finding a clearing to land safely.”
“We can walk.”
“It’s good to see you again, Sandbar,” Spike said warmly.
“You too,” Sandbar agreed. He whistled, high and loud, and another whistle echoed back. A dozen more soldiers surrounded the group, a mix of unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies in scavenged uniforms. A few had Reich model weapons, with the trigger guards broken off for use by hooves.
Scouts went missing, Flurry thought. Gallus also eyed them with a frown. Gilda walked with Rainbow. She stuffed a claw into her jacket and unclipped the holster for her pistol before continuing.
“It’ll be a long walk,” Sandbar called over his shoulder. “We’ll stop in the castle for a bit before continuing.”
“Twilight’s castle?” Flurry asked.
“No,” Sandbar laughed. “The Castle of the Two Sisters.”
“That’s still standing?” Rainbow snorted. "What? Bug bombs that weak?"
“We were surprised as well,” Sandbar explained. “The Changelings avoided bombing it during the Everfree’s expansion. They didn’t even bother afterwards.”
“Why?” Flurry asked.
“We stole a lot of planes as we advanced,” Rainbow answered. “And we flew a lot of them back when we retreated.”
“Their air wings are a joke,” Gilda squawked. “We’ve been flying circles around them, sometimes literally. Nova Griffonia put up a better fight.”
“They’re massing up for an offensive,” Thorax said quietly. "Fall back, reorganize, then slam forward. It's how Starlight lost."
The group walked forward in silence. There wasn’t really a trail, just a vague path over exposed tree roots and branches. A few vines coiled across the ground, even in the cold air and snow. Everyone gave them room. The thorns were as sharp as a talon.
“Who’s the changeling?” Sandbar asked casually, but Flurry caught the hard look in his eye.
“Thorax,” Flurry responded evenly. “My uncle.”
Sandbar hummed and flicked his tail. “I've heard of you. You fought Chrysalis a long time, huh?”
“Yes,” Thorax answered.
“And he did a lot to help the ELF,” Barrel cut in.
“Lost anyway,” Sandbar shrugged his shoulders.
A golden shield shimmered into existence in front of him. The ELF soldiers stopped with Sandbar. The shield slowly extended into the ground and cut through a root, then crunched a tree aside as it began to warp into a bubble.
“Flurry, don’t,” Thorax whispered.
“Thorax has been fighting Chrysalis long before you,” Flurry stated. She looked at the ELF veterans escorting the group. “All of you,” she added. The ponies stared back blankly, and she couldn’t place their expressions.
“General Berrytwist acknowledges his contributions to the war,” Sandbar nickered, “so does Colonel Shimmer.”
“If you have a problem with him, say it,” Flurry ordered.
Sandbar looked to the side. “I am perfectly fine with Thorax.”
“Do not lie to me again.”
“Oh, you can tell? Raised by a changeling,” Sandbar laughed bitterly. “My entire family is gone. Do you have any idea what they’ve done to us?”
“Every time I look at my mother,” Flurry Heart snapped back. The shield crunched through a long vine with a hiss. The plant ignited with blue flames and uncoiled.
“It, uh, might not be best to draw attention,” Rainbow advised with flat ears.
Flurry dropped the shield. It vanished in a burst of blue sparks. Sandbar slowly turned around and kept trotting ahead with three other soldiers. The group walked in relative silence.
Which apparently, Rainbow couldn’t stand. “So, uh, how are the monsters and stuff?” the pegasus asked. “Caused a lotta problems for the bugs.”
“They keep to themselves,” Sandbar said shortly.
“Uh, how? Zecora?” Rainbow looked between the soldiers more than the forest. Her metal wing was tense.
“Lady Fluttershy of the Forest,” a mare answered. The ELF soldier didn’t turn to address Rainbow Dash. “Most of the monsters are kept far inland and away.”
Rainbow inhaled. “Flutters? How is she?”
“We don’t know,” Sandbar answered flatly.
“Whatta mean, you don’t know?” Rainbow snorted.
“She does not leave the interior of the forest,” another stallion answered.
“Well, tell her I’m here,” Rainbow huffed. She scraped her wing against a tree as she walked past it, flapping in agitation.
“We don’t speak with her,” Sandbar said. “We keep to our operations, and she keeps things away.”
“That sucks!” Rainbow growled. “Where is she?”
“We don’t know,” Sandbar repeated with a flick of his lime green tail.
Flurry reached out with a wing and signaled Rainbow to stop talking. She shook her head mutely at the pegasus’ urgent stare. Too tense. Duty Price wasn’t smoking one of his cigars, but helped Jadis climb over tree roots with her bad hoof. Gilda and Gallus walked together. They looked more nervous about the guards than the forest.
Flurry Heart walked next to Thorax. Barrel Roller followed on the other side, shielding the changeling from the guards. Thorax licked his fangs frequently, a surefire sign that the ELF weren’t exactly happy with his presence.
The group reached a clearing before a ravine. A rope bridge had been strung across, made of salvaged planks and assorted rope. Flurry eyed the additional stakes in the ground, probably from previous bridges that collapsed.
The Castle of the Two Sisters loomed beyond it. The fact that the castle still stood at all was a miracle, and several of the openings and windows had been boarded or sealed up. Pegasi sat in the two remaining towers, scanning the forest. The remaining exposed windows were piled with sandbags and machine gun placements.
Several dozen ponies moved in patrols along the walls or open spaces. Two squads were waiting on the other side of the bridge. They held their weapons casually against their hooves.
“You’re expecting a siege?” Price asked loudly.
“Never hurts to be cautious,” Sandbar answered. “We’ll rest here and move to Ponyville in an hour. We can take longer if you need it. Everfree carved up the path pretty badly.” He glanced back at the two griffons. “We have rations, even some with meat.”
“What,” Gilda squawked, “you’re hunting the animals in here?”
“From the Reich scouts,” Sandbar answered with a low chuckle. A few of the soldiers laughed with him.
Gallus sighed and rubbed a claw across his head. “What happened to you?”
“Let’s see,” Sandbar clicked his tongue, “I lost my parents, my sister, got shot in the face, and I’ve had to hide in a jungle for several years while you played with the Kaiser.”
“You think working for Grover is easy?” Gallus spat. “We fought them when the knights invaded. We only lived due to our connections with Equestria.”
“We just put the bridge up a month ago,” Sandbar said and changed the subject. He trotted across the boards without hesitation. Flurry watched the ropes sway above the chasm.
“Nope,” Gilda quipped and flapped her wings. Barrel Roller followed her example, then Gallus. Rainbow walked to the edge and looked down. She rolled her magenta eyes, then crossed on hoof. Spike stared at the wooden boards, flexed the talons on his feet, then flew over the chasm.
Flurry turned back to Duty Price and Jadis. “I can teleport you.”
“Pass.” Jadis swallowed at the offer. “My stomach can’t take it.”
“I’m way better at it.”
“Still pass,” Price added. The blue earth pony placed a hoof on the boards, then helped Jadis limp across together.
“You mind walking with me?” Flurry asked Thorax. The changeling nodded and they followed the other pair slowly. The alicorn’s ears prickled at the creak of the wooden boards.
“Guards are tense,” Thorax reported from the side of his muzzle as they walked across the bridge. It was mid-day, and cloudy. Flurry looked down through the gaps in the boards; mist blocked the bottom of the chasm. “More for you than me, actually,” the changeling whispered.
Flurry wrapped a wing around him as they walked; it blocked his muzzle from sight briefly. “Don’t eat anything they offer you,” she said softly.
“Wasn’t planning on it,” Thorax whispered dryly. “Sounds like we’re meeting in Ponyville. I don’t know Shimmer or Berrytwist well.” Flurry and Thorax crossed over.
“Your little ‘ling need a hug?” one of the squad leaders chuckled. “Too scared to fly?”
“We’ll rest for an hour, then keep moving,” Flurry decided with a severe stare. She bit her lower lip and scanned over the soldiers, studying their expressions as she gave the order. Most looked to Sandbar for confirmation before moving away.
As the group followed Sandbar, Price slowed his trot to match the Princess in the middle of the group. “Manehattan was pretty liberal under Lilac,” he explained in a low voice. “I ended up with defectors and the task force, but a lot of these soldiers are from the west, under the harsh bug occupation.”
“No love for ‘lings,” Flurry summarized.
“No,” Price agreed, “not after this long. Every cell had different rules on prisoners. Or surrenders.”
“Starlight and Trixie accepted surrenders.”
“They’re dead,” Price responded bluntly. “New Duumvirate. I hear they still accept ‘lings, but that issue must not have come up for a long while.”
“How much do they actually control?”
“Whoever is in this forest,” Price replied. “Between Ponyville and the castle…” he shrugged a hoof.
Rainbow said the castle ran deep, Flurry thought. The group stopped in one of several courtyards. It had been cleaned up, slightly, and the interior hallways were lit with gas lamps. The alicorn heard a few generators humming in the distance as well.
Many ponies moved in patrols, or walked with carts and supplies behind them. They stopped momentarily to stare at the alicorn, then moved on. It wasn’t quite the dead-eyed stare from the Manehattanites, but the looks screamed disinterest.
Flurry Heart wasn’t really used to anonymity. They’ve surely heard me on the radio. She opened her mouth to say something, then reconsidered.
“There’s a few spare dining halls,” Sandbar offered. His tone was slightly hostile. “We’ll move out in an hour. You want some rations?”
“We brought some.” Flurry shook her saddlebags from side to side. “Thanks for offering.”
“Of course, Princess,” Sandbar said. He didn’t say her title happily. “This way.”
The group followed him into an empty interior room with one doorway. Two old wooden tables and no chairs were in the middle of the room. The walls were stacked with crates.
“Who’s in command at the castle?” Flurry asked. “Can I meet them?”
“Limestone Pie,” Sandbar responded. “She’s in Ponyville, waiting for you. We’ll come get you in an hour.” Sandbar trotted away. He left the door open. Jadis poked her head through and looked up and down the hallway, then closed the door.
Flurry raised a hoof before anyone said anything, then lit her horn. She angled her head around the room and cast several spells. After a few bursts of magic that made everyone’s fur stand up, she lowered her hoof. “Room’s clear.”
Barrel Roller trotted over to one and opened the lid. “Old rifles,” he announced. “No magazines.”
“No guards outside,” Jadis reported.
“Quite the welcome,” Flurry commented.
Barrel’s orange eyes softened and his ear twitched. “I’m sorry, Princess,” he offered. “Communication’s been…difficult.”
"This isn't going well," Spike groaned.
"My fault?" Flurry guessed.
"No," Spike said. Flurry scuffed a hoof in surprise. "The ELF was always based around Equestria, not the Crystal Empire," the dragon explained. "It's in the name."
Flurry looked around at the armbands. Thorax, Spike, Jadis, and Barrel Roller wore the purple band with the white Imperial Snowflake. "Is that seriously a sticking point?"
"For some," Spike admitted. "I'm going to take a look around. Be back in a few minutes."
"You think they found all the hidden passages?" Rainbow called out.
"I remember where they are," Spike answered. "None in this room, at least."
Price pushed a low crate over to one of the tables and sat down. He flopped his hat onto the table and kicked up dust. “They probably heard about the shootouts,” he coughed and waved a hoof.
“You mean between the ELF cells on the coast,” Gallus assumed.
“Am I supposed to be surprised you buzzards know about that?” Price grunted.
“You shouldn’t be.”
“I’m not,” Price sighed.
“Have there been a lot of casualties?” Flurry asked.
“Not as many as there could’ve been, but it’s a bad look for the hardcore ELF veterans,” Barrel Roller answered.
“I thought you were hardcore ELF veterans,” Gilda said, confused.
“We’re following her,” Rainbow pointed a hoof at Flurry. “Probably invalidates us. I’ll have to tear up my membership card.”
“The ELF was all about unity,” Price began in a low voice. “Some ponies here probably view the shootouts as a betrayal.”
“If they’re attacking the Reich’s supply lines,” Flurry said evenly, “it is a betrayal.” She checked several boxes and levitated them over to the tables. “We’re not even halfway across Equestria yet. We need help.”
“We chose the birds over our own,” Price countered.
“I am not fighting a shadow war against my own subjects,” Flurry declared. She looked to Gallus. He had hunched onto a box of pistols and was eating a sandwich. “What can the Reich offer?”
“Pardons,” Gallus mumbled, “considering it sounds like they killed all our scouts. I’m backing whatever agreement you reach with them.”
“Is that Grover’s orders?” Flurry asked with some surprise.
“The order is to acquire a route through the Everfree,” Gallus answered. “Doesn’t matter how.” He tapped a claw on the table. “I have a paper that gives me authority to sign in his name, if it comes to it.”
“I’m not giving the Everfree autonomy,” Flurry denied. She tossed her head back. “It’s right next to Canterlot. It’s not a city or a state; it’s a forest with an army hiding in it.”
Price slapped his hat back on. “I’m going to look around for some familiar marks. Looks less suspicious anyway. Barrel, you want to come along?”
“I’m down,” Barrel shrugged a wing.
Rainbow stood up, then hesitated and looked at Gilda. “I’ll stay.”
“I go where you go, Princess,” Jadis said.
“We’ll be back before Sandbar,” Price said at the door. “If we’re not, there’s an issue.”
“Right,” Thorax nodded.
Barrel shut the door behind him and Flurry looked up to the faded blue flag hanging high on the wall. The banner of the Equestrian Liberation Front was a white moon inside a red sun with two swords beside it.
Not a snowflake.
Thorax followed her look. “They fought for Twilight Sparkle.”
“Celestia and Luna never came,” Flurry replied.
“I’m not crazy about a room with one door, Princess,” Jadis said. “We can get pinned in here.”
“We’re above ground,” Flurry said absently, “and it’s old stone. I can blow holes all the way through this place.”
“I’d prefer if you teleported us out,” Thorax suggested. “Less chance of the castle collapsing around us.”
“Rainbow,” Flurry stated and drew the mare's attention. “There’s Zecora, Limestone, Shimmer, and Berrytwist.”
“I’ve met all of them,” Rainbow smirked. “Limestone and Sunset Shimmer are either gonna love you or hate you. Lime’s the younger sister to Pinkie.”
Gilda rolled her eyes.
“She swears more than you, G,” Rainbow addressed her. “Anyway, hit or miss with them. Just be yourself."
"That's the worst possible advice," Flurry said dryly, "and it's the second time you've told me that."
"Hey, it worked for Duty Price. Zecora’s a straight-shooter if you ignore the rhyming.”
“And Berrytwist?”
“Badass,” Rainbow laughed. “She’ll like you.”
“Maar’s Daughter might remind her of her old boss,” Gallus said idly.
“Eh,” Rainbow waved a hoof in dismissal.
“What?” Flurry shook her head.
“Storm King,” Rainbow clarified.
Flurry frowned. “What.”
Thorax shifted his wings. “Did we forget to tell you that?”
“General Berrytwist worked for the Storm King?” Flurry connected. “Wait, Tempest Shadow?”
“Her actual name is Fizzlepop Berrytwist,” Thorax sighed. He stared at Flurry flatly. “She prefers that name.”
Flurry’s muzzle trembled for a moment. “Really?” she squeaked between her teeth. She stole a look at Rainbow and Gilda at the table. They seemed to already know.
Rainbow waggled a brow and smiled toothily. “I had the same reaction. Surprised nopony told you.”
“They definitely should have,” Flurry forced out. Her voice broke into a giggle. “Fizzlepop? Like the soda?”
“She’d rather be laughed at than have ponies scatter in fear,” Thorax groaned. His voice echoed. “You’re definitely sixteen.”
“Almost seventeen,” Jadis protested.
Flurry burst out laughing.
“Sunset Shimmer and Fizzlepop are some of the best commanders left,” Thorax rebuked.
“Yeah,” Rainbow chuckled, “the ELF is now led by two ponies that tried to take over Equestria.”
“What?” Flurry asked through her laughter.
“Sunset tried something,” Rainbow waved her metal wing. “I never got all the details from Twilight, but she came in late to the war with Chrysalis. Was overseas or something, finding herself.”
“Didn’t Starlight and Trixie also try to take over Equestria?” Jadis asked.
“Trixie just took over Ponyville,” Rainbow answered.
Gallus finished his sandwich. “You know,” he started, “when I told Grover about Equestria, none of his staff believed the stories. He believed all of them.”
“Really?” Flurry giggled.
“About how you choose your leaders based on takeover attempts,” Gilda squawked in laughter. Rainbow laughed with her.
"We don't," Jadis snapped.
"Technically, Cadance and Shining did take over the Crystal Empire and usurp Sombra," Thorax clarified.
Jadis pursed her lips and her tail lashed in irritation, but she didn't verbally reply.
“Grover always brought up how you met,” Gallus laughed himself. “How you tried to kill Chrysalis surrounded by soldiers.”
“I was ten,” Flurry protested half-heartedly. “It’s not like I was thinking about the consequences.”
“What would you have done differently?” Gilda asked teasingly.
Flurry considered it. “I would’ve blown the inhibitor ring off and taken out the building,” she answered honestly. “Would’ve taken a moment to do, but the blast would’ve killed her.”
The room quieted and stared at her. “That would’ve killed you as well,” Thorax commented.
“Worth it to kill Chrysalis then and there,” Flurry shrugged her wings. “I didn’t know it was her, though. I thought it was just a changeling.”
“You would’ve killed Grover as well,” Gallus pointed out, “and the Archon. The Reich would’ve collapsed into another civil war.”
Flurry hesitated. “I didn’t know him at the time,” she deflected. “You think Grover would choose my life over the existence of the Griffonian Reich?”
“He accepted your offer,” Gallus said vaguely. He stared at Gilda for a moment, then returned to his sandwich.
“I threatened to blow up his house,” Flurry dismissed. “With Chrysalis dead, the Hegemony would’ve collapsed. Trimmel or whoever wouldn’t have been able to hold it together.”
“They acted like she hadn’t even left,” Thorax reminded her. He guided the alicorn to one of the tables and retrieved some sandwiches from their saddlebags. “Vaspier runs the best spy agency in the world. They could keep it up for a while.”
“Starlight would’ve won,” Flurry responded. "Even if the Hegemony pretended she was alive, the lie would've fallen apart long before Canterlot."
“Maybe,” Thorax admitted. “You’d be dead.”
“And?”
“That’s bad, Princess.” Jadis shuffled over and sat down on a box.
“Millions of ponies would still be alive,” Flurry huffed. She crossed her forelegs on the table. “The Equestrian Liberation Front would’ve won. Chrysalis would be dead.” She blinked slowly. “Twilight might be alive,” she said in a softer voice.
“Twilight is alive,” Rainbow said angrily.
I don’t want to have this argument. “You do it, wouldn’t you?” Flurry asked Rainbow. “If you could kill Chrysalis, right now, even if it meant your death, would you do it?”
“Uh, yeah, of course,” Rainbow snorted. “But I’m not a Princess,” she tacked on quickly.
“So?” Flurry nickered. “I can order ponies to die, but I can’t do it myself?”
“No,” Thorax responded immediately. “You can’t.” He leaned over the table and stared right into her muzzle. “If you die, everything we’ve worked for collapses. You are too important.”
Flurry broke eye contact first. She levitated the stale sandwich over and took a bite. “Should’ve said that before I messed with the Heart, then.”
“I did,” Thorax answered. “Frequently.”
“I knew it would kill me,” Flurry Heart muttered. She held the sandwich in her hooves, having removed her front boots. Her fur was white in a figure-eight swirl on her left foreleg. “Mom understood.”
Thorax and Jadis shared a look. “What happened with the Heart?” the changeling asked quietly.
Flurry took another bite of her sandwich and refused to answer.
Flurry Heart wasn’t sure what Twilight’s castle was called. Sandbar referred to it as the Castle of Friendship, but Rainbow rolled her eyes at that title. Gallus just called it the castle. As far as the alicorn knew, it didn’t really have a name.
The Everfree hadn’t reclaimed it. On the contrary, the foliage and vines abruptly ended several hooves away in all directions from the foundation, as if refusing to touch the place. The rest of Ponyville wasn’t that lucky. Most of the buildings had been overgrown, covered with leaves and vines.
The ghetto Flurry grew up in was named ‘Ponyville’ derogatorily by the Nova Griffonians; she never thought the actual Ponyville would be a stepdown from her tenement. The village was a wreck. The buildings that hadn’t been bombed were torn apart and rebuilt along the castle.
“I see you tore down the boutique,” Spike rumbled. He pointed to several of the boards making up a ragged storage area.
“We tore down everything,” Sandbar responded over his shoulder. “The forest or the bombs were going to take it all anyway.”
“How in Maar’s name is that castle still standing?” Gallus squawked. He kept squinting up at the crystal tree every few steps.
“Oh, they tried to blow it up,” Rainbow snorted. “Even before the ELF.”
“We watched Chrysalis order explosives for weeks,” Sandbar added. “Guns, bullets, or bombs, nothing scratched it for longer than a day.”
“The spirit of enduring Equestria,” Barrel Roller said.
“Generalmajor Jachs ordered a giant blanket eventually,” Sandbar chuckled. “I guess he hoped his queen would ignore it.”
“Who?” Flurry asked.
“The changeling in charge of Canterlot and the surrounding areas before the uprising,” Thorax explained. “He was demoted.”
“You know a lot,” Sandbar said idly. His tail bobbed.
“I’m in charge of questioning any prisoners,” Thorax answered with a slight hiss.
“Do you know who’s in charge now?”
“Generalmajor Actia Pagala.”
Sandbar looked over his shoulder. “And do your prisoners tell you about her reputation?”
Thorax met the stare. “Yes.”
Flurry looked between them.
“They talk about her to make themselves look better,” Thorax continued. “It doesn’t work.”
Sandbar returned to trotting. “Considering the size of the castle, most of us are either quartered there or the School of Friendship.” The group’s hooves clacked on the ground as they switched to an overgrown cobblestone road.
Sandbar and the soldiers escorting them stared ahead emotionlessly, but Spike, Rainbow and Gallus’ eyes wandered. Flurry looked around too, trying to guess what they were imagining. Ruins and forest. The alicorn had seen pictures, but she didn’t remember Ponyville. It reminded her more of the jungles beyond Baltimare. The School of Friendship’s walls were laced with vines and leaves; several of the windows were walled with sandbags. The purple paint was faded and chipped, showing gray underneath.
Twilight’s school was a barracks. Ponies peered down from the towers with rifles in their hooves, watching the group pass. Twilight’s star cutie mark, carved into the wood above the doors, was covered with a frayed ELF flag.
Gallus and Rainbow stared up at it, slowing as they walked by. Spike refused to look, staring straight ahead and at the castle. Twilight’s crystal tree castle loomed above the remaining buildings; guards were on every balcony. The highest balcony had telescopes. A small radio tower stretched above the tallest spire.
“It’s a bit obvious for a command center,” Duty Price commented dryly.
“It’s indestructible,” Sandbar replied. “It’s a symbol of hope.” He twisted his head to look at the alicorn trailing him.
Flurry smacked her lips at the jab at her title. I didn't pick it. “It’s quite nice,” she said. “Reminds me of our architecture in the Crystal City.” She tilted her head at the purple crystal walls of the castle proper, extending up from the truck of the glittering blue tree. “Strong crystal.”
“When you shine a spotlight on it in certain places, it makes a strobe,” Rainbow stated.
“Spike?” Flurry asked. “Dragons can eat crystal, right?”
“I never tried to eat my house,” Spike grumbled. “Or yours, for that matter.”
The ELF soldiers broke formation on the approach to the doors, slinging their weapons and waiting against the trunk. The four guards at the door were wearing proper gray uniforms with the Elements of Harmony on an armband. They saluted Sandbar.
They did not bow to Flurry Heart.
“If you need to rest, we can set a room aside,” Sandbar offered. He turned around at the doors, speaking directly up to Flurry for the first time in several hours.
“I’m here,” Flurry stated. “Let’s get this done.”
Sandbar pumped a hoof. The guards opened the doors.
One of the guards was a colt about her age. He flushed at the long-legged alicorn; his coppery tail swished between his hind legs. The earth pony blushed again at Flurry when she glanced at his flanks before entering. She was looking at his pants. He had stitched his cutie mark atop the gray uniform; a crosshair over a pony-shaped target.
Flurry’s group spread out once the faded golden doors closed behind them. Spike and Thorax stood on either side of the alicorn. Barrel Roller, Duty Price, and Frosty Jadis shuffled to her right; Gallus and Gilda moved to the left.
Flurry blinked and gasped at the table in the center of the room. The throne room of Twilight’s castle was home to the cutie map; Flurry had grown up hearing about it, about the missions her aunt went on with her friends. The table would shimmer with magic and show a map of Equestria.
Seven crystal thrones surrounded the raised table. The cutie marks of the Elements of Harmony were carved into the crystal. Rainbow stared at her throne blankly; the cloud and rainbow lightning bolt still shimmered in the light from the glowing crystals on the walls.
And the table had a large crack running through it.
There was no map. It was a divided chunk of crystal.
Three ponies and a zebra stood on the far side of the room. Sandbar crossed to them. The amber unicorn dipped her head. “Princess Flurry Heart of the Crystal Empire.”
Flurry wrenched her eyes from the table. Two different ELF flags hung up on the wall. One was more rectangular than the other. “Colonel Shimmer?” Flurry guessed. “Thank you for meeting with me.”
The unicorn stepped up to the table, next to Twilight’s throne. “The honor is mine,” she said formally. “Princess Twilight spoke fondly of her niece.”
“You have me at a disadvantage,” Flurry recovered. “I do not know you.”
“Hopefully,” the unicorn dragged out the word, “there will be time for that. Please, call me Sunset. I command the Mage Units.” The unicorn sat down in Twilight’s throne and motioned for the others to approach. Her gray uniform had a black collar around her neck.
The next to approach was a dark purple unicorn. Fizzlepop Berrytwist’s uniform was a deeper shade of gray with gold bars on the shoulders. Her gray cap sat back on her head, exposing the broken horn. Her right eye had a scar running down the eyelid.
“Princess.” The mare bowed on her side of the table.
Rainbow tilted her head to show off her own eye scar. She frowned, apparently assessing that it wasn't as cool.
“General Tempest,” Flurry said neutrally.
“I prefer Fizzlepop, Princess,” Tempest corrected.
Flurry hummed. “You turned my mother into a statue, if I recall correctly.”
“You do,” Fizzlepop acknowledged, “but I also freed her.”
“I don’t recall meeting you, but I am sure I did, General Fizzlepop.”
“Briefly,” Fizzlepop agreed. She sat down in the smaller throne next to Sunset Shimmer. “I hope you don’t mind,” the mare called out to the dragon.
“I doubt I fit,” Spike shrugged. He had to duck to get through the doors behind them.
A gray earth pony stomped up to the table, whipped her head in a violent nod at Flurry, then shoved herself onto Pinkie Pie’s throne. “Quit wastin’ time.”
“Limestone Pie,” Flurry greeted.
“Yeah.” Limestone rolled her yellow eyes. “Let’s get this done. Move, Zecora.”
The zebra trotted forward and bowed fully, with legs outstretched. “I greet you, Flurry Heart. Far too many years have we been apart.”
“I’m sorry,” Flurry apologized. “I don’t remember meeting you either.”
“Probably just for the rhyme,” Rainbow muttered.
“No need to bash, Rainbow Dash,” Zecora chuckled. Her ears twitched. The zebra’s mohawk was taller and better brushed than Rainbow’s mane. She fluffed it with a hoof and grinned at the pegasus.
Rainbow snorted before flapping her wings over to her own throne. She sat down after a longing look at the throne with three pink butterflies. Flurry Heart followed her around the table, standing next to the slouched pegasus. Zecora stood next to Fizzlepop. Flurry waved a wing, and everyone else crowded around the table.
After some visible hesitation, Gallus sat down in Applejack’s throne. “I am Gallus of Griffonstone,” he announced. “I am here on behalf of Kaiser Grover VI.” His wings rustled against the sides of the crystal. Gilda stalked up next to it, eyes sweeping the room. She kept a claw in her jacket, on the holster below her wing.
“Princess, you’re free to take a seat.” Sunset waved a hoof at Rarity’s and Fluttershy’s thrones. “We can have extra chairs brought in.”
“Might be a little crowded,” Spike countered. He stood in the back, looming over Rarity’s empty throne.
“I’ll stand,” Flurry said.
Jadis limped up next to Flurry. She leaned her rifle against the side of Rainbow’s throne to squeeze in closer. Duty Price leaned against Fluttershy’s throne, but didn’t sit down. Barrel Roller did the same on the other side.
“As you wish, Princess,” Sunset shrugged. She leaned back and waved a hoof at Sandbar. The earth pony left through another door. “It is good to see you. We get your radio addresses. Some thought you were fake.”
Thorax stood away from the table, up against the wall. Sunset craned her neck to look over Jadis’ head. “Is that you, Thorax?”
“Colonel Shimmer,” Thorax called back.
“I’m surprised you’re not dead,” Sunset said ruefully. “Chrysalis has been after you for a long time.”
“She’s forgotten about me,” Thorax chittered his wings. “I don’t matter to her.”
“The Queen never forgets a grudge,” Fizzlepop snorted.
“She does if she wins,” Throax replied. “She beat me.”
“Yeah,” Sunset agreed. “We’re close enough to Canterlot to pick up the Changeling radio. We’ve heard your death announced nine times over the years.”
“She says I’m a pony with a skin condition,” Thorax said dryly.
“Chrysalis never said anything about you, Flurry Heart,” Sunset addressed the alicorn. “Neither did their propogandists, not until you stormed down from Nova Griffonia and retook the Empire.”
“I imagine she didn’t want anypony to know an alicorn was still fighting for them,” Flurry stated in a low voice.
“Now,” Sunset raised a hoof, “the radio screams about how the Alicorn of Death kills her own followers, leaving a trail of death and destruction in her wake. She cares not for her own. They have interviews with traumatized ponies that abandoned you.”
“Really?” Flurry whickered.
“Oh, it’s all changeling crap,” Sunset laughed. She suddenly narrowed her blue eyes. “But we have more reliable sources.”
“We’ve heard about ELF cells attacking each other on your orders,” Fizzlepop said. She leaned forward to place her hooves on the crystal table. “Is there a reason you’re waging war on us?”
“I have negotiated an alliance with the Reich,” Flurry disagreed. “I need the attacks to stop. I ordered them to stop.”
“We fight for the Princess,” Sunset said angrily. “For Equestria.”
“You have a Princess,” Jadis snorted. “She stands before you now.”
“Look,” Price started, “we tried to talk it out, but a few stubborn hornheads refused to listen.”
“So you killed them,” Fizzlepop snarled.
“It wasn’t the outcome any of us wanted,” Barrel Roller pleaded.
“Your mother was the Princess of the Crystal Empire,” Sunset reflected. “Not Equestria.”
“My father was Twilight Sparkle’s older brother,” Flurry replied. “Even the griffons would agree that gives me a claim.” She tossed her head, making the crystal band bounce slightly. “And I’m an alicorn.”
“The Princess of Ponies,” Zecora said mildly. “Why have you come?”
“That didn’t rhyme,” Rainbow pointed out. Zecora gave her a dark look. “Where’s Fluttershy?” the pegasus asked once attention was on her.
“She’s deep within the Everfree,” Sunset answered. “She’s kept most of the dangerous animals out of harm’s way.”
“I wanna talk to her.”
“We haven’t talked to her for years.” Zecora looked away. “We have shed many tears.”
“Don’t start that rhyming garbage now,” Rainbow spat. “Where. Is. My. Friend.”
“We don’t know,” Fizzlepop stated. “We tried to contact her for years. We know she’s alive, but she doesn’t speak with us.”
Rainbow’s metal wing scraped against the side of her throne. “I’m going to look for her,” she swallowed. “She’ll talk to me.”
“Rainbow,” Limestone huffed, “she was always too sensitive-”
“Shut your bucking muzzle,” Rainbow growled in a low rasp. “Shut it, Lime.”
“Pinkie’s the same way,” Limestone admitted. “Haven’t seen her since I left to join the ELF. She's still on the rock farm.”
Rainbow heaved a deep breath, staring at the table. “What happened to the map?” she rasped. “Thought you said the bugs couldn’t break anything?”
“This happened on its own,” Fizzlepop replied. “We’re not sure when. The castle was cordoned off by the ‘lings for a few years.”
“When Celestia and Luna left,” Jadis guessed.
“Maybe when the siege around Canterlot broke?” Barrel disagreed.
“Doesn’t matter,” Flurry said loudly. She gave the Duumvirs an even stare. “We need a route through the Everfree.”
“We?” Sunset blinked.
“Grover and I,” Flurry clarified. “We need the tanks to get through to encircle Canterlot. We need supply lines.”
“You fighting his war for him, Princess?” Sunset snarked. “Is that why you brought Gallus?”
“I’m here to negotiate on the Kaiser’s behalf,” Gallus repeated. “Princess Flurry Heart and Kaiser Grover VI have agreed to ally against Chrysalis.”
“That must really hurt, considering all the stories about the Princess sinking your ships,” Fizzlepop commented.
“She’s been pardoned,” Gallus quipped. “I can pardon all of you for the murder of our scouts as well.”
“We’re at war,” Sunset tossed her yellow and red mane. “They shot at us and we were forced to defend ourselves.”
Flurry looked over her shoulder to Thorax. He licked his right fang. A lie. “The Reich is the only thing advancing against Chrysalis,” Flurry stated to the table. “We need their help to win this.” She looked up at one of the flags. “To liberate Equestia.”
“Oh, is that why the Reich is here?” Sunset asked. “To save us all? They might have said that on the radio…”
“We did,” Gallus responded dryly.
“The scouts told a different story,” Fizzlepop answered. “What’s the official reason?”
“The Kaiser declared war.” Gilda rolled her eyes.
Fizzlepop snorted. “The Storm King always had a reason, for every raid and attack, all across Zebrica.” She tapped her hoof on the side of the smaller throne as she spoke. “A refused envoy, an ambush, an insulting letter. He liked to make up excuses.”
Gallus fiddled with his claws. “Officially,” he began with reluctance, “we discovered evidence that the protests that marred the Kaiser’s coronation were fomented by Changeling spies at the behest of Alexander Kemerskai Junior.” He tapped two talons together.
Flurry slowly twisted her head to stare at him.
“It was a plot to forment dissent within the Reich and destabilize it. The Kaiser declared war as a response,” Gallus finished.
The alicorn did not need to look back at Thorax.
“They aren’t here for us,” Limestone thumped a hoof against her sister’s throne. “They squash the bugs, and the Reich has the largest army in the world.”
“But they are here,” Flurry said softly. “The Reich is here, and so am I. It doesn’t change the situation.”
“And what is the situation?” Sunset asked. “You’ve allied with a foreign power, one that Princess Celestia has spoken out against at every turn.”
“You haven’t said anything about the other Princesses,” Fizzlepop said.
“What’s to say?” Flurry shrugged a wing. “They aren’t here.”
“When Princess Celestia returns-” Sunset started.
“When?” Jadis whinnied. “You think she’s itching to come back?”
“Starlight asked her to come,” Spike interrupted. “She declined.”
“She was waiting for Canterlot to be secured,” Sunset defended.
“Really?” Rainbow snorted. “It would’ve been a lot easier to ‘secure’ Canterlot if she’d been there.”
“Princesses don't fight on the front lines,” Fizzlepop countered.
“Ours does,” Jadis snapped.
Flurry ruffled her wings. “Not as much as I’d like to,” she admitted, “but I do.”
“I would hope,” Sunset stressed the word, “that you would have more important things to do.”
“More important than fighting for my ponies?” Flurry asked lightly.
“Princess Celestia has never had warm relations with the Griffonian Reich,” Sunset ignored the jab. “They are using you. Equestria will be a puppet state.”
“Yes,” Flurry acknowledged. “You’d prefer a doomed guerilla war for the next thirty years?” She stared down at the cracked table. “I’m not hiding behind that shield in the north.”
Sunset looked to Gallus. “What’s the Reich’s stance on Equestria and the Crystal Empire?”
“They are our allies,” Gallus said slowly.
“And who leads them?”
“Flurry Heart,” Gallus answered. “She is the Princess of the Principality of Equestria and the Princess of the Crystal Empire.”
“What about the Sisters?” Limestone asked. “And Twilight Sparkle?”
“We acknowledge that they were the Princesses before Equestria’s fall,” Gallus stated. “Princess Flurry Heart has pressed her rightful claim on both territories.”
“Some ponies would say that they are the rightful government in exile,” Sunset mused.
“Celestia is not one of them.” Thorax pushed his way up to the table. Jadis shuffled aside. “Celestia and Luna requested asylum from River Swirl. They are citizens of the River Federation.”
“And the Riverlander papers still call them Princesses,” Zecora pointed out. “An alicorn is not easily unmade.”
“Celestia still openly claiming to lead Equestria would cause nothing but trouble for the River Parliament,” Sunset dismissed. “She’s never renounced her titles.”
“You were a citizen of Nova Griffonia,” Limestone said to Flurry.
“Briefly,” Flurry clarified.
“They never asked you to do it?” Limestone questioned.
“Kemerskai did,” Flurry answered. She let the statement hang in the air.
“What is your stance on Celestia and Luna?” Sunset asked Flurry again.
Flurry looked to Rainbow, then up to the flag on the wall. Be yourself. Awful advice. “They didn’t come back for Starlight Glimmer, and they’ve said nothing about this war.” Flurry stomped a rear hoof against the crystal floor. “If they come back, I expect them to fight.”
“Do you acknowledge them as Princesses of Equestria?” Fizzlepop restated the question.
Flurry shut her eyes and exhaled. “Not unless they come back.”
“That’s not an answer,” Limestone huffed.
“That’s the answer you get,” Flurry snarled, “from the alicorn that’s still on this continent. I’m not the Princess you want, but I’m the one that’s here.”
“And Twilight?” Limestone snarled back.
Spike gripped the top of Rarity’s throne. Rainbow also tensed.
“If my aunt is alive,” Flurry allowed, “she remains a Princess of Equestria. We will rule together as a diarchy, as Celestia and Luna before us. I will remain sole Princess of the Crystal Empire.” She glanced at Gallus.
The blue griffon didn’t make eye contact. He rubbed his beak quietly. Sandbar entered the room with stuffed saddlebags and shuffled around the table.
“Well,” Sunset drawled, “that’s progress.” Sandbar offered her a large packet with his teeth. It stretched his jaw awkwardly. The unicorn took it in her magic and rolled her opal eyes.
“Starlight Glimmer and Trixie Lulamoon fought to restore Equestria,” Fizzlepop began, “but they were not blind to its flaws.”
“Like ignoring the invasion of Olenia,” Flurry supplied. “Or ignoring Chrysalis’ industrialization efforts after my parent’s wedding.” She glanced at Thorax. “Or ignoring the resistance to Chrysalis’ rule.”
“Those decisions were made by two ponies,” Fizzlepop replied. “Precious time was lost. Starlight Glimmer envisioned an Equestria more responsive to its ponies.”
“Yeah,” Rainbow puffed, “but I don’t really remember ponies screaming in the street for war.” The pegasus rolled her eyes. “I remember a lot of protests. ‘Why Die for Deer?’ signs in Cloudsdale.”
Sunset offered the packet to Flurry Heart. “If you need time to read it, Princess, we can set a room aside and reconvene.”
Flurry stared at the front cover. It was a blank manila page. “What is this?” she asked numbly.
“Consider it a manifesto,” Limestone waved a hoof. “Trix, Star, Sunny, and Fizzy sat around a lot, tryin’ to fix Equestria and make a unified front. We took turns on the front line.”
Flurry flipped the packet to a random page. It was a discussion on the design of armbands. She lowered the packet to look at the Elements of Harmony armbands on the ELF ponies, then the purple armbands on her own. “Why…” she trailed off. “Why are armbands an issue?”
“Symbols are important,” Sunset chuckled. “Don’t get me started on the flag. It was redesigned after the start of the uprising.”
Flurry Heart looked up to the two flags on the ceiling. “You wasted time on that?” she whispered.
“There are more pressing issues,” Fizzlepop agreed. “Consideration regarding collaborators and prisoners of war, for instance.”
“You don’t get to be upset after killing our scouts,” Gallus retorted.
“Equestria is not run by rope alone,” Fizzlepop replied.
“Why?” Gilda asked. “Because you’d be swinging from one, Tempest?”
The unicorn’s broken horn crackled with blue lightning. “My past is my own,” she ground out. “We don’t approve of hangings without trials.” She looked at Price and Barrel Roller.
The pegasus looked away, but Price pulled out a cigar. “Poor luck,” he shrugged. “They had trial enough.”
“The Princess oversaw judgements in the Crystal Empire,” Jadis interrupted. “She has every right to do so.”
“A proper judicial system can easily take that role,” Sunset disagreed.
"You didn't even get a trial," Rainbow laughed at Fizzlepop. "Twilight pardoned you on the spot."
Flurry Heart skipped over several pages, stopping on a proposed map of a district. It advocated for a complicated reassignment of traditional noble roles with elected representatives. She slapped the packet down on the table, just over the large crack across the map. “What government did Starlight want?”
“She believed that a parliament and prime minister would best benefit the Princesses while ensuring the common pony had a voice,” Sunset summarized.
“If I agree to implement that, will you help?” Flurry asked bluntly.
“What?” Sunset laughed with a surprised huff.
“Is that what it takes to get the ELF to live up to its name?” Flurry rephrased. “You are the Equestrian Liberation Front, are you not?”
“Listen filly,” Limestone snarled, “we’ve been fighting long before you ever showed up with your flashy magic.”
“Judging from this packet,” Flurry tossed her head back, “you spent more time arguing over the style of uniform and flag.”
Sunset narrowed her eyes and leaned back fully against Twilight’s throne. “I’m sure this is lost on you, but logistics is necessary to win a war.”
“Which page concerns ammo, fuel, and rations?” Flurry asked back. “Is there a table of contents?”
“We can discuss that further at another time,” Fizzlepop said.
Flurry Heart exhaled and looked around the table and the ponies gathered around it. “Is this what the ELF was?” she asked softly. “A bunch of ponies bickering over every little move and decision?”
“We started a war from nothing!” Limestone shouted. “We gave up everything for it!”
“For what?” Flurry asked angrily. “A parliament? A nicer flag? Did you rush to Canterlot to save Twilight for a rubber stamp?”
“Twilight Sparkle understood that Equestria needed to change,” Sunset answered. Her horn glowed with a cyan spark. “All of us believed in her.”
“My aunt would write something like this,” Flurry regarded the packet, “but she wouldn’t let it stop her from doing the right thing.” She looked to Sunset. “You are not Twilight Sparkle,” Flurry Heart stated with glacial eyes. “You’re not even Starlight.”
Sunset’s lips curled into a sneer and she opened her mouth.
“Get out of her chair,” Flurry growled.
The amber unicorn glared at Flurry, then blinked after a long moment. Her horn dimmed. She pushed herself off the throne and stood next to it.
“Let’s make this easy,” Flurry said at a normal volume. “If I agree to this packet, will you help? Yes or no.”
Fizzlepop nodded after a long pause. “It will go a long way to easing concerns, Princess.”
Flurry nodded back. “No.”
The unicorn hesitated. “I’m sorry?”
“No,” Flurry repeated. “I am tired of begging ponies to do the right thing. I am tired of crawling into jungles and subway systems. I’m tired of making promises.”
“You think because of the way you were born,” Zecora stated, “that gives you the right to rule by horn?”
Flurry reared up and planted her forehooves on the table. “It’s not about me!” she shouted. The crystal briefly flashed under her boots, then faded. “I don’t see anypony else flying around! I don’t see anypony else doing anything but looking out for themselves!”
Limestone stood on her throne. “You arrogant little foal-”
“Shut up!” Flurry growled at her. “I wish somepony else was here doing this, but there’s nopony else. If Starlight or Twilight or Celestia or Luna showed up, I would gladly take their help to deal with this.”
“You expect us to follow you for nothing?” Sunset retorted.
“You’re the Equestrian Liberation Front!” Flurry snarled down at her. “I listened to every report! I drew the front lines on a map every day!” She jabbed a wing at Spike; Jadis and Thorax stepped back from the wingspan. “I begged him to take me to Manehattan!”
“Flurry…” Spike tried to interrupt.
The pink wing sagged down to the table. “Everything I’ve learned about the ELF makes me realize it was doomed from the start,” Flurry whickered. “That’s probably why Celestia never came, you know.”
“We fought with everything we had!” Sunset insisted.
“Really? I killed a griffon in his home,” Flurry replied in a soft, lost voice. “I blew up city blocks. I beat one of my own ponies to death. I killed a foal. I executed Sunburst.”
Sunset Shimmer’s ears pinned back. Spike walked around the table and knelt down, speaking into her ear with a low, quiet rumble. She turned her head away after Spike stood up.
“I made a deal with the Reich,” Flurry continued. “I’ve watched ponies die for me and hung ponies from lampposts.” She snorted. “I’ll fuck Grover if that’s what it takes.”
“It’d been a long day,” Barrel Roller said after a moment of silence. “We can talk tomorrow.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Flurry sighed. “This is my offer: Gallus will pardon you for the stolen equipment and the death of the Reich’s forces, and you will join my army. Make a route through the Everfree for the Reich’s tanks. There’s a plan to encircle Canterlot.”
“You presume much,” Zecora observed.
“I presume you can control the Everfree to some extent,” Flurry admitted. “Am I wrong?”
Zecora cleared her throat.
“After Canterlot is taken, I will consider your proposals,” Flurry promised. "I'm not wasting time on this now."
“That’s hardly a promise,” Limestone chuckled bitterly.
“You reject everything out of hoof, but expect us to follow your orders anyway?” Sunset questioned.
“I expect you to want to liberate Equestria,” Flurry countered. “I have a shield over a third of the continent and an army beneath it. I have the factories of the Empire and Nova Griffonia. You have a forest.”
“An impenetrable and indestructible forest,” Limestone rapped a hoof on the throne.
“Big words, Lime,” Rainbow tried to break the ice. “You’ve been reading a dictionary?”
“Actually, yes,” Limestone responded. “Half this castle was stocked with dictionaries.”
“You are free to sit in it,” Flurry shrugged her wings. “We’ll go around to the north. It’ll be a harder battle.” She pushed herself down from the shattered map. “Deny me all you want, but I am the last Princess. You can sit in these chairs and play pretend.”
Flurry stared down at the broken map. “Ponies like you broke Equestria. Ponies that couldn’t see past their own muzzles. Equestria is dying. There are millions of ponies still in the west and south. You argued over paperwork while they died.”
“That’s unfair,” Sandbar whispered, clearly hurt by the accusation.
“Yes or no?” Flurry asked. “Yes, you will help liberate Equestria; or no, you’d rather stand with the Hegemony?”
Sunset, Limestone, and Zecora inhaled with angry expressions.
“Yes,” Fizzlepop responded before they could.
They turned their glares on her.
The tall unicorn stood up from the throne and cracked her neck. “Corporal Sandbar,” Fizzlepop said flatly. “Escort the Princess to the prepared guest quarters. Spike, Rainbow Dash, Barrel Roller, and Duty Price, please stay to discuss the future of the ELF.”
Sandbar looked between the pink alicorn and the mulberry unicorn before moving towards one of the side doors. Jadis, Thorax, and Flurry Heart followed, trailed by Gallus and Gilda. Sandbar mutely led them up two flights of stairs to a side room and pushed open the door. The plain crystal room had been cleared out and several thin cots set up along two walls.
“We’ll need two more,” Jadis advised after counting.
Sandbar nodded and closed the door.
Flurry cocked an ear. Shouting reverberated through the floor. “Probably messed that up, huh?”
“You could’ve agreed,” Thorax said mildly, “and we would’ve spent the next week arguing over electoral districts or uniforms.”
Gallus and Gilda picked the two cots farthest from the door.
“I don’t want their help,” Jadis spat. The crystal pony paced, limping along with her rifle bouncing against her uniform. “Did they argue like this about us a thousand years ago? When my mother died praying for rescue, were they writing up reports?”
Thorax leaned against Flurry. She hugged him with a wing. “They did think you were speaking hyperbolically,” he whispered.
“What?”
“About, uh, Grover.”
Flurry looked to the side and inhaled. She pushed the breath out with a foreleg. “Yeah. That just slipped out.”
Thorax nuzzled her.
“Thank you, uncle. Shouldn’t you be down there?”
“I helped them where I could from Nova Griffonia,” Thorax explained, “but I was never officially with them. Smuggling weapons and supplies with codebreaking assistance, but that’s it.”
“That sounds like a lot.”
Thorax buzzed his wings. “Still lost.”
Flurry’s horn tingled as a bolt of powerful magic was discharged below them. She looked around the room. The muffled shouting had increased in volume; Spike’s draconic roar thundered and rattled the floor.
“Are they killing each other down there?” Jadis nickered.
“Sounds like a griffon argument,” Gilda chuckled. “We should’ve stayed.”
“Fizzlepop, Sunset, and Limestone are the three most stubborn ponies alive, discounting present company,” Thorax chittered. Flurry pushed him away with a slight smile.
“You think they’ll agree?” Flurry asked.
“Do you want my assessment as your uncle, or as a changeling?” Thorax asked back.
“Whichever one is more honest.”
Thorax smiled and showed off his fangs. “As a changeling, then. Spike and Barrel Roller have always hesitated, but too much has happened in the north for them to balk now. Duty Price and Rainbow Dash support you to the death.”
“I wasn’t worried about them,” Flurry responded.
Thorax nodded. “Limestone’s prideful. Being counted as a collaborator is too much to bear. She’ll argue with you and hate you, but she’ll fight. Sunset idolized Celestia. She wants her to come back; she thinks backing you is a betrayal.”
Flurry grit her teeth.
“Fizzlepop served the Storm King ruthlessly,” Thorax kept going, “but whatever concerns she has about you are irrelevant. She’s not going to let ponies die while she could do something.”
The changeling sighed. “Zecora’s hard to read. She fought hard during the war as a tank commander, but her Everfree Resistance wasn’t connected to the ELF. She did it before the uprising. I don’t think she cares about the ideals; I think she just wants Chrysalis and the Hegemony gone.”
“How?” Jadis asked. “You figure that all out during the meeting?”
“It’s just a guess,” Thorax admitted, “but I’m pretty good at my job.”
“I thought you said you weren’t a very good changeling?” Jadis laughed.
“I got better at it over the years,” Thorax responded.
The floor rumbled again.
Flurry levitated her saddlebags over to a cot and undressed. She folded her uniform up carefully, noting another hole in the hind-left pantleg. I really need to get this repaired. The short purple and blue tuft of her tail swished thoughtlessly as she laid on the bed; she kept the crystal band on.
Thorax laid down and stared at the ceiling. Jadis unbuttoned her uniform, but kept it on for the pockets and ammo clips. Her rifle laid beside her bed. Flurry levitated over the last set of stale sandwiches while the trio listened to the argument continue below them. There was an occasional crackle of magic.
Gallus and Gilda laid on the beds. Thankfully, they weren't weird about the ponies undressing. Gallus took off his coat with a sigh, leaving his undershirt on. "Sometimes, I really miss Equestria and its casual nudity."
“Kemerskai and the Changelings, huh?” Flurry asked Gallus. He rubbed a claw on the back of his neck and sighed.
“I am aware,” Gallus admitted slowly, “that it seems unlikely.”
“He was open to discussions with Chrysalis,” Flurry said ruefully.
Gallus perked up. “If you happen to have evidence of this, I would be very grateful if you shared it.”
Thorax rolled over on his bed.
Flurry bit her lip. “I might have acted preemptively.”
“Ah.” Gallus clacked his beak. “Just so.”
“Dunno why Grover bothered,” Gilda flapped her wings from her bed. “Nothing like a war against someone else to bring griffons together.”
A few minutes after the shouting stopped, there was a knock on the door. Spike and Fizzlepop entered. The mare’s windswept mane was heavily singed and her scarred eye was black from a bruise. Spike looked fine.
“Tempest Shadow,” Flurry nodded. She flapped her wings and hopped off the cot.
“Please,” the mare cringed, “I prefer Fizzlepop, Princess.”
“Sorry. General Berrytwist.”
“After some discussion,” Fizzlepop downplayed whatever happened downstairs, “the ELF has decided to support you. We’ll send word to the remaining cells in the west.”
“Is everypony alright?” Flurry asked.
“Colonel Shimmer has a concussion,” Spike answered. “That’s the worst injury.”
“What happened?”
“I headbutted her,” Fizzlepop said bluntly.
Flurry turned her head away and suppressed a smirk.
Fizzlepop closed her eyes. “Some will never support this decision. They will resist as the Reich advances. They might even fight us.”
“I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that,” Spike added. “If we can take Canterlot, you will officially be the Princess of Equestria.” The dragon folded his arms and stared down at Flurry. “That means paperwork.”
“I’ll look at the packet,” Flurry sighed. “Am I that bad? I thought ponies didn't even know who I was.”
“It’s not about you,” Gallus said from his cot. “It’s about the Reich. Ponies and griffons have always quarreled.”
“We’re fighting together,” Flurry scoffed. “Aquileia’s proof it can work.”
“I’m not sure a hotbed of revolution and tyrannical monarchies is a good example,” Gilda snarked.
“I’m sure we’ll start to see The Protocols of the Elders of Griffonstone get passed around, just like the Riverlands,” Gallus agreed.
Gilda squawked in laughter. “Gruff loved to read that Maar-damned thing!”
“Loved to make fun of it,” Gallus replied. He pitched his voice into a low rasp. “If griffons controlled all the banks, Griffonstone wouldn’t be the wingpit of Griffonia!”
Gilda cackled at the impression.
The ponies and dragon were utterly lost. “I’ll explain later,” Thorax promised.
“We’ll get you a map tomorrow morning,” Fizzlepop recovered. “Draw out some of the trails. We can make a few areas relatively safe, like the castle and Ponyville, but it’ll be slow moving, especially for tanks. There’s a lot of rules about the vines.”
Gallus stopped smiling. “I can draft up a pardon and overall agreement to cease hostilities, unless you happened to have some prisoners of ours?”
Fizzlepop shook her head.
“The scouts had orders not to fire on ponies first,” Gallus rebuked the unicorn. “I would have believed that lie if it was one of our greener garrisons, but not the recon units.”
The unicorn scuffed a hoof on the floor. “I am sorry.”
Gallus sighed. “I’ll get started.”
“We’ll share some drinks downstairs,” Spike said. “Alcohol is the cause and solution to arguments.”
“Okay,” Flurry agreed.
“Nope,” Spike quipped. “Too young, little miss alicorn.”
Flurry Heart rolled her eyes. She returned to the cot.
“Are griffons invited?” Gilda asked.
“Rainbow insisted,” Fizzlepop answered.
“We’ll toast our dead soldiers.” Gilda hopped down from the cot. “See if that starts a fight. Rainbow will back me up.”
“I’m down for that,” Gallus agreed. “Bet Sandbar will help. Even if he killed them.”
Fizzlepop groaned and left the doorway. Spike lingered for a moment. “Thorax?”
“Unless it’s spiked with love, no point,” Thorax shrugged a gossamer wing.
“I’ll stay with the Princess,” Jadis stated.
Flurry laid her head down on her forelegs. “I fight in wars, but I can’t drink?”
“The last thing anyone wants is a drunken alicorn,” Thorax chittered. “You’d fly to the Changeling Lands with a lampshade on your head to fight Chrysalis.”
Flurry considered the image. “Probably go argue with Grover,” she said instead.
“Your mother held her alcohol better than Celestia and Luna combined,” Spike revealed, “but Twilight and your father were lightweights.”
Flurry laughed.
Spike waited until she stopped. “I’m sorry about the ELF,” he muttered. “Starlight’s considered missing. Sunset and Fizzlepop argue about who should step down if she comes back, or maybe form a triumvirate.”
“She’s dead, Spike,” Flurry said in a soft voice.
Spike took a deep breath and his claw clenched the doorframe. “Starlight and Trixie argued about everything,” he said wistfully, “but they were the only thing holding it all together. Starlight knew it wouldn’t last; she flung everything at Canterlot. She believed getting Twilight back would fix Equestria.”
Flurry looked away.
“Starlight was a good pony,” Spike mumbled, “but she never considered bringing you to Manehattan.” His wings brushed against the doorframe. “She was focused on Equestria, not the Crystal Empire.”
“Of course they gave up on us,” Jadis sighed.
“Arctic Lily had support,” Flurry pointed out.
“She reached out to the ELF,” Thorax disagreed. “Not the other way around.”
“Starlight didn’t think anypony would rally around a fourteen-year-old filly,” Spike interrupted. “Trixie told me to bring you, if you wanted to go. It caused an argument.”
Flurry stared at the dragon with her icy blue eyes. “I wanted to go,” she whispered.
“I trusted Starlight more,” Spike explained, “and I wanted you to be safe.”
“We would’ve had to smuggle you out of the country,” Thorax assured the alicorn. “It would’ve caused riots in Nova Griffonia from the ponies.”
“We would’ve started a civil war,” Jadis agreed.
“Neither of them would’ve wanted you to fight,” Spike added. “You being there wouldn’t have changed anything.”
Flurry laid her head back down on her forelegs. “I’d like to be alone,” she requested. “You should go enjoy the party. Or fight. Go back up Gallus if something starts.”
“I’m sorry,” Spike apologized, then slowly closed the door.
Thorax pushed his cot up against Flurry’s, then climbed atop it again. Flurry Heart laid on her side. She tried to imagine what it would have been like to see Manehattan during the uprising, but could only see shadowy ponies bickering around a table.
There was another ELF flag on the wall of the room; it was the squarer one, but it still had the sun and moon. Not my mother's mark. Or mine. Flurry cried quietly. Thorax softly sang in his own, lilting language while Jadis watched the door.
The tanks rumbled forward in a single-file line. With sleek black plating and large, menacing turrets, their sole purpose was to destroy other tanks. A heavy machinegun was installed at the hatch on the turret. Several additional gunports stuck out the sides. A few Reich soldiers rode atop the tanks with rifles clutched in claws, scanning the trees with wary eyes.
The ELF veterans marking the makeshift road stared stonily up at the tanks as they passed. Several checkpoints had been setup with the assistance of the Princess' newest troops. A few veterans openly slung Reich rifles and gear at their sides, despite strict orders to stow their pilfered material out of sight. The Reichsarmee did not rise to the provocation. The griffons clacked their beaks at the ponies and looked away.
Several small paths through the Everfree had been cleared of vines, but the tanks were restricted to moving through Ponyville on an old road and out of the valley. Several dozen waited in a rough clearing behind Ponyville, where Sweet Apple Acres once stood. The vines had been hacked and burned away, and the brush cleared.
Zecora had provided a chemical concoction of greenish ooze that burned the foliage like acid and kept it back. Griffonian knights coated their swords in it to stab any wandering vines around the parked vehicles. Flurry Heart had an excellent view on a balcony in Twilight’s castle, where she stretched her wings and regarded the lumbering tanks with a furrowed muzzle.
“They don’t seem to move very fast,” the alicorn commented to the other occupant of the balcony. “What are they called?”
“They are named Grendel after an old northern legend,” Field Marshal Bronzetail responded. “A great, vicious beast of a griffon slain by a heroic pony of the north.”
Flurry raised a brow. “You named your tanks after someone that died to a pony?”
“There are two models down there, actually,” Bronzetail dodged the question. He pointed a wing at a sleeker tank with a wider barrel. “Those are the Gunnhildur, named after the mother of Grover the Great.”
“Are those faster?” Flurry asked. The slightly smaller tank looked to be struggling just as much as the others.
“The terrain is awful,” Field Marshal Bronzetail shrugged a wing. “Once we are out of the valleys and forest, their pace will pick up significantly. There is also the matter of stealth. We must move slow, and the field scouts ahead need to report back.”
“Colonel Shimmer is working with Thorax to provide coverage,” Flurry assured the griffon.
“Forgive me, Princess,” Bronzetail apologized, “but I trust the Aquileian mage units more.”
“You can trust them more, but they aren’t more effective.” Flurry’s ear twitched as she listened to the rumbling from below the castle. “This isn’t very stealthy.”
“We’ve begun a bombing campaign to the southwest to divert attention,” Bronzetail explained. “We’re better in the sky, but they have more planes.”
“You’re saying a lot of griffons are dying as a distraction,” Flurry filled in.
“Yes,” Bronzetail admitted. “War is misdirection. Regardless, we must wear down their air force.”
“War is a lot of things,” Flurry snorted. The Reich has to leave too much behind in Griffonia against the River Federation. She spotted a rainbow contrail whirling above a far section of the forest. It was difficult to see in the dark. Her horn glowed and her eyes turned gold. Bronzetail performed a double-take at her muzzle.
Rainbow Dash dipped down below the tree line, but she was too far away to make out any further details. She didn’t reappear after a moment, which meant she either found another ‘clue’ or had stumbled into a Timberwolf den. Again.
Flurry Heart’s eyes returned to their icy blue. “Just Rainbow,” she said to Bronzetail. “Let’s see how Gallus is doing with Tempest.”
“The Storm King’s Right Hoof?” Bronzetail asked. “She introduced herself as Fizzlepop.”
“Right,” Flurry groaned. She turned around and trotted back into the castle proper. The rumbling from the tanks was immediately muted by the crystal walls. Bronzetail followed her at a respectful distance, wary of Jadis’ hard stare as she limped along.
“When will your forces attack?” Flurry asked over her shoulder. Her horn glowed as she idly cast the changeling detection spell, then checked for listening spells.
“As soon as we are in position, which I am not at liberty to say,” Bronzetail answered.
“If you encircle Canterlot, we’re not prepared to hold Mount Canterhorn,” Flurry countered. “Your army is moving faster than mine. We are still collecting equipment and ponypower near Fillydelphia.”
“We can hold the encirclement with several of the knight banners,” Bronzetail dismissed with a wave of his claw. “The tanks can support it. They will need to turn and face the plains before a counterattack. That is where your army will take over.”
“You’re counting on the Changelings coming to your line,” Flurry remarked. “Are you going to have time to set up a defense?”
“We are not defending,” Bronzetail scoffed. “We meet them on the Alicorn Sisters Plain.”
“It’s called the Celestial Plain,” Flurry corrected.
“Not on our maps.”
“It was named after Celestia for a thousand years,” Flurry nickered with a shake of her head. The purple band on her head dazzled in the lights of the hallway. “Renaming it after Luna’s return was ceremonial; half the local signs still call it the Celestial Plain.”
“How welcoming for the Nightmare,” Bronzetail squawked. “Ponies just let that Maar-touched mare back into government?”
“Wasn’t the worst decision,” Flurry reflected. “Luna helped modernize the military.”
“She was a thousand years behind,” Bronzetail said flatly.
“Yeah,” Flurry smiled sardonically, “but so was the army.” She sidled down a staircase, following the muted sounds of a vicious argument. A knight and an ELF soldier traded angry growls on either side of a door to a conference room, probably one of Twilight’s many libraries. The sentries saluted their respective leader.
The pegasus stomped a hoof half-heartedly at Flurry Heart, while the Reich soldier clasped a claw to his chest at Bronzetail. Flurry tilted her head at the green pegasus. “You could at least pretend to like me better in front of the Reich,” she said in Equestrian.
The mare’s ears pinned back and she stomped her hoof again, slightly harder. Jadis scowled at the attempt. "I can give a better stomp with my bad hoof."
Flurry rolled her eyes and pushed open the door with a flick of her horn. Gallus, Limestone, and Fizzlepop were in the middle of a vicious argument, complete with a crackling horn and scattered papers around a large table. Several torn and wadded up scraps sprawled across the floor.
Limestone reared up and flung her hooves down onto the table. “You expect a bunch of chickens-”
“I see our alliance is getting along,” Flurry interrupted in a grating, high-pitched voice. “You make your Princess proud.”
Limestone disengaged with a heavy snort.
Flurry turned to Gallus and spoke in her normal tone. “Have we at least agreed on the pardons?”
“Yes, Princess,” the blue griffon sighed. “The other terms are…elusive.”
“What do you want?”
“The Castle of the Two Sisters will make an excellent command center for the battle ahead.”
“It’s in the middle of a forsaken forest,” Flurry stated dryly.
“But it is close to enough to receive and issue orders promptly,” Bronzetail pointed out. “The Kaiser would like the command staff stationed there.”
“Fine,” Flurry shrugged. “You’re going to need engineers to build a proper bridge, unless you just want to always fly over the gorge.”
“Princess!” Fizzlepop exclaimed. “We’ve held that castle for years! It’s our main stockpile!”
Flurry considered her point. “You will help us move our supplies first. Bring them to Ponyville. The castle and school have room.”
“Not enough!” Fizzlepop shouted.
“You will help us build more storage areas around the castle,” Flurry added.
“We are not leaving the castle!” Fizzlepop interrupted.
Gallus and Bronzetail shared an uncertain look, then nodded together at Flurry.
Flurry Heart faced the unicorn. Fizzlepop Berrytwist was tall enough to be eye-level to the alicorn. “Give the inventories to Spike,” the Princess ordered.
“The castle has been our base of operations for years,” Fizzlepop tried in a conciliatory tone, weakened by Limestone baring her teeth next to her. “We do not wish to abandon it.”
“It is being appropriated, not abandoned,” Flurry answered. “It was abandoned for a thousand years. This is temporary.” She looked over her shoulder with a mild icy glare at Gallus. He nodded quickly. “We are trading up. I see no reason why Twilight’s castle cannot be our center of operations.”
“They don’t deserve it,” Limestone retorted.
Flurry laughed. “Deserve a ruin? You put more faith in that place than Celestia ever did.”
“How would you like it if they wanted to set up shop in your pretty Crystal Palace?” Limestone asked venomously.
“Considering I debated blowing it up…” Flurry let the statement hang in the air. “I would have no problem with it. It is but a place, General Pie.”
Limestone sat down heavily and crossed her forelegs. “Whatever.”
“Princess,” Fizzlepop tried one last time, “many of the veterans from Zecora’s band will not like this decision.”
“What does Zecora think?”
“Do as you will; I will not die on this hill,” Gallus chuckled.
“There’s your answer,” Flurry waved a wing. “We have to cooperate.”
Fizzlepop exhaled and sat down hard on her chair. She gripped a pencil in her teeth before rapidly making corrections to a piece of paper. It was already more scribbles than agreement.
“Field Marshal,” Flurry addressed Bronzetail with a slight bob of her head.
Bronzetail sat beside Gallus in an unoccupied stool. He set his cap down on a few sheets of crumbled paper and ran a claw through his head feathers. “When do you plan on returning our equipment?”
“We don’t,” Limestone admitted with a sharp smile.
“What equipment?” Fizzlepop shrugged a hoof.
“The guns that your soldiers flaunt-”
Flurry cleared her throat.
“Damn it to Maar,” Bronzetail squawked in Herzlander. “Fine,” he spat in Equestrian. “Moving on, how many forestry brigades can the earth ponies muster? We need the south trail expanded.”
Flurry left the room before it devolved into another argument. Her wings twitched against her sides. Jadis fell behind the alicorn's rapid pace. I need to find Spike so he can moderate this. Flurry eyed the ELF veterans avoiding eye contact with the pink alicorn. She walked through the castle until she found a crystal pony guarding a door. The light brown stallion stomped his hoof three times.
Flurry stopped before him. “Hello,” she smiled.
“Princess,” the stallion breathed out reverentially with wide eyes. His voice was softer than she thought it would be. Purple uniform makes him look older.
“Have you seen Sir Spike?” Flurry asked casually.
The stallion froze, then his eyes began to water. “I have not, Princess.”
“Oh,” Flurry said, disappointed. “Thanks.”
“I am sorry,” he rasped. “Forgive me. I have failed you.”
“You’re, uh, fine,” Flurry stumbled over her words. “Nothing to forgive.”
He bit his lip and nodded, stomping his hoof three times again.
Flurry slowly backed away, then moved down a staircase to the front lobby. She blinked several times and missed a step, having to flare her wings out to recover her balance. Flurry blushed in embarrassment, but the staircase was deserted. She shook her head and refocused.
She found Spike outside the interior double doors to the Map Room. He was in his monogramed white shirt and visibly hesitant, skipping through several papers in his claws. The dragon’s tail coil around a pant leg.
“Spike?” Flurry asked. “What’s up?”
“Princess, where are your guards?” Spike asked cautiously.
Flurry frowned and jabbed a wing at the four other ponies in the small lobby. Three stomped their hooves thrice, then glared at the ELF unicorn that did not. Her ears pinned back and she offered three weak stomps.
“I asked Jadis to follow you,” Spike replied.
Flurry groaned. “She’s got a bad hoof, Spike. She can’t follow me around everywhere, no matter how much she wants to.” She gave the unicorn a side-eye. “Are you afraid one of my soldiers is going to shoot me?”
“The decision was not unanimous with everypony in the ELF,” Spike explained. He looked at the guards, then crouched down and beckoned Flurry to approached with a claw. He tucked the papers under his other arm.
Flurry hesitated and cast the detection spell. It washed over the room and prickled the guards’ fur. Spike smirked and scuffed a scale. “I approve of the paranoia,” the dragon admitted with a smile, “but no changeling can be this handsome.” He rubbed his claw on his chin.
Flurry rolled her eyes and approached. Spike waved his claw in a circle and cupped his palm. The alicorn’s horn glowed and a small bubble enveloped them. The guards had to shuffle against the walls before it contracted.
“You’re asking for a lot of security here,” Flurry remarked.
“A group tried to raid the castle’s armory,” Spike revealed. “The Castle of the Two Sisters, not this one. Almost two dozen ponies.”
Flurry’s stomach dropped. “When?”
“Last night,” Spike answered. “During a shift change, but the new shift arrived early. It got bloody. A couple deaths.”
Flurry frowned. “How was it timed? They had help.”
Spike smiled sadly. “Thorax taught you well, didn’t he? He is…” the dragon paused. “Thorax is dealing with the survivors.”
“Not too different from running a crime syndicate, huh?” Flurry snorted. “Does he think anypony high up is involved?”
“Everypony’s clear,” Spike assured her, “but they had help.”
“I just told the Reich they could have the castle,” Flurry groaned. “Thorax can do anything he needs to do to make sure it’s a smooth transition. What else?”
“Your armor is inbound.”
“My what?”
“Your armor,” Spike repeated with a raised brow. “The heavy crystal plate that Obsidian made.” He flicked her forehead with a claw, bumping the crystal band. Flurry scrunched her muzzle.
“Alright,” Flurry said. Her horn began to glow.
“Wait,” Spike said quickly. “One more thing.”
Flurry looked to the four guards. The shield was transparent, but they couldn’t hear them. That didn’t stop them from openly staring.
“Yes?” Flurry prompted the dragon.
“I need you to talk to Rainbow,” Spike sighed. “She just got back from another excursion.”
“Is she injured?”
“She bruised a hock on a hard landing,” Spike scoffed. “Got Timberwolf sap stuck in her metal feathers.”
“It’s Rainbow,” Flurry laughed. “I’ll try to tell her to be more careful.”
Spike closed his eyes. “I need you to tell her to stop.”
Flurry swallowed. “W-what?”
“Planes are incoming from Fillydelphia,” Spike said softly. “We had a plan to scrape Cloudsdale together into an airbase, and we’re already a week behind.”
Flurry didn’t respond.
“She’s in charge of our air force,” Spike continued, “and against all odds, she’s done a good job. She would’ve been Spitfire’s successor, if the Wonderbolts still existed.”
“And if Spitfire survived,” Flurry added in a low voice.
“Yeah,” Spike sighed. “She already blew me off. And Gilda.”
“I’m not telling her to stop looking for Fluttershy,” Flurry rebuked the dragon. “She said she’s close.”
“How many times has she told you that?”
Flurry puffed out her cheeks, then deflated. “Three.”
“She’s told me four times,” Spike concurred. He laid a claw on the alicorn’s shoulder and rubbed the frayed jacket softly. “You are her Princess.”
Flurry blinked heavily. “Where is she?”
Spike jerked his head beyond the shield. “In her throne.”
Flurry Heart dispelled the shield, and the muffled sounds of ponies trotting through the castle returned. The guards conspicuously looked away. “You mind refereeing for Limestone and Gallus?” Flurry asked.
“No,” Spike snorted a small puff of smoke. “He’ll need the help.” The dragon walked to the staircase and paused, looking back over his shoulder. Flurry nodded to him and entered the Map Room.
Rainbow Dash was hunched in her throne, scrubbing at her metal wing with a cloth. The entire harness and wing was detached, stretched out on the broken table with greenish sap staining the sharp feathers. Her other wing flared and the feathers curled while she ran a large cloth down the prosthetic.
She looked up at the sound of the doors closing. Rainbow’s eyes were bloodshot and dark bags hung under them. “Hey!” she yawned and waved her right wing. “Princess, what’s goin’ on?”
“Gallus is still negotiating with Tempest.”
“Fizzlepop,” Rainbow chuckled.
Flurry’s tail tried to snap under her skirt in agitation. “Whatever.”
“I think Tempest is cooler,” Rainbow admitted. She yawned again, set the cloth down, and chugged a large mug of coffee. She stuck her tongue out.
“Bad coffee?” Flurry asked and trotted over to Rainbow’s throne.
“It’s cold,” Rainbow coughed.
Flurry enveloped the mug in her magic and cast a mild warming spell. She tried not to put too much power into it. Rainbow bumped the mug with a hoof and squinted into it. “You didn’t make it boil again.”
“That was one time,” Flurry defended herself.
“You’re lucky it was Spike drinking it,” Rainbow countered. She flailed a hoof over at Twilight’s throne. “Have a seat.”
Flurry stared at it and breathed heavily. “I’ll stand.”
“You have more right to that throne than Sunset ever did,” Rainbow stated flatly. “She disappears for years and scampers up right after the war started?” the pegasus snorted. “I figured she was a spy.”
“Didn’t you think Twilight was a spy when you first met?”
“And it made sense!” Rainbow answered. “Twilight and Nightmare? Far too much of a coincidence.”
“All of our names are too coincidental,” Flurry retorted.
“Yeah, well dad wanted to name me Speed Racer, but mom won the coin toss.”
Rainbow resumed scrubbing the metal wing. Flurry watched the small stub of her left wing joint twitch and spasm; it moved in time with her right wing. “I never asked: was it amputated, or just cut off?”
“My wing?” Rainbow asked in clarification. “The Jaeger cut real deep. I had to finish the job. Waited until the medical tent to pass out.”
“I’m sorry.”
Rainbow clicked her tongue. “You shoulda been there.” Her eyes widened and she whipped her head to Flurry. “Not that I meant it was your fault! Starlight and Spike should’ve let you come; we would’ve won Canterlot.”
“The ELF didn’t lose at Canterlot,” Flurry replied. “We lost at the Celestial Plain. We couldn’t beat the tanks back.”
“Looks like we got bird steel to hide behind now,” Rainbow admitted. “Saw a lot of them rumbling through. Hope they’re far enough away from Flutters. She was always a little timid around them.” Rainbow’s eyes crinkled. “Not around Tank, though. She loved that tortoise. He’s probably still with her, you know? They live a long time.”
Flurry shuffled her hooves. “Rainbow, we had a plan with Cloudsdale, right?”
“I’ll get right on it,” Rainbow promised. “Flutters can help. I know I’m behind.”
Flurry bit her lip. “I didn’t want to leave Aquileia. Not until I found my father. I didn’t want to leave his body in a ditch.”
“Yeah,” Rainbow said shortly. “Your father was dead.” She scrubbed at the feathers harder. “She’s not dead.”
“I still left. Because it was important to leave.”
“She’s not dead,” Rainbow repeated. “The animals are keeping away from the supply lines. I got the area narrowed down. Just a few more days.”
“You’ve said that before.”
“I am not leaving her!” Rainbow snarled. She pressed down hard enough with the cloth that the wing screeched across the crystal table. A few feathers tore through and nearly sliced her hooves.
Flurry stood up straight. “Fluttershy knows you’re here. She knows exactly where you are.”
“Don’t give me that shit,” Rainbow growled. “You sound just like Lime. Flutters isn’t a coward. She’s not. That asshole Discord would agree. When he tried to leave with her, she screamed at him with swears even I didn’t know about. He was the coward, not her.”
Flurry licked her lips. “Did you see her during the uprising?”
“No,” Rainbow admitted, “but everypony knew she was in the Everfree. Zecora saw her a few times, helping the animals with their injuries from attacking the bugs.”
“She knows we’re all here,” Flurry rephrased. “We’re not going to find her.”
“Shut up.”
“She doesn’t want to be found.”
“She alive,” the pegasus rasped. “I know she is.”
“I believe you,” Flurry said, “but she isn’t here.”
“T-there’s spells to find her,” Rainbow tried. “Help me.”
“Detection spells can’t differentiate lifeforms that specifically,” Flurry shook her head. “It’s a forest, Rainbow. A big one. It’ll take you years.”
“I’ll pull the air wings to help. I should’ve already done it.”
“No,” Flurry countered. “I’m not letting you fly pegasi ragged to look for Fluttershy.” The alicorn extended her wings. “I need you focused on this. There’s a battle coming.”
“She can help,” Rainbow spat. “She’s more important!”
You’re going to make me say it. Flurry inhaled. “No. Rainbow, she isn’t.”
Rainbow’s muzzle spasmed into a wild snarl. She looked at the throne with three pink butterflies. Her lips trembled. “I was wrong," she rasped. "You don’t deserve Twilight’s throne.”
Flurry looked over at the throne with a star carved onto it. You’re right. “You have a duty to everypony in Equestria to fight this war. A duty you’ve neglected, wasting time trying to find a single mare.”
“And what about my duty to my friend?” Rainbow shouted. “My oldest friend, huh? What about her!? Am I supposed to leave her out here!?”
“Yes!” Flurry’s horn glowed and she warded the room, cutting off the outside. “Fluttershy knows you are here. If she has eyes, she’s seen you flying over.”
Rainbow shook her head. “I haven’t gone over every area.”
“And how long is that going to take?” Flurry asked. “Another day? Like the last time you told me? You know that is an excuse.”
“I don’t give up on my friends.”
“Okay,” Flurry sighed. Her voice returned to normal. “Give me your armband.”
Rainbow glanced to her flight jacket. The purple Imperial Snowflake was wrapped around her right foreleg. “What?” she asked softly.
“You cannot fulfill your duties as Air Marshal,” Flurry stated. “Name your replacement.”
Rainbow breathed in and out. She refused to look up at the alicorn across the table.
“I would suggest a subordinate that’s already familiar with our plans,” Flurry continued. “Otherwise, I am ordering you to proceed with Cloudsdale. Immediately.”
“Y-you’re really going to make me choose?” Rainbow sniffled. She scrubbed at her muzzle with a hoof.
“Yes. The same choice my mother and father made.” Flurry folded her wings back against her side. “And the same choice I made. My family or my throne.”
Rainbow reached down with her muzzle and bit the armband. She tugged on it half-heartedly with tears in her magenta eyes. The pegasus grit her teeth, summoning all of her resolve; she glared at Flurry with one narrowed eye.
Flurry watched with her own tears. “I’m sorry, Rainbow.”
Rainbow let go, and the armband stayed. “Fuck you, Flurry,” she sobbed. She slumped down onto the table and covered her head.
Princess Flurry Heart kept the wards up until Rainbow stopped crying. She stayed back and waited quietly. The pegasus eventually wiped her snotty muzzle on her sleeve and leaned back in her throne.
“There’s one place I haven’t looked yet,” Rainbow sniffed. “I want you to come. You can bring Spike and Gallus.”
Flurry shook her head. “Rainbow…”
“You need to see it anyway,” Rainbow insisted. “Please. I’ll get back to work after we go.”
“When do you want to leave?” Flurry agreed with a low sigh.
“Once I’m done cleaning the gunk out,” Rainbow hiccupped. She began scrubbing the metal wing again with the torn, stained cloth. “If Gallus and Spike aren’t busy.”
Flurry slowly walked out of the room. She stopped at the doors. “Rainbow,” Flurry began, “I’m sure Fluttershy-”
“Please,” Rainbow whickered, “don’t talk about her ever again.”
Flurry bit her lip. “Okay.” She left without another word.
Rainbow Dash glided over the Everfree at a surprisingly slow pace. For once, Flurry had no trouble keeping up with the pegasus. Rainbow’s mohawk swayed in the wind. The mare scanned over the trees with her goggles, but flew straight in one direction from the castle.
Spike and Gallus lingered behind them; the dragon had elected to grab a heavy machine gun just to be safe. The weight didn’t encumber him at all. Gallus was doubtlessly armed with a pistol under his black long coat, but Flurry had never seen him with a firearm.
Flurry Heart nibbled on her lip. The sun had set an hour ago, and the Everfree was dark. Her ears prickled at the sounds of distant tanks crunching through the foliage. A few beams and soft lights illuminated the prospective trails below them. Griffon challenges rang out from the ground at the four fliers, and Gallus occasionally shouted down a counter-sign at the Reich scouts. No one tried to take a pot-shot at the group.
The Castle of the Two Sisters soon appeared out of the gloomy forest, with a few lights on the ground level, but Rainbow banked away from it. Flurry looked over her shoulder at Spike. The dragon jerked his head forward, indicating to trust Rainbow's direction. Where are we going?
Rainbow finally stopped and pumped a hoof. “Down here,” she said, motioning to a thick canopy of branches. She carefully landed on a branch and began shimming through them, using her metal wing to hack a larger opening. Flurry and Gallus traded an uncertain look.
“Wait,” Spike called out to Flurry. “I’ll make a hole.” The dragon folded his wings and slammed through the treetops, breaking through several branches. He landed out of sight, and a rumbling groan echoed back up to the alicorn and the griffon peering through the hole.
Flurry slowly drifted down with erratic flaps. Spike was sitting at the base of a tree, clawing sap off his scales. Gallus landed beside her. “You alright?” he asked the dragon.
“Fine,” Spike grumbled. He snorted a jet of flame onto his arm, igniting the sap. He held his flaming arm up and looked around with the makeshift torch.
Flurry looked at the trees, then to Rainbow Dash. “We’re pretty close to the castle,” she began.
Rainbow nodded and began walking.
The alicorn chewed on her cheek for a moment. “I’m sure she would’ve been spotted.”
“I’m not here for her,” Rainbow said quietly. “Come on.”
“Why did you want me to come?” Gallus asked. “I distinctly remember passing Professor Dash’s Awesome Class.”
“You’ve been where we're going before,” Spike answered. “You want to go back to Fizzlepop and Limestone?”
“Good point,” Gallus conceded, then followed on paws and claws. “But I don’t remember wandering through the forest.”
“It’s not about the forest,” Rainbow called back from somewhere ahead. “Found it.”
Flurry summoned a shield in front of her to push through the low branches; she stopped beside Rainbow and stared down into a gorge. Stairs had been carved into the rockface, leading to the bottom.
The pegasus pulled her flight goggles down with a hoof and left them around her neck. “Surprised me the bugs never found this place,” she sighed.
Flurry blinked. “Where are we?”
“You’ve never been here,” Rainbow shrugged her wing. “It was in the Friendship Journal.”
Flurry thought about it and began to laugh. “The Mirror Pool, right?”
“Nah,” Rainbow denied. “We collapsed that cave with a hunk of explosives. Last thing anypony needed was two versions of Chrysalis.”
“They would have killed each other.”
Rainbow considered it, and chuckled softly. “True.”
Spike and Gallus followed Flurry’s path. “I figured you were heading here,” the dragon commented.
Gallus’ eyes narrowed at the gorge. His wings sagged. “Come on, really?”
“What?” Flurry asked over her left wing.
Gallus shook his head. “You could’ve gotten Sandbar for this,” he said to Rainbow.
“Flying makes better time,” Rainbow replied.
“What?” Flurry repeated. She looked between the other three. “What’s so important about this place?”
Rainbow smirked and carefully trotted down the stairs. Flurry looked to the open sky. “We couldn’t have flown directly here?” she scoffed.
“I don’t wanna be followed,” Rainbow answered. "Better to keep this place forgotten."
Rainbow, Flurry, Gallus, and Spike descended the roughly carved stairs into the gorge below. Vines had grown over most of the rocky outcroppings and covered the ground. They carefully hopped over them with flapping wings. Rainbow led them to a small crack in the side of a weathered outcrop.
“Huh,” Rainbow hummed. “Smaller entrance.”
“Not a bad thing,” Spike commented.
“No,” Rainbow shook her head, “but I don’t remember the ELF trying to collapse the cave, do you?”
“Could’ve been a bombing run,” Spike offered. He craned his neck to look at the top of the gorge. "Doesn't look disturbed, though."
“Please,” Flurry pleaded, “can someone tell me why we’re here?”
Spike flourished his smoldering claw at the cave entrance. “The Tree of Harmony awaits. The Changelings could never find it.”
“Do you blame them?” Gallus retorted, flicking a claw at the opening in imitation.
Flurry slowly turned her head back to the cave entrance. Gray rocks had split open vertically to form the mouth of the cave. She wrinkled her nose. It was damp and smelled a bit musty. A thin trickle of water leaked from somewhere inside the cave to the mouth, spilling down into the ravine.
“Really?” Flurry deadpanned.
“What?” Spike asked back. He hefted the machinegun and shook his claw.
“This isn’t a prank?” Flurry questioned.
“I’m not in the mood for pranks,” Rainbow muttered. She pulled a flashlight out and clicked it on. The crystal inside glowed bright blue; the pegasus affixed the light to a shoulder-strap on her flight jacket before heading inside the cave.
Flurry exhaled and followed her. “I’m sorry, Rainbow,” she called ahead. Rainbow’s tail bobbed in acknowledgement, but the mare kept the flashlight ahead.
“Hey,” Gallus interrupted from behind Flurry. “So, uh, things get really weird in here.”
“Weird how?” Flurry questioned. Her horn glowed as she provided a ball of light just above the tip of her horn.
“Just stay together,” Spike rumbled. He walked backwards, staring at the cave entrance. His head bumped a stalactite and broke the tip off. The dragon grumbled and turned back around. “We’ll be fine.”
“Yeah,” Gallus squawked. “Just don’t be surprised if you see stuff.” The blue griffon stopped dead at a patch of light from an opening in the ceiling. Flurry had stepped through it without issue, but Gallus reached out a shaking claw and waved his talons through the light. He looked around warily.
Flurry stared with him at the cave walls. “What?”
“Stupid tree,” Gallus scoffed. “If you see Grover the Great or something, call out.”
“What about Princess Amore?” Flurry whickered. Gallus didn’t hear her, too preoccupied with avoiding pools of light.
Despite their wariness, the path was straight. Rainbow’s wings twitched at the head of the group. Flurry’s horn began to tingle a moment later.
“Easier than I expected,” Gallus hummed. Rainbow dipped around an alcove, then stopped with flared wings.
Flurry Heart squeezed through and halted at the sight ahead. The cavern was massive; the walls glittered with large purple crystals that hummed with inner light. The Tree of Harmony stood proudly in the center of the cavern, made of bright blue crystal. Like the Crystal Heart, Flurry thought. The alicorn could feel the magic saturating the room. Her horn dimmed; the tree itself glowed bright enough to light the cave.
The tree stretched tall with five major crystal branches. Each branch had its own gem embedded inside. Flurry knew the shapes without truly looking at them: a gem, a lightning bolt, a butterfly, an apple, and a balloon. The gems thrummed with energy that flowed up and down the tree, pulsing like a heartbeat. The roots of the tree curled through the ground, carving into the cavern walls and disappearing down other paths.
Gallus stopped beside Flurry, blinking in awe. Spike set the machine gun down and shoved his way through the narrow passage. “I miss the old entrance,” he grumbled.
Rainbow walked ahead, hopping onto one of the large, exposed roots. Like the tree, the blue crystal pulsed with energy. “The Tree of Harmony,” Rainbow announced. “Planted by the Pillars of Harmony long before there was ever an Equestria, in the hopes of providing guidance to the generations to come.”
Flurry heard the spite in the mare’s voice.
“Celestia and Luna found it during Discord’s reign,” Rainbow continued. “It gave them the weapon to defeat him, and they built their castle right up there.” She jabbed her metal wing towards the ceiling.
Rainbow snorted. “Of course they did, look at it.” She jabbed her wing at the trunk. "Chosen by the Tree of Harmony, they reunified Equestria after Discord's madness."
A sun and moon were carved into the trunk along the sides, offset by a large star in the center of the tree. “Five and one,” Rainbow stated. “The star that the others revolve around.”
“Twilight’s mark,” Flurry provided in a near-whisper.
“Yeah,” Rainbow agreed. She blinked her eyes heavily. “Do you believe in destiny, Princess?”
“Destiny is a choice,” Flurry answered.
Rainbow returned to looking up at the tree. “Maybe. Your mark isn’t here. Or your mother’s. Somepony is going to say you don't deserve Equestria because of a tree, you know.”
“There isn’t a dragon on that tree either,” Spike pointed out, “but it still gave me a throne.”
“Twilight’s castle!” Rainbow laughed bitterly. “We gave up our Elements to save this thing from the Plunder Vines, and it gave us a stupid castle.”
“An indestructible castle,” Flurry retorted.
Rainbow shook her head. “We should’ve killed that idiot Discord, or better yet, the Tree should have.” She glared up at it.
“That’s not how the Elements work,” Spike answered.
“Would’ve been a lot easier if we could’ve just blasted the bugs,” Rainbow countered. She pitched her voice higher in an imitation of Twilight. “We can’t just ‘Friendship Laser’ them! The Elements are a balance with harmony, not destruction!”
Spike didn't rise to the provocation. “What did you hope to find here?” he asked softly.
Rainbow took a deep breath and walked to the trunk. “I hoped that it was broken, actually,” she said longingly and laid a hoof on the crystal. “At least the Crystal Heart broke from the strain.” Her eyes narrowed. “It looks pretty healthy, doesn’t it?”
“Rainbow…” Flurry started.
“It does, doesn’t it, Princess?” Rainbow shouted over her shoulder. “It looks just fine, all hidden away down here!”
Rainbow Dash reared up and sliced her sharp feathers against the trunk. There was a flash of sparks and a keening screech. When the pegasus stepped back, there were three gouges in the crystal, just below the sun and moon.
"Have a scar," she said defiantly. Her muzzle reflected in the crystal; the scar running across her eye and down her muzzle stretched as the mare bared her teeth.
“Rainbow!” Spike roared. He pushed his way past Flurry and Gallus. “Enough!”
“I agree!” Rainbow shouted back. “It is enough! Enough of us have died while this useless thing sits down here! The Hegemony is worse than Discord and Sombra and Tirek combined! What’s it doing?”
“What do you want to do?” Spike scoffed. “Blow the thing up and take the Elements back? By force? You think that will work?” He jerked Rainbow Dash away from the trunk. “Celestia banished Luna and it ruined them for a thousand years!”
“Worth a try!” Rainbow snarled. She looked to Gallus. “It talked to you, didn’t it!?”
Gallus hesitated.
“It never talked to any of us!” Rainbow continued ranting. “Not before the war, during the war, during the uprising, anything!”
“Why does it matter?” Spike snorted a plume of smoke. “So you could swear at it?”
“Because it’s wrong!” Rainbow spat into his muzzle. She twisted herself free from the dragon and hovered in front of the star in the center of the tree. “That’s wrong!” she screamed and pointed her foreleg at the star.
“What?” Flurry huffed, confused. “That Twilight got to be a Princess?”
“She deserved it,” Rainbow answered with wild magenta eyes.
“I don’t understand,” Flurry shook her head.
“It wasn’t her,” Rainbow snarled. “It was me. I was the one that brought us together. I did the Sonic Rainboom on the day we all got our marks. Destiny. I’m the fulcrum.”
Spike, Flurry, and Gallus stared up at her.
“I’m the one that brought us all together,” Rainbow panted, “and I can’t do it again.” She landed on four hooves and faced away from the others. “It was our job to save Equestria.”
Spike’s angry expression collapsed into grief. “Rainbow, it wasn’t just up to you.”
“It should’ve been us,” Rainbow scoffed. “Call it pride. Or duty. We should’ve been able to save Equestria from this. We did it before.”
“The six of you couldn’t stand down a horde of panzers,” Gallus tried.
"We faced worse," Rainbow scoffed. She turned to Spike. “Does Rarity talk to you?”
Spike plucked at his stained monogramed shirt with a claw. “A little,” he said vaguely.
“I’ve written her,” Rainbow mumbled. “She doesn’t write back. She’s up in the Crystal City, acting like she’s sworn herself to Nightmare Moon reborn.”
“Is that what you argued about in Manehattan?” Flurry asked. “That I’m like Luna?”
“She’d probably be happier if you were possessed by a Nightmare,” Rainbow nickered. “To her, it would give you an excuse. That prissy mare doesn’t understand war.”
“That’s unfair,” Spike protested.
“What she’d say to you?” Rainbow asked aggressively.
Spike looked to the side. “Rarity’s always believed the best in ponies,” he deflected. “What’s happened to Equestria is horrible. You can’t blame her for trying to hold onto the light.”
Rainbow shook her head. “I can’t even find my best friend. AJ’s apple is still up on that tree, despite everything that’s happened. What the hay was the point of doing any of it? We went on those dumb missions and spread friendship or whatever, and now it’s all gone. The world’s falling apart.”
“That isn’t your fault,” Flurry offered.
“Feels like it is,” Rainbow muttered. “How’s Griffonstone, Gallus? We spread friendship there. Did it help repel the Reich?”
Gallus rubbed a claw on his coat and didn’t respond.
“Should’ve just sworn myself to Nightmare Moon and joined her Shadowbolts that night,” Rainbow spat. “Maybe she’d have done better against Chrysalis.”
“Considering her performance that night…” Flurry trailed off.
Rainbow scowled at the pink alicorn, then burst out laughing. Flurry smiled softly and waited with Spike and Gallus. Once she recovered, Rainbow repeated her question: “Do you believe in destiny?”
“I don’t know,” Flurry answered honestly. “I don’t think about it.”
“You sound like me,” Rainbow snorted. “Except I believe in it. Only answer for how all of us got our marks that day, then met again in Ponyville.”
“Unless Celestia manipulated events to save her sister,” Gallus interrupted.
The other three stared at him.
“What?” Gallus sat on his haunches and crossed his arms. “Don’t tell me you never considered it. She had a thousand years to prepare. She certainly whitewashed Nightmare Moon's rebellion. Look at Chiropterra."
“Well, I am grateful for the Rainboom,” Spike stated, refocusing the conversation. “Helped hatch my egg.”
“I’ve seen enough weird garbage in Equestria to believe anything,” Gallus shrugged.
“You think Grover’s chosen by the Gods?” Flurry asked.
Gallus looked at the tree with Celestia, Luna, and Twilight’s cutie marks, then back to Flurry Heart with half-lidded eyes. His blue eyes flicked up to her horn, then her wings. “Sure. Being chosen by Boreas is no worse than being chosen by a tree.”
“You think Boreas brings the day and night?” Spike asked ruefully.
“As a representative of the Kaiser’s court,” Gallus said formally with flared wings, “we hold that the Trinity raise the sun and moon, not alicorns.” His mirthful eyes betrayed his actual opinion.
“You’ve seen her do it,” Rainbow coughed into a hoof with a smirk.
Gallus rolled his eyes. “She obviously used large mirrors installed on Mount Canterhorn to achieve the illusion of control. Every griffon has known that for centuries.”
“But not illusion magic,” Spike laughed.
“Her abilities are vastly overstated,” Gallus quipped. “Why else would her participation in the River Games be a fair show of sport?”
Spike and Rainbow stopped laughing. Flurry ground her teeth and looked away. Gallus rubbed his beak with a claw. “I am sorry,” he apologized. “That was in poor taste, considering present company. Griffons do believe that, however.”
“It’s poor taste for an alicorn to even pretend,” Flurry retorted. She scuffed a hoof against an exposed root, chafing her already worn boot.
“You don’t know about destiny, Princess?” Rainbow asked. She sat down on a curl in the crystal tree root and let her wings dangle. “You were born an alicorn.”
“I’ve heard a thousand reasons why,” Flurry dismissed. “Because of the Crystal Heart, because of my mother, because I’m a reincarnation of Amore…”
“What?” Gallus squawked.
“That one’s not as popular,” Spike explained. “Most of the crystal ponies think it’s because of your connection to the Crystal Heart,” he said to Flurry. “And your mother was an alicorn. That’s good enough an explanation for the rest of the world.”
“You really think that Celestia and Luna never got busy in over a thousand years?” Rainbow whinnied. “Come on, Spike. The Royal Guard detachment stationed at Canterlot Castle was all stallions for several centuries.”
Spike huffed a small flame. “I am not speculating on their love lives. They’ve never acknowledged a foal. Blueblood was descended from Platinum’s line.”
“What’s your theory?” Flurry asked the pegasus.
Rainbow bit her lower lip. “The day before you were born, Chrysalis announced the construction of her big tower in Vesalipolis. It was the start of her industrialization program. All the factories and industry began from that day.”
You were born on the eve of war. Flurry’s breath hitched.
“I don’t remember hearing about that,” Spike replied. “You sure? You probably got the date wrong.”
“The first natural-born alicorn in history happened the next day,” Rainbow answered. “You think anypony in Equestria cared what Chrysalis was doing? It didn’t seem important.”
“How do you remember that?” Gallus asked.
“I wasn’t paying attention at the time,” Rainbow pursed her lips. “Found a newspaper years later, in Manehattan Library. We were burning parts of the old archives for warmth, just before the uprising. Lilac cut the power.” She looked to the side. “Twilight woulda been furious.”
“Is that what you think?” Flurry found her voice. “I was born for this?”
“No,” Spike immediately said. “You were not born for war.”
“One weapon failed.” Rainbow pointed her wing at the tree. “We got another.”
“Your Princess is not a weapon,” Spike growled.
“That’s not what I meant,” Rainbow defended herself. “All of us found each other in Ponyville after the Rainboom, years later. We never put it together until then. Destiny, what else makes sense?”
“Anything else!”
Flurry Heart walked toward the tree with a glowing horn. Gallus followed her quietly while Spike and Rainbow argued. “Princess?” the griffon requested. Flurry regarded him. “It did speak to us,” he said softly. “We faced tests.”
“I’ve already done that,” the alicorn shrugged both wings. “I’m not afraid of ghosts of yore.”
Gallus paused and blinked owlishly.
Flurry extended her magic, reaching out across the cavern. Her horn seemed to rattle against her skull from the waves of energy exuding from the tree. Behind her, Spike and Rainbow ceased arguing and ran to intercept the alicorn.
She felt Gallus’ sidearm in the holster under his right wing, fired at a range and nowhere else. The newest model available in Herzland. It’s a gift from the Kaiser, and he never wants to use it.
She felt Rainbow’s wing, with sharp metal feathers. She’s gotten very good at combat with it, but she knows it will never truly replace her flesh and bone. It carries a weariness under the pride.
She felt Spike’s heavy machinegun. Plucked from the armory, stolen from the Changelings. It’s traded hooves half a dozen times over the war.
And she felt nothing else.
Flurry opened her eyes just as Spike and Rainbow rushed up to her. Her horn dimmed. “Worried?” she asked with a wry grin; her tail flicked under the flank skirt. It barely had enough of a tuft to stick out.
“Last time you stalked off towards some ancient artifact, you nearly died,” Spike answered. He scrubbed a claw against her short, ragged mane. Flurry batted his arm away with a wing.
“I feel like I’m missing some context here,” Gallus commented.
“Why do you think she looked so awful when you met outside Stalliongrad?” Rainbow snorted.
“I assumed the Princess always looks like that.”
“True enough,” Flurry confirmed. She raised a foreleg and sniffed the uniform. Her muzzle wrinkled. Need to wash this again. Hopefully it won’t fall apart.
“Rainbow,” Spike rumbled, “are we done here?”
The pegasus sighed heavily. “I just hoped…” She shook her head. “I dunno. Something. Some answer. We were good enough before.”
“The war isn’t up to just you,” Spike knelt and hugged the rainbow-maned mare. He gave Flurry a severe slit gaze. “Or you,” he added.
Flurry nodded. “I’m sorry, Rainbow Dash.”
Rainbow stepped back and sniffled. “Don’t worry about it, Princess.”
Flurry paused. “It’s not a weapon,” she stated.
Rainbow rubbed her nose on her flight jacket. “Huh?”
“It isn’t a weapon,” Flurry repeated. “The Tree, or the Elements.”
“They blasted Discord pretty good,” Rainbow rolled her eyes with an attempted laugh.
“Then they don’t think of themselves as weapons,” Flurry said definitively.
Spike, Gallus, and Rainbow shared confused grimaces. “What do you mean?” the dragon asked.
“Never mind,” the alicorn sighed. “It’s pretty late, and we have to keep the supply lines moving.”
“Yeah,” Gallus yawned. “Long flight back, and more arguing tomorrow. Looking forward to it.”
“You want a teleport?” Flurry asked. “I can make it back to Twilight’s place. Easy.”
“You good for it?” Rainbow asked back. “Twilight’s teleports always made me a bit queasy.”
Flurry lit her horn and felt the magic in the air of the cavern. “I got it,” she said confidently. “Get close. We’ll pop in above the map.”
Spike shuffled behind her and knelt down. Gallus and Rainbow crouched alongside the tall alicorn. The griffon flinched at the blazing horn. Flurry took a deep breath, then turned and stared at the Tree of Harmony. She focused on the star in the center.
I don’t think I’m what you ever wanted, but I’m the one here. Say something now.
The Tree of Harmony was silent; the only sound was Flurry’s crackling magic around her horn.
She smiled sadly. When I turned away from my mother, she didn’t say anything either.
Flurry Heart turned away and vanished in a sparkle of golden magic.
Flashes lit up the horizon to the west, matched by echoing blasts a moment later. Flurry Heart watched from the balcony of Twilight’s castle. Her ragged mane blew softly in a light wind; the curls had just grown long enough to obscure the purple crystal band resting on her head.
The alicorn turned on the balcony and looked up to the north. Mount Canterhorn was visible from the low valley. Ponyville was once close enough to be directly administered by the Diarchy, and the Canterlot Commissariat in the wake of Chrysalis’ victory designated the town as a ‘historic site,’ the attempts to destroy Twilight’s castle not-withstanding.
Canterlot’s lights glowed in the night sky, resembling a lighthouse beacon in the center of Equestria. Hanging off the side of the mountain, it was an easy target for long-range artillery, and the winding road that led to the city gates could be blasted apart. The same counted for the railway that dug through a portion of the Canterhorn.
As much as unicorns loved mountains, the capital of Equestria and the seat of the Princesses was only easily accessible from the air. The four circular city districts extended from Canterlot Castle, back into the mountain and the road below.
Lower Canterlot, closet to the city gates on the mountain, housed the majority of the earth ponies that worked the dockyards, and the lower-class servants for the castle and nobility. The great dockyards in Lower Canterlot ferried imports from all across Equestria from dirigibles and zeppelins. The lowest class lived the farthest from their Princesses, Flurry snorted.
Middle Canterlot was an eclectic mix of merchants, traders, pegasi, and unicorns without expansive pedigrees dating back to the Three Tribes. It was the arts district, and the city center held frequent celebrations. Flurry’s family had lived there, once. Twilight and Shining’s parents had a modest townhome just off the city center. Even after their children became royalty, Twilight Velvet and Night Light never moved from their home. I wonder if it’s still there. Chrysalis probably turned it into a museum.
The final two districts surrounded Canterlot Castle. Upper Canterlot and the Estates were reserved for foreign embassies and the nobility. The nobles of Equestria were neutered by the extensive bureaucracy Celestia built around herself, but they still wielded generational wealth effectively in elections and courts. Flurry couldn’t see the castle, nor the estates from Ponyville. It’s amazing that all that gold and marble doesn’t just drag the city off the mountain.
In the city proper, spotlights waved wildly into the darkness, with tracer fire and anti-air guns peeling into the sky to deter any errant planes. There weren’t any planes to deter; the Reich’s air force wasn’t trying to take Canterlot. The tanks gave the mountain a wide berth, wary of incoming fire from the city.
On the contrary, the shock offensive was forcing the Changelings up the mountain.
The pincer attack from the Everfree and around Canterhorn seemed to take the Changelings by surprise. At the very least, no frenzied Griffonian reinforcements were attempting to fly over the Everfree Forest. Flurry squinted up at Canterlot and tilted her head. Her horn glowed softly.
I could probably hit the castle from here. It was an intrusive thought, one that she had dismissed many times already. Canterlot was too valuable to destroy. And maybe too costly to take.
The Changeling radio broadcasts in Canterlot had cut off suddenly earlier that night, once the attack began. Flurry was wary. Either the Hegemony was far weaker than she anticipated, or the attack succeeding was part of some greater plan. Canterlot was the ultimate symbol of Chrysalis’ victory; she would never let it fall. The pink alicorn trotted back indoors, sparing one last glance at the flashes to the west.
She shook out her wings as she passed several stacked boxes of equipment, moved out of the Castle of the Two Sisters in preparation for the Reich’s advance. The alicorn’s uniform had finally frayed to pieces over the past week, so she was clad in plain black sweatpants for her modesty. Flurry walked to her private room, passing by several sets of guards, all of them crystal ponies or griffons.
The reinforcements coming down from Stalliongrad linked up with the sparse shipments of equipment from Weter and the coast; the shield still blocked all attempts to cross with weapons. After some arguments and hostile looks, the ELF resettled into the School of Friendship with more of Flurry’s hardened soldiers on the way. More equipment was being stockpiled at Fillydelphia in preparation for the encirclement.
Loyal soldiers, Flurry corrected herself. While Limestone, Fizzlepop, and Sunset had been somewhat accommodating, the common ELF vet still snorted at Flurry’s presence. Flurry didn’t care about the pomp and circumstance, but her army did.
The griffons, especially the Aquileians and Herzlanders fresh from the north, took offense on her behalf. Screeched insults and shouting matches became common when the troops mixed. The crystal ponies were worse; Flurry loved them dearly, but they were ready to throw hooves at the slightest provocation. A thousand years of abandonment had translated to a large diamond chip on their shoulders, especially once it became common knowledge that the ELF had effectively written Arctic Lily's attempted uprising off.
The divide was ideological. The ELF cells fought for a variety of reasons: some fought to restore Twilight, some fought to bring back the Diarchy, a few were even republicans. Fizzlepop and Sunset maintained that the ELF fought for Equestria, and that was true enough.
But Flurry’s soldiers fought for her. And they weren’t shy about saying so.
There had been a few cases of desertion, not that there was any true punishment for it; the Equestrian Liberation Front was built on volunteers. There was another violent attack as the old castle was vacated; a group of fourteen ponies were caught trying to steal explosive charges during the night. One of Flurry’s Tzinacatl watchponies spotted them and raised an alarm. The bat pony was killed with two others in the resulting shootout before the surviving five plotters surrendered.
Fizzlepop and Limestone had refused to give them to Thorax for questioning. The plot certainly had help from somepony higher up, but no suspects were immediately apparent. Limestone did not refuse Flurry’s demand that the survivors be executed, but the alicorn could see in the earth pony's hard yellow eyes that she dearly wished to do so. The bodies were disposed of quietly, but word spread amongst the gathered army. Ponyville was too crowded.
The split between the castle and the school had been mutual to deter further violence. Nopony had the time or patience to arbitrate disputes. After the execution, tempers cooled. Most likely due to the rumor that I killed them myself, Flurry snorted. It wasn’t true, and her method of execution varied depending on who was repeating the story. Her soldiers favored rope.
Flurry stopped outside her makeshift bedroom, nodding to Jadis and a crystal stallion named Pyrite. They stomped their hooves three times, causing the other ponies in the hallway to repeat the salute. Clad in black sweatpants and needing a shower, the light pink alicorn looked like she crawled out of a ditch. The uneven blue and purple tufts on her tail poked out from her pants.
Jadis withheld a slight laugh at Flurry’s deadpan expression. “Spike and Thorax are back with the armorer,” she reported.
“Obsidian’s here?” Flurry asked.
“Last minute adjustments,” Jadis responded. She leaned to one side and pointed her good hoof down the hallway. “You can see the marks along the floor from the boxes.”
Flurry craned her neck to spot several scuff marks along the crystal floor running the entire length of the hallway. “Heavy?”
“Spike had to shove them. The guards helped a bit.”
Flurry clicked her tongue. “All right, thanks.”
“Of course!” Pyrite exclaimed. He stomped his hoof again.
Flurry bit her lip as the sound echoed down the hallway. The stallion’s coat glittered, even at night, but his plain camouflage pants and jacket covered the worst of it. Jadis was naked, and her light blue coat sparkled even in the dim magic lighting.
Flurry made a mental note. Uniforms. Priority. You shine a flashlight on them, and they're going to sparkle in the night. She let Pyrite open the door and close it behind her. Flurry’s bedroom was on the interior of the castle. It was one of the libraries, long cleared out for storage space, and the only amenity was a cot and several low crates of canned food that could serve as tables and chairs. Considering that most ponies were packed at least a dozen in one room, sleeping in shifts, it was luxurious.
Four large wooden crates took up the center of the room tonight. The lids had already been removed; the packing straw carefully bundled back up to be reused for padding or extra insulation. There were several long weeks of cold weather before the spring thaw.
Obsidian, colored as his name, leaned over one of the boxes with goggles and a leather apron. Flurry was momentarily surprised; ponies shunned leather as a material. Spike rested against a wall, flexing his claws and puffing smoke. Thorax stood next to him, clad in his own purple uniform. The changeling noticed her arrival first.
“Princess,” Thorax said regally, “your armor has arrived.”
“And it’s going to break your spine,” Spike added from the floor.
Obsidian nickered from inside the box. “Do you not believe in miracles, Sir Spike?”
“That armor you made blew out an axle on one of our trucks,” Spike grunted. He shook his right claw with a flailing motion, trying to work feeling back into it.
Obsidian gave a muffled reply. “They already had too much ammunition on board.”
“Heavy?” Flurry asked.
“See for yourself,” Thorax answered. He reached his forelegs into the smallest box. After several hisses of effort, the changeling shakily lifted a purple half-helm into view. Made of solid purple crystal and crowned with six small spikes reminiscent of the Crystal Palace, the helmet curved along the shape of a muzzle.
Flurry plucked it from his hooves with her horn. It zipped through the air up to her muzzle, where she studied her bedraggled reflection in the crystal before flipping it upside down. The interior was padded. Flurry sat and dropped the helmet into one hoof. She bounced it idly, testing the weight. The crystal was cold to the touch.
“Not as heavy as I thought it would be,” the alicorn declared. “Is it enchanted?”
Obsidian’s tail swished with pride and he lifted his head out of the box. “The armor is enchanted to resist the elements. Fire and frost and electricity. For its sake more than your own, Princess.”
Thorax gave a single, chittering chuckle.
Flurry lifted the helmet above her head in her golden aura and gently slotted her horn through the opening. The helmet pressed down against her ears and pinned them down. It was a deeply uncomfortable fit. It covered the bridge of her muzzle, but not her lower jaw.
Obsidian noticed Flurry’s scowl. “Princess, the helmet was made according to your specifications.” He motioned to his white, swept-back mane. “It is a snug fit.”
Flurry blinked while processing his words. Her crystal band pressed into her fur along with her mane. Stupid. The alicorn yanked the helmet off and removed the band, tossing it onto her bed. She brushed her mane with a hoof while her short tail whipped in agitation.
“Right,” she announced, grateful that her pink fur hid the blush on her muzzle. She trotted over to her nightstand, a short box of full of canned peaches, and retrieved her bar of soap, then the dagger from under her pillow. “I need to shower anyway. I’ll shave it down.”
“It just grew back,” Spike pointed out.
“And it looks awful,” Flurry replied. She shook her head from side to side; the short, clumpy curls wiggled like earthworms.
“It would look better if you used shampoo,” Spike said flatly.
“Neither of you do,” Flurry jerked her head towards Thorax, who was struggling to lift a leg plate out of the box. The alicorn took it from him in her magic, spun it through the air, and set it down on the bed.
Spike the dragon flicked a claw at Flurry Heart with an unamused snort of smoke. “Twilight used to give me a mustache sometimes,” he groused. “I took better care of it than you do with your own hair.”
Flurry giggled and teleported to the bathroom. It technically wasn’t her bathroom; it was Twilight’s, then Sunset/Tempest’s. Fizzlepop, Flurry groaned in her head. The mare always corrected her with the utmost politeness.
The Storm King’s Right Hoof had ravaged Zebrica at the behest of her overlord; Flurry had heard the story about the Storm King's defeat and Twilight redeeming her a dozen times through the years. The scarred unicorn certainly looked the part of a warlord, but let Limestone make most of the threats and shouting. Tempest Shadow, now Fizzlepop Berrytwist, was a bit of a disappointment to the teen.
With Sunset and Zecora still in the field, the bathroom was unoccupied. Flurry set her lone bar of soap down next to an old jar of mane gel. She poked the dagger into the top of the bar. Flurry quickly tested the valves in the shower using her horn. The hot water came on instantly, providing a refreshingly crystal-clear spray like a waterfall from the holes in the ceiling.
As always, Flurry squinted suspiciously at it and cast several spells, additionally warding the room. The Castle of Friendship didn’t have any indoor plumbing. It certainly wasn’t connected to the overrun Ponyville reservoir, and nopony could knock holes in the wall to see if there were pipes.
It was a magical crystal castle grown by the Tree of Harmony. Wherever it drew water from, it wasn’t anywhere nearby.
Flurry sniffed at the water as a last test. It smelled like mineral water. She sighed and stripped off her sweatpants before standing under the waterfall. In Weter, the water usually needed to be boiled in the ghetto before it was safe to drink. The pipes were old and leaked badly, and that was when they worked at all. The Everfree Resistance and the ELF had a supposedly infinite supply of fresh drinking water and an indestructible-if-gaudy headquarters.
And they whine about us using their supplies. What else were they waiting for? There was a thin crystal door to the shower, but Flurry left it open. Steam filled the room, but she could see the bathroom door with a quick glance.
Flurry levitated the soap bar and the dagger over. Her horn made it easy to scrub the hard-to-reach spots; she also formed a small, inverted shield with her magic and took a quick drink. Her magic gave the water an electric tang from gathering in the bowl.
The crystal walls were clear and bright enough to see her reflection with a bright golden flame from her horn. The magical fire didn’t sizzle in the waterfall. Flurry sighed at her reflection. A slim, long-legged alicorn stared back at her with icy eyes. Her oversized wings collected water in the primary feathers. With the downpour matting down her fur, her lean muscles and completely flat flank were visible. Water ran down her fiery Crystal Hearts, running through the fur on her cutie marks.
I didn't get these wings from mom, and everypony else was a unicorn. Some daughter of the Princess of Love.
Flurry Heart raised the dagger and began sawing through the wet, stringy curls. Her mane like to naturally curl into swirls, like her mother’s, and it took significant effort to straighten it. Her tail would do likewise if she let it grow back. She chopped her mane down to rough stubble, then looked over her shoulder and grabbed her short tail, holding it straight up to cut through.
She avoided looking at her flank in the crystal.
After it was done, Flurry turned the valves off and gathered the discarded hair into a large clump with her horn. She packed it tight into a small bubble shield and poured energy into it until it glowed white-hot. The hair vaporized too quickly to leave the acrid stench of burnt hair behind.
Flurry exited the shower dripping wet and crossed to the mirror. She used an elbow to wipe away the steam, then scrubbed the bar of soap against the rough, short strings of her mane. She folded her ears back, tilted her head down, and scraped the dagger across her head at several different angles until her mane was only blue and purple stubble again. She repeated the action with her tail, staring over her shoulder at her reflection with a mild frown. The little pink nub of her tailbone wasn’t going to shield anything.
Definitely need to wear pants from now on.
Flurry speared the much-diminished soap bar back onto the point of the dagger, then peered at one of the folded towels under the sink. It was Sunset’s, judging from the red monogramed sun. Flurry reached for it with a hoof, then reconsidered. Nah. Too petty.
Flurry’s horn pulsed with blue fire. She took a deep breath closed her eyes. The fire raced down from her horn and swept across her body, leaving perfectly dry fur in its wake. The moisture in the air turned to steam around her for a moment; she extended her wings and adjusted the primary feathers as the flames turned to sparks. Flurry scuffed her hooves against the crystal to wipe away the circular scorch marks left when the flames dissipated around her hooves.
Her horn flashed as she dispelled the wards on the bathroom. Lacking any better options, she tugged her sweatpants back on before teleporting back to her room with the dagger and soap. Flurry reappeared just above her cot and landed on all four hooves. The flimsy cot creaked from her weight.
Thorax, Spike and Obsidian had finished unpacking the armor. The pieces lay on the floor in the rough shape of a tall pony. The greaves, flank, barrel, and chest plates were separate segments of crystal, matched with the helmet. The crystal was attached to metal plates at the joints for her legs.
Flurry was reminded of Grover’s knights, expect far heavier plate. There was the extra addition of a metal lattice to run down her wings, with sharp crystal shards jutting out along it. She spotted where it plugged into the cuirass at her wing joints.
Spike laid on his back on the floor. His eyes were glassy and he stared up at the ceiling blankly. He uttered in a monotone, “It’s very heavy.”
“Welcome back, Princess,” Obsidian bowed at the end of the cot.
“There’s a jumpsuit,” Thorax stated. He held up a folded black outfit in his green aura. “You’ll wear it under the armor.”
Flurry accepted it and unfolded the jumpsuit in the air. She scrunched her muzzle. “Looks like a Wonderbolt suit.”
“It’s plain black.”
“Not what I meant. It’s skin-tight.”
“It keeps your fur from getting worn down,” Obsidian explained. “There’s padding along the inside.”
Flurry unzipped it. She motioned with a foreleg for Obsidian and Thorax to turn around. The stallions self-consciously looked away as Flurry pulled her sweatpants off. Spike marginally moved his head to the side. The alicorn hopped off the bed and slid into the jumpsuit.
For a moment, she felt like a Wonderbolt, then the feeling immediately soured when she struggled to push her folded wings through the openings for them. She resorted to tugging them through with her mouth. Flurry noticed Thorax’s ears twitching as he suppressed a chirping laugh at the radiating embarrassment.
“Laugh it up, gossamer wings,” Flurry whickered.
Thorax didn’t laugh or turn back around, but he buzzed his wings at her in a cadence.
Flurry zipped the jumpsuit up and bent her legs. The suit didn’t cover her hooves or anything above the neck, but she could feel the soft pads on her back and legs. She trotted in place before announcing, “I’m decent.”
Spike glanced over at her. “You look like Twilight when she lost it about time travel that one time.”
“Thanks, Spike,” Flurry said sarcastically.
“It’s meant to be worn under the armor,” Obsidian repeated. “It will help with the fit.” He trotted over to the pieces on the floor. “Now,” he began, “it would take a team of crystal ponies to assemble this on one soldier, but you have a horn. Follow my instructions precisely, Princess.” He gave her a hard look.
Flurry nodded.
“Excellent,” Obsidian smiled. “We will begin with the metal plates…”
The process lasted over an hour. The leg segments, divided between her hock, cannon, and hooves, took half the time. The greaves and boots were solid crystal; her test hoof steps echoed into the hallway and rattled all the loose items on the nightstand.
The crystal affixed to the metal cuirass was the heaviest item. Flurry had to slip it on over her head, tilting her horn at a precise angle and threading her wings through the grooves before settling the armor down onto her back. The flank piece, made of several chunks of crystal affixed to flexible metal joints, attached to the back of the cuirass. True to her demand, there was no tail hole.
After that, the wing bracers were locked into the cuirass and the crystal shards carefully threaded along her feathers. She could refold her wings, but the movement was stiff. Flapping was easier. Two of the largest, sharpest shards were at the very end of her wings; when she bent her feathers in, they extended like knives.
Finally, the metal gorget locked into the cuirass at her chest. It prevented her from fully tilting her muzzle downwards, but it protected her neck and a slight lip shielded the bottom of her jaw. The armored alicorn paced around the room as a test before retrieving the helmet. Her hooves sounded like a dropped bowling ball on the crystal floor.
Flurry levitated the helmet over. She took a deep breath and slid her horn through the opening. It settled onto her head without issue, but the padding did muffle Obsidian’s quiet humming as he circled her with a critical eye.
“The fits looks good,” he mumbled quietly. Flurry only heard him with her alicorn-sensitive hearing.
“What?” she half-shouted.
“Battles are hardly quiet affairs at any rate,” he said in a louder tone. “The full helmet would be worse. We could have holes for your ears.”
“No.”
Obsidian snorted and smirked. “As you wish.”
Spike finally sat back up, propping himself upright with two elbows. He bit his lip. Flurry was at least a hoof taller in the armor. She towered over Thorax, who leaned against the wall and out of the way.
Flurry smirked and clomped over to the dragon. “You should get some armor, Sir Spike.”
He didn’t reply.
Flurry frowned. “What’s wrong? I’m sorry you had to carry everything.”
Spike stood up with a groan and walked over to a stacked-up pile of crates. He shoved them aside, revealing the large mirror that Sunset had dragged up from the basement. She said it was useless; a large crack ran through the middle. Flurry had idly asked if it was special, and Sunset replied caustically that it was “better off as just a mirror.”
Flurry inhaled at the armored mare in the mirror. Taller than anypony except Celestia, the mare was an obvious target on the battlefield. The armor covered her entirely, except for part of her muzzle. Enchanted to withstand withering direct fire, the purple crystal absorbed the light in the room. It did not sparkle. Her horn was the seventh and tallest spire on the helmet. Not a helmet. A crown.
Flurry Heart made eye contact with the mare in the mirror. The first Crystal Empress glared back.
They say my heart is as hard as crystal. Let us see what their words are worth.
Flurry blinked and exhaled with a nervous huff. The resemblance to the mare that the Crystal Heart had shown her was uncanny. The armor hid her slender frame; she looked like an adult. Amore's ancestor. I wonder what she would've thought of her descendants...
“I am concerned about your flying ability,” Obsidian remarked behind her. “The armor is enchanted, of course, but we prioritized magical resistance and survivability.”
Flurry hopped. Her hooves slammed into the floor with a reverberating thunderclap. Everyone flinched at the sound, including Flurry Heart. She carefully extended her wings and gave a test flap.
Nothing happened.
She flapped harder and ceased when it kicked up Obsidian’s notes. She quickly collected them in her aura and passed them back with an apologetic smirk. “I’ll have to test it outside.”
Obsidian nodded. “In the morning, then. The sooner it’s done, the sooner we can make any needed adjustments. How’s the weight?”
“Bearable,” Flurry shrugged a wing stiffly. “I’ll try to gallop outside tomorrow morning.”
“Let’s do it in private,” Spike suggested. “We’ll teleport back to the gorge.”
“Why?” Flurry asked. “The Reich has supply trails running through Ponyville.”
“Flurry,” Thorax said carefully, “Spike is trying to say that you look utterly intimidating.”
Flurry looked back at the frowning Crystal Empress in the mirror. Her cold blue eyes were half-hidden by the helmet, but her lower jaw was tense. “Is that a problem?”
“Things are volatile with the ELF right now,” Thorax explained. “Marching around in full battle armor is going to provoke somepony.”
“Why?” Flurry snorted. “Because Twilight Sparkle never wore armor? I’m sick of hearing about aunt Twilight and her precious Equestria.” Flurry paced in front of the mirror. “Half of the ELF only want to save her to chain her to a parliament.”
“Talk like that doesn’t help,” Spike stated.
“I’ve been nothing but honest with them,” Flurry replied. “Why does it matter I’m from the Crystal Empire? I have every right to claim Equestria. My mother and father grew up in Canterlot; I’m Twilight’s niece.”
“Most of the ELF don’t want you to rule Equestria,” Thorax interrupted. His ears wilted. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. The Empire was never integrated into the rest of the Principality of Equestria; there wasn’t enough time before its return and the war. Crystal ponies have always been separate.”
"Who's fault is that?" Obsidian muttered under his breath.
“I’m not seeing many alternatives,” Flurry deadpanned. “I am their Princess, whether they like it or not.”
Spike swished in tail. “You sound like Nightmare Moon.”
Flurry rolled her eyes at Spike. “Because of the armor? Come on, she-”
“What happens if Twilight’s alive?” Spike interrupted.
Flurry cut herself off. “She’s the Princess of Equestria and I rule beside her in a restored Diarchy,” she recovered. “I’ve already said that.”
“And what happens when she hears about the Crystal City?” Spike continued. “About the hangings and the executions?”
Flurry narrowed her eyes. “I show her my mother.”
“What will you say when she asks about the executions in Manehattan?”
“I’ll ask her if she wants to look for the ditch her mother and father died in trying to rescue her!” Flurry snarled. “I’ll ask her if she wants to look for Starlight too!”
Spike closed his eyes. “Do you expect her to fight with you at the front?”
“She’ll be a far better administrator,” Flurry retorted, “and researcher.” She shook her head in agitation. “What? Do you think she’ll fight me?”
“No,” Spike said immediately, “but I’m concerned you even thought that was an option.”
Flurry glanced at Thorax from the side of her helmet, but the changeling didn’t react. "Regardless of how the ELF operates now," Thorax said, "they started as upholding the tenets of harmony. Many still believe they do."
"There's not much difference between my army and the ELF," Flurry nickered. "How many Changeling prisoners do they take?"
“The more pressing concern is Grover,” Thorax added. “The Reich has recognized you as the sole Princess of Equestria, and Twilight joined the others in acknowledging the Griffonian Republic as the legitimate government before the war.”
“Grover has a copy of the Friendship Journal,” Flurry dismissed. “He’s not going to make an issue of it. Most griffons like Twilight enough anyway. Grover won’t expect me to side against my own family.”
“What if it becomes an issue?” Spike asked. “The ELF views her as the rightful Princess of Equestria, and she’ll never approve of everything you agreed to.” The dragon stared at Obsidian for a moment before returning to Flurry. “What will you do if it comes between her and Grover?”
It’ll be between her and Equestria. We need their army.
Flurry stared at her reflection, then Obsidian behind her. He sat quietly with his notes. “Thank you for the armor,” she said over her shoulder.
“I was happy to make it,” Obsidian replied quietly. “I will be happier still if you could slay Chrysalis in it.”
“I’ll do my best,” Flurry answered with a grim smile. “May I ask you something?”
“Of course.” The armorer set his notes down.
“Do you believe that Princess Twilight is alive?”
“Don’t,” Spike growled. “Don’t go there, Flurry.”
Thorax began to pile up the packing straw again in his magic. He didn't offer his opinion.
Flurry used the mirror to make eye contact with Obsidian. The crystal pony swallowed and returned to his notes. “I do not wish to disagree with Sir Spike,” he stated.
“All right!” Fizzlepop Berrytwist barked. Her shout rippled through the crowd of gathered creatures and quieted the individual conversations. The unicorn’s deep orchid coat clashed with her plain gray uniform.
“We’re taking over the encirclement in two days!” Fizzlepop proclaimed. She pointed up to the floating map on the auditorium’s wall with her hoof, stretching out her armband with the Elements of Harmony. “The birds drove them up the mountain, but they need us to finish the job!”
Sunset Shimmer, wearing a matching uniform, powered the projector crystal on the stage with a glowing amber horn. She stood next to Fizzlepop proudly, sharing an occasional smirk as the other duumvir paced and riled up the crowd.
“This is it! We have the ponypower and the equipment!” Fizzlepop shouted. “We’re taking Canterlot back from the bugs!” She stomped her hoof into the wooden stage as her horn crackled with a brief flash of electricity.
Only half the crowd was receptive. The other half of the School of Friendship’s auditorium was filled with soldiers from the Crystal Empire. They clapped along politely, but without enthusiasm.
Flurry Heart sat in the front row of the auditorium; her long horn and tall stature doubtlessly blocked the view from the next several seats behind her. Luckily, those seats were occupied by her griffons.
Unluckily, Jacques was seated directly behind her. The Aquileian griffon leaned forward and whispered up into her ear. “Do you think dear Tempest gave similar briefings to the yetis?”
“More swearing,” Flurry countered in a whisper.
“Most likely,” Jacques agreed.
“Quiet,” Thorax hissed lowly. He sat next to Flurry in a non-descript gray uniform. It wasn’t quite the ELF’s standard fatigues; his undershirt was purple and he still wore the Imperial Snowflake on his sleeve.
“Canterlot is our city!” Sunset shouted in agreement with her partner. The projection of Mount Canterhorn flickered, changing into a top-down view of the mountain city. “There’s only one major road,” Sunset’s magic highlighted the city gates connected to Lower Canterlot, “and it’s clogged with thousands of encircled ‘ling soldiers. They’ve dug in deep.”
“Counting the garrison, there’s 100,000 bugs up on that mountain,” Fizzlepop interrupted. “They are entirely cut off.”
There was a bit of scattered applause.
Sunset winked down at Thorax. “Now it’s time for our resident changeling to rain on our parade.”
Thorax sighed and stood. He motioned with a gossamer wing to another changeling in the row behind him. She pulled her hat down and floated over the front row with buzzing wings. Flurry didn’t recognize her; the mare was in full purple uniform and hid her muzzle.
Thorax and the mare hopped onto the stage. Fizzlepop and Sunset stepped to the side, and the sole spotlight slowly maneuvered over to Thorax. The changeling licked his fangs and dipped his head to Sunset and Fizzlepop. “Thank you,” he said loudly.
There was a neigh of disapproval in one of the back rows.
Flurry’s ear twitched, placing it on the ELF side of the auditorium. Her horn blazed with a candle of golden fire as she turned her head to glare. The alicorn’s height worked to her advantage; the fiery candlewick could be seen in the back row.
Everypony she made unflinching eye contact with looked away. Flurry’s horn guttered out after a long, silent pause.
“The Canterlot Commissariat was in charge of the Love Harvests throughout the heartlands of Equestria,” Thorax summarized. He didn’t look at the crowd, focused more on the projection. “They have a massive stockpile of condensed love stored; rationing won’t be an issue. We can’t starve the city out regardless. Canterlot is still home to a million ponies. If it comes to it, they’ll be drained as well.”
Jacques raised a claw. Thorax wasn’t looking at the crowd, so he snapped his talons to get the changeling's attention. Flurry reached back with a wing and slapped him, but the griffon stood in his seat and waved more aggressively.
“I have a question, professor!” Jacques announced far too earnestly.
Thorax sighed. “I would have preferred that you stayed in the Crystal City.”
“As would I,” Jacques quipped, “but Arctic Lily grew tired of me.” He lowered his claw. “Am I correct in understanding that a diet of pure love will eventually erode a changeling’s higher cognitive functions? Perhaps that would be beneficial?”
Thorax blinked. “Yes, changelings do need to eat solid food. Pure love is more of a drug, especially taken in large amounts.”
“So, it is possible to starve the city out,” Jacques concluded.
“Only if you want to kill the entire civilian population of Canterlot,” Sunset deadpanned. “They’ll starve first.”
“Canterlot is under the control of Generalmajor Actia Pagala,” Thorax continued. “She’s an opportunist and a hard-liner for Chrysalis. She won’t surrender, especially not with the Queen’s Guard in the city. They've taken over most of the administration.”
“The garrison in Canterlot is partially under the control of the former Generalmajor, Unterfeldwebel Jachs,” the other changeling said quietly. Flurry’s ears flicked as she tried to place the voice.
“Speak up, bug!” a mare crowed in the middle of the auditorium.
The changeling pulled her cap tighter around her muzzle with a hoof, but raised her voice and repeated herself, adding, “There’s also the local Kommandant of the Canterlot Guard. His name is Second Wind. His forces number around three thousand ponies, but they’ve been disarmed after the uprising.”
“The Reich reports that the fragments that retreated up Canterhorn are disorganized and leaderless,” Thorax stated. “They’ll fold into Pagala’s garrison and entrench themselves.”
“So how do we get to them?” Limestone shouted in the second row.
“We don’t,” Flurry interrupted. She stood up and flared her wings. She bounded onto the stage with a single flap. The alicorn wore her sleek black jumpsuit for lack of a better option, and the crystal band rested under her nearly-bald mane. “The objective is to hold the encirclement. We are not storming Canterlot.”
The ELF side muttered.
“You afraid to fight?” Limestone challenged.
“The Reich is goading the Hegemony into attempting to relieve the siege,” Flurry explained. “They’ll strike at the Celestial Plain.”
Sunset switched the image to a top-down view of the plains west of Canterlot.
Unlike the valleys and hills around Ponyville, the Celestial Plain was utterly flat farmland. The Duskwood forest, so named because the sun set behind the trees from Canterlot’s viewpoint, extended further west. With the Everfree and Whitetail woods to the south and Canterhorn to the northeast, the plains were bracketed.
The spotlight didn’t move from Thorax, so Flurry sparked her horn again. The fire cast her muzzle and harsh blue eyes in a shadowed glare. “Our only goal is to keep the Changelings from staging a breakout during the battle.”
“And they will attempt a breakout,” Thorax picked up. “They did so during the first battle after withstanding the siege.”
“I don’t recall you being there,” Limestone added with a raised hoof, “unless it was for the other team.”
“I was there too, Lime,” Sunset rebuked the gray earth pony in a clear tone. “We exhausted ourselves trying a combined assault up the mountain. We weren’t prepared for the panzers crashing down on us from the plains.”
“How do we know all this about Canterlot’s garrison?” Fast Clip, another ELF leader, asked from the third row from the back.
“We’ve been questioning captives,” Thorax answered.
“What captives?” Limestone snorted. “You makin’ stuff up?”
Thorax hissed down at her with a fanged sneer. “Trixie thought you were a bitch, you know, and that was coming from her.”
Limestone flushed red and scowled.
“We have complete trust in Thorax and his agents,” Sunset said quickly. "He was essential to our operations with S.M.I.L.E and the organization of the initial rebellion. He has earned our trust a thousand-fold." She scanned over the gathered crowd, daring someone to speak up. Flurry stared at her side of the auditorium. Most of the veterans from the Crystal Empire would hold their tongues about her association with her adopted uncle if they disagreed.
Or I’ll headbutt them. Flurry ground her teeth. I’m out of patience about this.
Zecora walked onstage from the first row, taking the stairs to the side. The spotlight moved to the zebra. Unlike the other commanders, she remained naked except for a tarnished golden bangle around her neck.
“Jachs led an expedition to the Everfree some years ago,” the zebra said in a lilting contralto. “I allowed him to find what he sought and he took it to-go.”
Jacques groaned at the rhyme. “That one was painful.”
Flurry abruptly fired a low-power lightning bolt into the griffon from the stage. Several members of the crowd jumped at the bright flash, or cringed away from the static in the air. Jacques involuntarily kicked the chairs in front of him with his paws from the shock.
“I’ll shut up now,” he said weakly.
“I know who you are,” Zecora said flippantly to the griffon. “I’ve dealt with folk like you my entire life. You hide behind biting words, just like all the others.”
Flurry scrunched her muzzle in mild surprise that Jacques did not offer a retort to Zecora breaking her rhyme. He stayed quite quiet and broke eye contact with the zebra.
“The point is that they’re taking orders from Vesailpolis via code,” Thorax resumed. “It’s a code we know. The city must not fall. Pagala will be executed if it does.”
“If she even survives,” Duskcrest laughed from the third row. “What’s the point of that threat?”
“With the army from the Crystal Empire, we have 80,000,” Fizzlepop revealed. “It’s enough to hold the mountain. We’ll set our base camp on the slope near the road.”
On stage, Flurry Heart did not react. A besieging force needs to outnumber the defenders. Her father taught her that lesson very early. There were more ponies under the shield, but her little army was already straining the devastated countryside; the roads were clogged with Reich trucks and shipments from Griffonia.
Flurry took a deep breath. “For this battle, Field Marshal Fizzlepop Berrytwist is in command,” the alicorn stated. It was a small concession to the ELF, but needed. At the very least, she’s the best commander present.
The former Tempest Shadow nodded gratefully. Probably because I got her name right.
Flurry Heart waved a wing for Dusty Mark and Duskcrest to take the stage. The unicorn moved towards the stairs, but the griffon wrapped his claws around her abruptly and hauled her up with him. She kicked her legs and sighed.
Duskcrest landed onstage with a wheeze. “You’re getting fat, Dusty.”
The archaeologist rammed her horn at the smug griffon and he dodged, then smoothed out her purple uniform with a flash of magic. The spotlight wavered between the two of them as the pegasus in the rafters struggled to decide who needed it.
“The bulk of our forces are still in Fillydelphia. They’ll be here in two days with the rest of the artillery and anti-air guns.” Dusty jerked her head at Sunset, and the image faded to the top-down view of Mount Canterhorn again. Lines rapidly scrawled around the mountain. "If the 'lings try an aerial assault, we can shred them to pieces. Same with their planes. Canterlot never had room for a proper airbase beyond the dockyards for our airships."
“Listen up!” Duskcrest squawked. “Two trench lines, one around the mountain and built up on the eastern road. Field command will be there. The slope is good for artillery and we’re too close for any ‘ling to get a good shot at us with their own guns from Canterlot.”
“The other trench line is to the west. It’s a fallback against the Celestial Plain,” Dusty continued. “Anti-tank rifles dug in as a last resort.”
“Mage Companies are stationed with the artillery,” Sunset stated. The section of the mountain just under the road flashed. “We’re in reserve until somepony needs fireballs.”
“Rainbow!” Flurry shouted. The pegasus landed on stage from the rafters, wearing her old blue Wonderbolt flight suit under a leather jacket. She was already wearing her aviators, despite the dim lighting of the auditorium.
Rainbow didn’t wait for the spotlight to land on her. She strutted to the front of the stage and flicked out her metal wing. “Weatherponies, your work has been exemplary!”
“Big word for you!” Barrel Roller shouted.
“Surprised you could hear that with that little stub!” Rainbow laughed back. “We’ve turned a mess of clouds...into a mess of clouds that’s also a functional airstrip.” The pegasus grinned back at Sunset, and the image changed to a large flat cloud. “Cloudsdale is now Airstrip One, named by yours truly.”
Flurry held her tongue.
“We’re in reserve once the birds flock it up and let the bugs through their flyswatter,” Rainbow said brazenly to the nickers of pegasi in the audience. Thorax and the changeling mare scuffed their hooves on the floor.
“We’re all flying repainted ‘ling garbage anyway,” Rainbow admitted, “and I don’t trust colorblind griffons not to shoot us down. Stay off the front lines when the order comes down. We’re on intercept and destroy. Nova pilots are flying up their planes from Fillydelphia tomorrow.”
“Your confidence in our abilities fills me with hope, Professor Dash,” Gallus called out in Herzlander. The Reich delegation, Gallus and two armored knights, sat in the very back of the auditorium. Yona and Sandbar sat next to the knights; the yak out-massed them, even in full plate armor.
“Dunno what you said in turkey language," Rainbow shrugged. "You gonna fly a plane or drive a tank, bluebird?”
“No, the Kaiser put me on idiot duty,” Gallus quipped back.
“Is that an insult to the Princess?” Rainbow asked with mock anger.
Half the crowd laughed, but the few crystal ponies glittered in the crowd with scowling muzzles. They were all wearing full uniforms; the jackets didn’t hide the flare around their necks and heads when they clenched their teeth.
“It’s an apt title,” Flurry said loudly to Rainbow and defused the situation. “Considering how many times I’ve saved your worthless flank, I must be an idiot.”
Rainbow swayed theatrically in the spotlight. It earned a few more genuine laughs.
“On topic!” Fizzlepop snapped with a bolt from her jagged horn. The spotlight moved to her with practiced speed. “Liberation Front, we will hold the encirclement around Canterlot. The Imperial forces will hold the fallback line against the Celestial Plain. Be ready to shift priorities on the artillery and mage support.”
“If the Reich ends up getting pushed back, you’re going to end up on the front lines,” Flurry warned. “Aquileians will hold the north, Herzlanders hold the middle, and Nova Griffonia holds the south.” The western trench line flashed on the map above her.
Sophie Altiert and Eagleheart sat together in the third row. The gold unicorn and gray griffon nodded up to Flurry. The Aquileians were given the smallest amount of trenchwork to guard; Josette was still running supplies down from the coast and keeping her eye on the remaining militias. There were only a thousand present.
Edvald, as far from the Reich delegation as possible, sat in a cluster with the other Herzlanders in purple uniforms. He clasped a claw to his chest in salute. The Herzlanders had moved out from Stalliongrad’s defensive line with their full number.
Duskcrest bowed fully on stage. “At your command, Princess.” The Nova Griffonians were the largest contingent of griffons in the auditorium, nearly the entire leadership from the frontier. The rowdy militia commanders screeched a war cry that made the ponies in the room flinch with pinned-back ears.
“At Field Marshal Fizzlepop’s,” Flurry corrected once the shouts ceased. “Captain Duty Price and his task force will scout the mountain, assisted by the Tzinacatl and Thorax’s changelings. The road is a good bottleneck.”
Amoxtli and three other tattooed bat ponies softly screeched from the rafters. A few ponies in the crowd looked up in surprise. Only the Thestrals’ eyes were easily visible.
A voice piped up from the crowd. “Are we supposed to trust that those bugs-”
“Enough.” Flurry smashed a hoof through the wooden stage. Her voice staggered the ponies in the front row.
After a moment of dead silence, Thorax spoke up. “Some of us have experience with the caves and old mines around Canterlot,” he chittered unabashedly. “It’s a good bet that the Changeling Heer has ‘lings familiar as well. It’s been under their control for years.”
“Looking forward to being a tunnel rat!” Duty Price nickered from the second row. The blue earth pony was puffing a cigar with one hoof and combing his mustache in the other. "We'll bury them."
“Crystal ponies and yaks,” Flurry said with a subdued smile. “You’ve come a long way.”
“There is still snow!” Yona exclaimed. “Wherever there is snow, there is yaks!” She wrapped a heavy hoof around one of the armored knights and pulled him against her. The knight struggled in vain to free himself from her shaggy brown coat.
“You have the most essential task of all, my ponies,” Flurry said gravely. The crystal ponies leaned forward in anticipation. Flurry bit her lip and inhaled, pushing out her breath with a foreleg.
“You get to dig holes,” she announced with a flat expression.
“We need trenches,” Fizzlepop agreed.
“As the Princess commands!” Jadis yelled. “The finest snow forts in the world belong to the Empire!”
The few crystal ponies stomped their hooves three times against the floor.
Flurry smiled genuinely. It wasn’t the truth, of course, and everypony knew it. The crystal ponies and yaks were too few in number beyond the shield covering the north. They would be needed to run ammo and supplies behind the front lines. And they’ve already lost enough for now.
“Is Princess Twilight in Canterlot?” a stallion’s voice called out in a Trottingham accent.
The chatter slowly died.
Flurry tried to pick out the pony that asked. It wasn’t Price.
“Pip,” Sunset called from the stage in a tired voice.
“Is Princess Twilight in Canterlot?” a piebald earth pony asked from the fifth row. He was only a few years older than Flurry. He lowered his hoof; he was wearing an armband with the Elements of Harmony on it.
“The last plausible report of Twilight’s location was before the ELF rebelled,” Thorax answered. “We can’t confirm her location, nor has she been seen for years.”
“The Hegemony is full of rumors about Twilight Sparkle,” the changeling mare agreed. She lifted her head to look at Pip, and Flurry caught a glimpse of her muzzle.
She remembered her face from Ironbend. Ocellus. Her muzzle twitched into a sneer before the alicorn recovered.
The changeling clearly felt the burst of anger from the way her ears pinned back, but continued. “M-most rumors claim she is in Vesalipolis,” she stuttered, “but s-some ‘lings still believe she’s in Canterlot.”
“What if she is?” a strong voice rumbled from the auditorium exit. Spike stood in the very back of the large room. He would’ve blocked anyone’s view otherwise. “Do we have a plan?”
“We have no way of knowing where my aunt is,” Flurry said neutrally. She raised her wings and trotted to the very front of the stage. The spotlight still didn’t move towards her, so she grabbed it in her magic and wrenched it away from Sunset Shimmer's spot. “Let’s say she’s in Canterlot. How do we take the city?”
“You’re an alicorn, ain’t you?” Limestone snorted. "Heard you make craters."
“You think they won’t kill her the moment I breach the walls?” Flurry asked bluntly. “Or that they haven’t killed her already?”
“Chrysalis would keep her alive to gloat,” Sunset disagreed.
“Maybe,” Flurry allowed with a head toss. “But we don’t have any proof.”
“We won’t have any until we take Canterlot!” a mare on the ELF side shouted. She earned some whinnies of agreement.
“I believe we can take Canterlot,” Flurry stated. “And I believe that the Hegemony is coming. The Changeling Heer is going to crash down on the Celestial Plain with all its power. We can’t afford distractions.”
Flurry looked to her side of the auditorium. “Some of you have followed me from the Crystal City. That battle was necessary, but it nearly destroyed us. I’m not counting on another miracle. The first one was costly enough.”
“Chrysalis believes she built a new era, a Pax Chrysalia,” Dusty snarled.
“Changelings are raised to believe that she was the only Queen of the Changelings that ever was,” Thorax elaborated. “That she’s thousands of years old and immortal.”
“Everything it is was built on lies,” Zecora sang, “and therein lies the path of its demise.”
“We break the Hegemony,” Flurry declared. She dipped her head towards the back of the auditorium. “And we do it together, griffons and ponies. Yaks and dragons. Everyone.”
Gallus ruffled his feathers as the crowd turned to look at him.
“We win the battle first, then we take Canterlot,” Flurry promised. “I swear it.”
“You planning on fighting, Princess?” somepony in the ELF side jeered. It earned a series of disapproving whinnies and squawks from the opposite side of the auditorium.
“Yes.”
The shouts turned positive.
Flurry released the spotlight and stalked towards the back of the stage. She lowered her wings after waving her feathers to Fizzlepop. The mare stepped forward. “Further questions?” the Field Marshal half-growled. “For every dumb question you ask in the field, you have to dig a latrine pit. Ask now.”
Flurry approached Ocellus. The thin changeling mare had backed up against the wall. Thorax stood next to her; he gave Flurry a half-lidded, subtle look. The pink alicorn checked her aggressive, stomping hooves, then stepped forward more gingerly. The jumpsuit-wearing alicorn slid herself between the two changelings.
“Have you been to Canterlot?” Flurry whispered.
Ocellus did not answer.
“You know I am speaking to you,” Flurry prompted her.
“I-I have not, Princess.”
“You weren’t part of the invasion force at my parent’s wedding? Like Thorax?”
“I was t-too young.”
Flurry pursed her lips in thought. “You know a lot about Canterlot and the 'lings there.”
“I dealt with Lilac’s correspondence,” Ocellus admitted quietly. “She wrote to Generalmajor Jachs and his adjutant, Alcippe. A few others while she was renegotiating the Love Tax to the Changeling Lands. An industrialist named Finicus. He’s in charge of Main Hive Industries. Doctor Marsilio…”
“They’re all in Canterlot?” Flurry hummed in thought.
“Y-yes.”
“What about Actia?”
“She’s a monster and you should kill her,” Thorax hissed quietly.
Flurry smirked. “Why?”
“She abuses her slaves.”
“Most changelings do that,” Flurry retorted.
“Not the w-way she does,” Ocellus added in a strained whisper.
Flurry's smirk fell and she exhaled through her nose. “Why did that officer pick you?”
Ocellus took several minutes to respond. Flurry listened to Fizzlepop and Sunset elaborate on positioning, with commentary from Duskcrest, Dusty, and Rainbow when needed. It was a ragged, disorganized group, but Flurry had accomplished more with less. The comforting thought didn’t do much to unfreeze the block of ice in her stomach.
“I was the youngest,” Ocellus finally said.
“There was another mare in the line,” Flurry whispered absently. “She gasped.”
“His sister.”
It was Flurry’s turn to be quiet for several minutes.
“I told Thorax,” the alicorn said quietly, “that I would accept your apology.”
Thorax buzzed his wings to Flurry’s right. She leaned over and nuzzled him, certain that some in the crowd probably scowled at her showing any affection for a changeling.
“I’m sorry,” Ocellus said softly. “I know why you hate us.”
“I don’t hate you nearly as much as most in that crowd,” Flurry sighed.
“That’s what Thorax said,” Ocellus agreed. “The Pax Chrysalia was never going to last. We need you to win.” The smaller changeling finally turned her head to look Flurry in the eye. "We need you to win," she repeated.
Flurry glanced at Thorax; the changeling trotted forward to insert himself into some answer. He didn’t look back at either of them.
“Why?” Flurry muttered.
“Because if anypony else wins they’re gonna kill us all,” Ocellus said honestly.
Flurry picked out Jadis leaning against some chairs and arguing with Jacques and Limestone about how to dig a trench. Yona laughed along at something with Sandbar and Gallus. Rainbow mimed preening her metal wing on stage with Fizzlepop; she lifted her glasses to compare their muzzle scars. Spike approached the stage through the aisle to speak with Sunset and Barrel Roller. Altiert and Eagleheart chattered in Aquileian with their sub-commanders. Edvald and the Herzlanders gathered with Duskcrest to sketch the trenchworks.
In one form or another, begrudging or not, everyone was working together.
Thorax stood at the edge of the stage, alone.
“Duchess Gabriela is proud to announce that the Herzland is swollen with patriotism,” Grand Duke Gerlach reported. "Griffons await news of your inevitable upcoming victory, my Kaiser." The stormy gray and black griffon dabbed at his blind eye with a cloth; something he did when he was nervous.
Knowing Gabriela, Grover snarled in his head, that means it is swollen with discontent.
“Thank you, Grand Duke,” Grover said aloud instead. He waved a claw for the griffon to step back. The movement made the Reichstone shift on his head again.
The Grand Duke of Feathisia bowed low and returned to the wall of the circular room. Herzland’s spare nobility, Knight-Captains for a half-dozen chapters, and the General Staff of the Griffonian Reich were packed into the fourth floor of a dilapidated tower in the Everfree Forest. Guards watched the broken balcony with readied assault rifles, looking to the sky and down to the castle grounds.
Benito actually stood inside the wall of the tower, having knocked a hole into a hidden passageway that spanned the entire height of the old ruin. He leaned against broken cobblestones and sniffed his muzzle, resting a paw on his sheathed sword.
Grover spared Benito a glance. “Count Ignatius of Bronzehill,” he called out. The only other dog in the room, the Gray Dog of Bronzekreuz, stepped away from the map pinned to the eastern wall and practically crawled to the centered table.
“My Kaiser,” he whimpered in a low voice.
The Kaiser beckoned him to rise with an uplifted claw. “Rise. How confident are the engineers that they’ve found all the secret passages in the castle?”
“The ponies of a thousand years ago were clever,” Ignatius admitted, “but never as clever as your dogs, my Kaiser.”
Not an answer. “I trust the castle is secure?”
“It is safe from intruders,” Benito interrupted, “but not age or time. This place is a ruin.”
“Simply shameful,” General Thundertail shook his head in a theatrical motion. The speckled griffon laughed from his spot against the wall. “The Sun Princess left this place to rot. I'm sure the Nightmare was thrilled to find it like this.”
Hoof steps sounded on the stone stairwell beyond the room, moving quickly. She’s early. Grover clacked his beak. “Dismissed.”
The tan griffon waved the Count of Bronzehill back to the wall. He leaned onto the center table and flared his wings, preemptively glaring at the door. Talons dug into the map of the Equestrian Heartlands and disrupted the carefully placed miniature tanks and griffons.
The wooden alicorn atop of Mount Canterhorn wobbled, but stayed upright.
The hooves stopped outside the door and knocked on the aged wood. “My Kaiser?” a mare asked in Aquileian. One of the knights opened the door to a charcoal unicorn in a gray Reichsarmee uniform with an orange sash. She bowed in the doorway, scraping her horn on the floor.
Grover’s feathers flushed in embarrassment and he folded his wings back against his long coat. “Countess Raison,” he announced with a cough. “Report.”
“The Princess is here,” she said in lightly accented Herzlander. “She awaits downstairs.”
“She’s waiting?” slipped out of Benito before he raised a paw to his muzzle.
“Have her scanned and sent up,” Grover ordered.
Raison d’Etat visibly hesitated. “The Princess is…indecent,” she stuttered in Aquileian.
“Blessed Boreas,” Bronzetail groaned in Aquileian. “She’s not naked, is she?”
“No,” Raison nickered, “not technically.”
“Send her up,” Grover repeated. "Dismissed." Raison bowed again and trotted rapidly down the stairs. The Kaiser looked to the balcony, watching the slight snowfall over the Everfree Forest. Gallus stood next to the open balcony wearing a full coat, gloves, and boots.
“Is the Princess resistant to frost?” Grover asked him in Herzlander.
“She’s resistant to everything,” Gallus deadpanned, “including tact and flattery.”
Grover took his claws off the table and returned to standing on all fours. “Since the loss of the High Seas Fleet outside Haukland," he changed subjects, "the Hegemony's naval capacity is limited to submarines. Air Marshal Ebonbeak, have we been able to bomb the ports in the Appleoosan Protectorate?”
“Our fuel reserves remain rationed, my Kaiser,” Ebonbeak said deferentially. The yellow griffon was behind Grover, and neither turned to look at each other.
Not an answer. “I’m aware that Canterlot is the priority,” Grover stated bluntly. “Have a report on estimated air wings prepared tonight.”
“My Kaiser,” Ebonwing snapped a claw to his breast with a muffled thump.
Hooves pounded up the stairs again. Countess Raison entered first with a flicking tail and nervous expression. She stopped to bow in the doorway, then scrambled forward as Flurry Heart pushed past the unicorn with her massive wings.
The room froze.
The Princess of Ponies wore a form-fitting black jumpsuit zipped up to her neck. Her tail was a small bulge in the back, clearly shaven away; her mane had been cut down to stubble. Aside from the one-piece suit that hugged every lean muscle, the alicorn only wore a simple purple crystal band atop her head.
Flurry raised a brow and drank in the stares with a muted smirk. She bowed at Grover with sweeping wings and a dipped horn. “Kaiser Grover.”
“Princess,” Grover allowed.
The Princess stood back up before Grover could say more. “I would ask if that cat got your tongue,” she snorted in Herzlander, “but that is probably offensive.”
“Is this the clothes that Equestrians wore?” Grover replied, ignoring the jab.
“It’s either this or sweatpants,” Flurry answered. “Or naked, and I don’t trust your griffons not to sneak a peek under my lack of tail.”
“Harlot,” Thundertail muttered.
Flurry’s ears swiveled to him. “What’s wrong?” she teased.
“The general Reichsarmee is unfamiliar with padded gambesons for heavy plate,” Sir Geralt spoke out from the wall. The yellow-eyed griffon nodded at the Princess. “I expect your armor to be quite heavy, considering the visible padding.”
“It’s not that bad,” Flurry nickered. “It’s good to see you again.”
Geralt nodded and scuffed a claw on his black-plated armor.
Flurry winked at Benito. “You’ve knocked holes in a priceless piece of history, Benito.”
“They should’ve taken better care of it,” the graying dog retorted bluntly.
“True enough,” Flurry shrugged. She looked around the room, pausing to nod at Bronzetail, who only buried his beak in his claws. Gallus offered a slight wave. “There’s a lot of important people here,” she remarked. “And quite close to the front.”
“Is that a threat?” Benito snarled.
“An observation,” Flurry countered. “You’re within range for bombers.” The alicorn trotted to the center table and stared down her muzzle at Grover. “We’re already moving out to encircle Canterhorn. I could be teleporting supplies forward. Why am I here?”
“Gallus has informed me of your plans,” Grover said flatly.
“As expected,” Flurry shrugged a wing. “Is this the part where you tell me your cunning plan?”
“This is a courtesy,” Grover said with a low growl, “nothing more. Your only concern is holding the encirclement.”
Flurry clicked her tongue. “Very well, Kaiser.”
Grover stared up at her. Flurry stared back. Neither blinked.
Gallus coughed into a claw.
The Princess and the Kaiser turned their heads to stare at him in unison.
“…I’m cold,” Gallus managed.
Flurry’s horn suddenly lit and the blue griffon's feathers glowed gold. The sudden magic made the entire room tense. The pink alicorn gave the room an unimpressed glare. “Warming spell. Get over yourselves. I could kill you all before you could draw.”
From behind her, Thundertail smirked and unholstered his pistol with a quick-draw.
Before he could even pretend to aim it, the pistol was ripped from his claw in a golden aura, dismantled mid-air, and the bullets and parts landed in a neat pile on the table. Flurry did not look behind her, and her horn dimmed.
Thundertail looked down at his empty claw with a long, slow blink.
Grover clacked his beak. “I’m not impressed by theatrics. Would you give General Thundertail his sidearm back?”
Flurry’s horn glowed again and the parts swirled around her head. The pistol was reassembled with a speed that would set records in the Reichsarmee, then floated back. The magazine followed separately.
Thundertail did not pluck them out of the golden magic until Grover stared at him directly. The speckled griffon lamely loaded the pistol, then laid it in his palm with a confused grimace. “The trigger’s missing.”
The part in question bounced off his beak. Flurry hit him without looking over her shoulder or aiming.
“Oops,” Flurry said blankly. “Forgot it.”
Grover took a deep breath and tapped a talon on the map. “Our air force is keeping the Hegemony at bay, for now. Our recon planes have confirmed a massive build-up to the west at their airfields.”
“My airfields,” Flurry corrected. “Under occupation.”
“It’s not yours without Canterlot, Princess,” Grover quipped. “I’ll leave taking it to you.”
Flurry scrunched her muzzle. “Not interested in helping?”
“No,” Grover shrugged. “My ‘cunning plan,’ as you put it, was to force the Hegemony to bring everything to bear at the Celestial Plain.” The griffon pointed to a contingent of little metal griffons placed just above Baltimare.
“The south is open,” Grover revealed. “While they are slamming into our tanks to the west, General Mudbeak will advance with 200,000 griffons in a push to cut off the southern peninsula.”
“You're trying to take the Appleoosan Protectorate?” Flurry asked.
“I only need to cut it off from the rest of Equestria,” Grover explained. “The only major port to the east is Las Pegasus, going to occupied Hjortland in Olenia or Vanhoover.”
“Cut off the oil,” Flurry stated.
“Just so,” Grover traced a talon down a pink line across the top of the map. “Your shield is cutting off the north.”
Flurry frowned down at the map, eyeing the tin soldiers. “You still need to win at Canterlot,” she said dubiously.
“We will win,” Grover answered.
“What’s the plan?”
“A full mechanized counter-assault with air support once the Changelings move to engage,” Grover waved a claw. “Thundertail will hold the north while Bronzetail and Ignatius push through the south and center. The details are unimportant.”
Flurry snorted and finally turned her head over her wing to narrow an eye at Thundertail. “If you get pushed back, we’re on the front line.”
“We will not be pushed back,” Grover replied. “The knight banners will support the advance; they shall follow the tanks. It will be a question of who moves faster.”
Flurry returned to the map and chewed on her lip. She lowered her head to look at the terrain. Her wings ruffled. “Field Marshal Bronzetail is leading the center?”
Bronzetail shuffled his paws and claws from the side of the room.
“That’s no concern of yours.”
“How’s he supposed to command the entire army from a tank?”
“He is not in command,” Grover replied. “I am.”
Flurry blinked and peered up at him from the map.
Grover's beak twitched in amusement. Just this once, I’ll savor that dumbfounded expression on your muzzle, Princess.
The griffon stood up straight and raised his wings. “I have assumed command of my forces for this battle, Princess. That is why I am here. Manehattan is too far away.”
Flurry stood up and exhaled through her nose. “Why?”
“Do I need a reason to lead my armies?” Grover questioned back. “We invented the tank. Despite the reclamation of my ancestor’s empire, the Griffonian Reich has yet to face another armored army. Wingbardy's divisions were pathetic. This will be the largest armored engagement in the history of the world.”
“I’ll rephrase my question,” Flurry half-apologized. “Are you competent enough to lead an army?”
Half the room squawked in indignation. Benito and Ignatius snarled.
“I know Hive Marshal Synovial,” Grover scowled. “You met him briefly in Aquileia. He is inflexible, unlike Trimmel.” The Kaiser gouged a claw into the wooden table with a hard slap. The figures rattled. “The changeling that broke Equestria would have been a tougher opponent.”
“Trimmel died cradling a colt,” Flurry snapped.
Grover searched for a proper response. “What?”
“He thought I would hesitate,” Flurry bared her teeth. “I didn’t.” Her icy eyes swept the griffons along the walls as the room quieted.
Most did not meet her eyes, only Gallus and Bronzetail.
“Where’s the weakest point on your front?” Flurry asked. She didn’t look at Grover to do so.
“You overreach, Princess,” Bronzetail squawked, trying to sound conciliatory.
“This isn’t a fucking board game,” Flurry growled. She turned around to glare at the Field Marshal and jabbed a hoof at him. “My army is out-gunned and out-numbered on that mountain. If you fuck up, they can’t stop a breakout.”
“We expected you to shield the city,” Gallus offered with a wince.
“I can’t hold a shield like that unless I’m inside it,” Flurry retorted with a head toss. Her crystal crown bounced slightly. “And I’m not blowing the damn thing up. All of our supply lines are feeding your army, not mine.”
“Worry about your own forces,” Ignatius snarled.
“My ponies might hate me,” Flurry laughed ruefully, “or fear me, or love me, but they know what they’re fighting for. I’m not worried about them.” She searched the room. “Why are any of you here? Some excuse about Kemerskai plotting with Chrysalis?”
“Kemerskai instigated the protests with embedded changelings,” Ignatius answered with sincere, painful belief.
“He wasn’t smart enough to do that,” Flurry denied.
“And you knew him that well?” Benito barked.
“I managed to kill him,” Flurry said bluntly, “and take over Nova Griffonia in less than two weeks. He wasn’t very smart.”
“You haven’t kept control of it,” Grover seized on the opening. He leaned his claws on the table. “Did you deal with the plotters that reached out to me?”
Flurry hesitated. Her wings fluttered against the jump suit.
“Clearly not,” Grover assumed with a smirk. His tail swished against his cuffed pant leg. “I ordered the information passed along.”
Flurry turned to Gallus.
“I told Thorax weeks ago,” Gallus sighed.
Flurry Heart chewed on the inside of her cheek and nodded after a moment. “They dealt with it, then.”
“That is your response?” Grover squawked in a laugh. “You should get a better spymaster. Perhaps you should not trust a traitor?”
Flurry was quiet as a few chuckles spread throughout the room, far fewer than usual. Well, at least her presence prevents most of them from faking it, Grover thought.
The alicorn’s ears twitched. “You trusted a traitor, didn’t you?” Flurry asked slowly. “What was his name again?”
Grand Duke Gerlach and Count Ignatius stepped forward with their attendants.
“How dare you!” Gerlach screeched.
Flurry reared back in surprise at the sudden advance. Her horn sparked.
Grover fired his pistol into the ceiling. It pierced the old wood easily, and the sudden sound made the room freeze. He took a deep breath and holstered the old Changeling broom-handle pistol under his wing.
“Dismissed. Everyone out of the room.”
No one moved.
“I will not repeat myself,” Grover added bluntly.
Geralt and his knights bowed and left first. It caused a slow trickle of griffons to leave. Gerlach and Ignatius slunk out together, sparing angry glares at Flurry, who stared back at them with a confused, twisted muzzle.
“Benito,” Grover challenged.
The gray dog stood in the tunnel. “I am not in the room,” he shrugged a paw.
Gallus walked out last. “Thank you for the spell, Princess,” he said quietly.
Flurry nodded absently. Two knights remained in the stairwell and closed the door behind Gallus.
“What the hell was that?” Flurry nickered in Equestrian. “I meant-”
“I am aware of who you meant,” Grover interrupted. “They are not. Grand Duke Gerlach and Count Ignatius joined Duchess Gabriela in their rebellion against Archon Eros. The civil war tore the Herzland apart for a year.”
“The war over your regency,” Flurry connected.
“If it had lasted longer, the Reich would’ve been slow prey for Kemerskai and Aquileia,” Benito spat. “Thankfully, the army remained loyal.”
“Not all of it,” Grover reminded him.
Bentio tapped his saber’s hilt with a paw.
“What? Eros pardoned them?” Flurry asked in surprise.
“I insisted,” Grover waved a claw. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I was only a cub.”
“And that cub later sent tanks against his own subjects over an excuse,” Flurry stated.
“And the filly that served soup to foals killed one,” Grover answered.
Flurry closed her eyes and looked away. “I didn’t want to kill him,” she said in a pained voice. “You didn’t have to send in those tanks.”
Grover took a breath and glanced at the purple-bound journal on the table, holding down one of the corners of the map. He forced himself to look back at the alicorn. “You think I would be here if I did not?” Grover asked. “Do you even know what those protestors wanted?” He let the question hang in the air.
Flurry did not offer a reply.
“Votes,” Grover squawked. He circled the table to the map on the wall; the world stretched out in front of him. “Do you think precious Katherine in Katerin would have voted to send her brothers to Equus?” the griffon asked over his wings. “To fight changelings?”
“She wasn’t part of the protests,” Flurry responded. “Neither was her family.”
“Most griffons are fine,” Grover deflected. “I am not Chrysalis. They are not being worked to death. It is very boring, actually,” he said in a lighter tone. “They attend sermons about how my dynasty was chosen by the Gods.”
“Right,” Flurry said dubiously. “The same Gods that raise the sun?”
“The very same,” Grover agreed after looking at the wooden door to the tower. “I will be blunt: Griffons do not care what happens here."
"I am aware," Flurry responded.
"The world does not care," Grover ignored her statement. "Aris is surrounded by Colthage and Chiropterra. Hindia spars with the Kirin and Macawia over trade. Dragon Lord Ember remains on her island, watching our navies duel. Southern Zebrica tears itself apart over the legacy of the Storm King.”
“You came all this way to help me, huh?” Flurry sighed.
“I came here because Chrysalis will never content herself with Equus.”
“Try again,” Flurry shook her head. “She couldn’t even take Nova Griffonia. You're smart enough to know that the Pax Chrysalia was never going to last.”
Grover studied the map on the wall. He pointed to the northwest of Equus with a wing. “Once,” he began in clipped Equestrian, “the Changeling Lands were a dozen disparate hives. Chrysalis united them all with gunpowder. She named herself Queen of the Changelings and built her Hegemony in our shadow.” The light brown wing swept to the eastern continent. Griffonia was divided in two between the River Federation and the Reich.
“We had no alicorns to unite us,” Grover said. “We are predators; if we aren’t fighting someone else, we fight each other. Griffons slaughtered each other for thousands of years until Boreas charged Grover the Great to unite my people. He did so with fire and sword, and built the largest empire the world has ever seen.
“She came to us for a reason,” Grover snarled. “And my father was weak enough to accept her fanged smile. So was Eros, and Gabriela and all the rest, even the traitors that stand in my court. She took our language, our tanks, our weapons. Everything she has ever accomplished is owed to us. I will not let her usurp the legacy of my family.”
“That’s a good speech,” Flurry commented. “You should tell them that.”
“What?” Grover blinked owlishly behind his glasses and turned back to Flurry. She was still staring at the map.
“Ponies like speeches too,” Flurry shrugged a wing. “I usually make something up on the spot.”
“I prefer to write them down,” Grover disagreed, momentarily struck by the sudden casualness of the conversation.
“That’s probably smarter,” Flurry admitted with a slight smile. Her frown returned immediately. “You’re rushing into this battle. You’ve been doing it for a month.”
“My army is the best in the world.”
Flurry jerked her head at Benito. “Get over here,” she ordered.
The dog narrowed his eyes and growled.
Flurry lit her horn and a golden shield slowly descended around her and Grover. Benito looked to his Kaiser with an unholstered pistol, then leapt over the broken wall and slid under the shield. He tucked his tail against his hind legs as it reached the floor.
“Nice dive,” Flurry complimented.
“Release us,” Benito replied. He raised his pistol at the alicorn.
Grover lowered it with an outstretched claw. “Can they hear us?” He eyed the room beyond the shield, stopping to rub his glasses against his sleeve. The world was tinged gold.
“No,” Flurry shook her head. “Don’t touch the edges, though. It’ll shock you.” The shield walls rippled with blue arcs of electricity.
The map table was under the bubble shield. Grover set the Reichstone down and cracked his neck. Flurry scrunched her muzzle at the popping sound, and the griffon nearly laughed at her disgusted expression. “What do you know about Chancellor River Swirl?” Grover asked in Herzlander.
“She leads the River Federation,” Flurry shrugged. “Hosts Celestia and Luna.”
“Among others,” Grover replied evasively. “She attended Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns in Canterlot, part of an exchange program with the River Republic. She wants to turn the Riverlands into the ‘Equestria of the East.’ That was her campaign slogan.”
“So she went looking for a pair of princesses,” Flurry snarked.
“I would not be surprised if they end up on another throne in a generation or two,” Grover admitted. “The River Parliament is unstable. Besides, the Riverlands was once ruled by the Grand Prince of Lake City. Their democracy is newer than they pretend it to be. The Federation is panicked. The River Parliament is tearing itself apart at their old enemy returning after a generation. They welcomed the elder Kemerskai's rebellion with open hooves.”
“Is that what you wanted to talk about?” Flurry whickered. “Husband,” she tacked on at the end with a smirk at Benito.
Grover picked up the Journal of Friendship on the table. He didn’t open it. “Have you heard from them? Sir Spike can send letters to Celestia, can he not?”
Flurry bit her lip. “No.”
“They made a single public appearance when I began my invasion,” Grover shrugged. “Celestia did not attend the summer River Games, nor participate. It was a poor showing on all fronts."
“It’s probably related to me slaughtering my way across Equus,” Flurry claimed brazenly, “or the pictures of my mother in a cocoon. Did River Swirl try to claim that was fake?”
“They were censored,” Grover answered. “Director Arclight’s doing. He leads the Office of Harmonic Services for the Federation.”
Flurry laughed. It sounded like a windchime. “There’s hardly anything harmonic about those cowards.”
Grover flipped through a stack of papers that was under the journal with his other claw. He offered Flurry the front page of a newspaper. “It is in Herzlander,” he explained, “from Griffenheim. My capital is two days flight from the border.” Flurry accepted it with her forehooves.
Chancellor River Swirl Denounces Invasion
The picture below the headline was in black and white. Two griffons stood next to a frowning unicorn before a podium, a male and female. They were an incredibly mismatched pair. She was clad in a flowery, flowing Aquileian dress, and he wore a broad-shouldered military uniform.
“I know her,” Flurry said absently. “Vivienne Discret.” The dark brown female had vicious, cunning eyes despite the dress.
“The Princess of Aquileia,” Grover confirmed. “I took her kingdom. The male is Giulio Beakolini. He escaped Wingbardy with a small fragment of his navy.”
“He was a fascist piece of shit that invaded New Mareland for no reason,” Flurry mumbled. Her ears pinned back.
“Yes,” Grover agreed. He spoke slowly. “Your shield has disrupted weather across the entire continent. The weather is beyond our control. The snow will stop soon, and the ground will thaw. There will be a small period of clear weather, then rain storms will ravage northern Equestria in the spring. The ground will turn to mud and our armies will not be able to advance.”
Grover leaned across the table to force Flurry to make eye contact. “Or retreat,” he said quietly. “The River Federation will take the opening to attack.”
Flurry swallowed. “Are you sure?”
“Do I have proof?” Grover rephrased. “No, but it is what I would do in their position.”
“They won’t make common cause with Chrysalis,” Flurry denied.
“What has she done to them?” Grover asked with a chuckle. “My ancestor ravaged the Riverlands, only stopped by a lucky spear. They will shatter the Reich, prop Vivienne onto her throne, and return Beakolini to Wingbardy. They will whinny in victory and proclaim that harmony has returned to Griffonia.”
“And Vivienne and Beakolini will fight each other beak and claw over territory,” Benito added with a raised lip.
“And griffons will kill each other for another generation,” Grover finished.
“You have an army at the border,” Flurry Heart tried. Her crystal crown reflected the arcs of electricity from her shield. It shimmered in the light.
“An army that will not be able to hold them,” Grover admitted bitterly. “Not long enough for my return. Regardless of what happens in the south, we have to fight now and we have to win. They are waiting to see whose army is better. If I can beat Chrysalis, I can beat the Federation. Arclight and River Swirl know it."
Grover tapped a talon against the wooden alicorn. “Chrysalis cannot let Canterlot fall; her ego will not allow it. If she does not move before the ground thaws, she will lose the ultimate symbol of her triumph. Synovial will lead her attack, and she will throw everything at Canterlot again. I am certain she knows about the instability in the Reich.”
“This is madness,” Flurry spat. Her wings bumped against the side of the shield and blue electricity arced around her feathers. She didn’t seem to notice.
“We are griffons,” Grover replied. He set the journal back down. “The Reich was always held together with force, whether it was subterfuge, politics, or blood. You said it yourself. Our empires will die together.”
Flurry took a deep breath and stared down at the map. “Where’s your weak point?” she repeated.
“Concern yourself with Canterlot, Princess,” Grover answered.
“The battle won’t be decided there,” Flurry retorted. She jabbed a wing down on the Celestial Plain. “It’ll happen there, just like with Starlight. With your tanks.”
“Our tanks are better,” Benito stated. “Our air force is better.”
“They have shorter supply lines and they know the terrain,” Flurry countered. “Don’t try to sell me something like a griffon.”
“I am holding divisions in reserve,” Grover nudged a few of the soldiers around Canterlot with a talon. He tilted his head and looked Flurry Heart over. The jumpsuit clung to her fur.
Flurry flapped her wings at the stare. “Like what you see?” she teased. “If I had been born a stallion, this would be scandalous. You know what they say about stallions with big wings, right?” Flurry stretched her long legs; the material flexed around her muscles.
“If you had been born a stallion, things would have been very different…wife,” Grover replied. He propped an elbow on the table and leaned his head on a claw. “You are aware that I would have never asked for your hoof in marriage if you accepted my offer?”
“That’s why I offered it,” Flurry stuck her tongue out. “I figured I was valuable enough to soothe your prickly griffon pride. Looks like I was right.”
“You threatened to blow up my capital.”
“Do you want something else?” Flurry asked genuinely. "You want to renegotiate?"
Grover paused. “How do you intend to fight?” he deflected.
Flurry rolled her eyes and lowered her head to tap her horn.
Grover smoothed out his head feathers and stared down at the wooden alicorn atop Canterhorn. He gingerly picked it up and moved it to the Celestial Plain. “Bronzetail is used to your eccentricities,” the griffon announced in Herzlander. “Ride through the center.”
Flurry nodded and grinned. A smile more befitting a changeling than a pony, Grover thought. The Princess smiled like she had fangs, but her teeth were flat and dull white.
“I expect you to take orders from Bronzetail,” Grover warned. “I do not lead a militia. The Reichsarmee is an actual military.”
“From what I’ve seen of battles, any order breaks down quickly,” Flurry warned back. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Do you?”
“Nope,” Flurry giggled. It sounded like two crystal bells clinking together.
“I always believed Equestrians sang and frolicked through meadows,” Benito muttered.
“I’m from the Crystal Empire,” Flurry corrected him.
“Is it too much to presume you have a plan for ruling Equestria?” Grover asked.
“Real union,” Flurry answered readily. “Economy and military interlinked with the Empire. It'll be easier to govern.”
Grover hummed. More considered than I thought.
Flurry inhaled and looked at the journal resting under Grover’s claw. “If Twilight is alive, I’ll restore the Diarchy. I expect you to confirm Twilight as Princess of Equestria.”
“As long as she honors our agreements,” Grover said easily.
Flurry nodded again and dispelled the shield.
“Anything else?” she asked. Her eyes were distant.
“No,” Grover answered.
Flurry turned to leave instead of teleporting.
Grover looked down at the journal.
“Princess, I would not get your hopes up,” he said in Aquileian.
“I know she’s dead,” Flurry responded over her shoulder in the same language. “The ELF is desperate to believe she isn’t, same with Starlight. Maybe we’ll never find her body either.” Flurry stopped at the door. She looked over her shoulder. “Is my father still in Griffenheim?”
“Yes,” Grover answered after a long silence. He did not look up from the map.
“Huh,” Flurry mumbled. “I figured you would’ve thrown him in a ditch after I started blowing your stuff up.”
“No point in taking it out on a corpse,” Grover scoffed. Benito shuffled his paws and moved back to the broken wall.
Flurry remained at the door, lost in thought. “What if Celestia and Luna come back?”
Grover retrieved a report and scribbled down a correction after looking it over. “That is entirely your decision, Princess of Ponies.” They will never come back.
“I think most Equestrians would take them over me," Flurry chuckled. It sounded fake. "I'll be worth way less."
“You are the most valuable thing on this continent,” Grover said on reflex. He looked over the top of his glasses to try and catch her expression. The blurry alicorn pushed open the door and left quickly.
Grover grabbed several blank sheets of paper. “Benito?”
“My Kaiser,” the dog said from the hole in the wall.
“Was she blushing?”
“Her fur is pink, my Kaiser.”
“Not an answer, Benito.” Grover tapped his pen on the end of the table. “How fast can a courier take a letter to Griffenheim? A week?”
“Most likely,” Benito agreed, “barring weather.”
“We’ll use the secure channels on the radio, then,” Grover reconsidered. “I’ll need to talk to the Archons.”
“My Kaiser?” Benito asked.
“I said this was my Grand Crusade, Benito,” Grover stated in a low voice as he began to sketch out a speech. He coughed into a claw after his voice broke. “Might as well make it official.”
The dog rubbed the whiskers on his graying muzzle. “My Kaiser, the first Crusade failed.”
“I am in blood stepped in so far, that, should I wade no more, returning were as tedious as go o'er,” Grover repeated. He set the Reichstone down atop the weathered Friendship Journal.
Flurry gingerly lifted the cupcake with both hooves. The tiny candle atop it flickered from the movement, and the flame nearly disappeared. The alicorn breathed in through her nose, then gently blew out the candle.
“Happy Birthday, Flurry,” Thorax chittered.
“Thank you, uncle,” Flurry Heart answered with a muted smile. She pulled the candle out with her teeth, spitting it out on the large box containing her armor that functioned as a table. The cupcake was pitifully small in her hooves, but she savored all three bites.
The fabric walls of her tent ruffled slightly from the wind. The forward base on the slopes of Mount Canterhorn was exposed to the gales blowing down the mountain, but not the potential artillery fire from Canterlot. The Changeling Heer had dug into the mountain roads and collapsed the rail tunnel, but neither side had engaged.
All eyes were turned towards the Celestial Plain.
“I’m going to walk the camp,” Flurry decided. She zipped her jump suit up in a flash of magic, additionally fetching her crown from its place on her cot. It was too short for her, and her legs dangled off the side if she laid on her stomach.
Flurry could’ve slept back at Twilight’s castle in Ponyville, but she wanted to be close when the fighting started.
“It’s cold today,” Thorax warned.
“Never bothered me,” Flurry retorted and pushed the tent flap back with a wing. Frosty Jadis and three other crystal ponies huddled around the tent in heavy jackets. Jadis saluted with her bad foreleg.
“Happy birthday, Princess.” The greeting was echoed by the other crystal ponies.
Flurry nodded to each of them and trotted through the camp. Her hooves crunched on the fine layer of snow. It was thin enough to expose the grass in some places, and the clear sky was tinged pink to the north.
The Crystal Heart’s shield was three days flight from Canterlot, and the right flank of the Griffonian Reich was somewhere north of the mountain. Flurry flexed her wings as she trotted through the camp; her horn occasionally pulsed with light as she cast the illusion-stripping spell reflexively. So far, the Tzinacatl scouts had intercepted any attempted infiltrators and turned them over to Thorax’s changelings.
Thorax did not tell her what happened to them.
Flurry turned on the slope and looked west. A few planes lazily flew far off in the distance, small enough to be simple black dots on the horizon. The Hegemony and Reich air forces had apparently decided to take the day off, or they were conserving their fuel for the upcoming battle.
The camp was also too far away to see the furrowed trenchwork dug at the base of the mountain, nor the griffon and ponies spending the day in them. Flurry had teleported vast amounts of ammunition and heavy armaments over while the trenches were dug, mostly anti-tank rifles and bazookas.
I hope Hegemony equipment is rated to pierce Hegemony armor, Flurry snorted. Some ponies took pride in the idea of using the ‘lings own equipment against them, but Rainbow always complained that the Changeling planes flew stiffly. The light pink alicorn trotted down the camp towards the artillery pieces. She had also teleported half of those guns to their positions; Spike stopped her from moving the other half after catching her snorting blood into a snowdrift and rubbing her muzzle clean with snow.
Ponies with Imperial Snowflake armbands wished her happy birthday and bowed; ponies with the Elements of Harmony armband nodded, at best. They didn’t scowl at her anymore, not openly. The upcoming battle had created some sense of solidarity.
If we lose, we’re all going to die on this mountain together. Flurry sighed, narrowing her eyes at a large group of ponies and griffons gathered around a small bonfire. A dozen yaks stood the farthest away, naked and completely at ease in the cold. Music drifted up from a radio. The crowd wore a mix of gray and purple uniforms, meaning that the group consisted of both forces.
Tempest Shadow’s tall purple mohawk stuck out near the center of the crowd. Fizzlepop, Flurry scowled to herself. Like the soda. She pondered naming conventions as she walked down to the crowd. Not like I can judge, I’m named after the storm I nearly destroyed the Crystal City with.
The griffons and yaks parted to allow Flurry Heart through to the center, nodding or bowing as best they could in the crowd. The alicorn cast her detection spell one last time, picking up a changeling near the middle of the crowd. She tensed, only for Arex to rear up and wave over the head of an earth pony.
“Hello, Princess! Happy birthday!” The changeling had some cards folded into the holes in her forehooves; her sleeves were rolled up.
Flurry pushed her way up to a card table made out of shell boxes for the artillery pieces. Sunset, Fizzlepop, Arex, Duskcrest, and Edvald sat around the table. They used varying caliber bullets as chips; Duskcrest had the most, a veritable horde of high-caliber ammunition. The radio in the center of the table continued to blare an awkward sounding polka.
“Happy birthday,” Duskcrest nodded. He placed his cards flush against the table to prevent the others from peeking as he bowed. Sunset’s horn glowed and her eyes glowed briefly as she stared at the back of the cards.
Flurry gave the amber unicorn an unimpressed look. Sunset chuckled uneasily and folded, throwing her cards down. “Happy birthday,” she offered. “How old are you? Twenty?”
“Seventeen.”
Sunset pursed her lips and raised her head to stare up at the alicorn. Flurry Heart was taller than everypony in the crowd, except the yaks. And she could look a few of the yaks in the eye. “Woah,” Sunset nickered. “You’re gonna be as tall as Celestia. She always complained about doorways being too small.”
Flurry flexed her wings again. “They’re already too small for my wings.”
“Your wingspan is the envy of every red-blooded griffon,” Duskcrest laughed. “I know griffons that would kill to have wings that size.”
“Males,” Edvald clarified in heavily accented Equestrian, “because of what else it suggests.”
“Don’t talk about that in front of the Princess,” Arex rebuked them.
“About what?” Flurry nickered. “Dicks? I’m not a foal.”
The table cleared their throats in unison and looked down at their cards. The radio continued the jaunty tune. Flurry’s ears twitched as the rhythm sounded familiar. A changeling started singing in dual-toned Herzlander.
There is a house in New Canterlot; they call the Setting Sun…
“What the hay is that?” Flurry asked. Her lips parted in a sneer.
“Lilac sponsored a few groups to record cover songs,” Arex explained.
“Bad songs,” Edvald grunted. “Accent is as bad as mine in Equestrian.”
“Svengallop was happy to give up the rights to Sapphire Shores’ songs,” Sunset huffed.
“Well,” Flurry snorted, “he’s hanging from a crane in Manehattan.”
Fizzlepop glanced at Flurry. She held her cards in her hooves. “Might have been a little excessive, Princess.”
“He deserved it.”
“Some would say I deserved the same.”
Flurry bit down on her tongue and cut herself off. “Why are you listening to a Changeling radio?” she asked instead. “Is this coming from Canterlot?”
“The Changeling Lands,” Sunset clarified.
“According to the announcer this morning,” Arex continued, “Queen Chrysalis has a message for the Changeling Heer. Probably to shore up support for the attack.”
Flurry clicked her tongue. “Huh.”
Haven’t heard her on the radio in months, not since the whole ‘Alicorn of Death’ thing she tried. “Deal me in,” Flurry declared. She pulled a smaller ammo box forward and sat atop it.
“You know how to play Griffonstone Hold ‘Em?” Sunset asked with a smirk.
“Nope,” Flurry lied and spared a quick look at Arex. The changeling hid her own smirk behind a hoof.
“Is easy,” Edvald proclaimed. Duskcrest pushed a few bullets over to Flurry from his own horde. He narrowed his eyes at her and sized her up.
“Let’s see how the Princess plays,” the frontier griff said warily and collected everyone’s cards. He shuffled them quickly, making a show of how fast he could slip a card into his sleeve.
Even with her innocent, wide-eyed persona and some occasional tells from Arex, Flurry couldn’t beat Duskcrest. The group played a half-dozen hands of cards while the smug griffon’s horde of bullets grew larger.
Sunset finally flung her cards down in a huff and rolled Duskcrest’s sleeves back with her horn. The griffon stuck his light brown arms out and clacked his beak. “I don’t need to cheat to beat you,” he said with smirking eyes. “Ponies have too many tells. Ears and muzzles.”
“That doesn’t explain how you can bluff Arex,” Flurry pointed out.
“I was a bandit,” Duskcrest waved a claw. “Bluffing is ninety percent of the job.”
“Banditry isn’t a job,” Sunset snarked.
“It is in Nova Griffonia,” Duskcrest replied.
The radio crackled and the song stopped. The crowd grew quiet and leaned in. A few still seemed more interested in the card game, but the ponies at the table turned their ears to the radio.
“My beloved changelings,” Chrysalis’ smooth voice flowed out of the radio. She spoke in flawless Herzlander. “This is your Queen, the Empress of Equus.”
“Who else would it be?” Sunset muttered.
“The past few years have been hard, my changelings,” Chrysalis said. She sounded genuinely pained. “The world has always been cruel to our kind. We triumphed over Equestrian aggression, only to face greater and greater challenges. My new subjects struggled to accept their rightful place below us.”
“What?” Flurry sniffed.
“Celestia started the war, don’t you know?” Arex hissed.
“And now, the greatest threat to our dear Hegemony has landed upon our shores. The Griffonian Reich, once our loyal ally, has betrayed our trust. They have followed a cub into an unjust war.”
Flurry rolled her eyes.
“The griffons of the Reich cannot imagine what awaits them,” Chrysalis declared. Her voice turned from sweet sugar to poison. “They have fallen into our trap, and we will drive the cub back into the sea. Our Hegemony is fated to last a thousand years. It will outlast the empire of the decrepit Grovers, of the stagnant Sun and the mad Moon.”
Fizzlepop nickered and her horn sparked.
“I have studied Grover,” Chrysalis claimed with a laugh that sounded like a tolling bell. “The cub does not know war. He only knows how to crush unarmed protestors. I will lead you to victory, as I led you before.”
“Trimmel won the war for her,” Flurry interjected.
“And Hive Marshal Synovial is in command,” Arex added.
“Follow your Queen, my beloved changelings. I promise you the world, and I always keep my promises.”
The radio played static for a few moments.
Flurry laughed slightly. “That was awful.”
“I should say,” Chrysalis’ voice returned, “that I have a guest that wants to speak a few words. I’ve hosted her for some time here in Vesalipolis, for her own safety.”
Sunset set her cards down and frowned at the radio.
Flurry stared hard at the radio as it crackled with static.
“Hello,” a tired, sad voice whispered through the background noise. It was barely audible.
“I don’t want to do this,” Twilight Sparkle said in Equestrian. “I’ve been told a lot about the war. I want to believe that it was all lies.”
Fizzlepop clacked her teeth and shook her head. “It’s not her.”
“Of course it isn’t,” Sunset agreed. Despite her proclamation, she didn’t look away from the radio.
“I still wouldn’t believe it,” Twilight’s voice broke, “but I’ve seen the pictures and heard the speeches, far too many for them to fake. What happened to Equestria?”
Flurry exhaled shakily.
“We believed in harmony,” Twilight sniffled. “We believed in peace and friendship. Princesses never ruled by the point of their horn. We never hung ponies from lampposts. We never executed prisoners. We believed in forgiveness, not revenge.”
Twilight was quiet for a moment. “This isn’t Equestria. This isn’t what we fought for. What so many died for.”
Fizzlepop set her cards down. She looked over at Flurry briefly, then returned to the radio.
“My entire family is gone,” Twilight began to cry. “You’re the only one left, Flurry Heart. I love you so much. You know your parents never wanted this.”
Flurry stared blankly at the radio.
“What’s the point of fighting the Hegemony only to become them?” Twilight wept.
She couldn’t breathe.
“Please, Flurry,” Twilight sobbed. “Please stop.”
The radio abruptly switched off in a burst of green magic. Thorax rammed his way through the crowd with an open snarl. Slamming his forelegs onto the table, the changeling knocked the bullets and cards aside.
“It’s not meant for the Heer,” he hissed in a loud voice. “Her speeches are meant for us, for the Reich. She knows we listen.” He climbed atop the table and glared at the crowd with buzzing wings and a wide, fanged snarl. “She wants to break us.”
“Thorax…” Sunset started.
“No,” Thorax openly snarled down at her.
Sunset blinked at the changeling and closed her mouth.
Thorax turned his head to bear his fangs at Fizzlepop, then leapt off the table. The changeling hauled Flurry back to her hooves. She didn’t resist his pull. Spike was waiting at the edge of the crowd with a box under one arm. He was openly puffing smoke with hard eyes.
“She wouldn’t say that,” Spike assured Flurry. “Not for Chrysalis.”
Flurry followed them back to the tent. “I know,” she said listlessly.
“Ignore it,” Thorax hissed up to the alicorn. Jadis frowned at the approach, but recognized Flurry’s downcast expression and teary eyes. The crystal pony quickly stepped to the side.
Flurry’s tent was barely tall enough for Spike. The dragon folded his wings tight and ducked through the tent. “She wouldn’t say that,” he repeated.
“Not for Chrysalis, right?” Flurry echoed. “But Twilight would tell me that, wouldn’t she?”
“No,” Thorax stated. “You think Chrysalis doesn’t know it’s your birthday? You think this wasn’t Vaspier’s idea? VOPS?”
“Half the ELF doesn’t know when my birthday is,” Flurry answered. “Chrysalis was never a good actress.”
“Vaspier,” Thorax replied. “VOPS, Chrysalis’ spies, there’s a dozen changelings that could do Twilight’s voice and play that part.” The changeling frowned, fully exposing his fangs. “I could,” he said in Twilight’s voice.
“I know it’s not her,” Flurry admitted. “It still hurts.”
“Because Chrysalis and all the ‘lings that follow her need to die,” Thorax said flatly.
Spike puffed a small cloud of smoke and set the box down on Flurry’s armor crate.
“You’re helping me destroy your people,” Flurry whickered to the changeling. She sat down heavily on her cot and her legs dangled to the ground.
“My people,” Thorax hissed, “decided to follow a monster that proved the worst stories about us true. And they’ll keep following her until she starts losing.”
“What happens then?” Spike huffed.
“They’ll see her for who she truly is,” Thorax spat through his fangs. He turned and marched out of the tent with buzzing wings. “I have to run the perimeter again. They’ll try something.”
Spike tried to shuffle to the side in the cramped tent. Thorax’s form melted down in green fire and a gray tabby cat slunk between the dragon’s legs. He left his uniform behind. There was a flash outside the tent as the changeling reverted back.
Spike picked up the clothes. "He's gonna need these," the dragon grumbled. "Naked 'ling is suspicious."
Flurry cast an eye at the cardboard box. “What’s in it?” she mumbled into her pillow.
“Happy birthday,” Spike said quietly.
Flurry’s horn glowed with dull gold light as she unfolded the box. A stuffed orange snail with a gray shell floated out. The eyes were brass buttons from an ELF uniform; the stitching was complete, but the snail wasn’t very plush when she dropped it between her wings.
“Whammy,” Flurry said emotionlessly.
“I picked up some skills from helping Rarity,” Spike explained. “I thought you’d like it.”
“I do.”
“I had to use some of the packing straw from your armor,” Spike offered after a moment of silence.
“Sure.”
Spike licked at his fangs and rubbed a scaled arm. “She wouldn’t say that, Flurry.”
“I know I’m a disappointment, Spike,” Flurry bit out. “I destroyed the Crystal Heart when I was born.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
“I’m not the alicorn anypony wanted,” Flurry continued. “I’m just the one that’s left.”
Spike’s green eyes looked down at her with clear pity. Flurry huffed at the look and waved her wing at him. “I was up late moving ammo crates. Let me sleep.”
The dragon slowly moved out of the tent. “You are not a disappointment.”
“You look at me like I am,” Flurry retorted from the cot. “I’m trying, uncle. I don’t know what else to do.” She paused. “I wish everypony was here.”
“So do I,” Spike admitted. The dragon left. His tail pulled the tent flap closed.
It took Flurry Heart a long time to fall asleep with Whammy nestled between her wings. She awoke abruptly in the middle of the night to muffled movement outside the tent. Flurry extended her magic, feeling Jadis’ long rifle, the dagger under her pillow, and the pistol under the cot. She lit her horn as the crystal pony stuck her head into the tent.
“Princess?” she whispered.
“I’m awake,” Flurry whispered back. “Report.”
“There’s a situation,” Jadis exhaled. “Thorax’s tent. Some of the scouts from the road.”
Flurry rolled of the bed, knocking Whammy to the ground. She picked up the snail and laid it on the bed. “Is the camp alerted?”
“No,” Jadis admitted, “it’s strange.”
“Stay here,” Flurry ordered. Her horn glowed and the alicorn faded from view as she turned invisible. Jadis stepped aside, ears twitching as bodiless hooves crunched against snow and dead grass. The crystal pony readied her rifle with the other three sentries.
At night, the camp was patrolled with Thestrals. Flurry avoided them as she trotted quickly toward Thorax’s tent; the bat ponies had sensitive hearing and noses. They’d shriek an alarm at an invisible pony sneaking through the camp, even if the only viable option was an alicorn.
Thorax and the other changelings were near the center of the camp, close to Flurry’s tent. It limited the opportunities for friendly fire incidents; there had already been two close calls with returning patrols from the road. Thorax’s tent was smaller than her own; a few changelings and bat ponies stood outside.
Flurry dropped the invisibility spell as she approached; the four Thestrals were too close. “It’s me,” she declared. “What’s wrong?”
The changelings reacted with jittering gossamer wings, but the Thestrals blinked slowly. Flurry narrowed her eyes at the youngest mare; she swayed on her hooves.
“Amoxtli?” Flurry asked warily, casting the detection spell. It swept over the immediate area. The Thestrals didn’t react to the magic washing over their leathery wings.
“P-Princess,” a changeling, Deimos, stammered. He pointed a holed hoof at the tent. “Thorax is i-inside.”
Flurry traded glares between Amoxtli and the male changeling. The Thestral’s golden eyes were glassy and unfocused. She didn’t react to Flurry waving her wing in front of her face. “What’s wrong with her?”
“S-she’s fine,” Deimos insisted.
Flurry’s horn sparked with a golden flame.
“J-just a simple draining,” Deimos whispered quickly with wide eyes. “T-they’ll be fine before dawn.”
Flurry stared up the mountain. “Were they ambushed?”
Deimos didn’t reply.
Flurry ground her teeth. “You did it,” she connected.
“Thorax o-ordered it.”
Flurry stomped her way into the tent. She nearly tore the tent flap off with a curled wing when she shoved her way inside. The alicorn’s horn burned.
Thorax, Arex, and an unknown changeling stallion bound in rope with green slime smeared across his horn were in the middle of the sparse tent. The cot had been flipped on its side and pushed away for extra standing room, along with a crate of glowing pink potions that functioned as a table. Condensed love.
Flurry Heart had several years of experience reading changeling expressions. Despite all the bigoted beliefs ponies held, they were just as expressive, only without fur and pupils.
Arex was afraid; she clutched a saddlebag tighter to her barrel. The bound changeling smiled viciously through a gag. And Thorax’s expression was totally blank.
“Princess,” Thorax sighed.
“What did you do to the Thestrals?” Flurry asked, choosing her ponies' health as the first issue to scream at him about.
“A combative draining inhibits short-term memory,” Thorax explained. “They won’t remember the events of the past hour clearly.”
“Why?” Flurry asked louder.
“Keep your voice down,” Thorax hissed. “Or make a shield.”
Flurry opened her mouth.
Thorax actually hissed at her, complete with extended tongue and exposed fangs.
The Princess summoned a bubble shield that stretched the tent walls. The fabric crackled slightly where it was pressed tightly against the shield. Thorax observed it with narrowed eyes. “Good enough.”
“What are you doing, Thorax?” Flurry snarled.
“The Thestrals were ambushed,” Thorax said bluntly. “My scouts saved them, beat back the Changelings, then returned to camp.”
Flurry shook her head.
“That’s what we’ll tell them,” Thorax shrugged.
“Why?”
“Because they learned dangerous information.”
The gagged changeling mumbled something. Thorax turned to him with a glowing horn and a snarl, but Flurry pulled her uncle back, seizing him in her magic. “Who is he?”
“No one important.”
Flurry clamped Thorax’s mouth closed and held him still. “Arex?” she asked dangerously.
Arex traded fearful stares between the magic-restrained changeling, the rope-restrained changeling, and the furious alicorn. “P-princess?” she stammered.
“Who is he?”
“A member of the Queen’s Guard from Canterlot,” Arex admitted with a wince at Thorax.
“You captured him?”
Arex tried to look at Thorax. Flurry pulled him behind her and blocked him from view with a wing. “Look at me,” she ordered.
“He came down the mountain alone, with a white flag.”
“The Hegemony doesn’t surrender,” Flurry snorted, “or negotiate.”
Arex clutched the saddlebag tighter. Judging from the slack in the bag, it was empty.
“What did he want to say?”
Arex didn’t respond. She shook her head mutely.
Flurry bared her teeth and pulled the rope gag down from the stallion’s muzzle. Thorax strained against Flurry’s magic behind her. She raised a rear leg and swung it at the struggling changeling as a warning.
The stallion worked his jaw for a moment. “Princess,” he rasped. His lips were bloody. “I came in good faith.”
“I doubt that.”
“My name is Opteris,” the stallion coughed in Equestrian. “I serve Lord Commander Lacin Cardo and Generalmajor Actia Pagala.”
“I thought the Queen’s Guard served Chrysalis,” Flurry snorted. “You should change the name, changeling.”
“I’ll inform them of your suggestion,” Opteris smirked.
“Bold assumption that you are leaving this tent alive.”
“It is in your best interest that I do.”
“Why?” Flurry asked. She breathed deeply. That slime on his horn probably doesn’t block his emotion-sense. Thorax still struggled behind her, hard enough that he was going to break a leg trying to pull himself free from her telekinesis.
“If you make any attempt to attack Canterlot,” Opteris stated, “we will fire upon the civilian population. Nearly one million ponies.”
Flurry shook her head. “That won’t work on me.”
“Twilight Sparkle will die first.”
Flurry stared at him with pale blue eyes, then her muzzle spasmed with rage and the flame around her horn intensified. “She’s dead.”
“I assure you,” Opteris said with false kindness, “your aunt is alive.”
“Didn’t hear the radio?” Flurry growled. “She’s in Vesalipolis. You calling Queen Chrysalis a liar?”
“The Queen always keeps her promises,” Opteris deflected, “and we strive to serve her will. Twilight Sparkle will die.”
“This is pathetic.” Flurry released Thorax. She looked over her wings at the changeling. “Were you trying to keep this from me?”
“I have proof,” Opteris hissed quickly. “In the bag.”
A bolt of green magic slammed into his muzzle and knocked out several of his teeth, including both fangs. The bound changeling fell over. Thorax approached with a snarl and tore the saddlebag from Arex’s hooves. “Enough.”
Opteris spat blood and laughed.
He knows what’s in the bag. “What did he bring?” Flurry asked.
Thorax kicked the downed changeling savagely. The bag floated in his magic above his head. “Nothing.”
“Show me or I’ll take it from you.”
Thorax turned back to Flurry. The alicorn and the changeling stared each other down for over a minute. Thorax blinked first and sighed. He muttered something in his native, lilting language and upended the bag.
Three large purple feathers floated down.
“A traitor to the Queen and to the Princess,” Opteris rasped.
“Keep up with her lies,” Thorax hissed back. “I’m a pony with a skin condition.”
Flurry stared at the feathers. Her ears pressed against her skull. The alicorn carefully levitated them up to her muzzle while Thorax stared at her. “Those could come from any pegasus or griffon,” the changeling claimed.
Flurry felt the residual magic still in the feathers. She raised her right wing and compared the size. Her feathers were larger, but the shape was the same. “You claimed my mother was alive for years while you cut her body apart.” Flurry shook her head at the fallen changeling. “You’re lying.”
“The Princess never left Canterlot,” Opteris promised. “She has remained there, as a guest.”
“As what?” Flurry snarled. “A corpse on marionette strings for Chrysalis’ amusement? My mother’s body is preserved in one of your wretched cocoons. You could have pulled these from her body.”
“She is alive,” Opteris repeated. “Your aunt will only remain that way if you withdraw.”
“Where is she?” Flurry asked. “Where are you keeping her?”
“You’ll never reach her.”
“He doesn’t know,” Thorax chittered. “He was given a bundle of feathers and sent down the mountain as a distraction. He’s never even seen Twilight.”
“I have,” Opteris disagreed. “She’s in good health.”
“I know that’s a lie,” Flurry spat.
“She’ll be in worse health very soon,” Opteris laughed. Thorax punched him across the muzzle. The Queen’s Guard screeched as his eye was caved in from the blow.
Flurry winced.
Thorax did not react and calmly wiped his bloody hoof on the ropes binding the stallion’s wings together.
“Every injury on me will be repaid onto her a thousand times!” Opteris lisped. His mouth was a jumble of broken teeth.
“Is Twilight alive?” Flurry asked quietly.
“No,” Thorax immediately answered.
“How do you know?”
The tent was silent except for the ragged breaths of the Queen’s Guard.
“If I do not return to Canterlot,” Opteris gagged, “The Princess will die.”
“You believe that,” Thorax said calmly, “but that doesn’t make it true. You’re not a high-ranking Queen’s Guard; you aren’t even part of the inner circle. Lacin knew you weren’t coming back from this. He gave you those feathers and your orders, and you marched down here like a good little ‘ling.”
Opteris glared at him with his remaining eye.
“And now you die like a good little ‘ling,” Thorax sighed. His right foreleg turned into a draconic claw and he tore out Opteris’ throat in one quick motion. He died within seconds. Flurry blinked. Arex did not.
Flurry Heart held the feathers between her hooves as Thorax trotted up to her. He stared at her blankly. “You’ve done this before,” Flurry accused him. “In Nova Griffonia.”
“Yes.”
“Was he lying about Twilight?”
“Queen’s Guard aren’t chosen for their intelligence,” Thorax scoffed. “They’re fanatics. It never crossed his mind that he was disposable.”
“You could’ve questioned him about Twilight.”
“Like you had me question Sunglider?” Thorax asked mirthlessly. “I don’t have several days to work him over. He wasn’t high-ranking. He believed Twilight was alive because they told him she was. She might not even be in Canterlot.”
Flurry held the feathers to her chest protectively.
“Burn the feathers,” Thorax ordered. “Now.”
“We need to tell ponies.”
“No,” Thorax shook his head. “We don’t.”
Flurry bared her teeth. “You were never going to tell me about this.”
“Yes,” Thorax agreed shamelessly. He turned back to glare at Arex. “This should’ve been dealt with on the road, but my agents panicked when the Thestrals moved to wake the camp. Opteris was quite open about his mission. He was sent down here as a distraction. Others might follow.”
“If Twilight’s alive up there-”
“She’s already dead,” Thorax interrupted. “She’s dead the moment the battle turns against the Hegemony, the moment we breach the walls, the moment they see you anywhere near the city.”
Flurry scuffed a hoof on the ground. “Is she alive, Thorax?”
Thorax took a deep breath and gave a long, heavy exhale. “I don’t know.”
“How am I supposed to believe you?” Flurry stomped a hoof. “I had to learn from Grover that there was a plot in Nova Griffonia. Gallus told you.”
“He did,” Thorax confirmed, “and Josette and Gold Muffin dealt with it.”
“I should’ve been told.”
“I don’t want to talk to you about every horrible thing I’ve ever done to keep you safe,” Thorax chittered. “I sent poison along to Light Narrative. Three Moonspeakers are dead. Are you happier knowing that?”
“I don’t care about being happy,” Flurry mumbled. “Spike should know. He’s her brother.”
“Don’t make him choose between you or Twilight,” Thorax replied. “Burn the feathers.”
“He won’t do that.”
“He will tell the ELF, and if you tell the ELF, they’re going to charge up that mountain,” Thorax warned. “They’re going to smash themselves against Canterlot’s defenses, or worse, try to launch a surprise attack directly into an ambush. They’ll do it without you.”
“I could go in.”
“This is a trap,” Thorax emphasized. He reared up and placed his hooves on her shoulders. The bloody hoof smeared her pink fur. “Fizzlepop owes her life to Twilight Sparkle. Half the countries in Zebrica would dangle her from a rope. I don’t even know what Sunset did or where she went, but she swears Twilight saved her. Just like Starlight.”
Thorax pressed the bridge of his muzzle against Flurry’s. His solid blue eyes bore into her. “We don’t have the ponies or the equipment. We’re already outnumbered. We don’t know if she’s even there, and there are a thousand places they could have hidden her. The Reich can’t help us; they’re already in enough trouble. There are millions of ponies still to the west, still enslaved. This is bigger than the life of one pony.”
Flurry swallowed. “Twilight gave everything to save her friends from Tirek. I have to try.”
“And you know that was a mistake,” Thorax said bluntly. Flurry pushed the changeling away without any true force. Thorax landed on all four hooves.
“This is how we fight,” he said sadly. “Anything to make you hesitate, to sow doubt. We disguised our reserve units heading to the front as enslaved pony labor battalions. We hid the guns and uniforms in the carts. Air support hesitated to fire on other ponies. They always did, even after it was a known tactic.”
Arex shifted uncomfortably. “Sometimes we mixed real ponies in, just in case,” she whispered. “Sometimes we made real friends while wearing false fur, and watched them get drained by some general and left to die in a ditch.”
“I thought you were with Thorax from the start,” Flurry muttered to her.
“Korporal Arex Argynnis,” the mare snapped her right hoof into the air. She licked her fangs at Flurry’s stare, then looked down at the ground.
“Trimmel didn’t win with just tanks,” Thorax stated. He pointed his bloody hoof at the feathers. “This is how we won. If the battle goes badly, they will try to break out. And ponies will hesitate to stop them if they believe the fate of Twilight Sparkle rests in their hooves.”
Flurry Heart held the trio of feathers out. Her horn glowed, and the feathers ignited with gold flames. The magical tongues of fire licked at her hooves, caressing them with mild warmth. The three feathers burned quickly, discharging little sparks of lightning that made them true pegasus feathers. When it was over, Flurry stared at the ashes coating her hooves.
“I’m so sorry,” Thorax apologized. “Please believe me.”
“What’ll you do with the body?” Flurry asked with a half-shake of her head. She didn’t have the energy to do more. The shield collapsed, and the camp outside was silent.
Arex kicked the small rug aside in the corner, revealing the entrance to a tunnel. “We’ll take care of it,” she said quietly.
Thorax pulled the thin sheet off his cot and gently wiped down Flurry’s shoulder fur, then the ashes off her hooves. The alicorn stared off into space. “What if she was alive?”
“They killed her,” Thorax answered, “not you. Kill them all.”
“That’s not what Twilight would’ve wanted.”
“The ELF doesn’t take prisoners anymore,” Thorax chittered quietly. “Rainbow’s scouts don’t either. I don’t blame them. This will get worse once Chrysalis starts to lose.”
Arex began dragging the body down into the tunnel.
“Aunt Twilight used to read me the dictionary between chapters of Daring Do,” Flurry remembered. Thorax set the soiled bedsheet down. “I would fall asleep.”
“Twilight Sparkle was a good pony,” Thorax said.
“Better than me.” Flurry teleported back to her tent.
Jadis saw the flash and lifted the tent flap. “Princess?”
“Security issue,” Flurry answered. “We dealt with it.” She did not light her horn. The tent was almost pitch-black, and the crystal pony couldn’t see the tears sliding down the alicorn’s muzzle.
“Is everything alright?” Jadis asked.
Flurry nodded, then said, “Fine.” Her voice almost broke as she climbed back into bed. This time, she wrapped her forelegs around the small snail and held it to her chest.
Jadis slowly closed the tent. “Good night, Princess. Happy birthday.”
Flurry buried her muzzle into the thin pillow. She didn't sob.
Flurry Heart arrived at the war tent carrying a boiling jug of coffee. Her hooves crunched on the dead grass, and the noon sun bounced rays of light off the crystal band around her shaved mane. The sky was clear of clouds, except for the Everfree Forest and Airstrip One to the south. The pink hew to the north was exceptionally visible in the clear weather conditions.
The day was still cold, but the nights were barely below freezing. Snow melted under Celestia’s sun. The wind coming down from Canterhorn ruffled the blue banner of the Equestrian Liberation Front and the Imperial Snowflake, but it no longer whipped them about the radio antenna violently. They flew at equal height.
Several boxes of ammunition had been pushed together to form a large table. Flurry unceremoniously dropped the coffee pot down in the center, levitating it over the heads of the gathered creatures. A smaller gray ammo crate had been left conspicuously open; Flurry plopped down atop it and braced her forehooves on the table.
Nearly the entire leadership of Equestria and the Crystal Empire were present. The anti-air guns placed around the perimeter were staffed at all times, waiting for any attempted bombing from Canterlot or the west. The Reich’s air force had been dueling with the Hegemony’s for the past week, ever since her birthday.
Columns of panzers and on-hooves units had been reported west of the Duskwood Forest. The Reichsarmee had similarly built-up their forward line. Fuel trucks had pushed through the Everfree and around the north at a snail’s pace. Flurry didn’t risk trying to teleport gasoline and oil to the frontlines, nor would the griffons accept her help if she offered it.
The attacks on the Reich’s supply lines had finally dissipated. The last rogue group of the ELF had surrendered in Hayston, having been run down mercilessly for weeks after raiding trucks for food and ammunition. The ponies ended up surrendering to a Reich garrison.
Flurry Heart swallowed her pride and asked Gallus for a pardon. Surprisingly, Grover accepted and a group of knights dumped thirty-seven disheveled, confused ponies outside the School of Friendship. They now dug latrine pits.
“The weather will be clear for nine more days,” Flurry declared to the table. Spike picked up the scorching hot pot with his bare claws and began to pour steaming coffee into empty mugs around the table. His height and size made it easy to reach over horns and wings.
“Best guess,” Rainbow agreed. The pegasus had trimmed her mohawk down to wear a flight cap. She wasn’t wearing her prosthetic wing. “We got a barracks on Airstrip One. It’ll be cold, but pegasi can take the cold. We’re sleeping there from now on.”
“The trenches are wide enough to prevent tanks from crossing,” Eagleheart spoke in light Equestrian. “Our anti-tank rifles are in place.”
“So are the deeper trenchworks,” Altiert added. “We have enough room for most to sleep there as well, in shifts.” The gray griffon rubbed her beak. “Griffons are not meant for ditches. As long as the weather holds, it is livable.”
“Those holes are downright luxurious,” Limestone huffed with folded hooves. “Prissy little birds…”
“We’ll make do,” Duskcrest sipped his flask. “We always have.”
“The anti-tank guns are partially buried,” Edvald spoke in Herzlander. “It will make them harder to hit, but their range of fire will be limited.”
“All radio communications will be in Equestrian,” Thorax reminded the griffon.
“Just so,” Edvald sighed. “With buried guns, it will be harder to shoot,” he translated himself for the rest of the table.
“The artillery guns and Mage Units are in place along the slope,” Sunset reported. She wore a matching gray ELF uniform beside Fizzlepop. “We have a range of fire to reach the Celestial Plain and cover our trenches, and we’re shielded from Canterlot.”
Flurry looked up the mountain from her seat, leaning back to see past the top of the tent. They were on the south slope of Mount Canterhorn, and Canterlot was on the west. The road and railway coiled up the incline at a low angle. If Flurry walked to the western edge of the camp, she could barely see Canterlot Castle from below. Anti-air guns and spotlights still lit up the city at night, and the Changeling troops dug into the mountain road had roughly fortified their positions with whatever trucks and supplies they had been stranded with.
“We’ve discussed the battle plan for over a week,” Flurry sighed. “How’s the tunnels?”
“Most of the old Canterlot Mines have been collapsed,” Duty Price grumbled. He had forgone his cigar in exchange for coffee, apparently deciding they were mutually exclusive. “Bugs don’t want us to find a way in.”
“Digging is not an option,” Thorax shook his head. “They’ll hear it.”
“We’re not trying to get in,” Dusty Mark nickered. “Just make sure they don’t try to ambush us.”
“I’m on it,” Price affirmed.
“We have watched the road,” Amoxtli stated. The Thestral was bundled in a heavy jacket from the cold. It was a Jaeger’s jacket, cut with purple and white tribal marks. “They have sent a few probing attacks.”
“We’ll hold,” Nightshade hissed from beside the Tzinacatl mare.
“We shall,” Amoxtli agreed.
There was a moment of silence as everyone waited.
“I will be fighting…” Flurry started, “with Field Marshal Bronzetail at the Reich spearhead.” It had already been announced, so no one was truly surprised. Several muzzles still looked disappointed.
“The battle will be decided on the Celestial Plain,” Flurry repeated. “I can do the most there.”
“Be careful you don’t catch a bullet in the back,” Jacques warned with a chuckle.
“That’s what the armor is for,” Flurry tapped a hoof on the table. “Field Marshal Berrytwist is in command.”
Fizzlepop took a deep breath and nodded to the alicorn. “As you say, Princess.”
“Contingency plans,” Flurry said slowly. “In the event Hegemony aircraft break through the Reich’s air wings, we will immediately deploy and intercept. We have to keep the supply lines open for the Reich.”
Rainbow nodded.
“If the Reichsarmee is pushed back on land, Mage Units will support the trenches.”
Sunset nodded.
“Artillery will shell the main road to prevent a breakout.”
Barrel Roller and Fizzlepop nodded in unison.
Flurry was quiet for a moment and fiddled with her hooves. “Canterlot will be shelled directly. Disregard structural damage and civilian casualties.”
The table stared blankly at the wilting alicorn. “I’m sorry?” Fizzlepop asked.
“A breakout will start in Canterlot,” Flurry said quietly, “not just the troops on the road. Every changeling can fly; they swarmed Canterlot during the wedding. Fire on the dockyards and Lower Canterlot with anti-air as well.”
“Princess,” Sunset huffed, “there are a million ponies in Canterlot.”
“And there are millions more to the west,” Flurry replied. “The shelling will disrupt any attempted reinforcements to the road.”
Fizzlepop shook her head mutely. “I…” she trailed off. “We’ll kill thousands. Canterlot is densely packed. Princess, I will not give that order.”
“You did for the Storm King,” Flurry answered. Fizzlepop flinched and rubbed her scarred eye. “All across Zebrica. I don’t need the reformed unicorn; I need the Storm King’s Right Hoof.”
“Is that who you’re going to compare yourself to?” Sunset snorted.
Flurry ignored the jab. “Final business,” she partially unzipped her jump suit and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “In the event of my death, Spike Sparkle will form a regency council. My final command is that Equestria and the Crystal Empire fight on until they win.”
Spike lowered the coffee pot abruptly to stare blankly across the table at her. The dragon spilled the steaming coffee on his feet; he didn’t notice. “What?”
“You can form whatever government you wish,” Flurry said listlessly, “but the agreements with the Griffonian Reich will be kept, including the debt, trade exclusivity, and resource rights.”
“Princess,” Dusty began, “you are an alicorn and immortal.”
“Not to a bullet,” Jacques interrupted neutrally. He folded his claws on the table.
Zecora shook her head and the bangles on her ears jingled. “Focus on the Changelings. You are too young to think of such things.”
“I will be riding an armored spearhead into battle,” Flurry sighed. “I want it clear that this war will not stop with my death.”
“If the battle goes poorly, we can easily retreat to the shield,” Thorax pointed out.
“Not easily,” Flurry chuckled lowly. “It’ll be like the first time. Or the second. A mad rush to safety. Most won’t make it.”
“You could make it,” Rainbow said confidently.
“I don’t want to make it,” Flurry answered. Her ears flicked as she stared across the table, not truly looking at anyone. “I am not spending decades behind that shield, watching as the Hegemony rampages across Equestria again. If Chrysalis wins again, no one else will ever come. Equus will truly be hers.”
“Princess,” Thorax tried, “you have a duty to survive to lead your ponies.”
“I can’t lead them if I flee,” Flurry said quietly. “I’m not that kind of pony. None of my family were.”
“Nopony would think less of you,” Jadis stated from beside the changeling.
“I would,” Flurry whickered. “My mother was a brave pony, but I will not die like her. I will not die clinging to the Crystal Heart and clawing for breath.”
“You nearly did,” Jacques quipped.
Sunset, Limestone, and Fizzlepop shifted uncomfortably on their boxes.
Flurry smiled sardonically, looking out across the table. “True. But we live or die out there. This is the last chance we will ever have. I leave the field when we win, or I do not leave.”
Flurry pushed the paper forward with a hoof. “Before witnesses,” she sighed. “At least this is done. Fizzlepop.”
The broken-horned mulberry unicorn blinked and made eye contact with Flurry.
“Please follow my command,” Flurry requested in a soft voice. “I know what I’m asking you to do. I’ve made that choice, too. I won't ask you to do something I wouldn't.”
Fizzlepop tried to respond, but just exhaled and looked away.
Spike reached over the table with a long arm and carefully picked up the sheet of paper with a claw. He read over the will while carefully pinching it between two talons, then folded the sheet and tucked it in his pants pocket.
“Twilight had to teleport me away from Canterlot,” the dragon snorted a plume of smoke. “Unless you do the same, I’m not leaving. It’ll be a damn short regency if we lose.”
“I flew this far,” Duskcrest squawked. “I’m not going back to the frontier.”
“There is nothing in Yakyakistan to go back to,” Yona rumbled from the corner.
“We’ve spent long enough banished behind the snow,” Jadis nickered.
Amoxtli hissed, “The Tzinacatl do not flee.”
“Fuck New Mareland,” Nightshade snorted.
“At worst I see my husband and son again,” Dusty whispered.
Altiert took a deep breath through her beak. Her claws dug into the wooden table.
Jacques groaned and snapped a claw. “Aquileia was boring anyway,” he sighed theatrically. “I might’ve been a monarchist if Discret routinely announced his death wish.”
“Thanks for the vote of support,” Flurry pursed her lips.
“Always, Little Flurry.”
“Everyone knows the plan,” Thorax chittered. “Let’s get to it.”
Flurry Heart rose and extended her wings. Jacques downed a cup of scalding coffee and coughed, standing up first. He bowed to Flurry and turned tail back towards the artillery pieces. Everyone else slowly filtered away from the table, bowing and joining small groups.
Rainbow gave Flurry a sad grin. “Element of Loyalty. You know I ain’t leaving.”
“I know,” Flurry replied.
“If you die out there, I’m gonna ram my plane into Canterlot Castle,” Rainbow boasted. “Go find that Jaeger that sliced my wing off.”
“Good luck.” Flurry couldn’t tell if Rainbow was being sarcastic or not.
The pegasus narrowed her eyes. “You better not die out there with the damn birds. Twilight will never forgive me if I let you get killed.”
Flurry worked her jaw and swallowed. “Good hunting, Rainbow. I’d rather be in a plane.”
“What’s stopping you?” Rainbow asked. “Grover ask you to help his toy tanks?”
“I can do more damage on the ground.”
“Yeah,” Spike grunted. “On that. Lunchtime. Let’s go, little miss alicorn. More food, more magic.”
“If that was true, every fat unicorn would be unstoppable.”
“You don’t get to make jokes after reading your last will and testament,” Spike rebuked the alicorn. He grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and began dragging Flurry away from the table. She pulled herself free after a few steps, but followed. Thorax spoke briefly with Rainbow and trailed after them.
Flurry Heart returned to her tent. Spike pried open a can of peaches with a claw and watched with lidded eyes as Flurry poured them into her jaw and chewed noisily. “You eat like Twilight.”
“Saves time,” Flurry smacked her lips. She took a deep breath and pushed it out with a foreleg as Thorax entered. “Don’t try to start with me, uncle,” she said warningly.
“I understand,” Thorax said quietly.
Flurry levitated a can of apples, then flung it back down at the Sweet Apple Acres logo. She grabbed another can of peaches and began chewing through them, also grabbing a loaf of stale hay and alternating bites. Spike had seen her eat enough times to not react beyond a mild groan of disgust.
“You know that dying is the coward’s way out,” Thorax chittered. "I could've flung myself at Vaspier and VOPS."
Flurry glared at him mid-chew and slowly took a large bite of hay.
“I agree with your uncle,” Spike rumbled.
Thorax licked his fangs. “If the battle goes poorly, don’t hold back.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” Flurry mumbled with a muzzle full of peaches. The fur around her lips was stained with peach juice. She licked her lips with a broad tongue after setting the empty can down on the crate of armor.
“I mean it,” Thorax continued. “Don’t hold anything back. Carve your way through the Hegemony’s panzers. You can slice through their armor like butter.”
“Why do you think I won’t be doing that?” Flurry snorted.
“An alicorn has never fought on an organized front,” Thorax explained. “No one knows what you can truly do, not really.”
“I have,” Flurry disagreed with ruffled wings. “I’ve fought in battles.”
“Organized,” Thorax enunciated. “You haven’t fought in a battle with hundreds of thousands of soldiers on each side. No Princess has, not at the frontline, slinging spells from a tank.”
“So?”
“There are three empires fighting outside Canterlot: You, Grover, and Chrysalis. Only one is going to win.”
“We’re allied with the Reich,” Flurry leaned to the side and eyed the crystal ponies standing guard outside the tent. Probably listening. “That alliance will only grow stronger,” she said vaguely.
“That’s not what I meant,” Thorax shook his head. “Why do you think Chrysalis always claimed to lead her armies?”
“Because she’s a liar,” Flurry shrugged.
“Grover is miles away in the Everfree. You are at the front. Who do you think everyone will look to, win or lose?”
“I’m taking orders from Bronzetail,” Flurry answered.
Thorax gave her an unimpressed look. “Do you truly think that’s how it will go?”
Flurry considered it, remembering Manehattan and Wind Rider.
As the Princess commands!
“Ponies follow a herd,” Thorax shrugged. “Griffons fly a flock; changelings swarm. All of us follow a leader. You are an alicorn, one of five in the known world.” He spared a glance up at Spike. “Maybe three now.”
Spike huffed a small flame.
“I’m the Princess of Ponies,” Flurry said uncertainly. “The Reich doesn’t like me anyway.”
“That’s not gonna matter when bullets start flying and it’s your shield saving their feathers.” Spike folded his arms. “All right, finish eating. Enough doom and gloom.”
Later that night, Flurry Heart pulled her saddlebags out from under the cot and retrieved a quill and bottle of ink. She also tore a sheet of paper out from her journal. She stared at the page for a long time, frowning, before she started to write. The quill moved slowly in her golden magic.
When she was finished, her horn glowed bright gold and the words faded from the page. She carefully rolled the letter up and walked to Spike’s tent. The dragon had a normal-sized tent, which was unfortunate because he could barely fit in it. Ponies stomped a hoof in greeting as she trotted through the camp; Flurry nodded carefully in return, holding the letter in her teeth.
Spike’s snoring rattled the canvas walls.
Flurry tucked the letter under her wing. “Spike.”
He snorted awake with a jet of flame that ignited an already scorched tent flap. The dragon grabbed a bucket next to his broken cot and flung water on it with a lazy swing. “Flurry?” he asked, yawing and clacking his fangs together. “What’s wrong?”
“I need you to send a letter.”
Spike blinked and pinched his muzzle with a claw. “Huh?”
“A letter,” Flurry repeated, “to Celestia and Luna.”
Spike hesitated. “Is…” he struggled, “is it about the will?” He held out a claw and gently took it from Flurry’s wing. He unrolled it and looked at the blank page.
“She knows the spell to see the words.”
“I know,” Spike said softly, “but…what does it say?”
Flurry shrugged her wings. “Stuff.”
Spike rolled the letter back up and held the paper in this claws. “I know you don’t like them,” he started, “but Celestia and Luna have done a lot for Equestria. For a long time.”
“She’s playing pretend in the River Games, Spike,” Flurry said without any anger. “Luna paints. What did she say when you asked for help after I was hurt? I never saw the letter.”
Spike didn’t respond. His eyes closed in the dark tent and he breathed deeply.
“That it was too dangerous to travel?" Flurry asked again. "They can teleport.”
“They love you, Flurry,” Spike said softly. “They were so happy when you were born.” He fiddled with the rolled-up parchment. “The whole world depends on them.”
“One of them could have come,” Flurry answered.
“They’re sisters,” Spike sighed. “Family.”
“So was my mother,” Flurry sniffed and rubbed her muzzle with a hock. “Please, send it?” she pleaded.
Spike puffed a jet of green flame into his claw, and a swirl of ashes slowly blew around the tent. Flurry watched it pass above her head and twist through the sky, blowing east in direct defiance of the wind. She flapped and refolded her wings.
Spike slowly rolled on the cot, trying to make room. “Do you want to wait?”
“No,” Flurry shook her head. “I don’t need a letter back. I love you, uncle.”
“I love you, too,” Spike rumbled sincerely. “So much.”
The alicorn returned to her tent. She laid on her back with Whammy on her stomach. The purple crystal crown laid atop the box of armor, waiting. Her wings drooped off the sides of the cot; primary feathers idly brushed across the exposed grass.
Flurry had placed her small silver tiara on the snail’s head, affixing it with a glue spell. The crystals on the tiara were far larger than the button eyes. The little snail looked ridiculous, like it was pretending to be a princess. Like me, Flurry smirked. She laid her head back against the pillow. But you’re all I got, Whammy. You’ll have to do.
The rest of the night passed without a response.
But Princess Flurry Heart didn’t expect one.
Princess Celestia & Luna,
I haven’t heard from you. I’m with Spike, near Canterlot. The army’s encamped and readying for an assault. Chrysalis is going to throw everything she has at us again, just like with Starlight.
You didn’t come for her.
Maybe they would’ve won if you did. The ELF think Twilight’s still there, still in Canterlot. Her parents did, at least. They died in the last stand. She’s the only family I have left.
I think she’s dead.
I suppose you don’t know what to say to me. Or maybe you don’t have anything to say at all. A Princess should protect her ponies, and I’ve strung them from lampposts and beaten them to death in the streets. I’ve ordered their deaths. I know I’m an awful Princess. Mom and Twilight were better.
But they’re gone.
I’ve allied with Grover to win this. You probably know that. He says that the River Federation is going to attack him if he doesn’t win here. I’m sure you’d say that I can’t trust him and you’re probably right.
But he’s here, and you aren’t.
If we lose, the Changelings are going to roll across Equestria again. It got worse after Starlight lost. I know that the River Federation is trying to ignore it, but you have to know that the pictures and stories are real. If we lose again…
I don’t know.
The stories about me are true, too. I’ve got a lot of nicknames now. Most of them aren’t very nice. I don’t know what else to do. I know you have ponies over there in the Riverlands, but ponies here still think about you. Some hate you, but a lot want you to come back. Both of you.
I need you to come back.
I can’t do this alone.
Come back now.
Or never come back.
Flurry Heart
There was a dull frost hanging in the nighttime air. It had rained earlier that night, just after dusk; a rogue storm from the Everfree that was quickly smashed apart by a sudden onslaught of griffons and pegasi. Flurry had listened to the light drizzle slide down the canvas of her tent. She fell asleep to it.
The alicorn awoke two hours before dawn. For a heartbeat, she wasn’t sure why. Her ears flicked and prickled at the wind coming down from the mountain, from the breathing of her guards outside. Flurry listened to it for a few minutes before sighing and rolling off the bed. Whammy, still wearing the silver tiara, nearly fell over on the cot. After a moment of indecision, she stripped off the jumpsuit and crystal band. A roll of toilet paper, possibly the last roll of toilet paper in the camp, levitated over to her muzzle.
Flurry left the tent with it gently gripped in her teeth.
The crystal colt guarding the tent turned at the movement behind him. “Prin-”
He abruptly clamped his muzzle shut and flushed glittering scarlet; the color pulsed up his neck to his muzzle. Flurry nodded to him, then the other guards, all equally flustered under their uniforms. She didn’t reply around the roll of paper.
The camp was silent, only lit by the lights of a few patrolling sentries. A light mist blew down from Canterhorn, merging with the lingering frost from the rainfall. Flurry Heart trotted to the latrine pits; it was dark enough that she didn’t feel self-conscious about her nubby tail. Her wings extended slightly to feel the cold currents in the air.
She stopped at the north-western edge of the camp, breathing around the roll of paper instead of through her nose. The wind blew westward as well. Another patrol of bat ponies abruptly turned around when they noticed a shield flicker down around the tall alicorn.
I’m not dying like this, Flurry nickered to herself. She was far enough away that a sniper could hit her. After it was done, she tossed the empty roll down into the pit and wiped her hooves on the grass despite the use of her horn. She could see Canterlot above, extending from the mountain. Like every night, searchlights scoured the sky above the mountain, prepared for an attack that would never come.
She could also see the Reich camp below on the Celestial Plain. The forward camp for Army Group Center was thousands of tents, boxes, artillery, anti-air, trucks, and tanks. Tanks most of all. She could see them stretched out in row upon row, little gray shapes in the night, patrolled with flashlights. The griffons had lights on throughout the camp. A few more turned on while she watched, but no screeches or blasts echoed in the wind.
Across the plain, the Duskwood Forest loomed in the horizon. There were a few flashes in the sky above as scout planes clashed, but the sound didn’t carry all the way to the mountain. The alicorn watched with pale blue eyes, then dispelled the shield and returned to her tent. The guards looked away again; she nodded, not that they could see it.
Flurry stood before her cot and Whammy sitting upon it. Before she returned to bed, Flurry Heart breathed deeply and extended her magic, feeling the dagger and pistol with the cot, then the guards’ rifles outside, and far beyond, to the Everfree and Celestial Plain.
She felt the tanks, the artillery pieces, the guns, the planes, the swords and daggers and knives. Too many to count, too many to feel the imprint of their owners. But they were all awake, if that word could be used. The base of her horn hummed.
And she knew why she had woken up, too.
Flurry Heart hugged Whammy with both forelegs, squeezing the poorly-stuffed snail as tight as she could, and left it on the bed. She twisted around to the crate in the center of the tent, pushing the lid aside and sliding back into the jumpsuit. Her horn zipped the black bodysuit up to her neck, and she flexed her wings through the openings.
Whammy watched with button eyes as Flurry Heart slowly put on her armor. The cuirass, greaves, leg plates, and flank skirt whirled around the alicorn as she pulled the straps taut and locked the metal joints together. Her glowing golden horn provided enough light.
The crystal colt shuffled his hooves outside, speaking quietly with another guard. They heard her magic chime in the tent, and the clanking sounds of the armor being fitted together, but nopony wished to disturb her. Flurry flexed her wings, aligning the sharp crystals along her primary feathers. The two knives at the end stuck out when she bent her wings, like Rainbow's prosthetic.
Heavy wingbeats sounded outside the tent, then a hard landing. Flurry saw the shadow through the canvas, but she didn’t need to see the wings fold and tail lash to know who it was. She locked the metal gorget into place around her neck, finally levitating her helmet above her head. It was the last piece of equipment.
“Flurry?” Spike called out from outside. “The guards said you were awake.”
“I am,” Flurry called back in her naturally light voice.
Spike pulled the tent flap back. “There’s…” he trailed off.
Flurry Heart faced him in her armor with the helmet still floating above her head. Her lips pressed into a thin line across her muzzle, and her pale, glacial eyes burned in the gold light from her horn.
The dragon did not finish his sentence. He entered the tent and stood before her. In her armor, Flurry only had to slightly tilt her head to meet his green-eyed stare.
“It’s time,” Flurry whispered.
It was not a question.
“Changeling Armor is lining up outside the Duskwood,” Spike managed. “The Reich is moving to meet them.”
“Dawn,” Flurry said, not needing to elaborate further.
“Yes.” Spike looked up to the floating helmet and raised a claw to grab it. Flurry let him take it; the purple crystal nearly matched his scales. Spike rubbed a talon along the six small prongs around the slot for her horn. “I’m going with Barrel Roller to hold the road,” the dragon rumbled. “In case of a breakout.”
“Good luck,” Flurry offered.
Spike held the helmet between his claws. He didn’t meet her eyes. “I haven’t gotten a response yet.”
“It’s been three days,” Flurry said tonelessly. “You’re not going to.” The dragon didn’t reply, so Flurry continued. “I never expected one. When I was hurt-”
“I lied,” Spike blurted out, clutching the helmet.
Flurry blinked.
“They never sent a letter back,” Spike sighed, looking down at the helmet. “When I asked them to come help you, she never answered.”
Flurry shook her head and the armor clanked. “Why did you lie? Thorax had to have known.”
“I…” Spike bit his lip. He took a deep breath and his tail twisted around a leg. “I wanted you to believe they still cared. I’m sorry.”
He needed to believe they did. Flurry smiled; it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s alright.”
Spike stared past the alicorn, seeing the crowned Whammy and purple crystal band laying on the cot behind her. “Back in the Empire, I said to show the crystal ponies who you are.” He met her eyes again.
Flurry nodded. “This is who I am.”
Spike nodded with the helmet. “It…suits you,” he said slowly, near a whisper. “Twilight never wore armor. None of them really did." He swallowed, suppressing tear in his eye. "Your family would be proud of you, to see you here.”
Flurry exhaled. “They would’ve found a better way.”
“They would have tried to,” Spike answered. His eyes crinkled. “I don’t know if they would’ve succeeded,” he admitted in a pained rumble. “I don’t know if they would have won.”
He smiled sadly down at the helmet. “Twilight had her flaws, too. Ponies aren’t keen on remembering them.”
Had.
“I love you,” Flurry Heart whispered. “You’ve always been my family.”
“I love you,” Spike repeated. He took a deep breath and narrowed his eyes. “I know you can win this,” the dragon growled. He lifted the helmet above her head, and Flurry lowered her horn.
Spike gently lowered the helmet and fastened it with a claw. Flurry’s horn, threaded through the top, spiraled above the other six points. The alicorn lifted her head back up and felt it settle.
“Win,” Spike growled. “Win and come back to us, Princess.”
The Princess nodded back and Spike stepped out of the tent, holding the flap open and to the side. Flurry strode forward, fully armored for the first time before her ponies. The crystal guards stared openly at her with wide eyes. The colt stumbled back onto his flank. Flurry ignored them; she moved through the camp towards the radio tower. Spike followed.
Everyone she passed stopped to stare, some bleary-eyed and shuffling out of their tent, some trying to finish buttoning their uniforms. ELF gray and Nova Griffonian brown mixed with purple and orange armbands. Old, patched uniforms mixed with new as griffons and ponies watched the Princess pass on heavy armored hooves.
Her commanders had gathered under the radio tower, under the sun and moon of the ELF and the Imperial Snowflake flags waving in the brisk night breeze. Sunset, Limestone, and Zecora stood together in ELF gray; Duskcrest, Dusty Mark and Frosty Jadis wore brown. Thorax sat between the groups in a full purple uniform; his head fin tilted slightly.
Fizzlepop stood beside the changeling in sleek black armor, the dual-lightning bolts of the Storm King painted over with the sun and moon. The armored plates shifted with her hooves. The unicorn clearly felt the stares; she looked straight ahead with a clenched jaw, but her ears flicked in agitation.
Barrel Roller, the last of the ELF commanders that followed Flurry from Nova Griffonia, stood behind Dusty and Duskcrest. He wore an old gray ELF uniform, but the purple armband of the Imperial Snowflake. The pegasus nodded to the Princess, flicking his remaining ear.
Thorax bowed as Flurry approached with steps that left hoofprints in the ground. She drew the attention away from Berrytwist immediately. Duskcrest gulped and clasped a claw to his chest, lowering his head and wings in a proper bow. Dusty copied him. Jadis knelt, struggling with her hoof. Sunset, Limestone, and Fizzlepop stared up at her, frozen in shock. Zecora recovered enough to flourish a hoof in a Zebrican bow.
Flurry would have normally chastised Jadis for trying to kneel, but instead she twisted around and surveyed the camp. Ponies, griffons, yaks, and changelings had followed her at a distance, or watched her while they slowly loaded their rifles and machine guns, or prepared the artillery pieces with shells.
Flurry, the first armored alicorn any of them had ever seen, raised her wings and powered her horn. In the pre-dawn, a golden flame burst into light above her and illuminated the camp. Her armor did not shine; the purple crystal absorbed the light above, appearing to roil with an inner sea of flame. The crystals in her wings chimed as she extended them to their full width.
The alicorn took a breath. “You can fight for me,” she began, and her voice rolled through the camp and across the mountain. “You can fight for Equestria, for the Empire, for friends, for family, for hope, for revenge, for yourselves…”
The golden ball of fire pulsed.
“I don’t care what you fight for, as long as you fight!”
The orb exploded into a shower of blue sparks that rained down above her, dissipating into the night. Spike curled his claw into a fist and beat his chest; a chorus of stomps echoed through the camp thrice. Flurry glared down at her officers. “Field Marshal Berrytwist, you have command.”
“Princess,” Berrytwist dipped her broken horn.
Flurry’s horn charged as she extended her wings. She vanished with a crackle of magic, reappearing in a bolt above the western edge of the camp. The alicorn could not properly fly in the armor, not without significant exertion, but she could glide. Flurry caught the downdraft from Canterhorn and flew towards the Reich encampment. Her ponies watched her.
Lights spread throughout Army Group Center; distant figures flew low to the ground, just above the tents. Flurry’s ears twitched in the helmet, buzzing with the sounds of hundreds of engines starting and screeched commands. At the edge of the camp, a sentry spotted her low, gliding approach and raised his rifle, squinting into the darkness.
“Identify yourself!” a young, hawkish voice called in Herzlander.
Flurry landed hard and her hooves dug furrows into the ground. She shook the dirt from them before moving forward on hoof. The sentry, a storm black griffon, dropped his rifle as the alicorn emerged out of the night. His two comrades, having come at the sound of his challenge, lowered their rifles and backed away with wide golden eyes.
Flurry Heart strode up to them. Long-legged and large-winged, she was a head taller than any griffon in the armor. Her pink horn, spiraled to a sharp tip, added another head of height. Flurry did not break her stride to speak with them.
“Field Marshal Elias Bronzetail?” Flurry requested in soft Herzlander.
Rather than reply verbally, the black griffon pointed a shaking wing further into the camp. He backed away, grabbing the fallen strap of his rifle and pulling it from the path of her hooves; the armored boots left indentations in the ground from her weight.
Silence spread while she walked through the Reich camp. No griffon challenged her, and the Aquileian mage units stared blankly with dimly glowing horns. None of them cast a spell. Flurry let the detection spell pulse through the camp for them. For once, not a single Reich soldier tensed at her magic blowing through their feathers.
The tents grew nicer and larger as she walked in the indicated direction; the camp seemed to be divided between the conscripted Reichsarmee soldiers, the officer core, and the knightly orders. Some servants, a few only in winter scarves and otherwise naked, stopped amongst the tents to watch her pass. She nodded her helmet to them, but ceased when one female griffon nearly fainted.
Flurry followed a distant voice, a male griffon speaking into a microphone near the first line of tanks. Mechanics hopped through the air, preforming last-minute inspections and repairs. A few paused to watch her, flapping their wings to stay airborne. The alicorn was easily spotted. The engineers were shrieked at by officers, who flew up to them with squawking beaks, but also stopped to watch her trot below them.
Just before the first line of tanks, a wooden stage had been constructed on low log pillars. The black, roaring griffon of the Griffonian Reich hung above the stage, strung-up by two turrets facing backwards on the line of tanks. Hundreds of knights knelt before the stage with wings and beaks pressed to the ground, already fully armed and armored. Helmets rested at their claws.
Flurry didn’t see Bronzetail; her overall height let her look past the rows. Probably near the front, she assumed. Atop the stage, a line of two dozen knights with gilded armor stood at attention behind a griffon in a long, flowing gray robe and a high-crested miter atop his head.
The robe obscured the griffon’s body completely, except for his white wings. When he raised his claws to the sky, the sleeves slid down and exposed armored gauntlets. A priest, Flurry connected. The ponies of Equestria never had any true organized religion, not even for the Princesses.
“We fly forward, guided by Boreas,” the griffon pronounced into the microphone. His harsh voice resonated across the crowd. “Nurtured by Eyr, and tempered by Arcturius,” he continued, finishing some prayer. Flurry unfastened her helmet and removed it. Her horn glowed in the back. “May your steel be sharp...”
The griffon paused and blinked at the flash of magic in the crowd. Flurry was tall enough to stare back. Some of the knights in the back row heard the chime and turned to look over their wings. When the priest lowered his claws, the rest of the audience began to look behind them.
Flurry set her helmet down and stared forward at the stage; she didn’t meet any of the eyes boring into her. In the front row, Bronzetail reared up onto his hind paws, holding his brown officer’s cap in his claws. Flurry extended a wing and waved at him. The crystals in her feathers sliced through the air and produced a sound like a wind chime.
Bronzetail vanished, falling back onto all fours.
“May your steel be sharp,” the griffon onstage repeated into the microphone, “and may our ancestors guide the wind under our wings. Blessed be Arcturius.”
The crowd turned back around and dipped their beaks. “Blessed be Arcturius,” they intoned. The knights grabbed their helmets and slowly parted, gaining distance to flap their wings and fly to position. Most waited for a griffon in the front row to depart and followed him, a knight-captain leading a war flock. Several uniformed officers flew towards the camp. Those that did slowed when they passed over the alicorn.
Flurry moved towards the stage through the gaps in the crowd. Her half-folded wings fluttered while her helmet drifted in a golden aura above her back. The remaining knights were too disciplined to whisper, or they were too stunned.
Elias Bronzetail waited in a surprisingly simple dark tan uniform. The griffon had eschewed a coat and even sleeves, standing in the chill air with a flicking tail and wings. He took a deep breath as the alicorn approached, but did not offer any welcome.
“Field Marshal Elias,” Flurry greeted him in Herzlander. She nodded to the priest onstage. “I apologize for interrupting your…” she searched for a word, “sermon.”
The priest hummed and brushed his robe back from the gauntlets on his claws. “Do you know who I am?” he asked with a raspy voice. The griffon did not appear too old, perhaps a decade older than Bronzetail, but his harsh blue eyes shimmered with experience.
“I do not,” Flurry answered.
“I am Archon Proteus III,” the griffon proclaimed, “chosen to represent Arcturius on this world. He is the God of War, the Giver of Strength.” He held out a claw onstage. “Is your armor enchanted, Princess?”
“Yes.”
He flicked a talon, gesturing to the floating helmet. “Arcturius oversees metallurgy as well. I suppose crystal is close enough.”
Flurry levitated it towards him. “It’s heavy,” she warned.
The Archon rolled his eyes and grabbed it from her aura. The helmet immediately slipped from his claw and crashed to the wooden floor, breaking through the boards and wedging itself into the platform.
The knights behind the Archon tensed with flared wings. Bronzetail and the few griffons left from the crowd flinched at crunch of wood. Flurry scrunched her muzzle, waiting for a response.
Proteus squawked and shook his claw with a laugh. “Fuck me, you weren’t joking,” he commented in Herzlander.
Bronzetail’s eyes widened and he gaped up at the stage.
Flurry hesitated, trying to find a response. “I’m sorry?” she apologized, clearly confused. Her ears twitched around her shaved mane.
“Just so,” Proteus waved his claw down at her, accepting the apology. “I would offer you a blessing,” he said wryly, “but you seem to already have a patron.”
Flurry arched a brow, tugging her helmet free of the wood with a flick of her horn. “What does Maar even represent? I thought it was war.”
“Death,” Archon Proteus corrected. “Represent him well.”
Bronzetail made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. Proteus glanced at him. “Words are wind,” he intoned with smirking blue eyes. “What are prayers, if not words to the Gods?” He raised his arms again and waved two knights forward with an irritated wing flap. “Get me out of this thing.”
The knights stepped forward and helped the griffon out of his long robe. One left with the hat and another stepped forward with a snarling helmet, shaped like beak frozen in a roar. The Archon was wearing full plate armor underneath the robe; it was dull gray and hummed with enchantments.
The Archon accepted the helmet, but set it down at his claws. His cheeks twisted into a smirk. “I came a long way from Yale for this. The call has gone out across Griffonia.”
“What call?” Flurry asked. She put her own helmet back on after shaking it free of splinters.
"Ah." Proteus clacked his beak. “I suppose you have been encamped. Ensure the Princess hears today’s speech,” he ordered to Bronzetail.
Bronzetail nodded reflexively.
A knight stepped forward, reverentially holding out a gilded assault rifle. Another stepped forward with a greatsword. Proteus clipped the sword to his back first, sheathing it between his wings. The pommel was shaped like a hammer carved out of marble. Proteus checked the magazine of the assault rifle before slinging it under his right wing.
Flurry scrunched her muzzle up at him. “What kind of priest are you?”
“The fun kind,” Proteus responded. “I didn’t fly from Griffonia to miss this. Erion and Gabriela can spar across a table.” He flicked his tail.
“After all,” Proteus said ruefully, “we can’t expect the Gods to do all the work.” He flipped the helmet on and turned around to the knights, rearing onto his paws with flared wings.
“Arcturian Order!” the Archon screamed. “In war!?”
“Victory!” the griffons screeched and pounded a fist against their chest plate.
“In peace!?”
“Vigilance!”
“In death!?”
“Sacrifice!”
The Archon took to the air with a war cry and the knights followed. Flurry numbly watched with Bronzetail. He’s a religious leader? She shook her head in lieu of lashing her tail. This explains so much about griffons. Flurry clicked her tongue and looked down at the Field Marshal. “Where’s your tank?”
The Field Marshal slowly put his cap on. “Follow me,” he said bluntly. He walked on all fours rather than take flight, pacing around the stage to the rows of tanks.
“What was the Archon talking about?” Flurry asked. Bronzetail’s presence counteracted the alicorn in terms of staring. Griffon hurried to resume working. Flurry sniffed at the exhaust fumes from the engines and shook her head.
“You’ll understand once the speech starts,” Bronzetail said over his shoulder.
“Who’s Erion?”
“The Archon of Eyr,” Elias explained slowly. “The conclave has yet to choose another Archon of Boreas after Eros, probably deadlocked without the Kaiser in Griffenheim.”
“Is that bad?” Flurry asked. They moved around a tank with a mechanic rapidly scrubbing one of the gears in the treads.
“It is the situation.” Bronzetail lashed his tail. “As is this.” He turned a questioning eye back to her as he kept walking. “Why are you here?”
“What do you mean?”
“You could be with your army,” Bronzetail stated. “You could be in a plane. You could be anywhere. Why choose to be here?” The griffon abruptly flapped his wings and leapt up onto a tank.
It looked like all the others, painted black and gray with a long barrel and square turret. Orange stripes ran down the barrel. A heavy machine gun was bolted onto the back, near the hatch. There were more portholes with additional machineguns sticking out from the sides, above the armored skirt that protected the treads.
“Grendel,” Flurry nickered.
“A tank destroyer with piercing shells,” Bronzetail explained. “I’m surprised you remembered the name.”
“Named after a griffon slain by a pony,” Flurry recalled.
“The Kaiser chose the name,” Bronzetail countered. He pulled the hatch open with a gloved claw before glancing down at her. “You did not answer my question.”
Flurry exhaled. “I can kill more here, not on the mountain. Or in a plane.”
She bent her legs and leapt, clearing the side of the tank and landing behind the turret. Her hooves clanged heavily onto the metal; the entire chassis rocked slightly.
Bronzetail slid down into the hatch paws first, folding his wings. He remerged after a moment, fitting a radio headset with a glowing crystal underneath his hat. “Comms check,” he coughed into the microphone at the end. It pressed against his beak.
Flurry leaned her forehooves atop the back of the turret, near the hatch and machine gun. Leaning forward, Bronzetail could look to his left. He did so, staring up at the bottom of her unarmored pink jaw.
“Do you want a headset?” he asked warily. “We don’t have one shaped for a pony, but-”
“It will melt,” Flurry interrupted. “To my head.”
“Is…” Bronzetail paused. “Is that a common issue?”
“Not for most unicorns.” Flurry scuffed an armored greave on the gray paint. “I’m going to scorch the paint off,” she warned. “Do you have frost enchantments inside the chassis?”
“We have air conditioning,” Bronzetail answered. He showed his bare arm. “It isn’t very good.”
“Tell me when you want frost spells. Four are inside?”
“Yes, not counting myself.” Bronzetail gave her an even look. “How did you know?”
Flurry shrugged a hoof as her horn dimmed. “They know I’m up here, right?”
“I briefed them.”
“Should I meet them?”
Bronzetail stared sullenly up at the massive, armored alicorn riding atop his tank. “Better that they not,” he squawked in Aquileian. Her hooves left slight dents in the metal from the leap. "They know you're here."
The tank to the left started up; the barrel and turret rotated slightly as the crew ran final checks. An orange griffon leant out of the hatch and raised a claw to Bronzetail, who returned the gesture. He had to lean forward to be seen from around Flurry’s forelegs.
“What’s the plan?” Flurry asked. More of the tanks began to move their turrets along the line, running final checks and preparations.
“We counter their advance and push to the Duskwood,” Bronzetail explained, holding a claw over the microphone. “Ignatius commands the left flank; Thundertail the right.”
“I wasn’t impressed with either of them,” Flurry responded.
“They were equally unimpressed by you,” Bronzetail quipped back in Aquileian. “Thundertail has harder terrain, all the way up to your shield wall, but he’s a better commander. Ignatius can hold the left. We just have to outmaneuver them. Once our air force wins, we can cut them off beyond the forest with air support.”
“Sounds simple.”
“War is never simple,” Bronzetail answered flatly. “It took many months to reach this point, weeks of preparation and logistics.”
“Trimmel outran Luna,” Flurry switched topics.
“We’re not facing Trimmel,” Bronzetail stated. He paused to listen to something in the headset, then resumed. “Hive Marshal Synovial only holds his position because of Trimmel’s death. Our tanks are better. We invented tank warfare.”
“Seems strange for a race with wings to invent metal boxes,” Flurry commented.
“The knight banners are here,” Bronzetail clacked his beak. “You can see the resemblance between our armored knights and our tanks. We don’t have fancy magic shields; we rely on armor.”
“Do you want a fancy magic shield?” Flurry snorted.
“It will limit our maneuvers,” Bronzetail answered seriously. He disappeared back into the turret.
“It will move with me,” Flurry mumbled under her breath.
The very first rows of tanks began to move forward, breaking into lines to travel down the Celestial Plain. The plain was once the most fertile farmland in the Equestrian heartland, catching the rain and sun from Canterlot on a daily basis. The fields were bare; dead, overgrown grass laid frozen flat.
Under the faint light of a half-crescent moon, the tanks began to advance onto the plain. Flurry adjusted her hind legs as Bronzetail’s tank began to move, joining a line of tanks moving east. Several additional lines ran along either side, hundreds of armored vehicles.
Thousands, Flurry reconsidered. The lines stretched beyond her vision, even when her eyes glowed with a night-vision spell. Trucks moved behind the tanks, carrying more griffons and supplies. A griffon in a brown uniform flapped up from behind, carrying a radio pack in her claws. She was easily able to overtake the line of tanks, turning her head as she looked about. Her wings flapped unevenly when she made eye contact with Flurry Heart. With visible hesitation, she flapped down to the tank and landed on the turret.
She swallowed. “P-princess?”
Is there another pony riding a tank? Flurry snarked in her head. “Yes?” she said out loud. The griffon set the radio down with trembling claws, eyes shrunk to pinpricks at the alicorn.
Bronzetail poked his head back up from the hatch. “That will be all,” he waved a claw. “Dismissed.”
The griffon leapt off the tank, almost hitting the ground before flaring her wings and flapping away, back down the line. “What was that about?” Flurry huffed.
“I asked for a radio.”
“Don’t you have one?” Flurry tipped her horn at his headset.
“For you,” Bronzetail clarified. He snagged the pack’s strap with an outstretched claw and dragged it to the hatch. Setting the radio upright, he fiddled with the dials. The radio burst into a whine of static. Elias checked his watch and disappeared back into the tank.
“Kaiser Grover VI of the Griffonian Reich,” the radio crackled, a female announcer speaking in Herzlander. “The Kaiser of Griffonkind addresses his Reichsarmee from the field of battle. Blessed be Boreas.”
The radio rattled slightly atop the turret. Flurry heard the echo of the speech from inside the tank as well, and the griffon leaning out of the hatch on the tank in front of her pressed a claw to his ear. It must be going out to every griffon.
“Griffons are no strangers to war,” Grover began, and Flurry immediately noticed he was pitching his voice deeper and more authoritative. “After all, we’ve been fighting ever since the Gods placed us upon this world. We carved our way across the continent until it was named Griffonia. We invented the halberd, the musket, the tercio, the tank. War is all we know.
“And when we ran out of enemies to fight, we fought each other. We fought for land. We fought for ideas. We fought for false idols and false gods.
“We fought until Boreas charged my ancestor to unite us. Grover the Great flew forth with the Idol of Boreas and united our people for the first time since Arantigos over a thousand years ago. My ancestor built the greatest empire the world had ever seen.”
The tanks continued moving in lines. Flurry could hear the speech reverberating from several others. They passed by a forward scout camp. A dozen griffons sat around a radio propped up on an empty barrel while cleaning their weapons.
“We have no equal in war," Grover continued. "It took griffons to almost destroy the Griffonian Reich. A generation ago, the world watched as my ancestor’s empire burned. My father barely retained his throne, only to rule over a shattered, crippled empire. And in those ashes and embers, Chrysalis came to us.
“The so-called Queen arrived a failure. She failed to take Equestria, driven out and back to the Changeling Lands, a nation fractured into competing hives. She looked to us, to our knights and our tanks. Because even broken, the Reichsarmee was still the best in the world.
“And changelings are imitators. Imposters. They strike from the shadows with deception and illusions. They do not know war as we do. She came to us with a fanged smile and offered her help to defeat our enemies. And at our weakest moment, in our darkest hour, we faltered.”
There was a long pause.
“We accepted,” the griffon snarled over the radio. “Chrysalis took the lessons that our ancestors died to learn. She took our language, our weapons, our armor, our entire way of war. She named herself Queen of the Changelings; she built her Hegemony in the shadow of our wings. Everything she has ever accomplished is owed to us, and now her changelings claim to be the masters of war.
“Queen Chrysalis will never content herself with Equus. Her ravenous horde will devour the continent and she will look towards Griffonia, standing at the head of an army we allowed her to create.” His voice turned slightly sad. “An army that we helped her create. The very existence of her empire is the greatest sin we have ever committed, against our ancestors and a mockery against the Trinity.
“There is only one way forward,” Grover’s tone hardened. “The sin was ours, and it is ours to correct. I am here on this continent to ensure it. With the blessing and agreement of the Archons, defeating the Hegemony is the will of the Gods.”
There was a pause, and Flurry imagined Grover taking a breath and stilling his wings.
“On this day, I declare the Second Grand Crusade!”
A keening war cry echoed from above Flurry Heart and the line of tanks.
She looked up, feeling the helmet bump against the gorget around her neck. Thousands of griffon knights were flying above, banking off to wait for the armored lines to crash together on the plain. Dozens near the front carried war banners that flapped below them. The cry echoed up and down the flock as knightly orders that were established in the first Grand Crusade centuries ago finally fought in another.
“My griffons,” Grover implored, “what I ask of you now is not an easy thing, but it is necessary. We do not wait for our enemies to reach our lands. We do not wait for them to strike. We fly forward on swift wings, bearing sharp claws. The eyes of the world are upon us, waiting to see who is better at war. If we falter again, our enemies will descend upon the Reich.”
Shadows passed above the flying knights, blocking the stars above and swirling through the clouds. Masked by the rumble of the tank engines, the roar of tens of thousands of planes hummed in the sky. The silhouettes began to blot out the stars.
“The Changelings believe they are the greatest army in the world.”
Bronzetail’s tank passed by a field hospital; the canvas tent was still being raised.
“Today, we prove them wrong.”
The lines of tanks began to break, reaching the open plain.
“Today, we shatter their fangs on our steel.”
The smaller tanks fanned out, short turrets looking to the sides and guarding the flanks.
“Today, we clip their wings and send them to the ground.”
The heavier tanks spread out into rows, moving in practiced order.
“Today, we drive them back to the withered heart of the Hegemony.”
Behind the tanks, trucks arrived towing artillery pieces, anti-air guns, and more ammunition. Griffons that had flown above the trucks landed and quickly unloaded, forming more supply camps.
“And today, we prove who is better at war!”
A piercing screech, echoed by thousands of griffons, spread through the rows of armor.
“Fly forth, in the light of Boreas, and restore Hope to Equus!”
Flurry snorted and chuckled slightly. Guess I’ll have to take what I can get.
Bronzetail’s tank stopped in the third row from the front. The engine idled, thrumming with power under her greaves. Flurry licked her lips and flexed her wings. The crystal knives at the end of her feathers sang from the movement.
Elias’ cap appeared from the hatch and he absently clicked the radio pack off. Rather than pull it into the tank, the griffon pushed it off the side of the turret, where it fell to the ground. He leaned his elbows against the rim of the hatch and stared west.
“I thought you’d be excited,” Flurry commented.
“Are you?” Bronzetail asked quietly.
“They’re not my gods,” Flurry shrugged her wings. "Isn't Mudbeak cutting off the south?"
"Millions of griffons are fighting along the frontline," Bronzetail replied, "but it does not matter what happens elsewhere. Only here."
Flurry frowned into the horizon. "How did the first Crusade fail?"
Bronzetail tapped a talon on the gray metal, listening to reports from his headset. “The first Grand Crusade nearly won,” he suddenly began. “We pushed the ponies through the Riverlands, nearly to Nimbusia. The Gods were with us then, until Grover II fell to a spear. A mortal griffon, in the end. The army broke.”
“Grover’s far from the front.”
“For now,” Bronzetail agreed, “unless we get pushed back. Grover III spent his entire life stabilizing his father’s empire. The Riverlands were forgotten, no matter what they claim now. If we fail now, the Reich will burn."
"It was already going to," Flurry responded.
Bronzetail did not disagree.
Flurry watched thousands of black dots rise in the westward horizon. The Hegemony’s air force swarmed into the sky to meet the Reich. The low hum in the air intensified. Reverberating bursts of gunfire began to ring through the open air as the largest air forces in the world started to duel ahead of the sunrise. The Celestial Plain remained silent.
“His body never left the field,” Bronzetail said quietly. “Grover II was buried in the Riverlands, far from Griffenheim. He wanted to be buried with Guinevere.”
“You have a wife,” Flurry remembered.
“Yes." Bronzetail closed his eyes. "And a cub. I haven’t seen them in a long time.”
My family or my throne. “I’m not leaving the field either,” Flurry whickered. "I win here or I die."
Bronzetail removed his cap and ran a talon over the pressed symbol of a roaring griffon on the front. “I’m told that some ponies believe alicorns are gods.” He squinted up at her with light brown eyes. “That they pray to you.”
“Some do,” Flurry confirmed. “It’s not true, though.”
“Do you hear their prayers?”
Even before dawn, the sky to the north of the Celestial Plain shimmered with faint pink light. Somewhere far beyond the horizon, the Crystal Heart burned with inner fire and echoed with the voices of thousands of ponies. Some would die today, and some had been dead for thousands of years.
Her mother was one of the voices.
Love is the death of duty, Flurry.
“Sometimes,” Flurry spoke down to the griffon. “I do.”
Bronzetail slightly nodded, then let his cap slip through the talons on a claw. It fell off the side of the turret and landed somewhere on the ground. He adjusted his headset and smoothed down the gray and black feathers on his head. His beak moved silently in a prayer.
Flurry felt the sun on her wings. She turned around on the back of the tank, lowering her forelegs from the turret. There were two additional rows of heavy tanks behind her, and the griffons leaning out of the hatches stared at her. She did not stare back.
Her icy eyes gazed above them, to the east. Celestia’s sun slowly stretched into the sky, radiating with the light of Boreas. The rays shimmered around Mount Canterhorn, framing Canterlot in shadow. The city was visible from the Celestial Plain as the sunlight ignited the horizon. Canterlot hung from the side of the mountain, looming over the battlefield. Below it, her army readied to fight for Equestria.
It was a dawn like any other.
Twilight Sparkle will die first.
Flurry Heart did not remember the last time she met her aunt.
Bronzetail twisted his head. “Do you see something, Princess?”
Flurry stared at the sun through the slits of her helmet, unbothered by the glare. The purple crystal soaked the sunlight and swirled with subdued patterns of flames. The six points around her horn flickered in the rays of light like a crown.
“No,” Flurry Heart answered quietly.
The last true Princess of Ponies turned around.
She placed her hooves on the turret.
And waited.
It began with a rumbling in the distance.
Flurry watched the bullets jump in the belt affixed to the machine gun beside her. The hatch was closed; Field Marshal Bronzetail had retreated into the interior while the line waited. Underneath her crystal helmet, Flurry’s ears twitched as hushed commands echoed from inside the Grendel.
She twisted her head to both sides. The heavier tanks were in the middle of the line, flanked by the smaller, sleeker designs. The two rows in front of Bronzetail’s tank spat exhaust fumes into her muzzle. Flurry scrunched her nose, but tried to ignore the smell. The sun rose slowly behind her, stretching her shadow across the metal. The commander of the tank directly in front of Bronzetail was halfway out of the hatch, holding a claw to his headset and nodding along to something. He noticed the shadow of her horn drift across the gray paint of his turret and turned around.
Flurry stared at him. He turned back around and closed the hatch.
Above her, blasts and rapid gunfire echoed in the sky. The dueling air forces were still too high up to properly see. They looked like birds weaving together in a dance, exploding in puffs of fiery feathers. The battle was gradually lowering towards the earth; both sides wanted air support. The Reichsarmee would certainly need it once they reached the Duskwood. The rumbling lowered in pitch; Flurry almost missed under the idling of a thousand engines.
The Changeling Heer was closing in.
They’ll be facing the sunrise. She wasn’t sure how much of an effect that would have, but it was something at least. The Changeling panzers had destroyed Equestria, outrunning the frantic trenchworks and scouring across the open plains of the central heartland before Luna could redeploy her divisions. It was hard to run and shoot with hooves; every changeling had a horn. Aiming a gun with magic needed practice to control the recoil, but ponies weren’t meant for mobile warfare.
According to Celestia, ponies weren’t meant for warfare at all. Equestria was founded on the promise of harmony between the three tribes. The Pillars of Old Equestria traveled the world vanquishing old, wicked magics. They didn’t fight in wars, not like this. As far as anypony knew, none of the Princesses of Ponies did; only Luna came the closest, and she certainly never rode a tank into battle.
We have gone far enough.
Flurry raised a hoof to look at the purple crystal. The origin of the Crystal Empire was a mystery. If Celestia and Luna knew, they never told anypony. It might’ve begun with one mare standing against the frost and chill on a desolate plain. Flurry closed her eyes. When she opened them, small black dots had crested the horizon. She lowered the hoof with a sharp clang.
Bronzetail opened the hatch and looked west with a claw held to his headset. “Initial advance, set range.” The first row began to roll forward, treads churning the dry grass. The barrel raised slightly on the turret; Flurry heard a dull thump from somewhere inside the tank.
“I prefer to command from the hatch,” Bronzetail commented. He lifted the catch on the heavy machine gun next to the turret with a claw and adjusted the belt of ammunition. Flurry peeled the belt away with her horn and disconnected the box. She set it down next to the hatch.
“What are you doing?” Bronzetail squawked and laid his claws on the turret.
“You should store this below,” Flurry advised. She kept looking to the west. “The bullets will cook off from the heat.”
Bronzetail shoved the box down into the turret. An angry squawk reverberated up from near his legs, and the Field Marshal snarled something into the interior. “Is my tank going to melt?” he asked with a sarcastic snap once he was finished.
“Depends on their armor.” Flurry would have shrugged a wing, but her feathers were stiff and laced with crystals. “I’ll let you know if I start to see permanent damage.”
Bronzetail paused, whatever retort he intended didn’t leave his beak. “Hold your spells until we engage. Our armor’s better.”
Flurry jerked her head towards the horizon. Bronzetail raised his binoculars from around his neck and scanned over the dots. “Looks by the book,” he mumbled. “Advanced heavy armor with motorized support behind.”
The alicorn twisted her head; the metal gorget around her neck blocked the movement, so she fully turned her body to see over the two other lines of armor behind her. Trucks and half-tracks spread out from Canterhorn and Canterlot. Small figures still leapt into the air, flying messages and equipment between them.
“Follow my orders precisely.” Flurry didn’t feel the tap on her hind greaves, but she heard the dull thwack of a talon hitting crystal. She turned back and leaned her forehooves on the turret again. Bronzetail needed a moment to recover from her heavy, hooded stare down at him.
“What are your orders?” Flurry asked in Herzlander.
“If you’re doing spells, fire to the left.” Bronzetail pointed a claw to the left side of the barrel. “We have an easier time traversing right. The gunner’s on the right side.”
Flurry nodded her helmet.
One of the dueling planes above spiraled down in a fireball, crashing before the first line. The tanks adjusted to go around with a squeal of locked treads. It was impossible to tell from the wreckage whose plane it was.
“What else?” Flurry asked. Her voice was naturally soft and light; she had to nearly shout to be heard over the thousands of engines.
“I might as well get a look before I button-up all battle,” Bronzetail groused, ignoring her question and peering through his binoculars again. “I’d prefer to see my death coming. Do you plan on flying, or just staying atop my tank and making it a massive target?”
“I can’t fly in the armor.”
Bronzetail cast an eye at one of the indentations from her leap onto the square turret. “I suppose I should have expected that answer,” he said dourly. “Can you see their armor? Do alicorns have sharper vision?”
“As good as a pegasus,” Flurry answered, “so no, I can’t see them.”
“They overran your trenchworks, right? Moved too quick around the defensive lines after a breakthrough?” Bronzetail said out of the side of his beak. “The lighter flanks will be racing to get around while we take a beating.”
“That’s how I heard the war went,” Flurry agreed. She couldn’t see the lightly-armored tanks from the middle of the army group, but she imagined they were keeping pace. Nearly all of the tank commanders were leaning out of the hatch during the advance.
“The Changelings prefer to button-up and command from the interior,” Bronzetail explained at her sweeping eyes. “I suppose they’re used to cramped conditions; we like our wing room.” He fluttered his wings against the side of the hatch.
The dots grew into proper shapes; Flurry picked out the gun turrets and long barrels, but they were still too far away to make out. The shapes were along the entire plain, encompassing the whole western horizon. Are we just going to crash into each other? Flurry asked herself. Was this what the war was like? Sitting in a trench and watching them grow closer?
“If they spot you, you’ll be the immediate target,” Bronzetail coughed. “Only start using spells at my command.” The tanks continued forward. “Have you been in an armored engagement before?”
“No.”
“Not during the war?” Bronzetail asked with some surprise.
“My father didn’t bring me to the front line,” Flurry nickered. “I was eight.”
Bronzetail lowered his binoculars to look up at her from the side of his eye. “Sometimes I forget you are Grover’s age.”
Flurry let out a breath, not quite in a laugh. “It’s the height. I have long legs.”
Elias lifted the binoculars back up.
The front line reached the proper Celestial Plain, crunching through the overgrown farmland. Flurry could still spot the divots from old rows of seeds beside the bombed-out foundations of farmhouses. The tanks ran over an asphalt road that twisted around to Canterlot, but continued west.
Flurry’s horn pulsed with the detection spell as the line advanced. Bronzetail felt the magic wash over his feathers and glared at her. “I said to hold your spells!”
“It’s the illusion spell,” Flurry replied. “I don’t want any surprises before the attack.”
“You think an unarmed changeling just crept across the Celestial Plain at night?” Bronzetail scoffed.
“Disguised as a field mouse with a grenade on her back?” Flurry let the question linger. “I’d rather not take any chances.”
Bronzetail let the binoculars hang from his neck and peered over the edge of the turret. The grass wasn’t tall enough to hide a changeling, but he still shifted his wing to unclip his holster preemptively. “Bring up the Aquileian mages with the initial knights,” he said into his headset. “We’re driving tanks. Shoot any wildlife that approaches with prejudice.”
They were close enough to see the opposing lines. Flurry immediately realized that the Changeling armor was arrayed in the same fashion as the Reichsarmee: Heavy tanks in the middle with supporting scout units along the flanks. Bronzetail squawked adjustments into his headset and the lines began to break into spearheads.
The Changelings did steal their way of war, Flurry huffed.
Another plane crashed down between the armies. The sky above them echoed with gunfire and explosions. Two more smoke plumes rose up from the far right of the advance. The trampled grass was still flecked with bits of frost and wet from morning dew; it swayed in the wind before the treads crushed it down.
“We’ll break into spearheads and counter their maneuvers,” Bronzetail said aloud. He held a claw over his microphone. “Shoot to the left. We’ll be in range within five minutes.” Bronzetail’s turret rotated slightly, matched by the body of the tank a moment later.
Flurry squinted at the tanks in the distance. The turrets were already lowered and tracking the Reich tanks. “We’re just supposed to slam into each other?”
“It’s an open plain,” Bronzetail squawked. “If they were smart, they’d have set ambushes along the Duskwood and-”
The guns fired in the distance. Flurry watched the flashes from the black-plated behemoths and tensed with a sparking horn. She thought of Duskcrest throwing a bottle at her muzzle in the scrapyard outside Evergreen and reflexively cast a shield in front of her tank. Bronzetail lurched against the side of the hatch as the driver stopped dead.
He gasped and twisted to glare up at her. “I said to hold your damn spells!”
Flurry opened her mouth to apologize.
The Grendel directly in front of them exploded. The shield sparked as it was peppered with metal shrapnel. That was the second row. Flaming oil oozed off the spherical shield, glittering with small bolts of blue energy. Flurry cut the spell as another tank in the front row took a hit. More shells kicked up the ground ahead of the advancing armor, but several more landed amongst the first row.
Bronzetail whipped his head west violently and raised the binoculars. Flurry’s ears twitched at the squawking coming from his headset. She looked up and down the line. The heavy tanks had just begun to break into spearheads to counter-advance against the Changelings. Half a dozen tanks were aflame from her position.
I thought you said we weren’t in range? Flurry wanted to ask, but instead stayed silent as Bronzetail disappeared back into the turret. A few Reich tanks fired in the front row; Flurry watched the shells fall short of the Changeling armor. Bronzetail reappeared.
“That’s not the tanks they had in the east!” he spat. “That’s not the tanks your scouts took photographs of!” He raised his binoculars with his beak clenched tight. “Where the hell did they come from?”
Flurry squinted as the Changelings broke to form their own spearheads. A piece of armor fell away from one of the advancing panzers and bent awkwardly in the wind. It was still too far away to tell what it was, but it was a clear sunny morning. The alicorn snatched the binoculars from Bronzetail’s claws and raised them to her own eyes. She had to tilt her head back to peer through the eye slits of her helmet.
Aluminum and cardboard. Flurry watched the panzers shred their fake armor. The silhouettes began to change into a sleeker design. The heavy panzers began to charge across the open plain in their spearheads, moving faster than the Reichsarmee.
Flurry passed the binoculars back. “New armor. They disguised the shape like their old models.” The shell slammed into the dirt several hooves ahead of Bronzetail’s tank.
“Damn scouts didn’t notice.”
“You didn’t expect changelings to trick-”
Another tank exploded ahead of them. Bronzetail disappeared into the open hatch. His tank lurched forward. It drove around the wreckage of the first one; Flurry stared at the burnt claw frozen in a reaching grasp that extended from the flaming hatch. More incoming fire rained onto the Reich advance.
Flurry held her tongue the entire five minutes. They had to be at the most extreme range, because most of the incoming shells missed their targets, kicking up grass or exploding into fireballs ahead of the incoming counter-attack. The Reichsarmee advance still lost dozens according to Flurry's quick counts. The knights, meant to escort the tanks and engage the on-hooves units, trailed behind, staying clear of the lobbed shells.
Booms echoed up and down the entire line. Another tank to the right took a glancing round, mangling the armored skirt and destroying the tread. The tank screeched to a halt and lurched to the side. Another bounced off the heavy sloped plate with a green spark.
Flurry was in the middle of the armored arrow. The tanks near the head of the pack aligned their turrets toward the distant targets. They did not stop to fire; the entire chassis rocked back slightly as the barrels belched smoke and fire, but the momentum carried them forward. Flurry’s ears flinched against the padding of her helmet.
It’ll be worse once it’s Elias’ tank. The blasts were intense, but Flurry was focused on the result. One of the Changeling panzers burst into a vicious fireball, but several plumes of sparks kicked-up on the front plating of its neighbors.
Flurry felt the turret under her change direction. It twisted suddenly to the right and the barrel aligned with a Changeling tank in the distance. Flurry braced herself.
It fired.
Her armor, as heavy and sluggish as it was, helped her keep her forelegs on the turret. The noise was almost deafening and her teeth rattled. Flurry watched the shell, designed to pierce tanks, spark off the side of a distant panzer.
The Changeling tank fired and the shell punched through the turret of a Grendel to her right. Bronzetail reappeared in the hatch. His arms were already sweaty. “They’re going to try and pincer Canterhorn, like we did. Thundertail’s terrain is rougher. Ignatius is holding.”
“What do you want to do?” Flurry yelled.
“We have to draw fire!” Bronzetail shouted up at her. “We’ll close distance!”
“Their armor is better and they’re faster!”
“We have more,” Bronzetail answered and raised a claw to his headset. “Divisions eight through twelve, close now.” He dropped back into the tank to hear the reply.
No.
Flurry snarled and ignited her horn. A golden shield shimmered into existence ahead of her armored spearhead. The Reich tanks tumbled to a stop, including Bronzetail’s. Flurry stretched the shield out into a long rectangle that barely extended above her. She closed her eyes to concentrate.
She heard Bronzetail scrabble back out of the hatch over the sound of falling shells. “I said not to use-”
“Keep moving,” Flurry growled. The shield began to warp and extend along the frontline. Several shells impacted with bursts of blue fire, either exploding of ricocheting off the surface back towards the Changeling line.
“We can’t move with the damn shield!”
“It will move with me.” Flurry opened her eyes and bared her teeth at Elias. “You have a better idea that doesn’t include killing your own griffons?”
The shield continued to stretch along the plain, a simple, wide, flat rectangle. It drew fire immediately and the base of her horn thrummed as the spell absorbed the kinetic energy of hundreds of shells. Flurry ground her teeth and bent the top and bottom, forming a convex, outward curve. The shells began to spark and ricochet rather than detonate against it.
Damn it, if I could fly, I could cover the entire line. I should’ve done this at the start.
Several of the armored spearheads stalled at the sight of the long, convex rectangle extending out along the battle line. The Changeling armor continued to pour fire against it, but no longer advanced to meet the Reich. Flurry exhaled and stamped a hoof into the turret, making another dent. Bronzetail’s tank glowed blue as the spell anchored itself to the war machine.
“It’s tied to your tank. Move,” Flurry panted.
Bronzetail eyed the glowing shield. “We can’t fire through it, can we?”
“You wanted to close distance,” Flurry exhaled. She twisted to see how many tanks she managed to cover. Blasts still echoed to either side of her, but she had extended the shield to cover the advance of several hundred heavy tanks.
Bronzetail raised a claw to his headset. “Yes, damn it, of course it’s the Princess!” He gave her an uncertain look, then turned back to the shells sparking off the front of the golden shield. A Changeling plane spun down to rake the sheltered tanks with gunfire, pursued by a Reich fighter that blasted off its left wing. The Changeling fighter spun out into a fireball over her head.
“She refused to lower the shield,” Bronzetail said after a pause. “We’re advancing under cover.” He bent into the hatch. “Fritz! Move, Maar-damn it!”
Bronzetail’s tank rumbled forward. True to Flurry’s assertion, the entire shield warbled ahead of it. Several of the tanks ahead began to timidly push forward. Most of the commanders sat in the open hatches, twisting to try and spot her.
“Did you just lie to Grover?” Flurry asked over a wing. The shield was far enough ahead that Flurry could hold a conversation at a reasonable level. Her horn popped and sparked. A golden bead of liquid flame ran down the spirals.
“No, I’m speaking to the Command Staff,” Bronzetail deadpanned. “You have no idea how much logistics it takes to run a battle, do you?”
“I have other ponies do that.” The incoming fire towards the shield tapered off into a half dozen shells every few seconds. The Changeling tanks began to move forward again to meet the advance head-on, but several began to split off and shift to the sides.
Bronzetail watched through his binoculars. “They’re going to redirect to the exposed flanks. You aren't covering half the plain.”
“Pick a target. I’ll drop the shield.”
“Boreas preserve us,” Bronzetail sighed. “You want to go back to volley fire?”
“You’re in command,” Flurry snapped back. “Tell me what to do.”
Elias regarded the panzers attempting to realign themselves to encircle the shield. Flurry was still too far away to see individual changelings in the hatches, if there were any. “We’re seven hundred meters away,” Bronzetail spoke into his headset. “Target the sides and fire on my command.” He eyed Flurry and raised his right claw. “Drop it on my signal.”
“There’s no bendy light,” Flurry commented idly.
Bronzetail squinted an eye up at her. “What?”
“Never mind.” Flurry counted a minute in her head. The turret adjusted to the right again. There was a brief pause in the incoming gunfire from the Hegemony panzers. Elias snapped his claw down hard at the same time he barked, “Fire!”
Flurry cut the shield for two seconds while the guns responded. Bronzetail’s tank rocked back with a plume of smoke. The alicorn reformed the spell with a toss of her head; several tanks fired late and the shells ricocheted off the shield with flares of blue fire, tumbling back towards the advancing line. One bounced off the tank to her right. The griffon in the turret screeched angrily.
“It has to be exactly on my command!” Bronzetail repeated into his headset. “Adjust. Pick targets that aren’t disabled!” He raised his claw again as the turrets shifted. Flurry heard a thump from the interior as another round was loaded.
The effect was devastating. Rather than target front-facing, heavy-armored panzers, the volley hit the tanks breaking their positions to reinforce the sides. Dozens burst into infernos while twice their number took hits and lurched to a stop. The Celestial Plain was wide, flat, and totally exposed for both sides.
They wanted this fight, too, Flurry realized. They disguised their best tanks as old pieces of junk and brought them out against the best army in the world. The plain ahead and behind them was littered with the burning husks of armor and fallen planes. Bronzetail raised his claw again, and Flurry watched it, tilting her head to the side to peer through the eye slit.
“Fire!”
The shield fell again and the tanks rocked. This time, a shell whistled just over Flurry’s head and carved a furrow into the earth behind her before exploding. The shield snapped back into place after Bronzetail’s tank rocked back.
“They’ve spotted you,” Elias said dryly. Several explosions rippled along the shield, right in front of their place in the attack. “Six hundred meters.” He began to raise his claw, but held it to his headset instead. “They’ve stopped trying to redeploy.” He raised his claw again.
The gunfire impacting the shield slowed.
“Wait!” Flurry hissed out of the corner of her mouth. “They’re watching. Tell them to fire on my command.”
“You need a headset.”
Flurry shifted the armored helmet to glare at him. The alicorn felt a trail of fire ooze down her horn again and pool at the base. “Watch your ears.”
“Just so,” Bronzetail said neutrally. “Fire on the Princess’ command,” he said into the headset, then pulled the hatch closed. Flurry licked her lips at the few shells impacting the shield, then sent a pulse of magic along the entire length. The shield appeared to wobble.
A mass of fire slammed into the shield directly in front of Bronzetail’s spearhead. Several of the shells splintered off back towards the Changelings, but most exploded into blue sparks. Flurry’s horn throbbed, but she grinned and took a breath.
“Fire.” Her voice echoed down the line as she dropped her shield while the Changeling armor reloaded. It wasn’t as precise as before, but the piercing shells finally struck home in the remaining panzers struggling to turn back to face the advance.
The Changeling armor remaining ahead of them seemed to have enough because it charged forward towards the shield with blazing barrels. Several lines of armor broke into wedges to go around the glowing rectangle, weathering direct fire from the Reich lines as they tore into each other. The sound echoed across the plain, joining the cacophony from the sky.
Planes continued to try and dive-bomb the advance for either side, but were shot down by other fighters spinning in pirouettes. One Changeling fighter plowed headlong into the tank to Flurry’s left, spraying shards of metal in a fireball. Flurry twisted her head away and felt a chuck of something smash against her armored flank before tumbling off. She turned to look at the scuffed crystal while Bronzetail climbed back out of the hatch. The crystal appeared smudged, but otherwise fine.
“Thundertail’s having trouble,” Elias said aloud. Flurry struggled to hear him over the blasts. “It’s low valleys. There’s a trap or something.” He licked his beak at the advancing armor. “They’re going to try to kill you.”
“You said we needed to draw fire!” Flurry shouted over the explosions.
“What happens if they hit the shield!?” Bronzetail shouted up at her.
Flurry scanned the advancing tanks. The Changeling armor was charging straight at the shield, probably to try and stall the advance. The tanks along the sides of the shield began to shift to engage the attempted flanking maneuvers. The shield was tied to Bronzetail's tank; the forward momentum would stall if a wave of armor slammed against the magic.
Flurry estimated the range; there were at least eighty tanks pushing towards the spearhead across the plain. As Bronzetail’s divisions advanced, more peeled off to engage the sides. They’re trying to keep us occupied while they close in around us. Blasts and turret fire echoed from the left and right of the plain.
“They’ll stall the shield!” Flurry answered. The tanks weren’t going fast enough to just plow through the advance. “I have to drop it!”
“Wait!” Bronzetail exclaimed.
He vanished into the hatch to squawk commands into his radio. Flurry saw the barrel move again to fire upon an advancing panzer. The Changeling tank was covered in sloped plating along the front, painted gunmetal black with a flared barrel and circular turret. The tanks ahead of her in the spearhead aimed as well, constantly shifting as the treads churned the old furrows in the ground.
Bronzetail’s head poked back up. “Drop it when I say!”
Smoke exploded across her shield as the first line of tanks discharged smoke shells into the ‘back’ of her golden barrier. A cloud enveloped the spearhead, blocking them from sight. The tanks immediately halted under the smokescreen.
“Now!”
Flurry dropped the shield. A shell whistled just to the right of her head, and an explosion reverberated from the tanks behind her. Bronzetail’s tank fired blind through the smoke, joined by the rest of the spearhead.
“That bought us a second, but we’re in killing range,” he panted. Flurry spared him a glance. The griffon’s tan shirt was already stained with sweat, despite the cold morning air. The tank moved at an angle, using the smoke to reposition within the temporary cover.
Flurry didn’t respond verbally. Her horn glowed gold as she squinted through the smoke. A gap in the cloud appeared after a howling shell tore through, aimed far too high. The alicorn saw the tank that fired it and released her laser.
Bronzetail dropped back into the tank with a pained squawk as the spell flew true and punched clean through the sloped armor. The Changeling tank exploded into a fireball with blue flames. The gray paint along the front of Bronzetail’s turret charred black from the heat in a wide line. Flurry scuffed it with an armored hoof.
Bronzetail reappeared with a sunburn on his light brown beak. “W-What?”
“I’ll aim to the left,” Flurry responded.
He pulled the hatch closed.
The tank exited the smoke cloud with Flurry atop it. Her horn burned like a torch. The Changeling panzers hadn’t adjusted yet, moving slowly and waiting for their targets to emerge from the smoke cover.
Flurry fired first. The laser burned in a wide, continuous burst that sprayed the panzers ahead. Disappointingly for her, it did not melt them entirely, but rather disabled the guns and doubtlessly cooked the changelings inside the glowing, red-hot armor. Her side regrouped beyond the dissipating smoke cloud.
I need to charge my shots. Flurry swept her horn to the left first, then the right after Bronzetail took too long to fire a shot. The tank fired anyway and exploded an already half-melted panzer. Another shell whistled just over her right wing, close enough to ruffle her feathers.
A shell exploded just in front of Bronzetail’s tank, and the shrapnel scraped across the armored treads. Bronzetail's turret moved too slowly to the right. Out of the corner of her eye, Flurry saw multiple barrels align in the distance. The alicorn cut the laser, felt the tank below her in her magic, and teleported with a golden flare. For one brief moment, both the alicorn and the war machine snapped out of existence. Two more shells plowed into the empty ground.
The tank snapped back into existence a hundred meters to the left behind a burning wreck of another Grendel. Flurry snorted and licked her upper lip. No blood. She summoned a bubble shield around the tank when it stumbled to a halt.
Flurry waved her left wing at another charging Reich tank; the commander returned the wave with an absent claw as the gun fired below him. After several seconds of waiting, Elias Bronzetail pushed the hatch open with vomit staining the front of his shirt. He scraped a claw on the microphone of his headset and grimaced queasily.
“Sorry,” Flurry apologized, “but I think we were about to die.”
“You can…” the griffon trailed off and swallowed something down. “You can teleport a fucking tank?”
A tank shell slammed into the side of the bubble shield while they sat unmoving. Flurry twisted her helmet to watch the explosion blossom across the bubble. “Yes. I could teleport my plane.”
Bronzetail stared dully at another exploding shell. He raised a claw to his headset. “Fourth division swing southeast. Reinforce eighth.” The spearhead left them behind as it pushed forward.
Flurry spied another Hegemony attack attempting to counter a line of Reich tanks to the southwest. Half-tracks and trucks lingered behind the armor farther across the plain, waiting to move in on the disabled tank divisions. Same as the knights.
“Second, merge with sixth and hammer the counterattack,” Bronzetail said blankly into his headset. Another shell impacted the shield around the stalled tank.
“Are we stuck?” Flurry asked.
“The driver shit himself.” Bronzetail turned to stare at the burning wreck just ahead of them. An errant shot slammed into the husk and split the turret apart. Flurry’s ears tried to pin at the sound of squealing metal.
She looked up. The sky was still full of dogfighting planes. The fighting had retreated higher up into the clouds as the air forces vied for supremacy. Flurry watched the shadows spin for a moment.
“How far can you teleport us?” Bronzetail asked suddenly. He had wiped vomit off his binoculars and was staring ahead.
“Why?” Flurry asked.
“Can you get behind that division?” Bronzetail pointed a claw southwest. Flurry squinted and saw the black panzers.
“Yes,” Flurry answered immediately. “I can drop the shield and teleport.”
“Do it, the armor’s weak in the rear.”
Flurry hesitated. “It’s going to be really rough,” she said in a low warning.
“It’s going to be a rough day,” Bronzetail answered and pulled the hatch shut.
Flurry dropped the shield after a hail of shells and teleported before another volley could impact.
The tank went with her, leaving the smoking imprint of treads in the frozen ground.
Rainbow Dash raced out of the makeshift cloud barracks. “We’re up! We’re up! Move!” The pegasus tugged one of her wingstraps tight with her teeth as she galloped. The metal feathers flared as the enchantment locked in place. She gave it a test flap, and the sharpened feathers sang in the brisk air.
Her wing itched.
It always itched, even in her sleep. Rainbow loved cloud beds as much as any pegasus, and her damn wing always itched during the night. She imagined it itched even when it wasn’t attached to her stumpy wing joint.
Phantom pain. Stupid, Rainbow huffed. The other pilots flapped their wings across the lumpy clouds, flying low towards the parked planes. The fighters had been enchanted and the clouds reinforced, but they still sagged into the soft cumulus. Traditional take-off would be a pain in the flank.
Rainbow’s flight suit chafed around her tail. The rainbow contrail twisted wildly in the wind. I get why Flurry just cut the damn thing off. She slowed and tugged on the jumpsuit’s zipper with her teeth as she approached the airfield.
Rainbow didn’t slow to look at Cloudsdale. She didn’t need to look at it anymore; she had seen enough scraping the poor airfield together from the ruins of her home. The only thing left of the best pegasus city in Equestria was her shitty Airstrip One with thousands of fighters parked high in the sky.
The wind blew strong gales against the anchored cumulus, held together by flight magic. Cloudsdale was always cold. Pegasi could endure the cold, and some even enjoyed it, but the griffons peeling off towards their planes all wore stuffed leather jackets.
Damn those look cool, Rainbow huffed into the air.
Misty Fly flapped up towards her from the airfield, flying from the planes. “Everyone’s fueled and ready!” The old Wonderbolt saluted around her headphones. “Good luck, Air Marshal! High Flying!”
“Get the crews ready to drop!” Rainbow shouted as she flew by. “We’re dropping, everypony!”
Nopony responded verbally. The air wings broke off into their groups and flew towards the parked aircraft. Rainbow found her plane easily. For once, it was properly painted with her colors. Rainbow finally bit the bit and asked for help.
It didn’t quite hide the boxy quality of a late Changeling fighter. None of the repurposed planes looked right without the gunmetal black of the Hegemony. They had been painted sloppily with dazzling colors to tell at a glance which ones were friendly.
Damn birds better not be colorblind. Aren’t dogs colorblind? Rainbow landed on the left wing and wiped her natural feathers across the canopy. The glass was slick with frost.
“Good hunting, everypony!” Rainbow screamed at the surrounding pilots. The pegasi flew low and clambered up onto their planes. Most were wearing brown or blue flight suits.
“Good hunting, Air Marshal!” several screamed back. The Nova Griffonians had split off to their own air wings, borrowed from the coastline in the north. The Nova Griffonian fighters, basic brown, stuck out like claws amongst the smoothed clouds.
Rainbow pulled the latch and slid the canopy back, climbing into the cockpit and laying down on the seat. Tugging the flight cap over her cut-down mohawk, the pegasus tapped her fetlock against the communication crystal. “Everypony, fire up your engines. Nova Griffs, remember the test drops. We don’t have time for airstrip launches.”
“Flight crew is in position,” Misty’s voice crackled. “On your command, Air Marshal.”
Rainbow kicked the lever to start the engine with a rear hoof. She tested the stick and grimaced again at the stiff controls. Damn bugs can’t even build a good plane. The engine roared to life.
She lifted her flight cap to stare through the windshield at the spinning propeller, reaching over and testing the flaps and rudder. The planes directly beside her hummed. “Air wings report in,” the pegasus rasped into her mic.
“Violet ready.”
“Red ready.”
“Green reporting.”
“Orange good to go.”
“Blue reporting.”
“Indigo ready.”
Rainbow looked around at the surrounding planes. The pilots had started their engines and closed their canopies, idling atop the clouds. “Yellow,” she said, “ready to launch.” She twisted the lever and the landing gear retracted.
The Changeling fighter shuddered as it rested awkwardly on the cloud. The spinning propeller sank into the cloud slightly, slicing the soft texture apart. The plane slowly began to tilt forward into the cloud from the weight of the engine.
Her wingmates copied her. All across Airstrip One, the planes began to sink into the gathered cloud, falling forward. Nova Griffs better not choke, Rainbow thought. The Nova Griffonians didn’t have experience launching from a cloud-carrier. The test drops from the past weeks had been promising, but this was the first time all the air wings were launching simultaneously.
“Flight crew, begin the drop,” Rainbow stated.
The pegasi on the edges of Airstrip One began to pull apart the clouds in segments. As it lost structural integrity, the interior weakened in specific areas and the magic keeping the aircraft atop the clouds failed. Rainbow felt the fighter shudder as it sank nose-first into the clouds. The propeller continued to slice away the cumulus.
“Violet is away!” Misty Fly’s voice crackled over the headset. Rainbow craned her neck to the high cloud buzzing with pegasi above the airstrip. They coordinated the breakup of Airstrip One so each air wing launched alone.
“Indigo is away!”
Yellow went last on purpose, Rainbow reminded herself. “Head to your zones,” she called into the mic. The pegasus bent her foreleg to adjust the end of the microphone so it didn’t press against her lower lip. “Avoid Canterhorn and the Celestial Plain, Indigo. You’re closest to the front.”
“Acknowledged, Air Marshal,” a Nova Griffonian replied.
Spits said I was too temperamental to lead the ‘bolts, Rainbow snorted. She was leading far more than that now. She had to. Rainbow's ears flicked under the cap at the sound of thousands of falling engines roaring underneath her before drifting away.
“Red is away!”
Rainbow reached out a hoof to smooth the two pictures taped under the compass.
“Orange is away!”
A pegasus neighed wildly in her ear as she fell. “Orange Leader,” Rainbow snapped, “hold comms! Keep the channel clear!”
“Sorry!” Scootaloo apologized, not sounding sorry at all.
“Being a Wonderbolt Cadet only gets you so far, Scoots,” Rainbow chuckled.
“It got me Orange Leader,” Scootaloo countered with a laugh, “and I got you out of Canterlot. See you in the sky, old mare.”
“Green is away!” Misty Fly broke in again.
Rainbow twisted her head to watch the flight crew set up around the corners of her air wing. The pegasi tensed their hooves against the clouds and pulled a few segments away. The fighter slid downwards and the canopy was completely obscured; the tail and rudder stuck out high above at a ninety-degree angle.
“Blue is away!”
The propeller chopped away the cumulus and made a hole in the bottom of the cloud. The fighter now barely rested on its wings. Rainbow could feel the metal slide slowly down under its own momentum. She had an excellent view of the trees of the Everfree stretching out far below her.
“Blessed Boreas!” a Nova Griffonian screeched. “Damn pegasi are insane! Felt like I tore my tail off!”
“Blue Leader, you never dive bombed before?” Rainbow nickered.
“Not to take off!”
“Good luck, Air Marshal,” Misty Fly interrupted. “Yellow is away.”
The clouds abruptly collapsed and Rainbow’s fighter fell downwards. It happened quickly; there was no resistance from the clouds. The hundreds of fighters tumbled out of the bottom of a collapsing Airstrip One, all nose down in an dive towards the Everfree.
Rainbow adjusted the flaps, letting the fighter gain speed as it fell to the earth. Wind whistled through the propeller. Unlike an Equestrian fighter, the Changeling engine didn’t roar.
Rainbow glanced at one of the pictures. Wish you were here, G.
Gilda had given her an old black-and-white photograph of them together at flight camp. The griffon resembled a puffball more than a proper predator. Gilda was with her own air wing, somewhere above the Celestial Plain. She had given Rainbow the photo as an awkward goodbye, followed by an even more awkward hug. "I'll try to save some for you," she had promised with an attempted grin as the griffon flew away.
The pegasus was surprised her friend kept the photo after all those years. She didn’t remember even taking it. Her father had to have done it during flight camp.
Look at me now, Dad. You’re gone, Mom’s gone, home’s gone.
The planes around her pulled up as the pilots heaved the sticks back and extended the flaps. The fighters struggled to arrest the dive and transfer the momentum into a screaming glide. Rainbow pressed her hoof to the lever, but waited.
She could pick out individual trees in the canopy below her. A Reich supply truck sped along the path cut through the Everfree; the driver stuck his head out the window and looked up at the falling planes. She was still too high up to catch his expression, but he must’ve been dumbfounded.
Every story about Equestria is true, you assholes. Rainbow snarled and pulled the stick back with gritted teeth. The Changeling fighter squealed in protest and the yoke rattled.
Rainbow arrested the dive just above the trees, tearing back up into the sky as the engine sputtered. She waggled her wings at the truck below her and climbed back up towards the rest of her air wing.
“You cut that close, Air Marshal,” a pilot commented.
Rainbow didn’t dignify that with a response. “Proceed to your zones,” the pegasus spat into the mic. “Listen up, we’re on intercept. Radar picked up some high-fliers trying to skirt above the Celestial Plain to hit the supply lines. Shoot those bastards down. If you take critical damage, bail, fly low to Canterhorn and join the defense. Remember the countersign.”
“What’s the countersign again?” a Nova pilot asked.
“Not over the radio,” Rainbow snapped. “Figure it out on the ground and don’t get shot.”
Rainbow banked the fighter and joined the air wing to the northeast of Mount Canterhorn. Tracer fire from anti-air was already filling the sky above Canterlot. The Changeling garrison was clearly determined to prevent another aerial drop, like the last one.
Starlight would’ve loved this.
Rainbow hoped she was alive somewhere, but after Neigh Orleans fell…
“I don’t want to run anymore.”
Somewhere below her to the southwest, Princess Flurry Heart was fighting with the birds at the head of their armored counterassault against the Hegemony. Rainbow climbed higher with two dozen fighters trailing behind her, exceeding Airstrip One’s altitude and breaking through a cloud wall. It was quiet this high up; Rainbow took a deep breath of frosty morning air. The glass fogged over for a moment.
Black shadows flew above another cloud bank to the north, no more than a dozen. Damn bugs are flying high, Rainbow snorted. At this altitude, the entire northern horizon glowed pink in the light of the morning sun. The shield over the Crystal Empire and northern Equestria almost sparkled in the light of the sunrise.
Rainbow squinted at the boxy shapes sticking out against the pink sheen, then glanced at her compass. “Bearing zero-eight-five, dozen dive bombers. Yellow Leader, engaging.” She spun the fighter into a dive.
“Indigo Leader, spotted stragglers from the Celestial Plain. Bearing one-four-five. Engaging targets.”
Have to do your job for you, G. You better not die so I can rub it in your beak. Rainbow spared one last look at the picture taped below the compass. She refused to look at the picture taped next to it.
The Changeling fighters weren’t as agile as an Equestrian plane, probably something due to pegasi design. Nova Griffonian fighters were better, but the levers and buttons were too small for hooves. They had never properly designed anything for the pony minority; the planes that they did have were jury-rigged in desperation after the Reich invaded.
But the Changeling’s support planes were worse than both. Rainbow lined up a boxy two ‘ling dive bomber.
Rainbow’s fighter screamed down from above and she put a short burst through the tail gunner’s canopy before he could return fire. She raked the fuselage as she buzzed underneath the falling plane, then corkscrewed back up to one of his wing mates. Mid-spin, she put another burst into the belly of the plane as it tried to turn away.
Both planes fell from the sky. The rest of her pack descended on the bombers as the tail gunners poured tracer fire at the painted Hegemony fighters. They worked in tandem. One fighter provided a target for the gunner while another swept in from above or below. The Changelings were outnumbered, and they were always worse pilots.
All their aces died during the uprising. Rainbow made sure of it.
Rainbow banked hard to the right and watched a tracer barely miss her rudder. One of her wing mates shattered the bomber’s canopy with a burst and the plane spiraled below. “Good kill, yellow four!” Rainbow barked into her flight cap. She tapped the comms crystal and flashed through the radio channels.
“Red Leader, engaging two-six-five! Red Five, put one up their ass!”
Sweet Celestia, how many of these bastards got through? Rainbow pirouetted back above the clouds, peering west. She pulled her goggles up with a hock.
The sky above the Celestial Plain was swarming with aircraft trying their level best to kill each other. This high up and far away, they looked like insects. Some of them are insects, Rainbow amended. Might as well crush them like bugs. The support units behind the advance fired flak into the sky at the attempted dive bombers.
Rainbow had joked about having to save the birds, but she didn’t think it would happen so quickly. The battle had just begun according to the radio reports from the base at Canterhorn. The ‘lings must have flung everything they had into the air to try and cut the supply lines.
Everyone was avoiding Mount Canterhorn. Flak filled the skyline above the mountain.
“Yellow five, another swarm bearing zero-six-three.” The fighter twisted back around as Rainbow aligned the compass. The Changeling planes were diving low towards a road cut through the Everfree. Some were already trailing smoke from earlier damage.
Rainbow nudged the stick into another dive. She braced her metal feathers flush against the metal and felt the vibrations shudder up the feather tips. She couldn’t truly feel it, not like her real wing, but it helped with the itchy feeling.
The bombers had already been savaged by Reich fighters. What made it through was just scraps. Rainbow almost felt bad; one of the tail gunners was hanging limply out of his turret. She adjusted her aim and blew through the canopy of the pilot instead. Her wingmates screeched past her and engaged the others.
Rainbow twisted above another rough road and corkscrewed again. She hung upside down by the straps in her seat and looked ‘up’ at the trucks heading north. Surprisingly, they weren’t fuel trucks; they were proper reserve units and half-tracks moving quickly. Some of the griffons were flying ahead of the trucks.
“Blue, you’re closest to the northern front,” Rainbow commented as she righted herself. “What’s going on?”
“I’m seeing tanks fall back,” Blue Leader reported. “We’re adjusting our air zone. Incoming flak from anti-air isn’t discriminating.”
Rainbow turned north again. It was all low valleys, like Ponyville once was to the south before the Everfree swallowed it.
“All air wings be advised,” Misty Fly’s voice crackled, “Marshal Fizzlepop is reporting that the Reich is being pushed back to the northern slope. Army is preparing to engage.”
“Keep the damn sky clear,” Rainbow growled across all the radio channels. She spun back up and spotted another small group of support bombers to the northwest. “Bearing zero-six-zero, ‘nother pack. Air Marshal going dark.” The pegasus flicked the crystal back to her local channel. “Hit ‘em.”
The dogfighting continued for the better part of an hour. A lucky shot punched through her left wing, but it didn’t cut through anything important. The flaps still worked. Rainbow didn’t bother counting her kills, not today. She flew with her wingmates and downed as many of the sluggish bombers as she could, even a few fighters that straggled through the sky above the Celestial Plain.
“Orange Leader, shifting north!” Scootaloo shouted into the radio. “Sweet Celestia, I see spellfire on the north of Canterhorn!”
Rainbow banked to the left to look through the frosted canopy. Flashes lit the base of the mountain and streaked towards the valley to the north, where the trenchworks were built-up. If the fighting’s that close…
Rainbow refocused on another support plane. The tail gunner was frantically trying to line her up while the pilot evaded. He was good; Rainbow had already wasted three bursts and nearly lost her rudder.
Not good enough. Rainbow finally lined up the plane and put a burst ahead of his turn. The engine burst into flames as the fuel lines were severed by a stream of bullets and the plane exploded with the gunner still pouring tracer fire behind her.
“Violet here. Sky’s clear to the south. Celestial Plain looks like a mess, but the Reich is holding.”
“Focus north,” Rainbow responded. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood as she gained altitude with a dozen wingmates. The flak around Canterlot hadn’t slowed down. She tapped the comms crystal with one of her real feathers. “Misty, report?”
“There’s a breakthrough to the north,” Misty answered. “They’re sent a tank brigade through the low valleys and the Reich got trapped. They’re falling back to regroup.”
“That exposes the trenchworks,” Rainbow said. She lined up another struggling support bomber and squinted underneath her goggles as she tried to guess their evasive maneuvers.
“I’m hit!” Scootaloo cried. “The sky’s full of bugs to the northwest!”
“Bail, squirt!” Rainbow shouted back. She finished off the bomber with a rake across the tail that broke the plane apart. She brought the plane up and leveled off east of Mount Canterhorn.
“The birds need support in the north!” Scootaloo continued. “Bugs are pushing through the valleys and overwhelming rear command! I can see-”
“Bail!” Rainbow screamed into her flight cap.
“My strap’s stuck-”
The radio went quiet.
Rainbow listened to the static. She would need to ditch her flight cap anyway.
The radio was quiet for several more seconds.
I don’t want to ask.
“Did she make it out?” Rainbow asked anyway. “Orange, report.”
Nopony answered.
Rainbow licked her lips. “This is Air Marshal Dash, report. Does anypony have eyes on Orange Leader?”
The radio crackled. Rainbow flicked the crystal with a feather. She clenched the stick between her forelegs. She’s a strong flier. She’s not a filly anymore.
“Scoots?”
“This is Orange Three,” a voice finally answered. “I saw her go down.”
Rainbow blinked and listened to the engine.
“I’m sorry, Air Marshal.”
Rainbow finally looked at the other picture beneath the compass. It was a color photo, enhanced by magic, taken just after Discord had been turned back into stone. All six of the Elements of Harmony posed in the center of Ponyville, just in front of the fountain.
Rainbow, with two whole wings and no scar twisting across her muzzle, was frozen midflight above a butter-yellow pegasus hiding behind her long pink mane. She had a soft smile barely visible, with one eye peeking through her bangs. The magenta-eyed pegasus above her had a smarmy grin, pumping a foreleg and flapping her wings.
In the center of the photograph, a purple unicorn stood with a slight smile, welcoming and friendly. She was the only one looking directly at the camera, at Spike. All of them were close together, nearly bumping flanks to be in the photograph. Applejack and Rarity, the farmpony and fashionista, were side-by-side. The orange earth pony and pearl unicorn had opposite smiles, one all teeth and one demure.
They truly looked like the best friends they were. That they would always be, no matter what.
Rainbow turned the fighter slightly southwest towards Canterlot. The anti-air above it had intensified as the army at the base of the mountain added their own guns to it. Flashes continued to streak to a valley in the north from the east side of the mountain.
We could make it through. I could order it right now.
“This is Orange Three,” the voice said again. “Reichsarmee is falling back to the north. We’re getting chewed up in the northwest. I see lots of bug motorized on the ground for a breakthrough.”
“This is Indigo Leader. Canterhorn is engaged. There’s heavy anti-air. Do we support?”
Rainbow looked at the photograph again, then spun the plane upside down to look down at the Everfree to the southeast. She stared down at it. Flutters…
“This is Misty Fly. We’re leaving a skeleton crew behind on Airstrip One and flying to Canterhorn base. Orders from Marshal Fizzlepop to reinforce. Good luck, everypony.”
Rainbow closed her eyes. “All air wings except Indigo, regroup northeast. Cut the breakthrough and buy time for the Reichsarmee to regroup. We have orders to keep the supply lines clear.”
“Acknowledged, Air Marshal,” Blue Leader confirmed.
“Green Leader: Already inbound.”
“Red Leader copies.”
“Violet Leader copies.”
“Indigo Leader: Will remain to keep the skies clear for the Celestial Plain.”
“Orange Three, you are now Orange Leader.” Rainbow’s voice broke. “Acknowledge.”
“Acknowledged, Air Marshal,” Orange Leader replied after a moment. “We’re seeing a lot of close bombers with fighter escorts.”
Rainbow righted her fighter and turned away from Canterlot, back to the northwest. The sky was pink and blurry in front of her canopy. Rainbow lifted her goggles to scrub at her eyes, then pulled them back down.
“Yellow,” she said, “we’re on ground intercept. Everypony else keep the skies clear. Fire on the bugs until you run out of ammo, then find a tank and fucking ram it. Bail and fight on the ground.”
“Solid copy, Yellow Leader,” one of her wingmates answered.
Rainbow leaned forward and bit the photograph of the Elements of Harmony. She tore it off the controls and let it fall somewhere to the back of the plane behind her. "I'm sorry," Rainbow said to nopony in particular. She thought of her family, her friends, her teammates, her neighbors, her home, everything they had ever taken while she was somehow still alive when so many better ponies were dead.
But Rainbow was still alive, and as long as she was still breathing, she could kill the ones that took them away.
Her metal feathers scraped against the side of the canopy, gouging the glass with their razor tips as she flew north.
It no longer itched.
The griffon flapping towards them was in a tattered Reichsarmee uniform. One of the gray sleeves was torn away around his arm, and both of his paw boots were missing. He panted raggedly with uneven wingbeats, clutching his stomach midflight.
“Could be a trick,” Eagleheart whickered in Aquileian.
“Definite lack of discipline,” Altiert concurred. The gray griffon took off her blue cap and braced her claws on the sandbags atop the trench. “Halt or be fired upon!”
“I doubt he knows Aquileian,” Eagleheart said idly beside her.
Cerie poked her beak out of the top of the sandbags to watch. The griffon landed hard and kept stumbling forward, shouting something lost in the wind. He had flown all the way from the northern low valley. Smoke poured from it now; the wind from Canterhorn carried it back west.
The griffon yelled something and kept moving towards the trenches.
“You have a shot on him?” Eagleheart asked to Lionella on her right. The sniper nodded and raised her rifle up to her beak, squinting through the scope. “Give him a warning shot.”
The rifle cracked and a patch of frozen dirt to the Reich soldier’s left kicked up. He screeched, then broke into manic laughter and kept approaching. He said something in Herzlander.
Commander Altiert shouted something back, and the griffon broke into more wild squawks of laughter. “Oh, Aquileian!” he spat in an atrocious accent. “No matter! All bad!”
Lionella lowered her rifle and gave Cerie a look to her left; she rolled her eyes. “Probably served at the front against us.” The sniper worked the bolt and took aim again.
“Wait,” Eagleheart held up a hoof. The golden-furred unicorn climbed up a box and leaned her hooves on the sandbags. “What’s going on?” she shouted in Aquileian over to him.
The griffon screamed something, but he was too far away and his voice was too hoarse. He staggered onto his paws and raised his claws above his head. Cerie flinched; the gray uniform around his stomach was a sickly dark red, stained with blood and gore.
He staggered forward using his wings for balance. “You are dead!” he screamed at the entrenched soldiers in Aquileian. “Dead! Dead! Fly!”
“Is he close enough for you to cast that spell?” Altiert muttered out of the side of her beak to Eagleheart. The unicorn shook her head. “Why are we dead?” she asked back. “Where’s Thundertail?”
“Dead!” the griffon screeched. He waved bloody claws in the air. “They kill all! Kill all!”
“If he’s not a changeling, he’s doing their job for them,” Eagleheart spat into the frozen mud on the trench floor. She eyed the soldiers up and down the line, sweeping over Cerie with a dark blue eye.
“He’s broken,” Altiert answered, “and dying. That’s a fatal wound.”
“Might as well help him along, then,” Lionella grunted and squeezed the trigger.
The griffon’s head snapped back as the bullet impacted and he fell onto his wings. The body didn’t erupt into green fire. After a moment, most of the soldiers lowered their heads back into the forward trench.
Cerie stayed, watching the paws twitch in the air.
“If anygriff asks,” Lionella quipped as she cycled the bolt again, “we thought he was a changeling.”
Eagleheart descended onto all fours. Her boots were muddy. “Sounds like they broke through.”
“They’ll go around the north and hit here,” Altiert nodded along. Her golden eyes landed on Cerie, suddenly narrowing. “Cadet…”
Cerie blushed and tugged on her purple armband. The Imperial Snowflake was claw-stitched by an older Aquileian back in Weter. Unlike Altiert and Eagleheart, her uniform was a simple homespun blue jacket under a dirty white shirt with blue sweatpants. Her boots were too big for her paws, having belonged to her father, so they were laced tight.
Cerie’s rank was stitched onto the collar of her simple jacket. It was only a blue bar. “Yes, Commander?” she asked. She reached a muddy claw up to rub her beak, but stopped herself.
Altiert pointed to the heavy box of ammunition Cerie had balanced herself on to look over the sandbags. “Bring those forward to the anti-tank rifles, then get back to forward command.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Cerie answered quickly and picked the box up with a huff. Lionella flapped down and folded her wings beside her, carrying her rifle under her right wing. She offered the cadet a claw and they held the box between them.
“I’m headed that way, anyway,” Lionella nodded. Cerie backed down the trench with one end of the box while the sniper carried the other end.
“Looks like you’re going to earn that pardon today,” Altiert muttered to Eagleheart. “You should tell the Kaiser you’re due for a promotion.”
Eagleheart rolled up a sleeve and tested her hoof blade. The knife extended with a flex of her frog, so she left her boot off and gave Altiert a withering glare. Cerie backed around a bend in the trench before she could hear the reply.
“You’re the Princess’ friend, right?” Lionella asked. “That’s the nicest I’ve ever seen Commander Altiert chew some griffon out.”
“You weren’t in Evergreen,” Cerie connected.
“Nah, but we all heard the story,” Lionella said blithely. “The Princess is pretty forgiving.”
“You think the Changelings think that?” Cerie asked.
Lionella shrugged. “How’d you become friends anyway?”
When Cerie closed her eyes, she could still see Gavin Stormfront’s desperate, pleading look just before she pulled the trigger. He didn’t die instantly. She should’ve shot him again and finished him off, but she just sat atop her old receptionist’s desk and watched him bleed out for five minutes, still tied to her old chair.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Cerie answered. “I worked in Weter Radio.”
Lionella nodded and adjusted her claws on her side of the box. Cerie turned her head to look behind her as she walked backwards. The trench wasn’t very wide, and both sides were lined with sandbags and cubbies with spare ammunition boxes. The griffons lining the first trench prepped their heavy machine gun nests. Aquileian unicorns worked beside them to hasten the process.
An earth pony trotted the other way, running a hoof down the earthworks with a box of anti-tank rounds tied to his back. Cerie and Lionella brushed up against the opposite wall to give him room. “Merci, comrades,” he apologized and continued.
“Are you a communist?” Lionella asked with a wry look.
“I serve the Princess,” Cerie said back.
“That doesn’t stop you, apparently. I’m a Republican.” Lionella turned her arm to show off the Imperial Snowflake. “She’s pretty inclusive.”
Cerie finally found the emplacement with the anti-tank rifles. The griffons clearly expected her; a male was waiting with claws tapping on the wooden boards sunk into the trench floor. Cerie jerked her head to the other boxes along the wall and she heaved the box into place with Lionella.
“Good,” the waiting male griffon huffed. “I don’t how they expect us to disable tanks without enough ammo. Lionella, get on your gun with Team Four.” He stalked back to the wall of sandbags.
Lionella offered Cerie a clawshake. “Good luck, cub.” She preened a wing at Cerie’s indignant squawk. “You’re a cub. How old are you? Eighteen?”
“Old enough to enlist,” Cerie countered. She grabbed the sniper’s claw and twisted it as hard as she could in the shake. She brushed against a scarred knuckle.
Lionella clacked her beak and held up the claw afterwards with smirking cheeks and a swishing tail. Her right claw was missing the ring talon. “Lost it in Flowena with Prince Shining,” she laughed.
Cerie couldn’t help herself. “You were there? What was he like?”
Lionella blinked. “You don’t know?”
“The Princess doesn’t talk about her father.” I don’t talk about mine. He lost everything in the evacuation from Aquileia and died of the feather flu during the first winter.
“He had a terrible accent,” Lionella chuckled, “and he was a good pony.”
“Altiert killed him,” Cerie snapped. “Why’d you even ask about it?”
Lionella stopped laughed and looked askance. “Listen, cub. I was there. That city was going to fall no matter what. The only thing keeping us in place was that shield.” She placed her claws down and walked towards her heavy anti-tank rifle. The metal barrel and large scope looked even larger in Lionella's claws; she hefted the weight with puffed cheeks.
She picked it up with a huff and grabbed one of the magazines stored on a dirt shelf beside it. Lionella blew on the bullets before loading the rifle. “Maybe she ran, but it didn’t make a difference.”
Cerie’s tail whipped and she stalked back behind the forward line. The radio command center was three trench lines deep, behind the buried anti-tank guns, the machine gun emplacements, and the anti-tank rifles.
Eliza, a white-furred griffon with nearsighted gray eyes, squinted at her presence. The command center was lower than the other trenchworks, dug deep into the ground for shelter from incoming bombs. “Cerie, dear? Did they make you deliver ammo again?”
“Yes,” Cerie responded. Eliza was adamant that her rank was unnecessary. The other dozen griffons in the room nodded at the newcomer and resumed listening to their headsets while marking up several maps or lists. Cerie leaned against a support pillar and waited, scuffing mud off her talons.
“Cadet!” a griffon pulled off his headphones and held out a piece of paper. “Deliver this to Commander Eagleheart!”
Cerie walked over and accepted the folded paper. She moved to open it, but the griffon’s angry glare made her reconsider and leave quickly. Eliza spared her a sympathetic glance, but the other griffons were too busy.
I’m the Princess’ friend, but I can’t do anything or know anything, Cerie thought as she flapped her wings. Rather than walk through the trenches, she flew over the earthworks back to where she last saw Eagleheart. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the wind soaring through her feathers for a brief moment before landing several trenches over.
Altiert was still in place, looking forward with binoculars through a gap in the sandbags. She heard the wings flap and gave Cerie a dark look. “Cadet, you’re going to catch a bullet doing that,” she said sourly.
“Where’s Commander Eagleheart?” Cerie asked back, not even bothering to hide her disdain.
“Further down the line,” Sophie answered and set the binoculars down. “We share command. What’s the message?”
Cerie held out the folded note. “I don’t know, ma’am. I’m just a courier.”
“Good,” Altiert said absently as she took the note. She opened it with a claw and her eyes traveled over the page. “How old are you, anyway? Seventeen?”
Old enough for Gavin. “Does it matter?” Cerie deflected. “The Princess is seventeen.”
“She shouldn’t be fighting her parents’ wars,” Altiert answered.
“Her father is dead because of you,” Cerie said before she could think.
Altiert lowered the note. Sitting on her haunches, she was larger than Cerie, a proper adult instead of a teenager. Her eyes looked past the orange griffon before her, somewhere far away.
Her discarded binoculars began to rattle along the sandbags. Cerie looked down at her bare claws. Loose flecks of dirt jittered on the ground. One of the ponies nearby listened with perked ears; they pinned back suddenly.
“They’re coming up the valley to hit our line,” Altiert said blankly. She checked her watch. “Thundertail couldn’t even hold for two hours; he hit our line in Aquileia, you know. I hope he’s dead.”
Altiert tucked the note in her pocket. “It’s going to be loud. We need couriers to run messages along the trenches. Not everyone has a radio. Get moving, cadet.”
Cerie turned tail and pushed her way through a frantic collection of creatures taking position along the forward line. She traveled on paws and claws; the trench was suddenly too crowded to flare her wings, not without climbing out and above, and she no longer wanted to do that.
She made it back to Eliza and the radios. Another two couriers rushed past her in the narrow doorway. The room was frentic with activity; the shared map in the middle of the radio room was rapidly being overwritten with guesses on the Changeling strength.
“Cadet!” another griffon squawked. “Up the line to Battery A! Tell them to adjust forty-five degrees southwest and set range-” she cut herself off. “It’s in the damn note!”
Cerie accepted it and turned.
“Wait!” another griffon shouted. “Take this to Battery B!” He held up another folded sheet of paper. Cerie accepted that one as well, then hesitated at the two identical notes, one in each claw.
She walked on her hind paws to the large map table.
“What are you waiting for!?” the first griffon screeched at her while holding a claw over her headphones.
Cerie placed the notes down, stole a pencil from a griffon mid-sketch, then wrote ‘A’ and ‘B’ on the back of the notes before tossing the pencil back at the drawing griffon. She shoved the notes in her pockets and ran out the room.
More frenetic activity filled the trenches. Cerie was knocked against the wall by an Aquiliean unicorn with a glowing horn. He didn’t apologize as he carried a two boxes of bullets over his head. She checked her pockets before continuing.
Battery A and Battery B were near each other, the entrenched anti-tank guns in wide, furrowed pits. Cerie’s claws were muddy from the churned-up trench floor by the time she reached them. She twisted her head back and pulled both notes out of her pockets with the tip of her beak.
The officer was in the process of trying to align the guns. “What?” he squawked at the mute griffon. Cerie tilted her beak to the left and offered the note with ‘A’ scrawled on it. He pulled it from her beak and wordlessly turned back to the crews. “Move, Maar-damn it! Roll them up! We need to shoot over the forward line!”
Cerie repeated the activity with Battery B and returned to Eliza. The grandmotherly griffon was in the middle of a harsh argument with one of the radios; she didn't notice Cerie's arrival. One of the griffons at the center table was shoving a radio pack onto her back. She turned as Cerie entered. “Cadet!” she huffed. “You’re my mule! To the forward line!”
That’s offensive to mules. Cerie wiped her claws down on the support beam and tugged the radio on, balancing it between her wings. The griffon raced ahead of her, bowling down another courier on her way out. Cerie stopped to help the courier, but he rolled in the mud back to his paws and rushed back into the command center without even glancing at her.
Cerie followed the griffon to a watch post with a gap in the sandbags between two anti-tank rifle emplacements. The griffons had braced the heavy rifles against the sandbags and ripped open the ammunition boxes to get to the large-caliber bullets inside. Cerie could hear the magazines lock into place.
“What are we doing?” Cerie panted once the officer stopped and raised her binoculars. The officer looked insulted to be even asked by her radio pack.
“You’re holding the radio while I spot for the Mage Units,” the officer ground out. “Set it down in front of you, Cadet.”
Cerie did so; her ears prickled at the rumbling in the distance and looked in the gap in the sandbags. A line of black-plated armor was moving up through the valley. The officer stepped in front of her and raised her binoculars.
“Hold the receiver to my head,” the officer ordered. “Be ready to put the pack back on and move with me.”
Cerie flipped the radio on and adjusted the switches before holding the green phone up. At her angle, she couldn’t see out of the trench; the clunky radio pack and sandbags were in the way.
“Ah,” the officer clacked her beak. “You need to flip the dark red switch-”
“I set everything up,” Cerie deadpanned. “You’re connected.”
The officer listened to the phone. “This is Spotter Three,” she said in Equestrian into the receiver. The radio squawked something in reply that Cerie couldn’t hear. “I’m in position,” she answered.
“I worked at Weter Radio,” Cerie provided.
The officer raised her binoculars to her yellow beak and scanned the horizon.
“I know the Princess-”
“Quiet!” she snapped. “Spotter Three, bugs moving into grid four-epsilon,” she said into the radio again.
Cerie and the officer waited. She continued to give updates into the radio and listen to a squawking reply. The treads and engines growled with menancing rumbles as they closed in. Cerie watched a grain of sand vibrate across the nearest sandbag.
Guns fired to the west. Cerie thought it was their own at first, but the officer ducked down with a squawk. The cadet copied her and sheltered the radio with her wings.
The first volley spattered dirt across the visible forward line. Cerie and the officer were sheltered from the worst of it by the canvas roof above their dugout. The officer grabbed the radio and hauled the phone back to her beak. Cerie struggled to move the back into position.
“Bugs have range at three-charlie!” the officer squawked. “Fire for effect!”
Nothing happened. The guns fired again. Tank turrets. She remembered the sound from Aquileia. Cerie flinched as another wave of dirt crashed over the trench. Why aren’t we firing?
And then the magic washed over her. She was in a covered position, but she heard the fireballs tear through the air from the mountain base around Canterhorn and crash down into the valley. Her feathers prickled, like when the detection spell spreads in a wave.
“Negative impact,” the officer answered after a moment. She listened. “Copy, we have to disable the tanks before the shots can land. Acknowledged.”
The spells move too slowly from the mountain.
Thousands of anti-tank rifles joined the entrenched guns as they unloaded on the advancing panzers. Cerie risked the officer’s wrath to peek out. The tanks were close enough to make out the turrets and chassis. Shells rained down in front of them.
The valley the northern trenches were stationed in front of was already narrow. The black panzers tried to spread out and fire onto the trenches, but the angle was wrong. They needed to advance to near point-blank range.
Which they looked to be doing.
“What are they doing?” Cerie asked aloud. “The trenches are too wide anyway.”
“Soften us up for the infantry behind them,” Eagleheart answered as she raced through the dugout. The unicorn's golden coat was frothy. “I’m at the forward line with the mages in case the bugs try anything. Altiert’s in the rear,” she said to the officer. “Call it in.”
The officer nodded as Eagleheart galloped out in a muddy blue uniform. “You need to set it to-”
“Already did,” Cerie preemptively answered. Her claws danced over the radio pack. “Call it in, ma’am.”
The officer frowned and listened to the radio, then did so.
Shells continued to crash down on the forward line as the guns fired. The rumbling grew closer, loud enough for Cerie to flinch at the booms while magic washed over the frontline. The anti-tank rifles, hundreds of them, fired from their positions. Machine gun fire joined them while the officer screamed into the radio.
Cerie was close enough to peck her beak, and she could barely hear the howling coordinates. The officer screamed coordinates into the phone until her voice gave out, then kept going in a rasp. Lasers and low-arcing fireballs descended from the east.
“Delta-three, fire!”
“Epsilon-nine!”
“Beta-seven!”
Gunfire began to sound from the west. It joined the booming from the turrets. The officer stopped to gulp down water from a canteen, and Cerie risked a look through the gap in the sandbags.
Maar’s Hell.
The entire valley was aflame, scorched clean with fire of every color. Red, green, yellow, blue, the flames spread to everything and melted down the panzers. They were far closer than Cerie thought, and several turrets still moved on the disabled tanks, even as the armor visibly warped from the inferno.
The Changeling Heer advanced into hell. Armored half-tracks sprayed machine gun fire that kicked-up along the trench and tore through the sandbags. The Changelings inside flinched from the fire and the flames, but they kept pushing.
The anti-tank rifles punched through the weaker armor like butter as the drivers were killed or the treads disabled. An anti-tank shell blasted apart a half-track less than three hundred meters away. The Changelings screamed as the survivors were cut apart by peals of heavy machine gun fire.
Cerie finally saw a true Changeling, not one of Throax's or the Princess', sheltering behind a burning half-track and trying to fire their rifle under the destroyed treads. An armored Jaeger appeared through the fire around them and tried to shove the cloth-uniformed soldier forward, but took an anti-tank round to the helmet.
The Jaeger’s entire head vanished in a spray of gore. The soldier beside the body screamed and flung their rifle away. Cerie was too frozen in shock to scream, replaying Gavin’s dying gurgles in her head again and again. The Changeling curled against themselves, shaking behind the burning wreck.
They’re like us.
“Cadet!” the officer shouted. “We need to move to another position!” The griffon shoved the radio against Cerie’s orange feathers. “Get moving!”
Cerie clumsily picked up the radio pack and folded her wings. She turned around to follow the officer. “Where are we going?”
The officer didn’t reply. She saw something over Cerie’s shoulder through the gap in the sandbags and her eyes widened. Neither of them ducked in time.
The blast impacted the front of the sandbags and Cerie was flung against the back of the dugout. She slammed her beak against the wooden supports as the hole partially collapsed. Her vision swam as she tried to refocus. An eye stared back at her on the muddy ground.
Only an eye. Half the officer’s head was gone. The body was crumpled next to Cerie. She staggered upright, feeling the radio tug on her back and tore through the straps with a talon. Her ears rang.
The backpack was mangled with shrapnel. The interior circuitry sparked and smoked on the muddy ground. Cerie felt herself over with muddy claws and flapped her wings.
She was alive. The radio saved my life. The griffon stumbled out of the half-destroyed spotting position as griffons along the trench fired over the sandbags. A Changeling dropped dead in front of her, tumbling over the wall with a shotgun. She couldn’t hear anything; everything was a dull drone.
She stepped over the body and wandered down the trench. A shell kicked up dirt in front of her and rained bits of sandbag and body parts all around. Cerie walked through the crater placidly as she kept moving down the line.
The Princess’ voice echoed through her mind.
“You’re going to die. You have no experience fighting changelings.”
Cerie fluttered her wings. She found Commander Eagleheart in the middle of a machine gun emplacement. The griffons inside were firing point-blank into the advancing Changelings. Several had drawn sidearms after their heavy machine guns overheated. Eagleheart rammed her hoofblade deep into a changeling’s throat as they struggled over a gun in their magic auras.
Cerie kept walking. Ponies and griffons and changelings seemed to ignore her. Maybe I’m already dead, Cerie thought. The ringing in her ears sounded like a choir. She was never that religious, but it sounded right to be ushered into Boreas’ embrace with singing.
She stepped over a dying changeling in the mud like she wished she ignored Gavin Stormfront. Cerie tilted her head to the side as she realized that she was near Lionella's position. The anti-tank rifles were overrun. They had taken several direct hits and the walls had collapsed. The field beyond was covered in smoke and fire.
A Changeling panzer, still moving and intact, roared up against the top of the trench to her right. The machine guns on the front fired as the turret rotated downwards to heave shells into the rear line. It didn’t seem to notice her.
Cerie turned to the destroyed anti-tank position and spotted a heavy rifle laying in the mud. She placidly walked over to it with the choir in her ears. Bodies were strewn everywhere; griffon, pony, changeling, all equal in death.
Cerie picked up the rifle. It was empty; she spotted the ammo shelf where Lionella had loaded her own rifle. The shelf had collapsed, but one spare bullet stuck out of the mud. It was the size of two of her talons. Cerie copied the sniper's earlier movements with numb claws and pulled the bolt back. She slid the bullet into position.
The rifle was too heavy; she nearly dropped it once she tried to heave it up onto her shoulders, and laughed silently. The panzer fired next to her and the choir sang even louder in her ears. Cerie laid on her back and braced the rifle against a collapsed wall. The sandbags and dirt formed an incline to brace the bipod and aim.
Cerie eyed the back of the panzer. One part bulged out very slightly. She smiled.
I bet that’s the fuel tank. She pulled the trigger and the world erupted into glorious light. Cerie felt the heat wash over her as the choir sang even louder, and then a sandbag glanced off the side of her head.
Some time later, the orange-feathered griffon snapped back into herself with a gasp. She coughed, spitting out mud and struggling to roll over. Several sandbags had landed atop her, and her entire body screamed in pain. She rolled a sandbag off her left wing and tested it, then unfolded her right wing with a hissed protest.
Am I alive?
Cerie hurt too much to be dead. The heavy rifle laid next to her, barrel wrecked and twisted. She looked up to the top of the trench. The burnt-out wreck of the Changeling tank rested above her, and the trench was quiet. Cerie didn’t have a watch, but the sun had shifted position above her.
Noon? she guessed. Her purple jacket was covered in scorch marks and her pants were half-blasted away. She stagged onto all fours, grabbing the wrecked rifle. The choir had finally faded from her ears, but Cerie now heard a new one. A chorus of moans and calls for help faintly echoed from the crumbled earthworks.
“Hello?” someone called out in Equestrian nearby. They coughed with a squawk. Cerie picked up the heavy rifle and dragged it through the mud in front of her. The griffon stepped over a pile of fallen sandbags and boards with a heaving breath and pointed the rifle threateningly at the source of the voice.
“Wait!” Lionella implored. She was pinned underneath a collapsed support beam and covered in mud. Her uniform had been blown off.
“Lionella?” Cerie asked. She set the rifle down. The other griffon looked terrible and was clearly injured.
“I’m pinned,” Lionella coughed. “Help me.” She raised her right claw towards Cerie.
Cerie stared at the intact talons and counted them. All four.
Lionella stared pleadingly at Cerie with desperate eyes, just like Gavin. She tried to push the beam off, but her claws were too weak. Cerie grabbed the rifle and twisted it around, holding the stock up.
Lionella said something in Herzlander with a squawk. She writhed in the mud, looking pathetic and harmless.
“We’re Aquilieans,” Cerie replied in her native language. “You stole her face,” she said in Equestrian as she heaved the rifle above her head. Her claws shook from the effort.
Lionella’s eyes flashed green. “Please,” she begged, “I surren-”
Cerie brought the stock down and crushed the Changeling’s head. She brought the gun down two more times until the body flared with green fire and the head came apart. The cadet flung the bloody weapon onto a pile of debris with a squawk of effort.
One of the fallen boards dislodged and Lionella’s shattered beak poked up from the gap. Cerie regarded her, then closed her open eyes with a soft talon. She stepped away from the forward line, and away from the Changeling she just murdered.
They’re not like us.
The fires in the valley slowly died out as the magic faded. Cerie passed by two bloody griffons struggling to reload the one remaining machine gun in their emplacement. Commander Eagleheart laid beside a dead Jaeger, knives in each other’s neck. She died bearing her teeth in a feral grimace with a smoking horn.
Cerie walked back to the forward radio center to receive new orders. A few ponies and griffons rushed by with medical supplies, but none stopped to examine her. I suppose if I’m walking, I must be alright.
There was no command center. It had taken a direct hit.
Most surprisingly of all, Commander Altiert was still alive, blue uniform covered in mud and dust and blood, but unharmed. She stood in the trench with flared wings, tugging on another broken radio pack. “Come on!” she screamed in Aquileian and held the phone to her head. “You stupid piece of shit! Work!”
“It’s broken,” Cerie answered hollowly.
Altiert whirled around to Cerie. “Cadet! Have you seen Commander Eagleheart?”
“She’s dead.”
Alitert paused. Her eyes were dilated. “I see,” she said quietly.
“Oh, thank Boreas!” a mare exclaimed from the top of the trench. She lowered her binoculars. “Reich reinforcements moving in! I never thought I’d be glad to see the Reichsarmee.”
Sophie Altiert climbed atop the trench and accepted the binoculars. She looked through the smoke pouring off the valley to the west. Her wings twitched.
“That’s not the Reich,” she stated flatly. “The Reich is gray and brown, not black.”
The pony trembled in her uniform. A stain spread across the back of her trousers.
“Listen up,” Altiert squawked over the surrounding soldiers. “If you can hold a gun, get on the front line! No matter how injured!”
“We…we need to evacuate the wounded,” the mare tried.
“No time,” Altiert tossed the binoculars back and reached into her blue jacket pocket. She pulled out a muddy notebook and tore through the pages until she found one that was almost clean. She wrote a frantic series of scribbles with a shaking claw and tore the note off.
“Cadet, do your wings work?” Sophie asked urgently. “Mage Units need to adjust their fire to buy us time. You have to fly to the base.”
Cerie tested her wings and flapped up to the top of the trench. Her left wing joint probably had torn ligaments, but she could fly. “Yes,” she nodded.
A shell slammed into the forward trench after a distant boom. “Aquileians!” Altiert screamed, “Suppressive fire! Fire now!” The surviving anti-tank guns opened up, along with the machine guns as the survivors poured fire down into the valley. Sophie shoved the note against Cerie’s chest, then suddenly grabbed her and pressed their beaks together.
“They fire on those coordinates,” she hissed. “Those coordinates exactly. Nod if you understand.”
Another shell crashed down. Cerie nodded.
“Fly, cadet!” Commander Altiert ordered and leapt back down into the forward trench. She ran towards one of the intact machine gun nests with twitching wings. Cerie launched herself into the air and gained altitude. The Changeling advance was still coming up the valley, and there was little time.
Cerie flew as hard as she could. Her left wing screamed in protest the entire time as she flapped back southeast, flying low. The gunfire from the north receded into the distance as the lonely mountain loomed closer. She spared a glance upwards; Canterlot sprayed anti-air fire into the sky, joining with the flak positions around the camp.
Cerie banked around the north face to land at the artillery camp. She dove towards with a spasming left wing, but spotted the tents and artillery stationed to hit the trenchworks. Some of the pieces were turned up towards Canterlot. Pegasi flew up to greet her.
“I have a message from the Aquileians!” Cerie breathed raggedly. “From Commander Altiert!”
The first pegasus was armed with a shotgun and pumped it. “Countersign!” he spat in Equestrian. “Buckball?”
Cerie’s mind went blank. She spun down below him and his squad, flying directly towards the camp. A spray of pellets fired behind her, barely missing her tail.
“I’m Aquileian!” Cerie shouted. “Why would I know that!?”
The shotgun fired again behind her.
Cerie made it to the first line of tents, down the mountain from the artillery, before a pegasus slammed down from above and knocked her to the ground. Cerie barely managed to recover before landing, sprinting on paws and claws through the abandoned camp to make it to the artillery command.
The few ponies left leapt to the side or took up weapons and chased her when she crashed by. Cerie’s claws twisted as she churned up the ground, holding her wings tight against herself. She leapt over a table and charged for the Mage Units.
The pegasus sideswiped her and she rolled through the frozen grass. Cerie still crawled forward, panting, and the pony straddled her and shoved her beak to the ground. “You move again and you die,” he hissed. The rest of his squad landed beside him.
Cerie felt the gun barrel press against her head feathers. Ponies were already scattering, rushing east and gathering their equipment. They didn’t seem to realize what was happening.
“Buckball. Last chance.”
They’ll know I’m real after I die. “There’s a note in my pocket,” Cerie answered in Equestrian. “Coordinates for mage spells in the northern line.”
The pony pumped the shotgun above her. Cerie closed her eyes.
Magic washed over her. “I’m right here boys,” a caustic mare said dryly. “You can ask.”
Cerie opened her eyes and twisted her beak to see an amber unicorn approach in a gray dress uniform. Her horn tip smoked underneath a cyan aura that faded quickly. The unicorn snorted. “She’s clear.”
“Colonel Shimmer,” the pegasus stepped off Cerie, “she failed the countersign.”
“She’s half-dead,” the Colonel nickered. “Spellfire got intense. What’s your message?”
“We lost the radios,” Cerie panted in rough Equestrian. She held the message out with a bloody claw. “Another wave coming. From Commander Altiert.”
“Duskcrest is holding well,” the unicorn said idly. She plucked the note from Cerie’s claw and wrinkled her nose at the bloodstain before opening it. She laughed after a moment.
“These are the wrong coordinates, cadet,” the unicorn chuckled. “No way that-”
Another pegasus landed heavily. “Colonel! Barrel Roller is reporting Changelings heading down the east road! They’re coming down from Canterlot!”
“Shit!” the unicorn cursed. “Sorry, cadet.” She turned to the new pegasus. “Pull reinforcements from Mistly Fly’s flight crew and the Thestrals. Reinforce the road-”
“Let me see.” Heavy hoof stomps sounded from behind Cerie. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, laying spread-winged on the ground. An armored hoof landed in front of her face, and Cerie followed it to the pony above.
The mulberry unicorn was terrifying. She had black plated armor like one of the Changeling Jaegers, except a sun and moon was crudely carved into the chest plate over some insignia the griffon didn't recognize. Cerie stared at the broken horn above her scarred eye. The newcomer swept her severe opal eyes over the gathered ponies.
“I’m disappointed she made it this far if she failed the countersign,” she snarled. “Let me see the note.” The colonel floated it over the broken unicorn. Taller than the amber mare with another head of height due to her mohawk, the armored mare tilted her muzzle down and looked over the paper.
“They are right. I swear it,” Cerie pleaded. “Exact.”
The mare hummed and closed her eyes. “Use balefire,” she sighed. “Go, Sunset.”
The other unicorn reared back. “Fizzy, have you lost your mind!?”
The armored mare turned to the pegasus. “Fly to the artillery and tell them to open up on Canterlot and the road,” she said in an emotionless tone. “Go now, then join the defense.”
The pegasus hesitated and looked between the two unicorns.
“Go, Sunset,” the broken-horned unicorn repeated. “Balefire. Flood it.” She jabbed an armored hoof at the pegasus courier. “Tell the artillery to start the bombardment.” The hoof swept to the other scouts that stopped Cerie. “Go with her, then join the defense.”
The ponies hesitated. Cerie noticed the ELF armbands around all their hooves. The six Elements of Harmony were bright on the fabric. Her own snowflake was covered in mud.
“Fizzy,” the amber unicorn shook her head, “I am not going to-”
The armored hoof surged forward and punched the amber unicorn in the gut. The Colonel fell to her knees and vomited across the dead grass. The pegasi surrounding Cerie flared their wings in surprise.
“We are not Duumvirs. I am in command,” the broken unicorn snarled, more like a beast than a pony. “Final protective fire, now!”
The unicorn heaved one last time and pushed herself up to face the armored mare. She looked at her and her muzzle trembled. “Please, Fizzy,” she begged.
The broken horn sparked with electricity. “Field Marshal,” the mare corrected. "Burn them." She turned to the pegasi. "Tell them to shell the fucking city. Do it now."
Something in the other unicorn’s eyes died. “As you say, Field Marshal,” she nodded and limped over to the Mage Units. The gathered unicorns quickly rushed off to the north.
The Field Marshal snarled at the gathered pegasi and they flapped towards the artillery guns. A yak rushed by with two boxes of heavy shells strapped to his side. He moved like he wasn’t carrying anything at all. Cerie pushed herself onto all fours and watched the crews begin to load them, heaving the shells into place and rotating the guns. The artillery turned up the mountain.
“Thanks,” Cerie panted. She struggled to lift a claw and salute, but the Field Marshal had closed her eyes and stomped down on the discarded, bloody note. It blew against her hoof in the wind from Canterhorn.
The first line of artillery boomed. The shells sang through the air, flying high up the mountain. Cerie looked up at the impacts. She blinked as they slammed into the mountain around Canterlot. One flew true and debris fell from a building near the edge.
“They’ll hate me for this,” the Field Marshal said in Aquileian. She had a surprisingly pleasant Vinovian accent. “We can shell the road, but the breakout starts in Canterlot. We need to hit it there. Keep them from reinforcing.”
“I have to go back,” Cerie replied. She struggled to flap her wings.
“Balefire’s an intense spell,” the Field Marshal continued. “Sunset won’t die from the strain, but some of the others will. She’ll hate me, too. The fire will flood the valley, but it fades quickly. We’ll need to keep casting it. We'll lose ponies.”
“With your permission,” Cerie said in Aquileian. “Thank you, Marshal.”
The mare finally opened her eyes. A tear ran down the scar on her right. “She ordered spellfire on her own position, cadet. They’ll die with the Changelings.”
Cerie stared blankly at the mare, then turned and flared her wings. An electric jolt slammed through her feathers and the griffon fell, spasming on the ground. An armored hoof pressed down lightly at the base of her wing joints, pinning her to the ground and preventing her wings from moving.
Cerie wriggled under the hoof. “Let me go!” she screamed in a broken voice. “I have to go back!”
“You can’t warn them,” the Field Marshal responded above her. “You won’t make it in time. She knew anyway.”
“I have to go back!” Cerie repeated. “I have to go back! I’m not flying away!”
“You had orders to fly here, cadet,” the mare said. “What were your orders afterwards?”
There wasn’t any, Cerie thought. Altiert's wings were fine. She could’ve flown. She sent me. The orange-feathered griffon thrashed on the ground. “No! No!”
“Cadet!” the mare barked harshly above her. “What else can you do? You want to be useful to the Princess? Or just die?”
Cerie refocused and stopped struggling. “W-what?”
“You want to go back and die, or do you want to be useful?” the mare continued. The hoof pressed down between her wings. “Can you just fly, griffon? What can you do?”
“I know radios,” Cerie sobbed. “Radios.”
The hoof lifted off her back. “Good. Serve the Princess in the radio tent.” The hoof brushed against the muddy, bloody Imperial Snowflake on Cerie’s jacket before tugging her upright. Cerie swayed and leaned against the armor for a moment before the hoof shoved her straight.
The Field Marshal had stopped crying herself, and the scar running down her eye gave the unicorn a violent gleam. She did not wear either armband on her armor, not the Elements of Harmony of the ELF, nor the Imperial Snowflake. The mare was taller than Cerie, and her broken horn nub crackled above her hard eyes.
“What’s your name, cadet?” she asked in a short nicker.
“Cerie,” the griffon sniffed.
The guns boomed and another burst of artillery fired up the mountain. Cerie saw a green flash of light out of the corner of her eye, and turned to watch a massive, roiling fireball soar through the sky like a small sun. It burned with green and purple magic as it flew north before arcing down into a low valley. The unicorn watched it with her. The green reflected in her opal irises.
“My name is Tempest.”
Octavia rammed an empty bookcase against the door before retrieving the trench gun. It was an older model from the beginning of the Great War, metal flecked with rust. She pumped it easily enough with her earth pony strength.
“I can hold them down here,” she said tiredly. The pony knocked over a thick oak table covered in dust and braced the shotgun atop it. She jerked her head to the stairs. “Go, Rae.”
Raven Inkwell observed the barricade and bit her lip. “That won’t hold long.”
“There’s one door and no windows,” Octavia countered. The gray earth pony was lean; her ribs showed above her saddlebags when she breathed out. “I got sixteen shells and a grenade.”
Raven closed her eyes. “Goodbye, Octy. Good luck.”
Octavia smirked and tossed her black mane with a nicker. “Only Vinyl can call me that. I’ll see her soon.”
Raven turned away and galloped up the circular staircase to the top of the observatory. Her trick knee ached as she climbed, bouncing the saddlebags against her flank and she sneezed from the dust kicked up by her bare hooves. The unicorn’s horn glowed a pale raspberry as she provided a simple light.
The Changelings had long cut the power to the building; they had no interest in Luna’s night sky, nor did they broker anypony still looking at the constellations. They’d probably ban staring at the stars if they could, Raven huffed. She reached the top of the staircase with froth in her coat and shaking limbs.
She always felt tired and drained, even during the weeks when the Love Harvest squads didn’t roll through Middle Canterlot. She no longer worked in Canterlot Castle; nopony did. The Heer sectioned it off with sandbag checkpoints along the roads, adding to the checkpoints along the bridges connecting the districts of the city. Only the ponies and changelings living in the mansions and estates ever had business there, and they were escorted at all times.
A whistle sounded from above her as an errant shell landed somewhere in Middle Canterlot. Raven listened with pricking ears. The falling shells and anti-air batteries echoed through the entire city, amplified by her current height. It was once the best place to stargaze in Equestria.
The old observatory had been too tough and too plain to make a show of burning it down, unlike Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns two blocks away. It had just been boarded up and forgotten, another tombstone to the Princesses. But aside from the castle, it was the tallest building remaining in Canterlot, thanks to the large telescope installed at the top of its tower.
The Changelings had smashed the telescope, but Raven wasn’t here for that. They had also torn out all the silver gilding and shattered the marble downstairs. Everything else was left to gather dust. Luna’s colors weren’t as flashy as Celestia’s, or perhaps the Changelings just wanted to make a statement that she didn’t matter.
She just needed the thin slit at the top of the observatory. Raven studied the entrance to the stairwell, then trotted over to the boarded-up balcony. The doors were wood, and more wood was bolted onto the outside and inside to prevent pegasi from getting in. There was a miniscule gap through both barricades, and Raven squinted through it.
She couldn’t see Lower Canterlot, but smoke drifted above the ruins of Celestia’s School. They had burned it down years ago as a show of force, but the foundation still remained. Aside from that, the unicorn could only see a few bell towers and steeples.
The booming guns outside continued to fire into the sky around the Estate District and Canterlot Castle. Dust fell from the broken telescope; its bronze frame warped and rusted from beatings with sledgehammers. Raven found the chain on the wall to the shutter above the shattered lens and tugged on it with a hoof.
The chain caught. Celestia, please. The unicorn wasn’t sure she had the magical strength to punch a hole through the solid roof. She wrapped both forelegs around the chain and pulled as hard as she could. Her back popped from the effort.
The Changelings hadn’t welded the shutter closed; it was just rusty. The slide creaked back and fresh morning sunlight filtered in. Dust motes floated through the abandoned dome.
Raven didn’t pull the entire shutter back, only enough for a thin slit of light, too small for anyone above. She wrapped the chain around the bottom of the bent optical tube before scanning over the abandoned room. The Changelings had long looted everything of value.
Raven’s horn flickered as she shoved one of the two remaining metal tables against the balcony, then flipped the other one onto its side and gauged the thickness with a hoof. Won’t stop a rifle, maybe some pistols. Crouched behind the table, the balcony was to her left and the staircase to her right.
Raven pulled her two pistols free from her saddlebags, one old revolver and a Changeling broom-handle pistol from the start of the Great War. She set three magazines down for the pistol, then two speed-loaders for the old revolver. She let the saddlebags fall to the floor after tugging out a pair of pliers.
48.
Raven took a deep breath and opened her muzzle. The pliers floated above in her telekinesis. She felt along her teeth with her tongue while the pliers waited.
I need to make them count.
She found the false tooth and ripped it out with a hard twist. Raven spat bloody phlegm and tossed the pliers roughly to the side after gently setting the false tooth on the floor behind the table. It was a cap, a simple white molar with a strange purple root.
She still remembered getting it installed in a back-alley dentist as Canterlot surrendered. There was no anesthetic, and Raven had been punched out with a heavy hoof after screaming too much. Neither of them complained afterwards, and the unicorn never saw her again during the occupation.
She’s probably dead.
Raven took the false cap off and held the little purple crystal up in her magic. It was such a small, frail thing, nothing more than a recording imprinted into a cheap little crystal. Another round of artillery whistled into Lower Canterlot as she stared at it.
Ponies had been ordered to shelter by Generalmajor Pagala. The broadcast had gone out in the dawn’s early light, delivered by speakers that usually pumped out propaganda and cover songs. Most cowered in their houses while the soldiers ran to reinforce the eastern road after the shelling started. Gunfire echoed from down the mountain, towards the eastern road.
Raven knew what was going on; the same thing that happened over two years ago. Ponies had surrounded the mountain, and the encircled troops were trying to break out. This time, there was no aerial assault and desperate on-hooves attack. The army below was shelling the city directly. Fires had already broken out in a few blocks.
The unicorn hid under desk in Canterlot Castle the first time, watching the Heer panic at the flailing attack. Fighting from the airborne ELF troops filled the streets as they tried to take the eastern road and open the city gates. The Generalmajor at the time froze up at his desk the entire battle, just like Raven hiding below hers.
She prayed it would succeed, then wandered back to her blasted tenement when it failed. There was no victory parade for the Changeling Hegemony; Raven had been conscripted to help burn the corpses of the fallen ELF soldiers several days later. She found a few she recognized as ones she passed information to before the uprising, but VOPS never came for her in the night.
It was like she never did anything at all.
I should’ve done this before. Raven floated the crystal up to the top of the shattered lens. She gently set it atop the battered telescope, then cast the spell to replay the recording. There was a soft chime of magic.
High above Middle Canterlot and several blocks from her foalhood home, Twilight Sparkle shimmered into existence. The last Princess of Equestria floated above the city as the magic sparkled. The hologram was purple like the crystal, and it matched the Princess’ natural colors.
The alicorn was the size of an airship. Princess Twilight’s mane and tail were slightly frazzled, and several feathers stuck out of place on her right wing. She was naked, not even her crown was atop her head when she stood for the recording. Her horn and wings flickered as the spell solidified; nothing below her legs was visible. The Princess took a breath and pushed it out with a foreleg.
“My name is Twilight Sparkle.”
Her voice rang out across the city. The Princess was soft-spoken; the spell amplified her cadence to a boom that overpowered the anti-air batteries and falling artillery. Raven smiled as she listened; she knew the speech by heart, having adjusted the spell to be the grand display that Twilight probably never imagined it to be.
But it needs to be. Raven returned to her table and readied her pistols. The anti-air guns quieted around the Estates and Upper Canterlot.
“I'm honored to stand before you. I'm honored to be a Princess of Equestria, and honored to the Princess of Friendship.”
A thin ray of light extended up from the crystal atop the telescope. The Changelings would trace it to the observatory quickly. Raven leaned against the metal table and simply listened while she could.
Twilight looked to the side and smiled. Her wings stilled against her side. “It’s strange,” she said lightly, “I’ve practiced this so many times it feels like I can see you.”
The city fell quiet, only the crash of whistling shells from below continued. Raven no longer heard the soldiers rushing to reinforce the east. The observatory dome rattled from the voice above it. All of Canterlot could hear it, from the ponies sheltering in the basements or under desks or behind beds. From the ponies in the servant’s quarters of the estates to the ones in Lower Canterlot watching the Changelings rush to the city gates.
“I have always been proud of Equestria, of what we’ve accomplished, of our history. Our legacy of friendship stretches back thousands of years. To the Pillars of Equestria, to the Three Tribes…” Twilight trailed off. “Equestria is built on a thousand years of peace. It is a beacon of harmony that lifted up the world.”
Voices shouted from outside. Raven heard buzzing wings under the speech. A shadow crossed the doorframe of the balcony as a Heer soldier landed and tried to peer through the boards. Another landed up on the roof and tried to stand over the beam, but the projection shimmered and continued anyway.
“I always wanted to be lifted.” Twilight’s voice was so raw and earnest. It didn’t match the bags under her eyes. “I was always eager, always waiting to be inspired. I was so proud to be Celestia’s student, and my friends…” Twilight stopped and swallowed. “I remember every time it happened, every time one of my friends lifted me. With their lives and their truth.”
The trench gun fired below Raven. A screech of pain echoed up the stairwell, covered by a hail of gunfire. The shotgun continued to fire below; Raven counted the booms under the submachine guns and pistols trying to stifle it.
“And now I'm gone,” the Princess said slowly, “and I yearn to lift you. Not because I want to shine, or even be remembered,” Twilight shook her head. “It's because I want you to go on. I want Equestria to continue. If not the land, then the idea.”
After sixteen shots, the trench gun fell silent. Raven did not hear Octavia die, but a last spat of submachinegun fire followed screeches and grunts as the Changelings forced their way into the stairwell. The blast of a grenade left the ground floor silent, then hooves pounded up the metal stairs and Raven readied her pistols.
“But I fear for you,” Twilight admitted. “We closed our eyes for too long. For all the threats we faced, none of us imagined that a war would come to Equestria, not like this. The world was always out there, but it left us alone. We had each other, and Equestria, our friends, our days. We had each other and they left us alone. We could shelter under the sun and moon and everyone left us alone.”
The first changeling that rushed through took a bullet to the throat. He fell with a weak green magic field around his horn as he choked to death. Raven shot the next submachine gun that tried to float through the door after him and destroyed the spring. A lifetime of filing papers, she snorted. Changelings had poor control over their magic compared to unicorns. The gun spun away and the trigger clicked uselessly.
Twilight looked askance. “We told stories about changelings, about zebras, about griffons, about bat ponies, about the world and all the horrible monsters in it, until one finally took it as a challenge and came for us.”
Raven kept a steady stream of gunfire on the doorway, pausing to reload a new magazine every ten rounds. She let the Changeling bleed to death on the floor with grasping hooves. She kept the revolver floating under the table, holding both guns in her magic.
Shadows landed on the balcony. A Changeling tried to force their way through the boards, so Raven fired through the narrow gap. The shadow retreated. More hooves landed atop the dome, pacing and trying to open the shutter with their hooves and magic. The chain rattled, but stuck to the end of the broken telescope.
“Chrysalis did not make it this far by herself. The changelings that helped her, that fought her war for her, know who she is and what she’s like. She doesn’t care about them, about how many died to get this far.”
A stick grenade flew into the room, tossed up from the stairwell. A lifetime of catching frantic reports while following the Princesses kicked in. Rather than duck, Raven dropped both pistols and flung it back with her horn. Her ears pinned back from the blast.
I know the speech by heart anyway.
“This war was always about her. I saw who she was at the wedding. But the moment she was blasted into the horizon, we forgot her.”
“Raven?” a voice called up from the stairwell.
Raven Inkwell recognized the dual-tones through the ringing in her ears. “Generalmajor?” she called back and loaded the last magazine into her old pistol.
“Because we still had each other,” Twilight sighed. “We had Equestria. And so we closed our eyes. I did too. I turned away from the truth I didn’t want to face.”
The Changeling officer that poked his head up from the stairwell looked like a typical Heer Commander, black carapace and fangs. His eyes were green and lacked pupils. The changeling’s uniform was slightly ruffled and speckled with blood.
“I don’t have that position anymore,” the changeling said in Herzlander. “I was demoted to Unterfeldwebel.” He licked his fangs. “I want to talk, please. The Jaeger team is on their way. I can’t call them off.”
Raven kept the pistol trained on him, but waved the barrel into the room. “What’s there to talk about, Generalmajor?”
He stared at the barrel. “Are you going to shoot me?”
Raven didn’t answer.
“We closed our eyes to Chrysalis, to her purges, to Olenia, to the Storm King, to the Thestrals. We pretended that Equestria was the whole world and we decided who lived in it with us. We conflated ‘peace’ and ‘friendship’ and ‘harmony’ together and imagined that nothing could ever drive it apart.”
Jachs stepped into the doorframe. His holster was still visibly clipped against his right flank. Another changeling, a purple-eyed mare judging from the rounded muzzle, poked her head through with a glowing horn. Jachs buzzed a wing and waved her back.
Raven recognized Jach’s adjutant, but her name escaped the unicorn. She was always there whenever Raven delivered papers to them in the castle. It had only been two years, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Raven’s brown mane was streaked with early gray hairs.
“You look terrible,” Raven observed.
“You don’t look much better,” Jachs responded in Equestrian. “I see you cut off your mane bun.”
“It got in the way of the welding mask,” Raven explained. “Been working at the dockyards.”
“I wondered where you went,” Jachs nodded. “I’m sorry you were removed. You were a good secretary.” He kept his hooves still.
“It’s better than a visit from VOPS.” Raven checked the balcony out of the corner of her eye, but didn’t see any movement. “Guess they were too busy hunting down everypony else.”
“The rest of my ‘lings are downstairs, wounded from shrapnel,” Jachs claimed. “There’s more on their way.”
“Octavia?” Raven asked. “You knew her, right? You let her play for the POWs before Chrysalis’ coronation.”
Jachs winced. “She killed seven of the first responders.”
“She wanted to kill more,” Raven nickered.
“Changelings stood with Chrysalis instead of against her because it was easy. We made it easy. We looked away as she crushed everyone that stood up to her. Because that was easy too.”
Jachs inhaled at the speech echoing above and fluttered his wings against the smooth black leather of his coat. “What are you doing, Raven? You’re a secretary. Your mark is is a quill. Octavia Melody was a cellist. Neither of you are soldiers.”
Raven smiled. “I didn’t even have to ask. You killed Vinyl Scratch in Manehattan.”
“I always thought you passed information to the ELF,” Jachs sighed.
“I did,” Raven confirmed, “in between dealing with the nobility for you and your gang.”
The purple-eyed changeling narrowed her eyes and scowled at the unicorn. She unclipped her pistol, but stayed halfway crouched in the doorframe and the circular staircase.
Jachs looked up to the telescope. “Is the spell even real?" He hesitated. "Is...is it really her?”
“Yes,” Raven responded. “It’s her. She recorded it just before you captured Canterlot.”
Jachs shuffled his hooves and the singular medal pinned to his jacket bobbed. Raven remembered far more.
She gave him a wry look. “Very skillful, Generalmajor. Twilight wanted to limit the damage to her home.”
“I thought that the School of Friendship was the answer.” Twilight nodded absently. “That if we made friends, we would never need to fight. But the ones that needed a helping hoof the most are not the ones that can come to Equestria. They live in chains, beaten and starved and whipped while we look away.”
“I’ve been here before,” Jachs began. He sat on his flank and slowly raised his holed hooves. “Please, this will just make everything worse. The Queen’s Guard have orders to not let the city fall! If this starts a revolt-”
“Yes,” Raven agreed. “I hope it does.”
“Ponies don’t have guns!” Jachs hissed. “The Canterlot Commiseriat was completely disarmed after the rebellion. Not even Kommandant Second Wind and the Canterlot Guard have anything! Listen to me! Do you think you’re going to win this!?”
“Every creature can understand friendship, but some don’t want to. Some don’t care who they hurt. I thought the world could come to us, instead of reaching out to the world.”
“I think you’ll be too busy shooting us in the street to reinforce the road,” Raven answered. “I hope so, at least. That’s all I have left.”
The changeling blinked. His adjutant in the doorway lowered her own pistol and gaped at the mare.
"You can't kill us all," Raven continued in a small voice. "You never could, Generalmajor."
“You’ve had this the whole time?” Jachs asked in bewilderment.
“I was afraid,” Raven said quietly. “I wanted to pass it to the ELF, but there was never a good moment. I had to make sure ponies heard her.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why the Princess gave it to me; I guess she hoped I would keep it safe.”
“Friendship doesn’t care about imaginary lines on maps, about species, about ideology. About a crown. I tried so hard to be a Princess of Equestria that I forgot about being the Princess of Friendship.”
“Hundreds of thousands of ponies are going to die, if they even try it,” Jachs stated. "Please, think about this."
“I know,” Raven returned.
“Princess Twilight wouldn’t want this.”
“You didn’t know her!” Raven snapped.
Jachs closed his eyes and took a chittering breath. “The Queen’s Guard will kill her,” he said in a lowered voice. “They’ll kill Princess Twilight if the city falls.”
“She’s been dead a long time,” Raven replied with a sneer. “That lie won’t work on me.”
“It’s not a lie!” Jachs hissed. “Please, don’t you have a responsibility to her!?”
“The first Friendship Lesson I ever learned wasn’t one I wrote down: I did not make friends, then fight the Nightmare. I stood up to face it, and found my best friends in the ones that stood with me.”
“I do,” Raven said sadly, “and I’ve failed that responsibility for years. Ponies will hear her words, and nothing Chrysalis ever claims will undo this. No more lies, Generalmajor.”
“It’s not a lie!” Jachs implored. He stared at up the sliver of light coming through the shutter, transfixed by the glowing beam. Shadows flittered above it as a squad of Changelings tried to block the spell with their bodies. The anti-air guns had resumed firing, this time trying to tear through the projection.
Twilight Sparkle flickered and reformed with every burst of flak. The spell held; her voice warbled, but continued to overpower the explosions and reverberate through the city. The ‘lings on the road can probably hear her, Raven thought. I hope her niece hears it.
“And there is a darkness, reaching like a nightmare, into everything around us. We let it grow until it came for Equestria. And now it’s here. It’s here, and it wants to stay. The Hegemony is a disease that thrives in darkness; it is never more alive than when we close our eyes.”
“Please, Raven. Just stop the spell,” Jachs begged. “Believe me about Twilight or not, this’ll kill thousands. All this will do is make everything worse!”
“It can’t get any worse!” Raven laughed.
“They’ll burn the city to the ground!”
They? Raven chuckled. “Celestia’s School burned when you were in charge, Generalmajor. My school. I remember graduating there. You tossed her Friendship Journals into the bonfires with everything else your Queen hated. You started the fire.”
Jachs shook his head in denial. “I didn’t order-”
“Sir,” the mare said in the doorway. “Two minutes. Jaegers are on the block.” Her pistol still floated beside her.
“Please,” Jachs stepped aside. “Stop the spell and go. Just get out of here.”
Raven smiled. “You haven’t been listening to a word the Princess has said, have you? That would be easy.”
Twilight swallowed. “I don’t expect Chrysalis to be kind to me. I don’t expect to survive this. I don’t know when you will hear these words, or if you ever will.”
Raven and Jachs listened together, a unicorn and a changeling. He took another step into the room, hooves stretching over the dead Changeling soldier. “Please, Raven,” he pleaded. Shadows landed on the balcony.
“You’re a good stallion Jachs,” Raven admitted, “but you work for a horrible mare.”
“I know,” Jachs sighed. “Please, just go-”
The revolver suddenly snapped up in her magic and Raven fired. The bullet ran across the changeling’s jawline and splattered blood onto his black jacket before slamming into the doorframe. Jachs staggered back with blood across his lapel. The changeling mare leaning out of the doorway fired back with her own pistol.
Raven felt a bullet shatter the bones in her exposed shoulder and she fell backwards, scooching against the table. She emptied both pistols blindly against the door as her horn flickered. Raven whinnied in pain and flung the empty Changeling pistol into the stairwell.
“Damn it, Alcippe!” Jach’s strained voice screamed out. “Hold your fire! Hold fire!”
The Jaegers on the balcony fired through the boards, still trying to beat them down. The metal table against the window shook. Raven clumsily reloaded the revolver and let the empty casings roll around her hooves. Her shoulder was bleeding badly and her foreleg trembled. It took two tries to force the speed-loader into place.
Twilight smiled sadly, looking out and far away. “And it’s also easy for the dead to tell you to fight, and maybe it's true, maybe fighting is useless. Perhaps it's too late.”
Almost done. Raven fired six shots through the wooden boards against the balcony. A changeling screeched in pain. She reloaded again with the last six bullets.
Twilight’s eyes hardened and she took a deep breath. “But if I could do it all again…” she began in a low growl.
The adjutant with purple eyes held Jachs back as he tried to rush back into the room. Raven fired a wild shot that landed in the doorframe and the two changelings disappeared down the stairs.
“…I would open my eyes…”
Raven put two more bullets in a gap in the wooden boards as an armored hoof punched through. If I could do it all again, I would’ve done this for Starlight. A bullet sparked off the heavy armor of the Jaeger team on the balcony.
“…and be fighting…”
But I hid under a desk and waited. The Changelings above her finally wrenched the shutter open with a crowbar. Two stood in the opening, trying in vain to block the beam with their hooves. They weren’t Jaegers; they were normal soldiers in black uniforms and caps. Raven laid prone behind the table and fired two shots upward. The crowbar tumbled down, followed by a corpse. It bounced off the brass frame of the telescope. One left.
“…that bitch…”
Raven tucked the revolver under her chin as her magic wobbled. The Jaegers on the balcony finally forced their way through the boards with crushing armored hooves. One shoved his submachine gun into a gap and sprayed bullets against the metal table. A bullet grazed across the quill and inkpot on her flank, punching through the narrow metal.
“…from the start!”
Raven pulled the hammer back and cocked it.
Raven’s magic faltered, so she pressed the gun against her jaw with her hooves. Her right foreleg shook on the trigger as blood matted down her fur. She knew what happened to the ones taken alive.
And high above Canterlot in a backdrop of falling artillery, Princess Twilight Sparkle stood tall with flared wings and gave her last command.
“Fight the Hegemony!”
As the first Jaeger broke through with a submachine gun and blazing horn, Raven twisted the revolver around and shot him through the eye lens in his gas mask. The changeling crumpled to the dusty floor.
His two other squad mates opened fire.
The sleek, heavy Changeling tanks fired in a stationary line, picking targets for the battle beyond. There were a dozen of them in formation, guarding the motorized units beyond shifting into position. A shell whizzed just over the top of one of the turrets as it rotated to line up one of the smaller Gunnhildurs. The scout tank stood no chance against the long barrel.
Just before it fired, there was a violent crack of magic behind them.
Field Marshal Bronzetail’s tank lurched into existence with a low barrel aimed directly at the rear of one of the panzers. It fired point-blank into the fuel tank and their target exploded, turret blowing off the top of the Changeling tank and falling onto one of its neighbors.
“Traverse right!” Bronzetail gagged. The interior of the tank smelled awful. Exhaust fumes merged with the smell of burnt powder, mingling with the lingering smell of vomit and feces. The crew tried to ignore it.
Dietrich rammed a shell into the loader and locked it in. “Clear!” he croaked in Herzlander, making a gesture with the palm of his right claw. The griffon was shirtless in the heat.
Bronzetail peered through the scope as the turret rotated. The tanks in front of them were too slow to react. “Fire!” The next shot blasted through an entire chassis. The spent shell fell back into the basket and Dietrich shoved it to the floor.
He shoved another round in place. “Clear!”
“On the way!” Gabriel, the gunner, responded. The tank rocked back.
“Traversing!” Fritz twisted the tank to the right hard with frantic claws. The turret rotated to be parallel to the body while they raced down the line. The driver was fully naked, having discarded his shirt and pants to the floor. His seat still squelched as he shifted position to work the controls.
A soft chime rang out above them, followed by more explosions to their left. Bronzetail shifted the scope further to the right. The Changeling turrets rotated as the tanks broke their position. One commander stuck his head out of the hatch to look behind him.
Machine gun fire raked across the turret and took off half of the changeling’s head. He tumbled back into the chassis.
“Keeping hosing those bastards!” Bronzetail growled down to Featherfall. The machine gunner peered through the porthole, bobbing his tail in acknowledgement and squeezing the trigger with bone-white talons.
“Clear!”
“On the way!”
The next shot punched through, but didn’t disable the Changeling tank. It kept moving with flames leaping from the circular hole in the rear. The barrel fell slightly as they lost hydraulic pressure, but the turret kept rotating.
“Hit it again!” Bronzetail ordered with a pump of his right claw. A spent shell case rolled to a stop near his paws and he kicked it over to the others.
Dietrich heaved another shell into place. “Clear!”
“On the way!”
The shot rocked the interior. The second hit caused the welded armor to burst apart like a ripe tomato. Flames spilled forth from the inside of the Changeling panzer. Bronzetail looked to the right again.
The last panzer managed to rotate its turret around, trying to line up his tank as they broke position. Fritz was driving right into their line of fire. “Reverse! Hard left!”
The treads spun as the driver abruptly twisted the entire body around. Spent shell casings rolled across the floor, gathering vomit and other bodily fluids. The Changeling’s shot went wide and barely missed the armor skirt around the right tread.
“Hit the turret!”
“Clear!”
“On the way!”
The shell ricocheted off the side of the circular turret with a burst of sparks. The barrel twisted to the left as it tracked them. Dietrich shoved the spent case out of the basket, and pushed another shell into place. His gloves were smoking from the heat.
A chime sounded above them and the Changeling’s barrel abruptly twisted into a hard right angle with a golden glow. The changeling crew fired on reflex and the shell blasted the turret apart when it struck the bend. Gabriel fired into the broken turret and finished the panzer off.
Blue sparks drifted across the equipment and Bronzetail heard feedback screech across his headset. He didn’t have time to warn the crew, but all of them felt their feathers prickle at the static charge in the air. They hunched over their controls and held on.
For one long moment, Elias felt as if he was being turned inside out, as if his body was being scrambled like an egg in a large plate. And then the tank abruptly snapped back into existence and Bronzetail dry-heaved before looking out the scope.
Fritz, Dietrich, Gabriel, and Featherfall swayed in their seats before resuming their tasks. The crew had long since lost their breakfasts, only able to keep water down. Fritz drained the last of a canteen and tossed it behind him to join his pants.
A shell sang just to the right. Bronzetail tracked the trajectory to one of his own tanks. He slapped his headset and the static receded. “Watch your fire!”
The radio crackled. “You’re…what…engage…”
Bronzetail slammed his headset against the back of his seat, rocking his entire head back to hit the padded headrest. “Seventh, where are you?” he asked once the crackling stopped.
“We’re halfway across the plain,” the commander reported. “Blessed Boreas, you’re nearly at the damn forest!”
“Halt!” Bronzetail made a stopping motion with his claw.
The Grendel roared to an abrupt stop and Elias’ tail swished at the telltale hum of magic above them. He placed the back of his claw against the hatch. It was warm, but not scalding. He pushed it open and stuck his head out. He inspected the golden bubble shield around the stalled tank and swiped sweat off his binoculars before looking to the west.
What was left of the Changeling motorized army was falling back to the Duskwood, savaged by a pincer strike from the Gunnhildur brigades. Elias checked his watch on a scalded wrist. We’re ahead of schedule. He turned the binoculars north.
There you are, you bastards. The Changelings had played their trick; the new tanks were doubtlessly very expensive monstrosities with enchanted hulls and piercing shells, but there weren’t many of them. After the initial push, the second and third lines blurred into familiar shapes of the older panzers they initially faced upon landing.
The Reichsarmee armored core could outfight the older models. The Changelings were relying on their armored spearheads to break through the initial assault and clear the way for their worse tanks and on-hooves units. Bronzetail spotted the black half-tracks and trucks with Chrysalis’ trident on the hood retreating, chased by the Reich’s knight divisions and the regular Reichsarmee. Elias finally lowered his binoculars and looked up to his immediate left.
The Princess leaned against the turret with scorched hooves. The entire top of the turret had been charred black from the intensity of the spells, and the heavy machine gun had been knocked aside after the barrel began to melt. Her crystal armor was pockmarked with several dozen chips from bullets, and the feathers on her right wing were bloody from shrapnel and ricochets.
With no tail or mane exposed, the armored shape looked more like a statue than a pony. The only exposed bit of fur was under the half-helm. Bronzetail could see her jaw working as she swallowed. The pink fur was stained red from a nosebleed, trailing all the way down to the gorget around her neck. The Princess tilted her helmet down to stare at him.
The fire from her horn had spread to the six points on her helmet, lighting them like candles. It cast her icy eyes in a hellish light, adding to the swirls that ebbed along the purple crystal like roiling fire. The armor meant she moved stiffly, less like a pony and more like some imperious thing that had crawled forth from Maar's hell in the shape of a pony.
“Can I have my canteen?” the Princess asked softly. There was no incoming fire against the golden bubble shield. Bronzetail dropped back into the turret and grabbed the half-full flask resting against a shelf.
“Sir?” Dietrich turned from the shell basket. “We’re almost out of high-explosives.”
“Switch to incendiaries,” Bronzetail ordered absently and stuck his arm out. He felt his claw tingle as the Princess’ magic accepted the canteen and she pulled it to her lips. He flexed his claw through the golden wisps left behind.
It feels warm, like a summer’s day.
The empty canteen floated back down to the hatch. He had to strain his ears to hear her response.
“Thank you,” the Princess mumbled with painful sincerity. Her voice was too high-pitched and too soft to come from the armored thing above him. Even when she shouted in that magical voice, she still sounded young.
A kitten that roars like a lion.
Bronzetail poked his head back out and looked around her armored forelegs. It was easy to tell where they had been. The wreckage of tanks covered in blue flames dotted the plain in clumps. Several were upside down or smashed into each other. Gouges were carved into the half-frozen ground from spells that punched through the armor plating at low angles. The later lines of the Reichsarmee leapt across the narrower ones with their treads, or shifted to go around the larger ones.
The knight chapters engaged and cleared the disabled Changeling tanks left behind the advance. Their enchanted armor absorbed the small arms and machine gun fire; the knights climbed atop the turrets with flared wings or placed explosives across the hatches. Most didn’t bother with the half-melted tanks covered in blue flames. One knight pried open the hatch on a slagged turret and promptly vomited off the side from the smell. He had to remove his helmet and shake the bile out while his squad laughed uneasily aside the wreck.
The Princess did not look back to the east at her destruction. She waited atop the turret, staring west. If not for the occasional movement of her lower jaw, Bronzetail would guess she did not even breathe.
A shell bounced off the golden bubble shield around them, plowing into a nearby wreck with a spark. Bronzetail refocused and lifted his binoculars to track the shot. To the northwest, several panzers advanced to push against the lighter scout tanks a few hundred meters away.
“A dozen tanks northwest,” he said aloud. “Do you see them?”
“Yes,” the Princess said quietly.
“We’re almost out of high-explosive shells,” Bronzetail announced. He looked up to see the Princess’ fiery horn bob.
“I’ll be right back.”
She vanished with a crack like a lightning bolt. The static puffed up Elias’ feathers and blue arcs of electricity raced down the exterior of the turret. The golden shield around his tank faded just before she teleported; Fritz began moving towards the panzers.
Bronzetail raised his binoculars and held a claw to his headset. “Third, check your fire. She's engaging.” He didn't need to say who, not after a few hours of this.
"Copy," a griffon responded. The scouts broke formation and raced to encircle the enemy division.
The Princess reappeared just above a Changeling panzer in the middle of the advancing pack. She landed atop the turret and wrapped her hooves around the gun barrel. The alicorn bent the barrel like a straw between her massive, armored hooves. While she did, her horn unleashed a laser with an electric zap.
The beam scored through the entire chassis of the tank to her left, and the tank beside that one as well. She jerked her horn up; the beam sliced through the armor and split the tanks in half.
The Princess turned to the right. A golden glow enveloped a Changeling panzer and lifted the entire war machine up into the air. The treads spun uselessly and the turret's hydraulic pressure failed; the barrel spun back. The tank slammed down against its neighbor with a thunderous crash, then lifted back up and slammed against the next one.
While she jerked her head up and down, the Princess smashed her hooves against the turret she was riding and began to tear the armor apart. The sounds of squealing metal carried across the field, matched by the crash of gears and debris from the floating tank. It no longer resembled anything; it was simply a ball of shredded metal and flaming oil held together by magic.
Bronzetail was reminded of a griffon smashing insects with a rock.
The Princess flung it at another panzer while she finished prying the turret open like a can opener. Bronzetail watched bullets spark off the crystal armor as the remaining panzers turned their heavy machine guns on the stricken tank. The Princess snapped away, reappearing next to Bronzetail with a soft chime.
The three remaining panzers were quickly overrun by the Gunnhildur scouts as they flanked them. Fritz turned to the right and pushed towards the half-tracks in the distance. The Princess shook flaming oil off her greaves and lowered her hooves back to the turret.
She’s too damn quiet. The knights screamed war cries behind them. Bronzetail imagined that he could pick out Archon Proteus’ harsh screech amongst them. Comms chatter was reserved for orders, but he had expected…
I don’t know what I expected, Bronzetail reflected, and he had known her longer than most.
The Princess was said to have devolved into cannibalism on the Nova Griffonian Frontier. She wasn’t actually an alicorn; she had used forbidden magic to grow her massive wings. Half of her victories belonged to other pilots. She was actually Chrysalis in disguise. It depended on which Reich officer was spreading the rumor. The air force and navy hated her.
I guess I expected her to shout, Bronzetail admitted to himself. Grover II was a bombastic warrior, prone to laughing on the battlefield as he carved through the Riverlanders with enchanted steel. The Changelings had destroyed her home, killed her family, taken almost everything from her. She should be happy, right? The Princess did not appear happy.
Bronzetail’s tank joined with the third armored division to run down the retreating on-hooves units. The griffon spared the Princess another look as he moved to close the hatch. She stared west with a clenched jaw. Her horn sparked as she charged another spell.
“I can kill more here, not on the mountain.” Elias closed the hatch and settled back into his seat with folded wings. Fritz and Dietrich twisted their beaks to stare at him.
“Light up those half-tracks,” Bronzetail ordered. “Incendiaries, cook them.”
“Clear!”
“On the way!”
The mechanized vehicle burst into flames. Changelings leapt from the back, uniforms and chitin covered in white fire. The machine guns roared into them as they flailed in the grass.
“Thirteenth,” the command staff addressed Bronzetail’s division directly. “Report position.”
“We’ve broken through the center of the plain,” Bronzetail reported with a claw on his headset. “Advancing with Hellquill, Longsword, and the Arcturian Order. We’re driving their motorized back towards the Duskwood.”
“Overlord copies all,” the griffon squawked. “The right flank is regrouping north of Canterhorn.”
They wouldn’t tell me that unless something is wrong, Bronzetail thought. He looked through the scope again. “Pick targets. Take out those half-tracks!”
A chime sounded above the turret and one of the black canvas trucks exploded. A rapid-fire golden laser streaked from the top of the turret into the unarmored vehicles ahead. The half-tracks fired their heavy machine guns against the tanks. Bullets pinged off the forward armor while the tanks returned fire. A Changeling armored car spun out and crashed against one of the flaming wrecks ahead of them.
“There’s some bugs squatting in the foundation of that farmhouse,” the radio reported. “South-southwest! Put some incendiaries on them!”
“Eighth reporting. Escorting motorized to the south, mopping up resistance. Will join the advance in ten.”
“This is Captain Mournhalt, we’re at half fuel.”
“Fritz?” Bronzetail asked. “Fuel check.”
“Dicey, sir,” Fritz answered. “Under half. We’ll hit the Duskwood before it becomes a problem.”
Bronzetail looked through the scope. Magic continued to chime from above while bullets sparked off the front of the tank. Sometimes the rumbling engine even obscured the sound of the Princess’ magic. Whenever the main gun fired, the sound completely overwhelmed the spellcasting.
A Changeling truck was abruptly picked up in a golden aura and flung at another. The changelings inside screamed wildly, somehow heard over the noise of the incoming fire. The trucks smashed together in a burst of blood and oil, then rolled together in a crumpled heap across a dying field.
“Arcturius Above,” Fritz swore. “She’s intense.”
Bronzetail had closed the distance to three hundred meters. The remaining Changeling tanks were older models, slower with sluggish turrets. They were blown apart by the advancing Grendels as they tried to cover the retreat. The incoming fire slowed as the remaining on-hooves units were overwhelmed by the armored counterassault. A few changelings tried to fly back to the forest on their own, but were cut down by the incoming gunfire from the knights sheltering behind the advance.
The Duskwood forest extended before them on the horizon. Bronzetail opened the hatch and raised his binoculars to his sunburnt beak. The tanks continued to advance with the knights following. There were paths cut into the tree line for the trucks and half-tracks to move onto the plain from their covered positions. Elias spotted silhouettes moving against the tree trunks. They must have buried guns.
Blood dripped down onto his elbow. The Princess had flexed her right wing above him, knocking some damaged feathers loose. She hissed quietly and her horn dimmed.
Bronzetail lowered his binoculars. “Are you all right, Princess!?” he shouted up at her to be heard over the main gun. The turret rocked with a shot that pierced another half-track, coupled with a burst of machine gun fire.
The Princess tilted her head to look down at him. “Yes, it’s just fea-”
Her head snapped to the side as an anti-tank rifle round slammed into the crystal just next to one of her eye slits. The Princess lost her balance on the turret and slid onto the back. Elias heard the rifle fire just behind them and twisted around in the turret, temporarily deafened by the crack.
A naked changeling was laying in the grass with an anti-tank rifle less than a dozen meters away. The griffon ripped his pistol free and emptied his clip at the changeling while he tried to cycle the bolt. Elias struck him twice in the leg and wings, and the changeling rolled in the churned-up grass. The Princess stood up on the back of the tank and snarled like a dog, seizing the changeling in her magic and flinging him up to her.
The changeling screeched high and loud as an armored hoof came down on his head. The Princess kicked the headless body off the back of the tank and swayed on her hooves. Her horn sparked.
Bronzetail called down into the interior, “Fritz, halt!” The tank rumbled to a stop.
Elias felt the magic blast through his feathers as the detection spell swept across their portion of the Celestial Plain. Hundreds of green flares burst from the ground ahead and behind them. He reloaded his pistol with a fumbling claw.
Infiltrators. A nearby changeling rushed forward with an anti-tank mine in her hooves before Featherfall peppered her with machine gun fire. The Princess bent her knees and leaned atop the turret.
The knights sheltering behind the advancing armor broke out into staggered waves of gunfire at the unarmored, naked changelings. They were waiting for the push. “Knights!” Bronzetail screamed. “Take them out! Infiltrators! Bring up the mages, now!”
One of the nearby Grendels was literally swarmed with changelings trying to pull open the hatch or affixing explosives to the treads. The Princess twisted her head and golden flames erupted from her horn. A fireball enveloped the tank and the changelings. The tank rolled forward through the flames while the soldiers clinging to it burned.
Bronzetail shot down two changelings behind the tank with his pistol. The others were bowled down by rushing knights in gilded armor. Archon Proteus emerged from a group of bodyguards, cackling in a manner more befit a cultist than a priest. He flung his empty assault rifle at a changeling holding a grenade in her mouth, then drew his greatsword from between his wings.
“Go to hell!” the Archon cackled as he beheaded the changeling with a swing. He kicked the corpse over the severed head as the grenade went off. He laughed again through the dust and skewered a changeling that had thrown his hooves up in attempted surrender.
The Princess coughed next to Bronzetail. Blood dripped from her nose. There was a large chunk of crystal missing from the right side of her helmet, gouged in a line from the ricochet just before the eye slit. If she hadn’t turned to look at me, it would’ve blown off her head.
“Princess, are you alright!?”
The alicorn worked her jaw and blinked rapidly. “My ears are ringing,” she mumbled.
The Arcturian Order cleared the area around Bronzetail’s tank. Archon Proteus stopped along the right side. His armor was nearly as dented as the Princess’. “Field Marshal!” he called up joyfully. “We’ve made good time! Get us to the forest!”
“I’m good,” the Princess said quietly. “Keep moving.” She pushed herself back up on her forelegs.
Bronzetail dropped into the turret and held a claw to his ear. “Cut these fuckers down. Drive them to the forest.”
Fritz rolled the tank forward while the knights formed up behind them. The advance slowed to deal with the desperate infiltrators. Horns flared from the few mage units joining the knights to cast the spell locally. Bronzetail’s feathers twitched as magic pulsed over his feathers again.
Featherfall squeezed the forward machine guns. “There’s more ahead. They’re falling back.”
The Princess retched over the side of the tank. Elias heard the noise through the open hatch. “Gabriel, give me your canteen.” The gunner tossed it over his shoulder to Dietrich, who passed it to Bronzetail.
“What happened?” Dietrich asked.
“Princess took an anti-tank shot to the head.”
The loader blinked. “She lived?”
Bronzetail leaned back out of the hatch and held the canteen up to the Princess as another pulse of magic swept across the plain. She picked it up in a shaky aura and floated it to her muzzle. The Princess guzzled it down and poured the remainder down her neck and jaw.
The golden aura around the canteen winked out and it fell to the turret. Bronzetail snagged the strap with a talon before it fell. “Sorry,” the Princess apologized.
The gunfire ahead stopped as the last resistance before the Duskwood was eliminated. “Knights, form up behind the armor. Brace for contact,” Bronzetail said into his headset. Flashes and blasts still echoed to the north.
“Ignatius has pushed up to his line,” the radio squawked. “Army Group South has broken through and cut the supply lines. Reserves heading to Army Group North.”
That’s not good. Bronzetail lifted his binoculars to look to the north, but only spotted smoke clouds from wrecked planes and advancing Reich tanks. He twisted around to the east and stopped. His tail curled around a bare paw.
Smoke poured from the top of Canterhorn in large gray blobs. Canterlot. Ancestors Above, the city is burning. Distant flashes rained down from the base of the mountain to the north. Oh Gods, Thundertail got pushed back to the damn mountain.
“Seventh, report!” Bronzetail screamed into the headset. “Northern plain, report now! Anyone!”
“We’re stretched,” a commander answered. “Brought up artillery to pound the flank. We can’t advance against the Duskwood. Facing pressure from Changeling on-hooves divisions. No sign of Army Group North.”
Guns within the Duskwood, hidden under the tree line, flashed. The sound carried a moment later. Bronzetail whirled back around and raised his binoculars. The entrenched guns, buried beside the pines and with logs protecting them, tore into the first line of advancing Reich armor. “Halt! Everyone halt! Form a line!”
The spearheads abruptly reversed as the knights scrambled back behind the armor. Shells from anti-tank guns churned the plain ahead of them, joined by short-range artillery. “They have guns in the tree line!” Bronzetail squawked into his headset. “Where’s the bombers? We need to clear it out!”
“Army Group Center, you are ahead of schedule.”
Bronzetail glared down at his watch rather than turn back to face the midday sun. “I know I’m ahead of schedule! Where’s the air force!?”
“Air support is standing by,” the griffon answered. “Hold position.”
Elias looked up and watched the distant planes spiral around each other. The Changeling Hegemony had been exhausting itself ever since they landed on Equus, but the sky was still raining metal and debris. They must’ve thrown every plane they have left at us.
“We’ve gotten reports that some Changelings broke through to hit the supply lines,” a rear commander reported. “Pony planes are flying over the Everfree to intercept.”
Bronzetail looked north and clacked his beak. “Seventh, can you push north?”
“Terrain’s good on our side, but we can’t move against the Duskwood,” the commander reported.
The sky was tinged pink in the north. The shield wall’s not far. “If you had reinforcements,” Bronzetail allowed.
“Reserves are moving north.”
Elias stared at the Duskwood. They were out of range of the entrenched guns, but they weren’t in range themselves. Ammo and fuel were running low. The supply trucks wouldn’t be inbound for another hour.
“Command, we need resupply to hit the Duskwood. We need air cover. Acknowledge,” Bronzetail spoke into the headset. The communication crystal flickered.
“Hold position,” a voice eventually answered.
While they stopped, the Princess finally turned around and stared east with four scorched hooves on the back of his tank. Her horn lifted up as she stared at Canterlot. For a long heartbeat, she only watched. Elias saw the bottom of her jaw tremble.
“I have to go back,” she whispered as her horn glowed.
“Wait!” Elias grabbed her right foreleg. The crystal scalded his claw, but he tugged on her hoof. It didn’t budge, but he got her attention. The helmet angled down to look at him. Underneath the flaming crown and swirling patterns of fire in the crystal, the Princess' eyes were bloodshot and watery.
“I have to go back,” Flurry repeated. “They can’t hold.”
“Thundertail was pushed back to the north,” Bronzetail explained. “The Changelings are overstretched. Their supply lines go through the Duskwood, but we need air support to take them.”
“I can’t stay.”
“Listen to me!” Elias shouted. “I can swing north and cut them off. We’ll pin the entire army and drive them to the shield wall!” He jabbed a claw at the forest. “But I can’t do it while worrying about the reserves in the forest!”
The helmet slowly turned west. Muzzles flashed under the trees in the far distance. Bronzetail flexed his burned claw, regarding the thin strips of charred paint and the dents along the turret. The metal had begun to deform where the Princess rested her hooves for long periods of time.
“I can do it,” the Princess declared. “Go now.”
She vanished in a crack of light.
Bronzetail dropped into the turret. “Fritz, traverse right. Go north.” He fiddled with the headset, tapping the communications crystal. “Army Group Center, prepare to shift north. Divisions, form a wedge. The Changelings are exposed at the northern edge of the Celestial Plain.”
The radio crackled. “Negative, this is Overlord." That was the direct command center in the Castle of the Two Sisters. "Hold position at the Duskwood. Acknowledge.”
Bronzetail swallowed. “Overlord, push supplies through. We need shells and fuel.” Fritz began to drive to the right. The other Reich tanks followed. The gunfire intensified from the Duskwood forest as the advance swung to the right. Claws clambered up the side of the tank.
“You are playing a dangerous game, Field Marshal,” Proteus chided from the hatch. “The Kaiser is in direct command.”
“The Reichsarmee rewards initiative,” Bronzetail answered.
“Not when you disobey the Kaiser,” Proteus replied. “Is the Princess returning to save her ponies while you ride to the rescue?”
The shelling intensified from the Duskwood as the entrenched guns took the chance to fire at the exposed sides of the tanks. Most shells fell short. “Seventh, we’re on our way to the northern edge of the plain. Prepare a counter-push. We’ll blast through the side.”
“Army Group Center,” Reich command cut in with an angry squawk. “Hold position at the Duskwood. Field Marshal Bronzetail, acknowledge.”
“We can’t hit the forest without air support,” Bronzetail swallowed and answered. “We’re going north. The Princess will deal with it.”
The radio crackled with static while the guns fired from the forest. Bronzetail lifted himself halfway out of the hatch to look north. Archon Proteus had leaned his sword against the side of the turret; he placed a gauntlet in the divot caused by one of the Princess’ forehooves.
Bronzetail turned his head to the left to watch a few Changelings advance back out from the tree line with recoilless rifles. The shots fell short, so they crept forward under suppressive fire. Elias winced; they were trying to aim for the exposed trucks and half-tracks behind the rough wedge of armor moving perpendicular to the forest.
“She might be Maar’s Daughter,” Proteus said ruefully, “but I have my doubts that she can-”
Fire arced from the sky along the tree line, engulfing the forward line hidden by the forest. The blaze was so intense that the trees were blasted apart and heaved into the Celestial Plain. Bits of burning wood rained down onto the northern advance. The sheer concussive force from the blast knocked the teams of Changelings clear off their hooves with smoking bodies.
Bronzetail’s headset burst into static from the residual magic in the air. “Hold position at the Duskwood,” a voice crackled. He couldn’t tell if it was a male or female, or even Grover himself. The fire traveled in a straight line, pouring in a funnel from an armored figure gliding just above the tree tops. The flames reflected off the purple armor as she passed by.
The flames had the size and intensity of an elder dragon, but unlike an elder dragon the figure was too small for the rapid-fire bursts of flak to track as she raced over the treetops. The inferno traveled along the edge of the forest, burning into the horizon. Bronzetail felt the intensity of the flames from over a thousand meters away. The Archon turned his helmet to stare; the roaring steel beak looked befuddled. A flash of light appeared in the distance to the north.
“She is very good at killing, isn’t she?” Proteus said idly with a palm on the hammer-hilt of his greatsword.
“I don’t think she enjoys it,” Bronzetail answered.
“When done righteously, it can be a chore like any other,” the Archon nodded. The tank ran over the naked corpse of one of the fallen infiltrators. The chitin burst under the treads in a spray of gore. Bronzetail flinched.
Like Griffenheim Square, Elias sighed to himself. Gods forgive us.
Another gout of flame screamed down from the sky to the south. More of the Duskwood burned. Archon Proteus watched it travel north again and gripped his greatsword. He scraped the blade along the wide burn marks atop the turret.
“The Gods know there’s much to be done here,” he said down to the Field Marshal. "Take us north. We'll save Thundertail and send these parasites to hell." The helmet twisted to the burning forest. "We can't expect the Gods to do all the work," the Archon repeated in a more subdued tone.
Generalmajor Actia Pagala of the Canterlot Commissariat kicked the bullet-riddled corpse. “A shame,” she sighed in smooth Herzlander. “I remember your little secretary, Jachs. Rather easy on the eyes.”
Jachs stood at attention beside the open balcony. Blood still oozed from the grazing wound along his jaw, dripping blood onto the lapel of his coat. His rank was obscured by the growing stain.
Doesn’t matter, Jachs sighed in his head. It’ll probably be restitched again. He spared a quick glance at the Queen’s Guard walking beside the Generalmajor. Captain Tantalus was wearing the distinctive ‘Blue Beetle’ armor of the high-ranking Queen’s Guard. He walked with a heavy stomp and glowered at the other changelings, all except the Generalmajor.
If I’m not shot, Jachs amended. Alcippe stood next to him, a little too close to be proper. He could reach out with his own wing and caress hers.
The Generalmajor swaggered around the room in a flawless black long coat and high cap balanced behind her horn. Other than that, Pagala was a typical changeling. Her eyes were a soft pale blue. Combined with her breathy voice, she seemed like she could be a lounge singer instead of an officer of the Changeling Heer.
“It took your squad seventeen minutes to subdue two ponies,” Tantalus spat at Jachs.
“It was not my ‘lings,” Jachs responded deferentially. “I was just coordinating supplies in the area and tracked the spell.”
The Queen’s Guard hummed and glared at Alcippe. She had been demoted so low that she shouldn’t even be in the room by any right. The changeling averted her purple eyes and gingerly held the frail crystal between her forelegs.
“The Queen will hear of this,” Pagala said casually.
The Generalmajor was fond of saying that whenever something she didn’t like happened. She used it a lot whenever any ‘ling objected to her ‘appropriating’ a pony from a Love Harvest to take to her quarters in Canterlot Castle. The Generalmajor was used to getting her way; she had the explicit backing of Heer High Command and Queen Chrysalis.
And the ponies never came back.
Jachs turned to the open balcony. Lower Canterlot was smoking from the artillery shells slamming into the cobblestone streets and stores. It was making the rush to get more reinforcements down the road painful, but they were making progress. They hadn’t brought out the armored cars yet.
Despite himself, he looked to one belltower near the Estates.
“All hail Empress Chrysalis, the true keeper of the Pax Chrysalia!”
Chrysalis had declared herself Empress of the Crystal Empire and Empress of Equus, yet most changelings still called her ‘Queen.’ She would always be ‘The Queen’ to them, and according to the new history books, she truly had been the only Changeling Queen that ever was. Jachs didn’t have any grubs; he was too busy, but he sometimes wondered what they would grow up to be in the Pax Chrysalia.
Alcippe fluttered her wings beside him.
“To the ponies, we're the villains of this story, Jachs.”
She almost touched one of his gossamer wings.
“Little by little, we're making a difference in the best way we possibly can.”
Jachs shook the memory out of his head. Before he turned back, he noticed a little dot stop under the brass bell in the tower and begin to ring it as the artillery and anti-air boomed. The bell tolled under the explosions.
“What’s the situation with the reinforcements?” the Generalmajor asked blithely.
“A couple of the streets have collapsed,” Jachs reported. “Fires are beginning to spread through Lower Canterlot-”
“I asked about the reinforcements,” Pagala sneered and rolled her eyes.
“They’re moving,” Jachs summarized.
“At least you’re useful for something,” the Generalmajor quipped. She turned to the two Jaegers standing at attention on the far side of the room, next to the broken telescope. “Good work, you too,” she said sweetly. “When this is over, you can sample my personal stock. We’ll throw a nice party ahead of Chrysalis’ victory visit.”
Alcippe glanced at Jachs. He knew what she was thinking. She’s never coming back here. The Queen had spent the last several years in the Changeling Lands, ruling directly from her high tower in Vesalipolis. She had once been enamored with Canterlot, but the Everfree ruined her view.
The ELF ruined more. And then there was that night…
The Jaegers nodded gratefully at Pagala’s offer. Both were still wearing their faceless gas masks with submachine guns slung at their flanks. They stared at Jachs and Alcippe with open disdain. The dead Jaeger had been dragged away from the balcony.
Jachs took a deep breath and refocused. He ignored the blood staining the ground under the dead unicorn. More blood dripped from his jaw as he clenched his fangs. Was she trying to kill me and miss? Or did she want me to live? Jachs wanted to believe the latter.
She had worked under him in the castle. Raven Inkwell was one of several stewards for the Princesses of Equestria, and had surrendered with the city. She wasn’t high-ranking, and she was watched like all the other collaborators, but something must have slipped through Vaspier’s spy agency. Maybe he was looking at me, instead. The blood from his jaw obscured the rank on his collar. It ached.
Jachs almost looked out the balcony again. He resisted. More bells tolled in the city under the falling shells. His ears twitched as he listened to them.
“Canterlot is a broken city,” Tantalus hissed, “and Equestria is a failed state.”
“One Changeling with a gun can control a hundred ponies without one,” Generalmajor Pagala agreed lightly. “The ponies are broken; the words of a dead mare mean nothing.” She twisted her head to Jachs and stared at him with half-lidded eyes. “Bring out the armored cars. They can make it down the road.”
“Yes, Generalmajor,” Jachs responded automatically.
In a lull between the artillery and anti-air fire, a distant gunshot echoed from Lower Canterlot. Jachs almost missed it under the ringing bells. His right ear flicked.
Another followed, then another behind it. Jachs’ hooves moved on their own. He walked to the balcony and looked down towards the mountain side of the city. His green eyes swept over the burnt-out ruin of Celestia’s School. There had been discussions about building a monument in its place, but the ruin was a symbol in its own right. The Queen’s Guard had brought in their flamethrowers to finish it while Second Wind and the Canterlot Guard kept the crowd back.
Jachs looked again to the distant belltower.
“The world shouldn't be this cruel.”
The figure inside kept ringing the bell incessantly.
“It shouldn't. And we can do our parts to make it less so.”
More gunshots echoed through Lower Canterlot. Jachs could barely hear them under the barrage from underneath the mountain and the bells. Alcippe remained standing at attention beside the balcony, but glanced worriedly at Jachs.
“Did you hear me, Unterfeldwebel?” Pagala asked with a mild sneer. “I want the armored cars moved up! Get going!”
Jachs nodded absently.
Actia Pagala squinted behind him and trotted forward. She rolled her eyes at the bell towers. “Pointless,” she sighed. “Get on the radio and tell them to stop ringing the damn bells. We know the city’s being shelled.”
“It’s not us,” Jachs answered.
More gunshots echoed under the bells. Peals of submachine gun fire joined the rifles, followed by the chime of spells. It started in Lower Canterlot; parts of the buildings were already smoking from the shelling, and more clouds of smoke rose in disconnected city blocks.
From the balcony of the observatory, Jachs could see the bridge connecting the dockyards and industrial district to Middle Canterlot. Small black dots held the sandbag checkpoint. Muzzle flashes fired down a street. Several buildings were in the way from his viewpoint; he couldn’t see down the street.
The long rattle of a heavy machine gun echoed from the checkpoint. Jachs saw the muzzle flash like a bulb. Pagala raised a ridged brow. “What’s going on?”
A wave of colorful dots crashed onto the bridge from Lower Canterlot. They charged directly into the gunfire from the checkpoint as the two dozen changelings desperately fired into the herd. Many of the dots fell, but the ones behind them leapt over the bodies and rushed forward.
They overwhelmed the checkpoint with sheer numbers. The gunfire turned scattered, then stopped. More black dots raced from the Middle Canterlot side to try and contest the bridge. The colorful dots charged them again, overwhelming a truck bringing ammunition to the eastern road. Unmoving dots littered the entire bridge. More gunshots echoed across all of Lower Canterlot, spreading from street to street. All the bell towers in Lower and Middle Canterlot began to ring.
“It’s not us,” Jachs repeated. He looked over his shoulder at the unicorn’s corpse. His jaw dripped with congealed blood. Raven’s eyes were open, staring blankly up at the open shutter.
She died with a smile on her muzzle.
Directly below them, some soldiers scanned over the surrounding windows of the nearby shops and businesses. A few ponies stared back from the inside, standing next to the changelings that owned them. The city was under curfew and everyone was supposed to be inside. A changeling screamed high and loud in one of the nearby houses.
“No,” Actia Pagala hissed.
One of the guards below fired his rifle into one of the shops. At the same time, a flaming bottle flew from a different window, landing on one of the parked armored cars. It was impossible to tell which happened first. The guards formed a cordon in the street, firing blindly into the nearby buildings. Ponies and changelings screamed inside them, and the screams turned into whinnies of anger.
“No!” Pagala shrieked. She whirled back into the room and faced Tantalus. “Get the Queen’s Guard out! Bring out the flamethrowers! Ponies want to play, let’s play!”
Tantalus grinned under his blue helmet. “Lord Commander Cardo will be happy to hear that. We’ll burn this city to the ground before we lose it.”
“Bring up the armored cars!” Pagala ranted. “Bring everything forward! Now! Crush them!” She kicked the corpse again. “I am not losing this city to these inferior wretches. They don’t even have guns!”
“There’s a million of them,” Alcippe responded. “A hundred thousand of us.”
“We have guns!”
We have bullets, Jachs snorted, watching the changelings below panic fire into the nearby buildings. And the hope that when we run out, they’ll all be dead. His ‘lings imposed some sense of suppressive fire and retreated behind the stationary armored cars. The fresher conscripts in the street still panicked.
Jachs extended his emotion sense and tasted the growing rage in the air. It had been a long time since any form of anger exceeded the fear. A Jaeger team buzzed low and landed on one of the nearby bell towers. Their guns silenced the bell-ringer.
There were over two dozen belltowers in Canterlot. All of them were ringing.
The armored cars opened up with their turrets, shattering the windows of a bakery and watch repair shop. Despite the hail of gunfire, a unicorn stood up in a window and flung a flaming bottle down onto several Changeling soldiers. He died immediately, but the bottle landed and three soldiers rolled in the street as their black uniforms burned.
“Shatter that fucking crystal!” Pagala screamed. “I will not lose this city to a dead mare!”
Jachs looked over his shoulder. Alcippe had backed up against the wall, still holding the tiny crystal in her hooves. Generalmajor Pagala glared at her. “That is an order,” she said in a dangerously sweet tone.
Alcippe looked at Jachs. Their eyes met. Before either could say anything, Tantalus stormed forward and knocked the crystal out of Alcippe’s hooves. She flinched from the hit, but stayed against the wall. Jachs looked back at Canterlot on the balcony, lost in memory.
Flashes lit the eastern horizon. Generalmajor Jachs watched with Finicus, Marsilio, and Alcippe. The Equestrian Liberation Front was driving hard for Canterlot, and nothing was ever going to be the same after this. Lilac had publicly broken with the Queen’s stances on the Love Tax, and now a rebellion broke out in her protectorate.
“Well,” Finicus raised a wine glass. “We had a good run.”
“They slashed funding to my Synthetic Love experiments to refund the damn Heer,” Marsilio growled. The Surgeon-General refused the offered wine glass and sipped a glass of water.
“Trimmel’s coming down from the Crystal Protectorate,” Alcippe whispered to Jachs. She hooked her forelegs on the railing and leaned out over the mountain. The wind nearly blew her officer’s cap off. She held it down with a flash of her horn.
Jachs nodded with a blush as her fangs gleamed in the twilight. He had seen the encoded telegram. “We’ll…” he paused. “We’ll hold up in Canterlot and see what happens.”
“Is that the Hive Marshal’s plan?” Alcippe asked.
Jachs sipped the wine glass instead of answering. He walked across the old private chambers of the Diarchs of Equestria, now Chrysalis’ sparsely used multiple bedrooms, and found the western balcony.
His green eyes squinted in the setting sun. An armored train steamed through the low valleys in the waning light. It was heading west, loaded with Queen’s Guard. They had swarmed the mountain suddenly before abruptly commandeering the train station and departing.
Generalmajor Jachs had orders directly from the Queen to turn over one of the armored trains to Lord Commander Lacin. The Queen’s Guard leader had appeared himself to deal with it. They kept anyone, changeling or pony, from approaching the station until the train departed. Jachs' ‘lings and garrison watched curiously, but no one moved to stop them.
“The cave’s abandoned, isn’t it?” Alcippe asked suddenly behind him.
Jachs did not answer.
The frail little crystal rolled to a stop next to Jachs' hooves. It was still intact and glittered softly in the sunlight. “Tough bitch,” Tantalus snorted and stalked over to it on his armored boots. Jachs did not notice; he stared out into the city as the bells tolled.
Jachs looked at the terrible paintings along the bare walls of Finicus’ mansion. It looked like a foal had drawn them. They were the only decorations in the nearly-stripped interior. He stopped on what appeared to be either a train or a vase of flowers.
“You like that one?” Finicus hiccupped. “You can have it. I’ll paint another tomorrow.” The CEO was already slurring his words, having downed his seventh glass of thick wine in as many minutes.
“I don’t have room for it in my new office,” Jachs answered. “It’s in one of the old embassies. In the basement.”
Finicus laughed, high and chittering. “At least you have an office! Main Hive Industries is trying to force me out! Me! I founded…founded the damn company!” The long-eared changeling burped. “This Synthetic Love isn’t bad, Marsilio.”
“The funding cut is permanent,” Doctor Marsilio answered sullenly, “and the Queen thinks she can tell the difference. It will never catch on, not with the new quotas.”
“Fuck her,” Finicus spat. He swayed in his stiff wooden chair. “It tastes better.”
Alcippe tensed. “I think you’ve had enough.”
Main Hive Industries couldn’t compete with its two major rivals, not after Finicus leveraged his position to keep ponies employed with wages. They made better products, but not as cheaply and not fast enough. The board was trying to force him out before the company went bankrupt.
Finicus was determined to drive the company into the ground. He had already sold off most of his cars, luxury furniture, and the mansion they were currently in was already being auctioned off. He was making up the deficit with his own rapidly depleting funds.
“No, I mean it,” Finicus slurred. “Fuck her! She just waltzes in here and ruins all our lives with her little ‘lings by her side? Pagala’s trash!” He pointed at Jachs' lapel. The stitching had been torn off. “You did everything you could!”
“Not everything,” Jachs responded.
“The Queen’s in the city,” Alcippe said worriedly. “Lacin’s here. We need to-”
The front doors to the mansion were kicked open. Jachs heard the sound echo down the hallway. Finicus had already fired all his servants as a cost-cutting measure. The drawing room tensed. Jachs unclipped his holster with a horn flash.
A Queen’s Guard entered, panting under his blue armor. “Generaloberstabsarzt Marsilio?” the guard mangled the title with a gasp. “You’re needed in the castle. Queen’s orders.”
Marsilio left his untouched wine glass. “What’s wrong? Is the Queen ill?”
“Now,” the Queen’s Guard panted. “A squad is at your estate to collect your medical equipment.”
Marsilio blinked and hurried forward. “We’ll pick this up another time, ‘lings. Duty calls.”
They waited until the two were gone before Finicus snorted, “Serves her right.”
The lights dimmed in the room as the power faltered.
Alcippe helped Finicus up after he fell out of his chair with a slurred rush of profanities. She grimaced up at Jachs with soft purple eyes. “I got him. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” Jachs answered. He ran to the front doors. The entire Estate District was losing power. The lights in the surrounding mansions wavered, sometimes dimming, sometimes glowing bright like little suns.
Jachs turned his head to Canterlot Castle. Every window was alight. Two trucks with Chrysalis’ trident crown on the hoods sped down the street past him. An old respirator from a hospital spilled out the back into the street with a crash, but the truck kept going.
The power fluctuations spread to Middle and Lower Canterlot. Jachs buzzed his wings and lifted above the street, watching how far it went. Alcippe exited and shouted something below him, but he couldn’t make out the words. He stopped when he spotted the train station from his vantage point.
An armored train sat in the station.
The Queen’s Guard raised his right hoof over the crystal. Just as he stomped down, an errant shell rattled the observatory and the crystal rolled closer to Jachs. Tantalus missed and snarled.
A field mouse squeezed into the crack in the wall. Once on the other side, it erupted into green fire and Jachs sighed, stretching out his legs with a pop. The condensed love left him sluggish and dull, but it was needed for a transformation like that. He wasn’t a trained infiltrator.
“I can’t draw too much attention,” Second Wind whispered from the window pane. “I’ll shout if I see anything.” The pegasus scuffed a hoof on his black patrol uniform. The Canterlot Guard were only armed with clubs now, as a precaution.
Jachs flushed in embarrassment at his nakedness, but Second Wind rolled his eyes. “I’m Equestrian, dumbass,” he snorted in Herzlander. “I don’t care.”
“Right,” Jachs slurred, then shook his head to try and clear out the fog. “I’ll have to go out the front door, or unlatch a window, or…something.”
“Right?” Second Wind echoed. The tan pegasus jerked his head toward the interior of the mansion. “Lemme know what you find out about Marsilio. Be careful.” He disappeared back to the street, rejoining his patrol.
Jachs turned back around to the study. The room was a wreck, full of scattered papers and dust and broken frames. The Queen’s Guard had trashed the place in their rush to get medical equipment up to the castle.
But that was three months ago.
Marsilio returned to his estate after two days of power fluctuations. He fired all his staff and retreated into complete isolation in his small mansion. No one saw him. By rights, the Surgeon-General of the Changeling Heer should’ve already been removed from his position, but every ‘ling was too busy with the new Pax Chrysalia after Starlight’s defeat.
Unless he had already been replaced for seeing something.
“This is the second-stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” Jachs said aloud, then immediately cursed himself and shook his head again. He pushed through the fog in his brain to slowly creep forward.
The mansion was wrecked. Gouges were scored into the intricately carved wooden frames, portraits slashed, notes and equipment scattered. Jachs did not find a single report on the floor that wasn’t scrawled over with illegible scribbles. He eventually heard the crackle of a fireplace after a half-dozen rooms and peeked through the door.
“Marsilio?” he asked aloud at the shape before the fireplace.
The thing that rose and turned around was barely a changeling. The chitin was a dull gray instead of black. It was naked and the eyes were almost feral. Jachs reared back on instinct.
“Jachs!” Marsilio slurred. He took another swig of a vodka bottle. The clear alcohol mixed with the bright pink of condensed love. “Just the ‘ling I wanted to see! Come in!”
Jachs, half-drunk on love already, entered.
“Have a seat!” Marsilio gestured to a pile of discarded bottles. Synthetic Love potions were mixed in. The Surgeon-General was going through his entire supply.
Jachs stood. “We’ve been worried. Finicus and Alcippe and even Second Wind.”
“Worried about who?” Marsilio blinked.
“About you!”
The doctor laughed, only to vomit pink slime onto an already stained floor. Jachs recoiled at the smell. The entire room stank. Marsilio’s chitin was smudged.
“We’ve been worried about you,” Jachs repeated himself. “Finicus is in a motel Lower Canterlot. Alcippe’s still helping me run patrols. Second Wind’s doing alright.”
Marsilio hummed.
“Ever since the power outages-”
Despite his slow reflexes, Jachs managed to duck under the vodka bottle. It crashed against the wall. Marsilio heaved and swayed before the fire. His eyes burned like the flames behind him.
“They wanted her to suffer,” he growled with unfocused eyes.
“What?”
“They wanted her to suffer,” he repeated, “but not like that.”
Jachs shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“The Queen wanted her prize.” Marsilio swayed and trotted to a pile of beer bottles. He pawed through them with his hooves. He smiled to himself as he unearthed something, then chucked it towards Jachs with a sparking horn. Jachs tensed to dodge preemptively, then froze as a purple-bound book landed at his hooves.
“You forgot your secret drawer,” Marsilio hiccupped. “When you cleaned out your desk.”
Jachs suddenly felt very sober.
“It’s probably the last Friendship Journal in Canterlot, you know,” Marsilio said conversationally. “We burned all the others. Who gave it to you? Second Wind?”
Jachs didn’t answer. Marsilio picked up another bottle and poured his Synthetic Love into it. He shook the vodka to stir the substances together.
“They brought her back,” the doctor sighed. “She wanted to gloat.”
“Who?” Jachs asked, even though he knew the answer.
“The Queen. She wanted to gloat. Lacin turned up the power. They did an even worse job than that cave we went to.” Marsilio took a long swig. “They wanted it to hurt.”
“What happened?” Jachs' stomach flip-flopped above his hooves.
“What do you think?” the doctor hissed. “You saw the power go mad. Chrysalis was infuriated when she slipped away. The Queen’s Guard tore through the city, grabbing all the medical equipment they could. It was all useless.”
Jachs licked his fangs. “Who knows I had the book?”
“The Queen,” Marsilio answered easily.
Jachs inhaled.
Marsilio felt the sharp fear and snorted. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I…I have to get out-”
“She didn’t care,” the doctor scoffed. “The Queen was grateful to have it.”
Jachs stared at the fireplace. He licked his fangs. “Why?”
“Chrysalis held it in front of her muzzle and laughed.”
Jachs stared into the crackling fire. “Did you…did you save her?”
“I tried,” Marsilio coughed. He took another gulp of his vodka.
Jachs buzzed his wings. “Please, this doesn’t-”
“Get the fuck out of my house,” Marsilio said blandly. “I have a pistol somewhere in here, and if I ever find it again, I won’t miss your head.”
Jachs wanted to say something to his friend, but instead backed out of the room.
“You forgot the book!” Marsilio called out. Jachs stopped in the hallway. Marsilio hiccupped before continuing behind him. “In one of her lucid moments, she thanked me for staying with her the whole time.”
Jachs slowly walked towards the front door.
The Queen's Guard raised his hoof again. Jachs glanced at him out of the corner of his green eye.
And for the first time in several years, Jachs did not consider the consequences of his next action. He ripped his pistol free from his flank holster with a blazing horn and fired through Tantalus' eye. The bullet ricocheted off the interior of the changeling’s helmet after passing through his head. It traveled back through his brain and caused a spray of blood to erupt from his nostrils. Tantalus’ hoof locked up as his brain was mulched; the changeling fell over.
As he fell, Jachs braced his forelegs around the front of the armored body and pivoted his floating pistol. The two Jaegers next to the telescope grabbed their submachine guns and lit their horns. Jachs fired first, catching one in the throat and another through the gasmask. The one shot through the throat fired his submachine gun as he fell. The bullet pinged off the blue carapace armor of the dead Queen’s Guard.
The pistol continued to sweep the room; the gun barrel floated past a frozen Alcippe and stopped in front of Pagala’s muzzle. Pagala’s horn glowed and she tugged at her pistol, but the Generalmajor hadn’t even bothered to unclip her flank holster. The grip was caught on the leather strap. Jachs exhaled.
Jachs dropped the dead Queen’s Guard to the side. He trotted forward towards the Generalmajor, lining up the pistol; Pagala's horn dimmed after a moment. Her pale blue eyes met Jachs' green over the barrel of his gun. She stared him down with pursed lips, eyes dancing over the bodies in the observatory.
After a heartbeat, Pagala smirked and said in her lilting cadence, “The Queen-”
The bullet entered just under the base of her horn and her head snapped back. It stopped somewhere in her brain. Actia Pagala sank to her knees and her mouth flopped open, then her legs splayed out and she collapsed to the floor. Her sharp white fangs clacked against the floor as her eyes dimmed. Blood dribbled from the hole under her horn.
The bells tolled above the gunshots outside.
“What…” Alcippe stammered. Her wings were pinned to her black, long-sleeved shirt. “Jachs, w-what did you do?”
Jachs dropped the pistol and shrugged off his jacket. He knocked Pagala’s hat off with a wave of his horn as he approached the body. Grabbing her limp head, he flipped her over and began to pry her elegant coat off the body.
“What we should have done before,” Jachs answered in a dull tone.
Alcippe glanced around the room. “T-the soldiers…”
The gunfire and bombs throughout the city rumbled through the open balcony, joining the tolling bells. Jachs finished pulling the jacket off and tossed it next to the hat. He pushed Pagala over and inspected her.
“What…what are we going to do?” Alcippe asked, lost and afraid. The changeling worried her lower lip with a fang. Jachs felt the fear roll off her as she turned to the staircase.
“We’ll fall back to the Estates and blow the bridges. We can hold there for a time.”
“But the breakout…” Alcippe took a breath, “the battle. Jachs, we’ll be stuck on the side of the mountain.”
“Yes,” Jachs agreed. “Do you want to go out there? Is that how you want to die, shooting down ponies as they charge you?”
“I don’t want to die,” Alcippe whimpered. “What are you doing?”
Green fire raced over Jachs' body as he suddenly slimmed down. When the fire receded, Actia Pagala stood over her own corpse. The living Pagala’s pants were loose around her slimmer legs and she tightened her belt. The jacket and hat floated on; a perfect fit tailored for a changeling. The wound reopened on her jaw.
“I’m going to order Kommandant Second Wind and the Canterlot Guard be rearmed,” Pagala said in her smooth lilt. “We’ll need their help. I’m going to the armory outside the castle.”
“Jachs,” Alcippe began, “they’ll know. We’re changelings. We can tell.”
“In the middle of all this panic?” Pagala laughed. “I don’t think so. They just need to open the door.”
“Second Wind’s not going to fight other ponies,” Alcippe tried.
“He’s not going to,” Pagala answered. “Lord Commander Lacin and the Queen’s Guard still hold the castle. They’re going to try and follow orders.”
Alcippe’s lips trembled around her fangs. “This is suicide.”
The living Actia Pagala finished pulling her nice boots off the identical corpse next to her. She laced them to her bare hooves in a green aura. “We should have tried,” Pagala said in Jachs' voice.
Alcippe took a moment. Her purple eyes squeezed shut. “She…she didn’t want us to.”
“We should have tried anyway.”
“We can just go,” Alcippe begged. “Let’s just get out of here.” A few tears slipped through her eyelids. “Please,” she whispered. “I love-”
“I am a changeling,” Pagala said in her trademark sneer. “I know. I’ve always known.” Her muzzle collapsed into a kind smile that stretched oddly on the mare’s narrow muzzle. “Get out of here,” she said in Jachs' voice.
Alcippe finally opened her eyes and snapped her foreleg into a salute. “Awaiting orders, Generalmajor!” she choked out.
Pagala nodded after a moment. “Get every ‘ling towards the Estates. Command is collapsing. Load the wounded into the armored cars and move.”
Alcippe legs shook, then she raced down the stairs, shouting commands to the soldiers below. Pagala trotted to the balcony and watched Canterlot burn for a moment. This city made my career. I might as well die in it. She grabbed one of the fallen submachine guns, dragging it across the floor in her magic. Her horn throbbed from the effort.
The stock of the gun bumped into the little purple crystal. It spun in a circle on the floor. Pagala stared down at it. She finally looked through the rising smoke clouds to the outskirts, past the east gate and towards an abandoned and forgotten cave.
"I hope you don't expect us to free you."
Pagala slipped the submachine gun’s strap over her head.
"I don't."
Jachs picked up the crystal and tucked it into his pocket.
"But I do expect the three of you to do your best at spreading a little bit of harmony wherever you go."
The Generalmajor flared their wings and buzzed above the burning city, flying towards the castle. The bell towers tolled underneath the whistle of falling shells. Gunshots and spells filled the shattered streets as ponies and changelings fought to the death. Blood soaked the cobblestones as the Pax Chrysalia died.
"I know you will."
A violent lightning strike cracked through the sky above the Duskwood. The figure that arrived in the flash hung in the open air for a heartbeat. It was a massive pony, completely armored except for the bottom of their light pink jaw. Blood smeared down their fur into the gorget connected to the purple crystal plate.
The armor was scarred with gouges from ricocheted bullets and direct hits. The horn tip above a purple helmet spiraled to a blackened tip. The helmet itself burned, six small spires smoking with the remnants of golden magic.
The figure’s tattered wings were folded tight against their side as they hung in the sky. The feathers were bloody; shards of crystal extended from their armored wing joints. Heavy hooves curled against the barrel; the greaves were flecked with oil, mud, and blood.
Underneath the half-helm, the lean, narrow muzzle was streaked with thin trails of blood from the nostrils. The muzzle marked the figure as a mare, albeit one of the largest mares in the world. Without a mane or tail, it was nearly impossible to tell. Her eyes were closed.
A plane screamed past the figure as gravity reasserted its grip on the pony. She fell, tumbling horn first towards the earth below. The blacked horn tip glowed with golden light as she spiraled.
The wind screamed past her while she pressed armored limbs to her barrel. She continued to gain momentum, no longer tumbling, but falling like an arrowhead towards the burning forest below her. The tree line was aflame with golden fire.
The mare breathed in and opened her icy eyes, a striking pale blue that shimmered under the helmet. She squinted against the howling wind. Her large pink wings snapped open; the crystals in the feathers sliced through the air with the sound of windchimes.
Her wingspan was massive, almost twice the width of her armor. If she stood unarmored and let them droop, her wingtips would drag across the ground. They were the only thing that turned the near-terminal velocity fall into an abrupt glide.
She soared less than a hundred meters above the treetops, moving as fast as a fighter plane. Her tattered wings trailed wisps of magic and drops of blood as the mare pushed her pegasus magic to the absolute limit. The mare tilted her armored helmet and horn tip down towards the trees.
Flurry Heart unleashed a third gout of fire down upon the Duskwood Forest. The funnel was more akin to a burning ray of intense heat than a flamethrower. The flames exploded up around her and behind her as she soared. Golden tongues of fire licked at her armored hooves and spread across the purple crystal. The alicorn trailed fire across the sky, riding an inferno of magic towards a pink-tinted sky.
Below her, the ground was ripped asunder from the force of the continuous blast. Trees burst into ash directly under the wide beam, and those along the sides were ripped away from the sheer concussive force behind the magic. They fell into the forest or shattered against the Celestial Plain to the east. The mare flew south-to-north in a wave of fire.
A Changeling fighter trailed her, tearing down from the sky and pouring machine gun fire at the armored figure. She was an easy target and moving in a straight line. A burst of flak intended for Flurry slammed into the cockpit of the plane; the fighter spun out in a fireball.
The alicorn was too low for the anti-air to hit her. She was moving too fast for the lobbed mortars and burst-fire shells to accurately target her. The air was still filled with shrapnel that tore against the crystal armor. Flurry kept her head down and jaw tight. Her feathers weren’t as lucky. She felt another primary feather tear away with a trickle of blood.
The wave of fire scorched away the entrenched positions at the edge of the forest. Changelings below her shrieked as they burned. The lucky ones in the path of the beam died instantly; the unlucky ones at the edges burned slow, chitin boiling with magical golden fire that would not extinguish.
Despite the inferno, guns still fired in the Duskwood against the tanks moving north across the Celestial Plain. The trucks and half-tracks pushing up behind them were easier targets, and several dozen targeted them. A few Changeling units charged out of the forest to engage the rear guard, battling through the flames or taking obscured trails.
Flurry couldn’t be everywhere; she couldn’t cover the whole forest. It stretched to the horizon, several thick miles of pine trees and foliage. The alicorn began to descend as she slowed down. Her armor was too cumbersome to properly fly in; she had to glide, and gliding only worked for so much distance.
The helmet turned to her right. Half-tracks fired at Changelings advancing out of the forest. The flames had cut them off, but more forest stretched out ahead of her as her hooves descended too close to the treetops. An armored hoof kicked the top of a tall pine apart.
This is taking too long, Flurry thought. She couldn’t just fly over the entire forest and burn it. The magical fire wouldn’t spread far enough. It wasn’t like dragonfire.
Her right eye moved up. Mount Canterhorn was burning to the east, stretching high above the Celestial Plain and below the midday sun. Smoke poured off Canterlot. The alicorn abruptly cut the stream of fire from her horn. Flurry took a deep breath and snorted blood from her nose.
The Princess folded her wings and dropped like a rock. She crashed through two pine trees, shattering the trunks apart and taking the hit before extending her legs. Her momentum carried her forward as she hit the earth, plowing deep furrows up to her armored fetlocks. Flurry grit her teeth from the shock as she came to a stop. A large cloud of dead grass and debris obscured her landing; she squinted under her helmet and pulled her legs free. With a powerful wing flap, she cleared the air.
A Changeling soldier holding an anti-tank round between his forehooves stared back at her. He was less than two forelegs away. The other two changelings crewing the half-buried gun had taken shelter in a low dugout. They poked their helmets up with wide eyes.
The Princess stared at the Changeling. She flared her wing and the crystals sang as they sliced through the air. The large, knife-like crystal at the end of her wing extended from her feathers as she swept it towards him.
The Changeling’s head rolled into one of the dugouts with his comrades. Flurry ripped the pistol from his headless body and fired through the torn-off holster; she emptied the clip into the two soldiers cowering in the hole as they tried to raise their rifles. When they were dead, she tossed the pistol down from her smoking horn.
She landed in the middle of a line of seven entrenched guns. Smoke filled the forest; the trees burned slow around the long gouges in the ground. The Changeling Heer, whether out of fear or loyalty or stubborn determination, stood their ground along the forest as it burned from above.
Flurry Heart stood tall next to the dead gun grew and spun in a circle, looking over the Changeling soldiers nearby. Several dropped carried shells or held up their rifles, hesitating to fire. Flurry lowered her head to shield her jaw.
An officer in a tall black cap leaned atop one of the guns. “You’re surrounded!” he screamed in Herzlander. At his shout, the stunned changelings grabbed up their weapons with their hooves or horn. Flurry closed her eyes and felt them.
“I am surrounded by the dead,” Flurry answered and tore the guns from their owners. One Changeling had wrapped the strap around his foreleg; his hoof went with the rifle. Shrieking filled the air as he collapsed with a stump. The guns whirled around and fired at their owners.
It wasn’t accurate. Flurry simply squeezed the triggers until the floating submachine guns, pistols, and rifles clicked dry, then flung the weapons at any surviving changeling. One nearby mare grabbed a shovel as a bayonetted rifle slammed through her head.
When it was done, Flurry stood over several dozen dead or dying changelings. She eyed a narrow, well-worn path through the tree line and sprinted towards it. Her horn pulsed with the detection spell. Several changelings reappeared, having dropped into disguises with their meager magic.
A rock to her left had a black jacket quivering atop it. It burst into green fire as the spell shattered the illusion. The changeling screamed as Flurry shoulder-checked him through a tree and blasted apart the trunk. The others nearby ran. Flurry kept moving, deeper into the forest and following the trail.
Supply trucks drove towards her; some camouflage nets were strung in the tree tops, covering expanded trails from any planes. Above the forest, the Reich and the Changeling Hegemony still dueled in the sky. Pieces of shattered planes fell into the trees. A few intact fuselages had started their own fires deeper into the interior.
Flurry blasted an open-topped truck apart as she fired wild lasers from her horn. The golden flashes could be seen through the smoke and trees. She picked up the next truck in the convoy as it tried to reverse, seizing it with her horn. The driver dangled out of the open cab, reflexively grabbing onto the wheel as the tires spun.
Flurry slammed it down like a hammer on the truck behind it. It was carrying ammunition for the frontline. Both exploded in a hail of fire and shrapnel. Flurry felt a chunk of metal or a cooked bullet scar across the helmet before she lowered her head again. Another piece hit the metal kneecap on her right foreleg, but the enchantment held.
The alicorn leapt atop the burning wreck, landing hard enough to dent the already mangled metal. She fired at the trucks as they tried to turn around; the path was too narrow. A few Changelings had simply abandoned the vehicles and fled on hoof.
“Where is your Queen?” Flurry shouted. Her voice rolled through the forest. “Where is Chrysalis?” Her blasts finally destroyed the last truck in the convoy after it crashed into a tree in a panicked reversal.
She leapt down as the fire licked at her greaves and kept running. Blood dripped down onto the metal gorget from her nose. Flurry snorted as she ran. Her pink coat rubbed against the padded jumpsuit under her armor, now damp with sweat and itchy. She was frothing underneath the heavy crystal plate.
The flames around the forest roiled in the purple crystal as the alicorn charged down the trail, chasing the retreating soldiers. She couldn’t outpace them; they flung their equipment down to move faster. A few took low flight and tried to buzz through the branches.
A younger stallion, probably about her age, slammed into a heavy branch and crashed down onto the trail. The Changeling rolled over in time to see the alicorn trample him with her long strides. Her armored hooves crushed his chest and blood sprayed from between his short fangs.
Flurry’s ears, sweaty and pinned under the helmet, prickled at distant orders shouted in Herzlander. She turned off the trail and ran towards them, leaping over tree roots and ducking between thick low branches. She simply charged through smaller branches, shattering them with chaotic snaps.
There was another trail. A boxy, thin tank trundled down it; the first in a line of a dozen escorted by Heer soldiers. Flurry recognized the model from old pictures she saw in the Crystal Empire, back when her parents were alive. It was one of the first proper Changeling panzers, the first true tank on Equus. Chrysalis’ trident was stamped on the side.
Flurry remembered the glorified armored tractor that her father had stared blankly at the next day. The crystal ponies were already a thousand years behind Equestria and scrambling to catch up. He promised her the next ones would be better. They never got any better.
The Changelings escorting the tanks on-hooves screamed up warnings at the panzers. Heavy machine guns were bolted near the hatches. The commanders grabbed at them and twisted the barrels to the forest as the soldiers below braced their weapons.
Right as the gunfire tore apart the trees, Flurry’s horn flared and she teleported.
She landed atop the first panzer, right after the commander had racked the ammo belt into place and fired a spray of bullets into the forest. He had time to turn his head and gape up at the alicorn with open fangs. Flurry punched him.
The bottom half of his corpse fell into the tank.
Flurry seized the heavy machine gun with her forelegs. She ripped it off the mount. Her armored boots were too clumsy to properly wield a gun; the alicorn smashed the trigger down with a hoof and crunched through the metal. The barrel sprayed bullets at the escorting changelings as they broke position and sheltered behind the tanks. Several dozen did not react in time as they were cut down.
The Princess reared up onto her hind legs, balancing the machine gun against her barrel. Her horn burned gold. Bullets sparked off the crystal armor as a few of the nearby soldiers returned fire. The commander in the second tank twisted the heavy machine gun back around with obvious fear in his red eyes.
A laser punched through his tank, and the three tanks behind them. It stayed a continuous beam that traveled forward, slicing through each tank in the line until it reached the end. The air boiled around the beam; the Changelings that were not bisected recoiled from the heat or cooked in their chitin.
Flurry jerked the laser up and it hit the fuel tanks. The eleven panzers burst into shrapnel and fireballs, throwing the surviving Changelings into the woods, covered in metal and burning oil. Flurry’s pilfered machine gun ripped through the trees after any moving survivors.
She fired until the belt ran dry, then flung the gun down with a crash. The turret she stood atop rotated as the crew inside screamed at the corpse of their officer and the fighting outside. One of the crew reached out and shut the hatch; Flurry noticed it out of the corner of her eye.
Flurry reared around and glared down at the driver’s small window. The Changeling looked back at her and fell out of the seat, retreating into the tank. Flurry grabbed the barrel on the turret and bent it to the side between her forelegs.
“NOTHING WILL PROTECT YOU FROM ME,” Flurry roared at full volume. The pine trees around her swayed from the sheer force of her voice. Her hooves pounded the metal on the turret, punching through and bending it apart like tin foil. The thin armor screeched as it came apart.
Flurry stared down at one of the crew from the gap. He looked up at her, nearly muzzle to muzzle. He inhaled to scream.
“NOT SOLDIERS!” Flurry shouted directly into his face. His ears burst and his eyes wept blood. The Changeling fell back. A mare pulled a knife behind him and held it between shaking forelegs.
“NOT WEAPONS!” Flurry ripped it from her hooves with her flaming horn. Liquid fire dripped from the blackened tip and curled down the spirals. The six points on the base burned like a crown. She drove the blade through the mare’s head, all the way down to the hilt and pinned her to the side.
The driver flailed, falling back into the tank and hiding between the forward seats. He was the last one left. Flurry snarled at him, teeth gleaming under the half-helm. She punched her way through the metal, tearing through the interior towards him.
“NOT ARMOR!” Flurry ripped out the command seat and tore the entire small turret free from the tank. Her hooves crunched against the controls and gears inside. The driver pulled a pistol free from his black jumpsuit, fumbling it with his hooves.
My muzzle. Flurry tilted her head down and rammed herself forward.
The driver shoved the pistol under his own muzzle and pulled the trigger with a sob.
The forest fell silent after the gunshot. Flurry stared at the corpse through the eye slits of her helmet. He was a hoof away from her sharp horn. The alicorn grimaced, then extracted herself from the wreckage. Oil leaked around her hooves and the engine sputtered. Flurry climbed off the tank and leapt down to the burning forest.
The oil and petrol from the burning panzers had started a fire, but the ground was still damp under the trees. Flurry trotted down the line. A small puddle of burning oil ignited her hooves; she let the crystal burn. I can’t feel the heat, and it’s enchanted anyway.
A dying changeling mare crawled under a destroyed pine. She had been shot several times through the barrel. She stopped under the tree as the fires began to spread towards her. The changeling breathed raggedly with oil dripping across her black uniform.
Flurry paused to stare at the mare. She stared back with unfocused eyes. Her mouth moved in what might have been words, but no sound emerged. The alicorn continued down the trail as the flames crackled. After a moment, Flurry closed her eyes and sighed. She looked at the bodies around her, then pulled a pistol free from a flank holster and returned to the mare.
The fires crept closer to her. My own hooves don’t help, I’m sure. The Changeling pushed herself up against the broken trunk; blood and oil mixed in a pool below her as the flames began to lick at her hooves. Flurry raised the pistol and shot the Changeling through the head, then tossed the weapon deeper into the forest with a flare of her horn. The spreading fire engulfed the body as she walked away.
The forest was quiet. Flurry took a breath. “Changelings of the Hegemony!” the alicorn called in Herzlander. Her voice echoed through the burning forest. “Your Queen sent you here to die!”
Flurry heaved deep breaths as she trotted forward on brisk hooves. Blood continued to drip from her nose. The trail widened as the mesh canopies above her grew more intricate. She risked a glance upward. The sky was dotted with fighters, but far, far fewer in number than before.
Music drifted through the trees as the trail ran west. Flurry galloped towards it until a forward camp solidified through the drifting smoke. The wind blew it into her muzzle.
Flurry slowed on approach, eyes squinting through the lingering clouds. The fire around her hooves had sputtered out from the grass and mud. It was a supply camp, lean-tos and wooden buildings surrounded by parked canvas trucks. Flurry licked her lips and counted the trucks.
At least a hundred, she guessed. Several dozen were covered in branches and additional camouflage. She looked to both sides, spotting several more wooden structures further to the north and south. The alicorn faced west, deep in the Duskwood, and completely alone.
Flurry’s horn glowed with the detection spell, but she cut the spell after a moment. The supply base looked quiet, abandoned in a mad rush. She trotted forward down the trail, following the drifting music. The Princess recognized the base of the tune; it was an old Sapphire Shores song, but redone with changeling instruments.
A few vehicles still had their engines running and doors left open. A crate of rifle ammunition was spilled onto the grass. Several large oil tankers were parked under heavy canvases and sheltered separately. Flurry peered under the trucks she passed, heading towards the wooden shacks.
They were several weeks old, at best. Tree stumps littered the camp. The Changelings were tactical in which trees they used for lumber; they cleared trails and left enough coverage so it wasn’t obvious where the supply point was from above. The buildings were squat and fairly simple, but a few gas generators hummed next to the larger bigger ones.
Flurry followed the song floating through the air. It repeated. She scanned over a truck full of spare uniforms; a piece of glass crunched under her hoof. Flurry nickered softly and wiped the pink fluid left behind on a patch of grass.
There was a small clearing in between several of the cabins. A table and gramophone sat in the middle, with several stools knocked aside. Scattered cards fluttered in the smoky wind.
“Please!” a voice cried in Equestrian. “Anypony!”
“Hello?” Flurry called out.
“P-please!” the voice stuttered. Flurry trotted forward, next to a lean-to and a tree. A mare had been chained to a stump to the west, across the clearing. She saw Flurry and wept with relief.
“Oh Princess!” the pegasus screamed. “Thank you! Thank you! Please, hurry!”
Flurry angled her helmet to the side. “Who are you? Where are the Changelings?”
“They fled!” the pegasus sobbed. “Oh, Sweet Celestia, please! My name is Windbreak! General Pagala kept me as a trophy!”
Flurry hummed. Her horn glowed and she sensed the weapons strewn about the camp, all discarded and laying on the forest floor, from pistols to rifles to machine guns and even recoilless rifles. She took a breath and focused. “Okay, hang on.”
A changeling began to sing on the spinning record.
“There is a house in New Canterlot; they call the Setting Sun…”
“Which way did they go?” Flurry called out.
The mare pointed a hoof west and wiggled her other hoof against a loose chain. “That way!”
Flurry’s horn glowed as she stepped into the clearing. She took a long-legged hop over a patch of disturbed earth. The mare smiled viciously and burst into green fire. The small mouse slipped through the chains and disappeared into the grass. A shield snapped around the alicorn at the same time.
Several recoilless rockets slammed into Flurry’s bubble shield. Buried mines detonated under the edges of the field, churning up the earth and raining clumps of dirt down onto the bubble. The alicorn stumbled forward into the table; it crunched against the bubble shield and the gramophone fell through, smoking and half melted. The voice warbled on the recording.
“…been the ruin of many a poor ‘ling…”
The record skipped and repeated.
“…the ruin…the ruin…the ruin…”
One of the cabins was blown apart by an errant rocket ricocheting off the bubble. The naked Changelings were arrayed in a half-circle to the west; teams dropped their disguises as parts of the forest or tree trunks and picked up the scattered weapons. Most laid prone and fired. Rifles, submachine guns, pistols, and heavy machine guns fired on the shield in a discordant symphony of noise.
The bullets sparked off in every direction, flying back into the trees, the trucks, the buildings. The true firepower came from the teams of two soldiers loading their shoulder-mounted recoilless rifles. One changeling sat on his flank as another loaded the rockets, keeping up a stream of steady fire upon the golden bubble.
Much of the incoming fire sparked off the shield, but the golden bubble rippled with blue arcs of electricity from direct hits. Flurry shook her head. Dust clouded the bubble and the surrounding area; the changelings fired at the golden glow in the center of the storm. More dirt and debris flew into the air from every hit.
Flurry ground her teeth at the hundreds of soldiers to the west. The alicorn could only see the flashes at the base of the trees. She stepped forward in the bubble, towards the crescent firing line. Officers screamed orders in Herzlander, muffled by the sounds of the explosions.
“You think this will stop me?” Flurry challenged. “Where is your Queen?”
Another round of rockets slammed into the shield. Flurry flinched as her horn throbbed. Blood dribbled down her nose in a steady stream as the shield reformed. Blue arcs of electricity throbbed across the bubble from the withering gunfire.
The Changelings began to fall back in staggered groups. Flurry laughed at them; her high-pitched, shrieking giggle amplified by the Royal Voice. “You can’t run far enough, little ‘lings.” She stepped up to the half-melted record as the voice skipped again.
“…Had I listened to the Queen…the Queen…the Queen…”
A Changeling braced the long tube of the recoilless rifle against his shoulders, sighting the alicorn ahead of him. Flurry took another step forward under her bubble shield. He closed his eyes and fired as his partner grabbed another rocket. The rocket slammed home directly in front of the alicorn’s muzzle.
The Princess stumbled back. Her horn throbbed in pain and blood oozed from her nose as the shield crackled under the constant pressure. She’d been casting spells all morning, intense spells that left her coat frothy and wings ragged. The tip of her pink horn was visibly burnt.
Flurry took a deep breath and tasted blood in the back of her throat. She remembered the Crystal Heart, how the bloody foam spilled over her mouth and the pain as her magic exhausted itself. The same sharp knife was in the base of her horn underneath the helmet.
Trucks pulled up along the western trail to evacuate the Heer soldiers. The other supply lines on the far side of the forest had been rushing equipment through all day to the Celestial Plain. Changelings climbed into the trucks with their scavenged equipment.
Flurry shook her head as another barrage slammed home, exploding directly against the shield instead of bouncing away. The bubble reformed as her horn glowed with golden fire, filling out from an elliptical shape back into a proper half-circle. Flurry bit her bloody lip and backed up, stepping over the gramophone with charred greaves.
“…Not to do…to do...to do…what I have done…”
Flurry snarled down at the gramophone as drops of blood spattered onto the leaves. Her shield flickered when another barrage hit home. She backed away and the shield moved with her slowly. Changelings saw the golden bubble move east.
She’d have to drop the shield to teleport. It would take an instant, but her horn was beginning to truly hurt as Magical Exhaustion set in. The shield sparked with bits of blue electricity; the arcs scorched across the ground as she stepped backwards.
An anti-tank round skipped off the back of her shield; it careened into one of the abandoned trucks and exploded. Bits of black cloth and pieces of Hegemony uniforms scattered across the supply depot. A second later, another hit home right against her flank. The enchanted tip nearly pierced the shield before the shell exploded in a green fireball.
Flurry screamed as the pain in her horn doubled. She turned around, staring through the dust and falling debris as four anti-tank guns rolled into position on the path she trotted up. She hadn’t burned the entire tree line. A few of the guns repositioned, falling back deeper into the forest. The crews moved low to the ground, errant shots from the other side flew near them.
A mortar exploded to her left, blasting apart the pine trees and peppering the area with wood shrapnel. Another mortal shell landed a moment later, slightly closer to her shield. Flurry stepped forward, moving back east and towards the anti-tank guns.
A tank crunched its way through the trees from another trail behind her. It moved slowly, wedging itself between trees and guided by a squad walking in front of it. It was one of the newer, sleek panzers that charged across the Celestial Plain.
I thought I destroyed all those, Flurry blinked. The panzer was wedged between two pines, having run a third over and the treads spun uselessly against the fallen log. The turret still rotated towards her and fired. The tank rocked back; the shell sparked off the shield with a roar and spun into another lean-to.
The Changelings in the trucks to the west noticed the alicorn backing away and left the evacuation, returning to the firing line with more explosives and grenades. They flung the stick grenades with their horns towards the distant alicorn. Most fell short. Heavy machine guns buzzed against the shield, ricocheting bullets in every direction.
Under the small shield, the constant stream of explosions and gunfire was deafening. Flurry blinked and looked around, squinting through the hail of metal. The panzer was to the north. The anti-tank guns were to the east. The line of rockets and small arms fired to the west. Another barrage of mortars slammed down, this time landing directly atop her shield. Flurry was in the center of a proper clearing now; the trees had been blasted away from the continuous gunfire.
Flurry snorted blood from her nose and ran south on stumbling hooves; the shield moved with her. She tried to gain momentum and slam through the trees, but her steps were sluggish. The alicorn shrank the shield down.
The Changelings stopped firing as she fled the clearing, then pursued with screamed orders. Flurry galloped deeper into the center of the Duskwood, though it was more an awkward shuffle than a true gallop. The shield wobbled under a stream of continuous fire by the pursuing Changelings.
Flurry pushed herself for several minutes; her horn felt like a knife ran through it. She nickered in pain and tumbled over an exposed tree root, shoving herself upright under another barrage of gunfire and shells. A green-eyed manticore panting pink foam shoved an anti-tank gun through the trees as the Heer chased her. More green flashes followed to the north.
The air was thick with smoke from the fires and debris from the attack. Flurry struggled to see through her crackling magic. She ran for several more minutes, trying to avoid the supply trails as half-tracks sprayed continuous streams of bullets from their turrets as the mechanized Heer ran her down.
Just as the incoming fire slowed enough for Flurry to risk a teleport, a wall of muzzle flashes erupted in front of her. The surrounding trees were shattered by the hail of shells. Flurry’s shield took several direct hits and she screamed again.
Flurry ran directly into another supply depot. Radios, she thought numbly. Price said the shield makes a great target. She laughed and tasted blood.
Rockets slammed into the shield from the west, then the north, and shells fired from the east. More tanks appeared from the far east, redirected towards her position and firing blindly at the small golden bubble. The shells blasted through the woods around her, whatever was left.
Flurry was soon standing still in another clearing of churned dirt and fire. The shield shrank around her again; the top of the bubble was just above the tip of her horn. Flurry swayed on her hooves and picked a direction: back east, back towards the Celestial Plain and reinforcements. She forced her hooves to move.
Flurry made it two steps before the mortars crashed down on her again. She gasped and fell to her knees as her horn burned. The shield shrank down and vibrated with blue arcs of flame. The Princess forced herself back up to her hooves, bending her head forward to avoid brushing against the top of the shield.
She managed another step east. Three tank shells fired from the north and hit the base of her shield. Flurry fell to her knees and the shield stabilized, now too small for her to stand.
Flurry took a deep, shuddering breath and coughed. Her shield was under a continuous hail of explosions now. Blue jets of flame extended from the bubble as it continued to shrink down. It was no longer a proper sphere; the magic twisted, deforming underneath the blasts before snapping back into place for the briefest moments then coiling again. It took all her focus to keep pouring magic into it.
Flurry was forced down to her side after several minutes. The shield continued to shrink. The alicorn was literally pressed deeper into a shallow crater from the hail of incoming fire. Her hooves curled against her barrel to avoid touching the edges of the wild magic. It took every last bit of concentration she had to hold onto the spell. Her helmet fell to the ground as she gasped for breath.
The shield vibrated around her, deforming with the kinetic energy of the spell and a constant stream of incoming shells. Her entire horn burned black; liquid fire poured from the tip onto the ground above her muzzle, mixing with the blood streaming from her nose.
Mom died like this. The thought made Flurry weep. Her eyes hurt; she felt blood collect with the tears. Not like this. I can’t die like this.
“STOP!” Flurry screamed out as her voice broke into wet rattles. “STOP! P-PLEASE!”
Surprisingly, the incoming fire stopped. Flurry struggled to lift her head from the ground, and failed. She looked around across the blasted field as the dust settled and smoke poured from the sky. Her shield crackled, barely holding itself together after many long minutes. Her horn tip nearly touched the edge, even as she curled against herself.
Flurry brushed her unarmored jaw against the broken earth as she turned her head. She was surrounded in every direction. Tanks to the east and south. Anti-tank guns and teams with recoilless rifles to the north and west. Trucks and half-tracks arrived from behind with more ammunition for the encirclement.
Music drifted from a loudspeaker installed onto one of the sleek black tanks. Flurry realized it was the same song from the camp, the awful Sapphire Shores cover. The jaunty polka hummed with latent static as the song replayed from the speaker.
"I was young and dumb..."
The Heer of the Changeling Hegemony surrounded the last Princess of Ponies on Equus. Changelings stared at her, but she couldn’t make out their expressions. Her eyes were blurry and they were too far away.
“I…I surrender,” Flurry called out weakly. She swallowed and scraped blood off her tongue as her horn throbbed above her. It burned with golden fire. “Please…”
There was a long, heavy moment where only the song played on.
A shell crashed into her shield. The explosions rained down on her again as the Hegemony moved to finish her off. Flurry breathed shallowly on the ground. Her wings didn’t even move from her soft inhales. The alicorn’s charred-black horn sputtered. She thought about the Crystal Heart to the north, about the pain, about her mother and father and what a disappointment she was to everypony. She let the despair fill her and sobbed.
More trucks arrived. One of the green-eyed manticores seized in the middle of carrying a pack of shells; pink foam dribbled from his mouth as he flailed on the ground. Several of the nearby soldiers downed pink vials to continue loading the anti-tank guns with frantic hooves. Eyes wide and snarling, their shots were inaccurate and careened around the field.
Atop one of the sleek panzers, an officer directed fire with his binoculars, shouting to a radiomare next to him. His black, high-ridged cap made him a general at the very least. He pointed a wild hoof around the encirclement, barking commands between his fangs at the mare below the turret. The shield in the center of the clearing was now a wild, rolling mass of magic; it held no consistent shape, flaring around the dying pony like a golden candle.
For one impossible moment, the Changeling officer locked eyes with the Princess in the center of the field. He saw the tears in her eyes and licked his fangs at the emotions rolling off the alicorn in the middle of the storm of steel. He smiled underneath his binoculars.
From the ground, Flurry Heart smiled back with bloody teeth. She lifted her head up and let the tip of her horn touch the straining shield above. Blue fire arced across the surface as the barely contained spell flexed one final time.
It burst with the sound of a soap bubble.
He did not have time to frown.
Synovial leaned against the large map table, dark purple eyes scanning over the terrain and figures. His horn glowed as he made a minor adjustment to his fez; it was the only non-standard part of his Hive Marshal uniform. The long, flowing black coat with popped collar and bright lapel worked well with it, he believed. The proud silver trident was emblazoned with a dark red, the same color as his fez.
“How much more can we shift to the north?” Synovial asked aloud. His Herzlander was a pleasant drawl.
“We’ve already brought out the 23rd and 24th Strike Divisions,” one of his adjutants replied. Synovial did not remember her name, nor did he care to learn it. The Hive Marshal nodded.
“Good. Add the 25th to them. I want-”
“Sir,” another changeling interrupted. He smoothed a hoof over a close-cut black shirt and frowned around his fangs. “Dispatch from General Elvir.”
“Has he cornered the filly?” Synovial spared a quick glance at the Duskwood. “Once she’s finished, strike the Celestial Plain. They’ve left themselves exposed.”
The messenger licked his fangs. “She’s trying to surrender, sir. She’s encircled.” He tapped a hoof on the forest.
The small, two-story cottage west of the Duskwood Forest quieted. It was once part of some tiny pony village, but the Commissariat had relocated the population to one of the major factory hubs years ago. The village still served its purpose well; it was close enough to command the battle, but far enough away from the bombers.
Changelings pulled their headsets off and nudged each other away from their radios and messages. Synovial’s ears twitched at the sounds of his commanders reporting in from exposed earpieces. He savored the room with a rare smile, then propped himself up with a hoof. “Repeat that?”
“She’s begging,” the younger messenger clarified. “The General is waiting for your response.”
“Kill her,” Synovial said bluntly, “then move to the plain.”
“The Queen wants her alive,” the blue-armored Queen’s Guard interjected from his corner in an angry tone. Synovial did not know his name, either, and he especially did not care to learn it.
“My cousin can take it up with me once the battle’s won,” Synovial responded dryly. “I am not devoting resources to dragging her off the field. She’ll have to be content with the alicorn’s corpse.”
The messenger nodded and the chatter from the radios resumed. Synovial spared once last look at the Duskwood. Begging? he laughed to himself with a clack of his fangs. Pathetic, but typical. He returned his focus to the north.
Several minutes later, he called out, “Is she dead yet?”
“Diverted more shells to them, Hive Marshal,” the original messenger answered, sticking his head up from the radio. “Shield’s up, but she’s no longer moving.”
Synovial scoffed. “Break the shield and smear her into paste.”
The changeling nodded and lowered his head. After a second, he poked his head back up. “The General says she’s crying,” he added with smirking fangs.
Synovial gave a rare smile, and an even rarer chuckle. “Tell Elvir I’ll buy him a drink. What’s your name?”
“Keldren, sir.”
“You’re welcome to join us,” Synovial promised.
Keldren buzzed his wings and sat down again joyfully.
I just made your career, Synovial smirked. An eye lazily scanned the forest.
There were a lot of small figures on it, from the reserves, to the support units sheltering from the air attack, to the trucks and supply lines diverted towards the encircled Princess. He traced her progress with purple eyes, watching how she had fled one supply camp and traveled further into the Duskwood, deeper into the center of the forest. She was utterly cut-off and far away from any reinforcements.
Synovial clicked his fangs at the units pulled off from the Celestial Plain, including General Elvir’s armored brigade and what was left of the entrenched guns. The Hive Marshal saw how the aborted retreat and ambush turned into a mad dash to chase her down and corner her, and how several supply lines converged around her position. She couldn’t have picked a worse spot.
A memory came to him: A sobbing, ten-year-old filly approached her mother, wanting nothing more than to go home. She was utterly wretched and pathetic with an inhibitor ring on her horn, and her emotions burned bright in the Aquileian Parliament. Her muzzle even trailed snot as her mother pulled her into a hug, and the filly’s sharp horn tucked under her taller mother’s muzzle…
“No,” Synovial gasped aloud. He placed his hooves on the map and leaned over it with buzzing wings. His eyes swept over the figures in the forest, remembering how her large wings curled around her mother’s legs to hold her in place, how pathetic she neighed snottily, and then the rush of blood as the horn tip rammed upward.
“C-can we go home now, Mom?”
“No!” the Hive Marshal screeched.
The other changelings in the room twisted around to see him heaving atop the table. Synovial locked eyes with Keldren. “Get them out!” he screamed. “Pull them back!”
The changeling removed an earpiece. “Sir?” he asked in complete bewilderment.
“Tell Elvir to fall-”
A bright light flashed through the cottage windows to the east. There was a sound, a soft pop that somehow echoed like a thunderclap. The golden flash faded in an instant.
And then the wave hit. A sheer wall of magic, the concussive shockwave from a spell, slammed into the cottage. The windows shattered. Changelings and their equipment were thrown against the west wall with enough force to crack chitin. Synovial was blown back from his table, flung through the window behind him before he could even buzz his wings.
He landed several meters away, rolling to a stop along a cracked, overgrown cobblestone street. For several moments, he thought he was dead. But then the pain registered and he heaved himself upright.
His fez was missing, and his sleek jacket smoked with blue embers. Synovial coughed and felt a chipped fang with his forked tongue. He coughed again as he staggered back to his command center.
The old wooden door had been blasted off by a flung changeling, and Synovial was reminded of the Canterlot Wedding as he stared blankly at the village. His entire command staff had been thrown clear from their positions, all except Keldren and the Queen’s Guard. Radio equipment had pinned them to the wall, and the large pool of blood spreading underneath them indicated they were dead.
Synovial limped through the puddle and exited out the annihilated front door. He gazed east, then collapsed onto his knees. Some ‘ling rushed forward in burning coat, shouting something, but he didn’t hear them. The Hive Marshal only stared; his proud lapel frayed off the top of his coat collar, smoldering into ash.
Chrysalis, the Queen of the Changelings and Empress of Equus, chose the trophies along her left wall first. Her long, holed legs stalked over to the shelf, and her gnarled horn glowed with gentle green light as she pulled the curtain back. Chrysalis smiled with sharp fangs at the four crowns, then raised her wine glass and took a small sip.
“This is excellent,” she said to the wine glass. “Where was this gathered, again?”
“Bales, my Queen,” Vaspier Orn Kladisium answered. The yellow-eyed changeling pulled his coat closed, shivering slightly from the cold wind blowing in from the balcony.
Chrysalis, completely naked in her suite atop her tower, waved a wide gossamer wing to the roaring fireplace. “I won’t tolerate you falling ill,” she warned.
“I don’t intend to stay long, my Queen,” Vaspier assured her. “The initial reports were correct. The Reich is weak, and the Riverlands will seize the opportunity. After we win.”
“Do I detect doubt, Vaspier?” Chrysalis said mockingly. “They are led by a cub and filly. How goes my agents?”
Vaspier sighed, probably from the chill. “The dogs watch Grover too closely, and I have agents near the pony camp.” He hesitated. “This would be easier if-”
“I want her alive,” Chrysalis interrupted with a sudden frown. She turned away from the black crowns and glared down at Vaspier. “She doesn’t get to die easily.”
“The Alicorn of Death is already reckless,” Vaspier answered, using the name his agents spread through the Changeling Lands and hopefully beyond. “There is a high chance she’ll die in the field.”
“I want her alive,” Chrysalis repeated. “I have said it twice. There will not be a third time.”
“As you say, my Queen,” Vaspier bowed.
“You missed your chance with Starlight Glimmer,” Chrysalis hissed the name, “and Trixie Lulamoon and Thorax.” The last name was an open snarl. “If you cannot take her alive, say so. I have let you try for years with no result.”
“I can do it,” Vaspier promised.
Chrysalis licked her fangs as she judged his honesty, then buzzed a wing in dismissal. “Leave. I await my reports from the front.”
The spymaster trotted out hurriedly. Once he was gone and the Queen’s Guard shut the doors behind him, Chrysalis turned to the only other occupant in the room. She took another sip from her wine glass.
“Where are you from, again?” Chrysalis asked the maid. The small changeling was in a black uniform with white frills. She did not look up at her Queen.
“Soryth, my Queen,” the maid answered.
Chrysalis hummed. “Who ruled that one again?” she asked languidly.
“You do, my Queen,” the maid said quietly. “You always have.”
“Good answer,” Chrysalis complimented her, “but I believe it was Yaria, was it not?”
“I don’t know that name, my Queen,” the maid said in Herzlander.
Chrysalis replied in the old tongue. “You’ll go far in my service.”
The maid did not reply.
“Oh, you’ll go very far,” Chrysalis laughed. She waved a hoof at the black crowns. “The one to the far left was hers,” she said in Herzlander. “You may dust it off first, if you wish.”
Chrysalis left the maid and stalked to the trophies on her right wall, namely the line of armor stands and one obsidian stool. The fireplace crackled. Chrysalis stopped between a set of purple crystal barding and a set of gilded Royal Guard armor. Crowns rested on shelves above them, two crystal, two gold, and one silver.
“I hear your daughter has armor,” Chrysalis spoke aloud to the stallion’s set of armor. “I’ll be sure to put it between you.” She turned to the purple barding. “And if you’re lucky, dear Cadenza, I’ll even put you together in cocoons. Was it worth it? Dying for them?”
She looked up to the crowns. There was an empty spot above the obsidian stool. “Her crowns aren’t very nice,” she admitted, “but I do like to complete a collection.” She walked along the row, passing Twilight Sparkle’s absurd coronation dress, then Celestia and Luna’s carcanets. They were spares, but the silver and gold gleamed in the light from the fireplace, polished to a shine.
Chrysalis walked to her open balcony and let the wind blow through her wavy green mane. Her slit eyes danced with delight as she took another sip of the love-infused wine. It truly does taste better, nothing like that synthetic stuff Marsilio attempted. Some griffons believed that suffering tempers the soul, but it apparently applied to love and wine as well.
Vesalipolis, the beating heart of the Changeling Hegemony, stretched out before her tall tower. The factories hummed and sang. Tall black spires, none as tall as her tower, stretched into the sky as changeling buzzed from balconies and worked. The streets below were filled with cars, including many luxury Equestrian models. Chrysalis’ bright green slits skipped over the ration lines and closed-down buildings near downtown.
The large Pink Tumor to the north was still an eyesore, but the Crystal Heart had always been a fickle thing. Once the war in the south was resolved, her Heer could deal with it. It wouldn’t matter. After today, everything would work out.
“This is going to be perfect,” the Queen sighed to herself.
A flash lit up the eastern horizon, just for a moment. Chrysalis blinked at it, and took another sip of her wine glass. Her wings buzzed as she waited to see if it would repeat.
The wind usually blew from the north, but a gale struck the balcony to the east. It was not a strong wind, but the Queen extended her tongue and tasted the magic in the air. She hissed at a blue mote dancing before her muzzle and it faded with a small pop.
The Queen gazed east, then laughed high and loud. She strode back into the suite and lowered herself onto the couch. Chrysalis rested the stem of the wine glass in a holed hoof while she lifted the phone to her ear with a glowing horn.
“I wish to have Project Gotterdammerung reactivated,” she drawled in silky Herzlander. “All available resources.”
“It will be done, my Queen,” the changeling on the other line assured her.
“And execute the ‘ling that ordered it mothballed,” Chrysalis ordered, fully aware that she was the one that gave the command years ago.
“Yes, my Queen,” the changeling replied with absolute faith.
Chrysalis hung up the phone. I wonder who they’ll execute, she snorted. Doesn’t matter. She looked over her shoulder at the maid, who was gently dusting the black crowns off. The little ‘ling was saving Yaria’s crown for last.
Oh, you’ll go very far with me, Chrysalis thought and picked the wine glass up. She strode back to the two armor sets and stood between them. She studied both of them for a moment.
“I suppose I should have seen this coming,” Chrysalis said lightly. “The two of you were the only ones to wear proper armor, useless as it was.” Her eyes drifted to the crowns above. “If any of you fought like her, our war would’ve been so much more fun.”
Chrysalis finally looked down at the obsidian stool, and her oddest trophy. No changeling ever questioned it, though many looked. Even the maids seemed to be befuddled, though the Queen did not care for their opinions, nor for any of them.
A weather-beaten snail toy sat atop the obsidian stool. A button was missing from an eye and the remaining button was hanging on by a thread. It was once orange with a green shell, though age and wear had dulled its colors.
Chrysalis turned to the purple barding. “I was saving this for her,” she said to it, “but it seems your daughter has outgrown such things.” She set the wine glass down, resting the stem in a hole in her right hoof.
The snail was seized in a green aura and tossed into the roaring fireplace. Chrysalis followed it after taking the glass again in her magic. The Queen watched the stuffing ignite with a fanged smirk, then raised the glass and drained it dry.
Her tongue ran over the bump of scar tissue in her bottom palate. Chrysalis scowled, losing her smile, and glared at the burning snail. The one remaining button glowed in the firelight, taunting her. Only one of us gets to be Queen of the Ashes, filly.
There was a crunch of glass. Chrysalis turned to her floating wine glass, now a condensed ball of shards vibrating in her magic. She let them drop to the floor.
“Clean this up,” the Queen ordered to the maid.
Two dozen deer gathered in a secluded shack in the Olenian Mountains. They were high-up, isolated, and it snowed at all times of the year. The Changelings, although they lived in northwestern Equus, never handled the cold too well, and that made the range perfect to strike from.
A deer in a heavy fur-lined coat pushed open the door and slammed it closed. He was a stag, though his antlers had been sliced short to hide his silhouette. A scoped rifle bounced against his right flank. He stopped, letting the Seers stare into his eyes, then the twins nodded and let him past.
The stag approached the faint fire and knelt. “My Queen,” he intoned.
Velvet Jelzek, the rightful Queen of Olenia, was swaddled in bundled cloth. She looked very frail, though her blue horns still stuck out proudly above her short muzzle. Blue eyes reflected the dying flames.
“Tell me what you saw,” Velvet ordered. Despite her frail frame, her voice was still strong.
“A cloud followed the flash over the Equestrian Heartland,” the stag reported. “It’s too far away to make out more.”
Velvet twisted her antlers to the stolen Changeling radio. “Can we see it from here?”
“Barely,” the stag answered.
Velvet raised her forelegs up to him. “I would like to see.”
The stag hesitated, then shuffled around so that his Queen could wrap her hooves around his neck. Another doe moved to help her, but Velvet quelled her with a look. She pulled herself onto his back.
When the stag stood, several of the furs slid off Queen Velvet, exposing her lean hind legs and how they dangled uselessly below a long scar across her spine. The doe replaced the blankets without argument and Velvet clutched them around her forehooves.
The stag slowly exited the shelter and trotted a short distance, stopping on a plateau. They could see to the east, though the wind blocked most of their sight. Vanhoover was somewhere across the Olenian Peninsula, and the Equestrian Heartland stretched beyond it.
Velvet’s eyes tracked the sky. Blue embers blew against the mountain. She rested her muzzle beside the stag's antlers.
“It could be a bomb,” he offered.
“It is not, Rudolph,” Velvet replied with absolute certainty.
They watched in silence for another moment.
“Do you remember that old Seer’s prophecy?” the Queen asked suddenly.
“Which one?” Rudolph asked back. “That’s distressingly vague, my Queen.”
Velvet laughed daintily. “I believe it was Nimue.”
Rudolph wracked his memory. “Is that the one that declared a Time of Turnips?”
“Yes,” Velvet agreed. “She was Discord-touched. Died prancing naked atop a mountainside after eating some mushrooms.”
Rudolph glanced worriedly at the falling snow. “I don’t understand.”
“She had other prophecies,” Velvet explained in a slow voice. “I remember one: ‘A child will be born of the elder blood, and then comes the time of the axe and sword. A seed shall sprout fire and engulf the world.’ I always thought it was about Celestia.”
“It is about Celestia,” Rudolph answered. “She could’ve mentioned panzers instead of axes, you know.”
“Celestia was not born an alicorn,” Velvet whispered, eyes still looking east. “The Changelings have pulled most of their garrisons, yes?”
“Yes,” Rudolph confirmed.
“What about my brother’s collaborators in Hjortland?”
“Diminished.”
The stag and doe gazed over their mauled and mangled home, then at the cloud to the east. “It is time,” Queen Velvet announced. “I will need to travel.”
Second Wind flashed down the hallway, hooves kicking off a window pane depicting Chrysalis leading some armored victory that never occurred. The tan pegasus heaved his wings, having discarded his rifle and even uniform for speed.
The Queen’s Guard taking cover below him were too busy firing at the guards storming their positions. Canterlot Castle was never built for prolonged siege warfare; the hallways were too wide and had little cover.
But the same applied for the Canterlot Guard. They had cleared the east wing and center, but not the west. The Queen’s Guard had contested every room and every hallway, trying to buy time.
Second Wind rounded the corner, following the instructions Jachs had shouted at him. It was another plain hallway with windows facing the west so that the setting sun could pour through. The doors were all nondescript, plain wood.
Guest quarters.
Second Wind would have believed he missed a turn, if not for the cowering changelings in white coats backing away from a random interior door. Lacin Cardo, the Lord Commander of the Queen’s Guard and resplendent in polished blue heavy plate, kicked open the door with an armored hoof. He leveraged an assault rifle between his hooves, aiming into the room.
Second Wind had no armor, no uniform, and only a knife gripped in his muzzle. But he did have two wings. He pumped them as hard as he could, and crashed into the Lord Commander’s back just as he pulled the trigger.
The bullets sprayed up the hallway wall wildly, and Cardo fired until the gun ran dry, struggling with the pegasus on his back as Second Wind tried to stab the knife down. It glanced off the blue helmet with squeals of clashing metal.
Lacin dropped the gun and seized Second Wind’s forelegs. Rearing up onto his hind legs, the Lord Commander slammed himself against the doorframe. Second Wind whinnied as he felt his wing snap; the knife fell from his mouth.
Cardo heaved and flipped the pegasus into the hallway. He spat blood onto the floor. One of the glancing blows had carved into his fanged muzzle.
“Traitor!” the Lord Commander hissed. “You think this changes anything!? You think you’re going to save her!?”
Second Wind coughed and rolled to his hooves, but Lacin slammed an armored hoof into his barrel and pinned him against the side of the doorframe. The sounds of gunfire grew closer, only a hallway away. Whinnies and screeches melded together.
Second Wind blinked tears of pain from his eyes and looked at one of the changelings in a white coat. She stayed still on the floor, eyes averted. He tried to push the hoof off, but Cardo was stronger.
The Lord Commander tilted his head at the encroaching gunfire. “You’re years too late, pony,” he said mockingly. The horn atop his head glowed as he pulled a stick grenade free from his flank. “You should’ve done this before.”
“I wanted to,” Second Wind spat up into the changeling’s muzzle. “I’ve regretted it every day.”
“Regret no longer,” Cardo quipped and pulled the pin. “Long live the Queen.”
A light flashed in the windows behind them, and a wave of magic crashed through the hallway a moment later. It blew out the stained glass, and Second Wind saw a dozen Queen Chrysalises shatter against the floor in a flurry of blue sparks. Lacin stumbled and the pegasus pulled himself free; the grenade hovered in the doorframe.
Time seemed to slow. Second Wind reached out his good wing as he reared up, snatching the live grenade from the flailing green aura. He pulled with all the strength he had, and the grenade tore free from the disoriented Lord Commander’s grip.
The pegasus planted his forehooves against the Lord Commander’s shoulders, blocking the open door with his own body. He shoved the live grenade under Lacin’s exposed muzzle with his wing, holding it in place. Lacin recovered and tried to pull back, but it was too late.
“Long live the Princess,” Second Wind spat at him.
The grenade went off between them.
Sunset Shimmer fell onto her knees. Blood trickled down her muzzle, and she tasted metal in the back of her throat. The others in the Mages were worse off. Some had already collapsed.
We can’t keep doing this, she thought sluggishly.
A flash of light to the west blinded her. As she blinked her eyes, Sunset thought she saw white wings descending from the sun. She almost wept.
And then her vision cleared, and Sunset realized she was facing the wrong direction.
She stared west with the other unicorns. Her horn tip was charred black. A blue ember drifted in the wind, landing atop her horn. After a moment, Sunset spat blood into the grass.
I will not be outdone by a filly, especially not Cadance’s filly. She shoved herself back up and her horn blazed. “We’re still in this fight!” she screamed at her unicorns. “Lock horns and pool together! Let’s go!”
Spike’s claw was the only thing keeping Barrel Roller alive. Both of them knew it. Blood seeped between the talons.
“You have to take command,” Barrel coughed. The nub of his ear twitched.
“Stop talking,” Spike growled. The dragon leaned against the burning half-track, treads ruined and armor blown apart. Gunfire sped around them as the Changeling assault nearly overran the road.
“Lime’s hit,” Barrel gasped. “It has to be you.”
“Stop. Talking.”
Barrel Roller turned unfocused orange eyes to his right foreleg. Unlike all the other ELF leaders, he wore the Imperial Snowflake. The purple band was flecked with his own blood.
“She needs you,” he coughed.
A flash of light lit the west. It was blocked by the winding road, but the flash was so bright that it could be seen around the mountain. A pop echoed, then the rush of magic was unmistakable. Spike flinched as blue crackles of flames impacted his scales.
Barrel laughed. It turned into a choke. “Go.”
The gunfire stalled, even the artillery and anti-air guns. Spike stared up at the sky. “You need a medic,” he finally said.
“Go now,” Barrel answered. “Break them.”
Spike took his bloody claw off the wound, then climbed atop the half-track. Uncaring and unhurt by the fires, the dragon tore the heavy machine gun free and wrapped the ammo belt around an arm. The gun buzzed under a roar.
Barrel gazed up at the sky with dim orange eyes. The pegasus watched the dancing sparks. He smiled as he died.
“You are praying at the wrong time,” Moonspeaker Meztli cackled.
“So are you,” Tlatoani Light Narrative replied. He was wearing his bandana and eyepatch, and his wooden leg rested to his side, detached from the stump.
Meztli waved a scabby wing in front of her blind eyes. Her grandson led her beside Light Narrative. “It’s always night to me,” she laughed. “Who are you praying to? The Moon, the Princess, or the Nightmare?”
“Whoever will listen,” Light responded. “You heard the radio.”
“Hope will fight,” Meztli declared. “Perhaps she will die. No prayers we can say will change that. It is up to the Tzinacatl with her.”
“And the other ponies,” Light added.
“We’re the best fighters,” Meztli boasted. She knelt with Light Narrative in the center of the mosaic moon while the guards watched. Her knees popped from the effort. Her grandson fluttered away and waited patiently.
“He doesn’t even remember his mother,” Meztli said quietly, near a whisper.
“Your daughter was a fine Thestral,” Light Narrative replied.
“She was a bitch that never sent birthday gifts,” Meztli snorted.
“It seems to run in the family,” Light responded with a small smirk.
The Moonspeaker smiled with more gums than teeth. She bowed her head and prayed. Minutes passed in silence, then a wind blew down from the opening in the top of the cave.
Light Narrative frowned and looked up at the small blue sparks falling in the shaft of light.
“My daughter is a stronger god than any Nightmare,” Meztli said softly. “I hear the birds are pushing to cut off the south. You should summon the Conclave; Hope will have need of our warbands soon.” She extended a wing and caught a blue cinder on it.
Meztli smirked to Light Narrative with blind eyes. “Hope burns, Tlatoani.”
Dragon Lord Ember stared at the small blue flicker in her left claw. Her right held the Bloodstone Scepter, the purple staff and glowing red gem that made her Dragon Lord. She looked back to the north, across the narrow strait that separated the Dragon Isles from southeast Equestria.
“Dragon Lord?” Smolder asked. The slim orange dragon took a step out to the volcano’s edge. “Did you hear me?”
“The Changeling submarine fleet has retreated from Appleoosa,” Ember repeated. “I heard you. It’s not as if we have anything to trade.” The blue dragon stared out over her desolate island. She scuffed a claw on her armor and the blue spark faded.
It’s not as if armor helped Dad, she snorted. And then she closed her eyes.
“Gallus is with the Kaiser?” she asked behind her.
“Yes,” Smolder answered quietly.
“And Thorax is with the Princess?”
“Yes.”
Ember turned and regarded the ash-clogged radio. The two dragons stood on the tallest peak of the Dragon Isles, and it was the only good place to get radio reception. She flexed her claw, still feeling the warmth of the magic.
Ember slammed the staff into the volcanic rock. The gem atop the scepter flashed a blood red, and the magic pulsed over the isles. From her position, she could see the elder dragons shift atop the other mountains.
Smolder’s scales began to glitter. “Dragon Lord?” she asked.
“We are dragons,” Ember said. “If the world is to burn, we join the fire. You have armor?” She turned around with a lashing tail to face the younger dragon.
Smolder nodded.
“Wear it.”
A blue ember drifted in from a dusty window. The noise of picks and heavy machinery drifted with the spark, and underneath all of it harsh commands barked in Herzlander echoed. The two siblings inside were used to the noise.
A pink earth pony stirred slightly on her foalhood bed. Her sister set a spoon down with patchy gray hooves, then held a hoof to her sister’s. The pink pony stilled after a moment, and her eyes returned to their far-away, distant look. Her sister patted her hoof gently, then resumed spooning the soup into her sister’s mouth.
An orange earth pony stared north, leaning heavily against a wooden balcony railing. Rows upon rows of apple trees stretched out before her, a near countless number to her, though the Changelings certainly knew how many. The same Changelings were rushing like scattered ants around the plantation, trying to head north and break some attack, but there were too few of them to make a difference.
She brushed her hat off her head and let her prematurely gray ponytail blow in the sudden wind. A blue cinder fell onto the wide brim, and the earth pony let it smolder for a moment before touching it with a hoof. She had felt that magic before, and sighed. The earth pony walked back into the empty manor to fetch another bourbon.
Deep within the Everfree, an unusually placid young hydra twisted its heads to the sky. Though most would call it a monster, the eyes were troubled and several mouths frowned before one turned back to a dark cave. It crooned softly.
A tattered yellow pegasus emerged with a wild pink mane. Her fur had grown out along her legs, and her tail was a long, rough swirl. Several dozen animals, from plain bears to Timberwolves to Cockatrices to an old, scabby rabbit followed her. The wild pegasus looked up through a gap in the thick canopy. After a moment, she sighed and returned to the cave.
Thorax set the knife down with a chittering sigh.
“I’m going to hold up a map,” he said to the VOPS agent, “and you’re going to mark the tunnel you used to get here. It will be the same tunnel your partner points to.”
The bound agent sobbed around the rag stuffed between his fangs.
Thorax held the map up to the left, so the agent could use his remaining eye to see the entire tunnel system below Canterhorn. “Use your fang,” Thorax advised. He pressed the map closer to the agent’s muzzle.
The VOPS agent angled his head downwards and tapped on a small, barely visible side tunnel. Thorax checked the map with a raised brow, then set the small paper down beside the knife. “If you’re lying…” he trailed off and pulled the rag out of the agent’s mouth.
“I’m not,” the Changeling sobbed. “I’m not. I swear it.” He turned his head over a bound wing to stare at his partner. “She’ll tell you. She’ll tell you.”
Thorax hummed with dual-tones. “Ocellus?” he asked behind him.
“I…” Ocellus paused. “I think he’s telling the truth.”
A flash to the west illuminated the canvas walls of the tent, then a loud, echoing pop. The rush of magic rippled the tent walls, and Thorax breathed deeply, tasting the sparks in the air. It was the same magic as the Crystalling that drew him to the Empire so long ago, and Thorax suddenly felt old. He still smiled.
Arex stuck her head into the tent. “Sir!”
“She’s alive,” Thorax answered before Arex could say anything.
“You still need to see this.”
Throax buzzed a wing in dismissal. “Ocellus, take the map to Price. Have him blow that tunnel.”
“You don’t want to check?” Ocellus asked, but lifted the map in her aura and tucked it into a purple jacket pocket.
Thorax picked up the knife in his magic and slid it between the ropes binding the VOPS agent’s chest. The changeling rattled a weak hiss, but died immediately. Thorax stood, crossing to the other agent bound on the floor.
She gaped at the body. “He…he told you what you wanted!”
“You know what the proudest day of my life was?” Thorax started as he stopped in front of her. “The day Shining Armor said that he trusted me around his daughter, and I knew he wasn’t lying.”
The changeling glanced over a wing, back at the body. “I think about that a lot,” he admitted, and turned back to the bound mare with hard eyes and sharp fangs. “Then, I think about Chrysalis shoving my niece into a cocoon and torturing her, while all the Queen’s good little ‘lings watch.”
Thorax considered the agent. Ocellus pushed the tent flap open and closed it in a flurry of blue cinders behind him.
“I’m not telling you anything,” the VOPS agent promised. Thorax selected a pipe wrench out of a rusty tool box taken from Nova Griffonia. It levitated above his head.
“That’s all right,” Thorax hissed calmly. “I believed him.”
Three ponies leaned against a balcony, staring southwards. One was a pearl unicorn mare with a woven purple mane, and the other two were crystal ponies in proud white and purple uniforms. The unicorn stared at the pink sky, watching the low clouds gather around the top of the shield while pegasi with goggles dispersed smog clouds.
The factories of the Crystal City, the largest city in the world, churned around the tall spire in the center. The city rang with the sounds of industry, but it did not mask the cracked crystal buildings and empty streets. The city was not rebuilding; trucks ambled along the cobblestones loaded with weapons and towed artillery. A truck with strange, heavy rockets parked below the balcony, and a changeling with a Stalliongrad accent ranted to a crowd below about their power. More were lining up along side streets.
The largest city in the world was geared for war.
Rarity sighed. The air inside the shield was warm for early spring; she could stand naked on the balcony. Governor Arctic Lily observed the unicorn’s deflating muzzle from her left.
“Do you not like the uniforms?” the Governor asked, jerking her head to the plaza.
“You designed them,” Colonel Heartsong stated to the unicorn’s other side.
“I did not wish to come here and make more uniforms,” Rarity said softly. “I am tired of war.”
“War is not tired with us,” Heartsong answered. Thousands of hooves beat the cobblestones underneath the balcony.
“When I came here, it was not to put foals in military uniforms,” Rarity snorted. “Orphans that have lost everything have no place on a frontline.”
“You could be describing the Princess,” Governor Lily said harshly.
“I am,” Rarity confirmed, “and I am describing this.” She jerked her horn out to the city. “She shouldn’t be fighting. Both of you know it.”
“Why?” Heartsong whickered. “Because the others did not?”
“Because Equestria was never led by the point of a horn,” Rarity stated.
A flash of light blinked on the southern horizon. The trio ceased arguing and stared at it.
A wave of magic hit the sparkling pink shield wall, and the surface flexed before erupting with blue and golden arcs of electricity. They spanned across the entire surface, stretching over the Crystal Empire from border to border, and horizon to horizon.
The sounds of hooves stopped abruptly as everypony watched. Rarity’s breath caught as she blinked at the coiling colors of magic rolling along the shield. It was beautiful, like a thousand candleflames that flickered across the northern lights. The sparks faded as suddenly as they came.
Heartsong smiled; his crystal coat glittered as red as a ruby around the purple collar. “She was our Princess before she was yours,” he said to the unicorn. “And she is from the Empire, not Equestria.”
“Your Princesses failed to save us from Sombra,” Arctic said from the unicorn’s other side. “Let us see if ours can save you from the Queen.”
“She’ll need help,” Heartsong added. He stared down into the plaza with Arctic Lily and the Element of Generosity.
Thirty thousand crystal ponies stood in rows in the large square. Their hooves beat a rhythm as they resumed drilling in white uniforms with purple armbands. Above the wrecked statue of Sir Spike, the Imperial Snowflake flew from a flagpole made out of a panzer turret tipped to the side. Other ponies in crystal armor stalked between the rows of new infantry.
“Who are we?” a voice called out.
“We are the Imperial Army.”
“Who do we serve?”
“We serve the Princess.”
“Who do we fight?”
“Our enemies are the enemies of the Princess.”
Rarity watched them, most as young as the Princess they proclaimed to follow. The unicorn shook her head. “There is more than one Princess,” she said softly.
“Not in the Empire,” Heartsong spoke. The two Imperials nodded together, then left the Equestrian on the balcony.
Queen Novo snapped her beak at her daughter. She whirled back onto the wide palatial balcony at the summit of Mount Aris. “I will hear no more of this,” the hippogriff vowed with clenched magenta eyes.
“I am heir,” Princess Skystar replied desperately. “Do my words mean nothing?” The younger tannish-gray hippogriff chased her mother. Claws and hooves echoed on the hard stone. The wind blew around the balcony, but neither hippogriff minded. They flexed their wings as they circled each other.
“You spend too much time with Silverstream,” the Queen dismissed. “Her empty head is filled with false promises. What did the School of Friendship accomplish for Equestria?”
“I will not let you march into Seaquestria,” Skystar answered. “They are our subjects.”
“They are rebelling!” Queen Novo snarled, “and you would have me coddle them! We are surrounded by enemies! Zarca eyes our outer islands, and the bats-” She cut herself off, lest she begin screaming at the Chiropterrans again.
“They’re scared,” Princess Skystar pleaded softly. “They just want to retreat below the sea again. We have to show them we still care, and not with soldiers.”
“And when war comes again?” Queen Novo sighed. “What then, daughter? Precious promises cannot stop bullets.”
“We reach out into the world,” Skystar replied, more confident than she felt.
Her mother laughed at her; her voice was lost in the wind. “Who? Would you ask the griffons that helped savage us? The minotaurs, driven back to their islands? Rivers hiding behind their forts?”
The Queen paced to the edge of the high balcony. “The Kirin and the Hindians glare at each other. The Stormlands ravage the south. Saddle Arabia still fights their civil wars. We have to rely on our own strength.”
“Our strength should not be spent on our own people,” Skystar said behind her mother. The smaller hippogriff stared over their island kingdom, only just beginning to recover from their earlier loss and facing a final blow.
“There is no one left, daughter,” Queen Novo sighed. “None will ever come for us.”
A gust of wind hit the high balcony, blowing from the north. A few faint blue sparks trickled along with it. Queen and Princess, mother and daughter, paused to watch them dance along the balcony's railing with ruffling wings.
“I will think about it,” Novo relented. “And you will trouble me no more with this.”
Princess Skystar stared north. She caught a feeble spark in a claw and felt the tingle of magic. It seemed familiar.
Gabriela Eagleclaw, Duchess of a much-diminished Strawberry Duchy, drank deeply from her wine glass. She spared a glance out the window, towards Griffenheim Square below the front gates to the palace. The Duchess turned her radio off with a claw; she was tired of the music.
“Well,” a male griffon drawled in a Romau accent, “I suspected I’d find you here.”
“And I thought you’d be praying,” Gabriela responded.
The Archon of Eyr, Erion XII, flared pale yellow wings underneath red vestments. He crossed the room and settled onto the plush chair opposite of Gabriela. “Oh, millions of Eyr’s faithful pray for the Kaiser. One more does no difference.”
“It’s telling you don’t pray,” Gabriela said blandly to her fellow regent.
“Who says I don’t?” Erion scoffed. “You? You are not praying either.”
The pink griffon looked away and sipped more wine.
“Perhaps you do pray,” Erion allowed. “If the Kaiser dies, you can hold the throne.”
“I am female,” Gabriela retorted. “I will never sit the throne, nor did I ever want to.”
“Well, the civil war you fought suggests otherwise.”
“Archon Eros nearly ruined the Reich!” Gabriela slapped a claw down. “All that piety and priests and temples.” She waved the claw to the window. “Look at what it cost! Do you think he would not have fought me?”
“I am sure he would have,” Erion agreed, “but he did not. You nearly tore us apart while our enemies circled like vultures. How does it feel for the Kaiser to never trust you again?”
“He doesn’t trust you either,” Gabriela countered.
“Nor should he,” Erion said flippantly. “But you are family. His last family.”
Gabriela returned to the window. “It would’ve never happened if I was regent. The old bird dropped dead too soon.”
“Or too late,” Erion shrugged. “Chaos is an updraft that carries even clipped wings to new heights.” He helped himself to an empty wine glass and poured from her bottle. The Archon poured a large amount, more than propriety would suggest appropriate.
“I seem to recall,” he said after a sip, “even you screeched that Grover was allowing too much with his reforms.”
“It was better than what happened afterwards.”
“Or did you just see a way to claw back some of your power with votes?” He chuckled. “Can you even imagine a Pan-Griffonian parliament? We would be beating each other to death with our senate seats within a few weeks. But a good way to restore noble privileges,” Erion hummed.
Gabriela said nothing.
A faint wind blew through the window, trailing two blue sparks no more than dots. Neither griffon noticed.
“Come,” Erion sighed. “We can at least toast Proteus’ death.”
“That’s treason,” Gabriela accused.
“Please,” Erion scoffed. “I spent years with him while you were in cushy house arrest. He would love to die in a Crusade.”
“This entire war was a mistake,” Gabriela sighed.
“It surprised me as well,” Erion agreed with a sloshing glass, “and it will be the Kaiser’s failure if we lose. There might be opportunity for one of us in that. Especially if Proteus dies.”
Gabriela begrudgingly clinked her glass to his. “I look forward to crushing you,” she said amicably.
“And I look forward to finally taking your head,” Erion said just as lightly.
Gabriela returned to the window. “But,” she said, “that relies on us losing.”
River Swirl leaned her head against her hooves. “We are not discussing this,” the Chancellor of the River Federation groaned pitifully. Her navy and white mane, usually naturally swirly, draped over her horn.
Director Arclight paced in front of her table. The light brown earth pony adjusted a cufflink on his suit. “A decisive strike can make it to Griffenheim within two weeks, long before any ship can return from Equus.”
“We have forts,” River Swirl said from the table. “We spent a great deal of money building those forts, and an army to guard them.”
“It is still sufficient to overtake the Reichsarmee’s defenses.”
“According to who?” River Swirl nickered. She twisted her horn to stare out the window to Rijekograd, the capital of the once River Republic and now River Federation. The Chancellor scuffed a hoof on the table. “I’m not trusting reports from King Diamondshield or Lake City.”
“The Bakaran navy reports that they can easily hit Wingbardian naval bases. And Beakolini says-”
“Do not,” River Swirl huffed, “tell me that the OHS believes his words. Or Vivienne’s.”
Arclight shrugged. “They’ll be useful puppets if it comes to it.”
“I’m not starting a war just before an election year. That gives Nova Whirl and her communists an opening.”
“There are ways to deal with that.”
“And I am not doing them, Arclight!” River Swirl snapped. “I have tolerated the OHS for many years, but we do not stoop to political assassinations!”
Arclight twisted an ear to listen to the guards outside. He nodded at the shuffling of hooves. “Stress is getting to you,” he said quietly. “Of course I would never suggest such a thing.”
“Don’t play games with me,” River Swirl spat. She braced her hooves on the table. “The Changelings burned the school I graduated from, and it was censored on your orders.”
“Fine,” Arclight shrugged. “The OHS will stop, and the River Federation will learn about all the horrors of the Changelings, all of which happened during your campaign to make an Equestria of the East in the Riverlands.” He flicked an ear. “As the Equestria of the West burned.”
River Swirl glared at Arclight, but said nothing.
“You are too fond of the Princesses,” Director Arclight sighed.
“They are useful symbols. For unity.”
“Speaking of unity,” Arclight changed the subject. “Lake City is protesting against the griffon refugees.”
“We can’t send them back; they won’t go back even if they wanted to.”
“At the very least,” Arclight said smoothly, “we should delay the citizenship process for the latest bunch. Nova Whirl is doing good work radicalizing them. She’s already winning over Bakara.”
“That still leaves me with more seats than her.”
“Half your supporters want a war,” Arclight warned.
A wind blew in from the open window, nothing more than a zephyr. A single blue spark trailed in and landed on the carpet. Neither the Chancellor nor the Director noticed.
“If the opportunity comes,” River Swirl sat back down behind her desk. “They will get one.”
Far east from where the three rivers met in Rijekograd, a series of elegant townhouses stood on the bank of a riverbend. Away from the bustle of any major city and industry center, it was a peaceful place. The river churned quietly with lapping waves. It was an unimportant fork in one of the major rivers; a true rarity in the developing River Federation.
Most of the townhouses had their windows open, facing the river and the west. Music drifted from several of the windows, but a two-story building amongst the dozen was quiet. The second-story window was open, slightly ajar with deep blue curtains.
The window led to a drawing room. A tasseled, velvet rug ran along a maple floor underneath the window, and a small fireplace, nothing more than a nook, glowed in the corner. It was only truly there for the ambience; the actual fireplace was downstairs.
Two sisters were in the room. The elder laid atop a wide plush couch with heavy cushions. She had folded her hooves underneath her. A book was propped up on the corner of the settee; the creased spine and dog-eared pages indicated that it had been read before. It was a tawdry romance set in the borderlands between the Reich and the Riverlands. The elder turned the pages with a golden aura from a white horn.
The younger sister sat before an easel and canvas. She was closer to the window, and a paintbrush hovered in a delicate cobalt aura that matched her dark blue coat. Several cups of varied paint rested on the windowsill next to the curtains. The younger added several delicate touches of paint.
The room was quiet, except for three sounds: the crackle of the lone log in the fireplace, the turning of a thin page, and the swoop of a paintbrush.
There was a radio on a set of cabinets, one of the newer models with a mahogany case. It was off. A slight layer of dust gathered on the knobs, having not been used for some time.
A series of newspapers rested beside the cabinets on the floor. There were two stacks. The papers on the bottom gathered dust and the pages had turned slightly yellow. The twine bundling them together was still attached.
There was no wind from the west, not truly. There was only the faintest possible ripple in one of the dark blue curtains. Most would never even notice it moved at all.
The paintbrush paused mid-streak. The younger stared at her painting for a long moment before ruffling her indigo feathers. Her horn glowed as she dipped the brush down into a cup on the windowsill.
A page turned. The elder blinked soft magenta eyes and found a new sentence. They moved along the words without stopping.
The paintbrush returned to the canvas with slow strokes. The strokes turned into dabs. The younger sat placidly before the canvas; her sparkling mane caught the light from the window and drank it in, moving like nightfall.
“She walks a dark path,” the elder suddenly said and broke the silence.
The paintbrush dabbed on the canvas.
“It is a path we’ve walked before,” the elder continued, “and it leads to nothing but ruin and heartache.”
The younger bobbed her horn. Perhaps in agreement. Or simple acknowledgement that the words were heard.
The paintbrush stroked the canvas, the log crackled, and a page rustled as it turned.
“I tried,” the elder said again. Her eyes did not leave the page. “I wrote to her for years. She never replied. Her father poisoned her mind. I should’ve never let him take her.”
The horn did not bob this time. The younger set her paintbrush down against an old cloth and grabbed a finer one. It dipped into a different shade of color. The swirls resumed, softly scratching across the canvas. Another page turned.
“I told them,” the elder said. Her voice did not waver. “I told them what would happen to their family, to our family. I begged-” she cut herself off suddenly as her eyes lost the sentence she was trying to read.
The younger lifted a glass of lemonade to her lips with her hooves and sipped. The clink of ice against the rim rippled through the room. Her swallow was even louder.
“There was nothing left to say,” the elder finished.
The younger finished as well and levitated the painting off the easel. She took a paintbrush in her mouth. The smaller sister carried it in her dark aura and crossed the drawing room, stepping around the settee and low table.
A paper and pen rested atop the coffee table; they had not moved for several days. The page was blank, and the ink had dried on the tip of the pen.
“Where are you going?” the elder asked. Her eyes finally looked up to track her younger sister.
“It needs to dry,” the younger said in a soft voice, slightly muffled by the brush.
“May I see it?” the elder requested.
The younger turned the painting around in her magic. It was a beautiful sunrise, shadowed by a tall mountain. The mountain was unfamiliar, as was the land that stretched around beyond it. The night sky receded around the corners of the painting as the dawn replaced it.
The elder returned to her book. “It is lovely.”
The painting bobbed with the younger’s horn. She left the drawing room, carrying the painting before her. Just before she crossed the doorframe, she dropped the paintbrush in the wastebasket beside the door. It fell atop a folded page.
“What was that?” the elder said. Her back was to the door; her flowing tail trailed over the other end of the couch.
“The hair is ruined,” the younger explained. “I have more.”
“We’ll go to the market soon,” the elder said. She did not hear a reply. Hooves left the rug and clopped against the maple floor.
“You’ll be back?” the elder asked suddenly, muzzle lifting from the book. The question was said casually, in an easy tone, as if not expecting an answer in case the recipient had already left.
In the doorway, the younger noticed the tightening of two primary feathers along her older sister’s right wing, and the subtle twitch of fur along her flank. The beaming sun seemed to tense with the muscles below it.
“Yes,” Luna promised. “I love you.”
“I love you,” Celestia said to her younger sister. Her muzzle lowered and a page turned. The hooves clopped against the wooden floor of the hallway until the sound faded.
The discarded paintbrush settled in the wastebasket, brushing against the folded letter.
The letter was abruptly seized in a golden aura and flung into the fireplace. It collided against the smoldering log with a muted impact and the paper ignited. The parchment burned quickly. Swirls of golden and blue sparks popped from the paper as the spell on the letter reacted to its destruction.
It was done after several seconds, and the ash joined the small pile underneath the grate in the fireplace. The waves lapped at the shoreline beyond the window. Celestia twisted her horn away from the fireplace and turned another page.
Her sudden movement had jostled the golden tiara atop her head. It bumped against her spiraled horn, and she nudged it back into place with a chime of magic. The alicorn turned another page afterwards.
Yesterday, Grover von Greifenstein stood before his war table, claws clasped under his beak as he leaned against it. The Reichstone’s gold glittered above his head, balanced perfectly on his tan feathers. The tips of light-brown primary feathers complemented the long, tailored coat that covered his dress shirt and pressed slacks. The coat was left open so the medal-laden orange sash drooped to the table underneath his chest.
Grover’s deep blue eyes, calm and collected, swept over the figures across the map and judged their positions. The wooden alicorn was not present on the table. It would be a distraction. The photographers dutifully took their pictures from a variety of angles, making sure to capture his folded wings and bobbing tail. The Kaiser of Griffonkind looked every part the image of his great ancestor.
A painting of Grover the Great had even been brought in from Griffenheim and hung across the hole in the tower wall. The photographers made sure to angle a few photographs so both Kaisers were in the frame. Grover the First and the Great was in the same position in the image; claws clasped under his large brown beak as he scanned across a proposed battlefield drawn on paper.
It was an imagining of the climactic battle against the Wingbardians. Grover the Great, clad in gray enchanted plate armor, scowled beneath fiery golden eyes, cheeks pulled into a frown next to his beak. He wore an iron crown. The Reichstone had not been made yet; he commissioned it afterwards with the announcement of the new capital of Griffenheim, deep in the Herzland of Griffonia. It became a symbol of his Reich, just as much as the Idol of Boreas.
Today, the painting was gone. It had been bundled back into its padded packaging and carried away by loyal dogs once the photographers departed. It would go back to Griffenheim to be rehung in the palace. Grover’s ancestor served his purpose; the newspapers in Griffonia would print his image beside his descendant across the front page tomorrow.
Kaiser Grover VI Leads His Armies to Victory!
And today, Grover VI knocked his crown over with a sharp elbow. The courier squawked in terror and caught it reflexively, diving forwards across the stone floor. Grover stared down at him with wild blue eyes.
“Forget about the crown!” he roared down into the courtier’s beak. The Kaiser flung the hastily written order at the beleaguered griffon. “Get this downstairs! Break off the 17th and 21st from Army Group South and cross at the river! Are the engineers there?”
“Y-yes!” the courier answered with a frazzled squawked. He gently set the crown to the floor and grabbed the folded note. “T-they l-landed-”
“Go!” Grover roared again. The courier turned tail and fled down the stairs.
The Kaiser took a deep breath and leaned his sweaty claws against the map again. His long coat and sash laid across a fallen chair; a lashing tail occasionally smacked against the medals hanging from the sash. A few had been knocked off. Grover did not notice.
Benito stepped forward from his position and carefully picked up the crown between his paws and rubbed a scuff mark off the gold with a paw pad. Grover glared down at the map and pushed two metal griffons across a river to the south. Ignatius is pushing forward south of the Duskwood. We can encircle the reserves.
Grover’s head snapped up and fixated on the wall of attendants beside the balcony. One of the female griffons in a simple dress flinched at the direct eye contact. “Get a report from Air Marshal Ebonbeak!” Grover snarled.
The griffon nodded rapidly and fled the room.
“You just got a report five minutes ago,” Benito remarked quietly as he set the Reichstone down on the edge of the table.
“I need another,” Grover muttered. “The Luftwaffe is exhausting itself. They have concentrated on the Duskwood.” He snapped his head back up and jabbed a claw at another attendant. “Where are the damn fuel trucks for Army Group North!?”
The griffon blinked.
“Go find out!” Grover spat at him.
The attendant’s wingpits were visibly staining his simple shirt, even with the chill in the tower. He raised a claw to his chest and paused before he left. “My Kai-”
Grover grabbed one of the discarded metal griffons along the map edge and flung it at him. “Go, Maar damn you!”
The griffon’s wings trembled at the profanity, or at the thought of being damned by the Kaiser of Griffonkind and the griffon chosen by the Gods. The attendant fled towards the balcony and leapt past two knights, taking the direct route down to the radio center. The two Aquileian unicorns in the room, one at the door and another beside the balcony, scuffed their hooves.
Benito bit his lip with a fang and looked around the room warily again. I should have never told him this was the Nightmare’s tower, Grover rolled his eyes and spared a side-eye at the knights along the large map on the wall. They think the very brick and mortar is cursed.
“I had the tower blessed; it is fine,” Grover said aloud to the dog. He grabbed a damp cloth and wiped his glasses, only smearing more sweat across the lenses. Grover sighed and grabbed an old report.
He used that instead, unhooking the frames from his feathers and taking them between two talons. Grover’s dress shirt was unbuttoned; the plain white undershirt beneath was soaked in sweat from his armpits to his wingpits. The Kaiser had kicked his dress shoes off hours ago; they landed somewhere in the line of knights. His bare paws flexed against the stone with a click of extending and retracting claws.
Grover squinted down at the map, adjusting the standing figurines with a careful claw. He was nearsighted; he could see it well enough this close, and the blurry knights standing at attention in the background were a distraction anyway.
The Kaiser slammed a griffon down just above Las Pegasus. The Hegemony had bolstered their forces to hit Canterlot with everything they had. Mudbeak and Army Group South had advanced with limited resistance and sliced across the south. In a few days, they would cut southern Equestria off from the north; the Appleoosan Protectorate and the hundreds of thousands of changelings inside would be forced to evacuate from Las Pegasus to the Olenian Peninsula or up to Vanhoover in eastern Equestria.
I’m winning.
His cheeks pulled into a smile as the griffon flapped sweat off his wings. After the initial push, the Luftwaffe was flagging. The Reich shot them down too quickly to replace. Griffons had always been better pilots, and now they proved it.
There were some difficulties. It pained him to admit it, but Flurry was right about Thundertail. The idiot advanced into the northern valleys and fell into an ambush as the Changelings brought out some new kind of tank. He at least had the decency to die with his overrun forward post.
Grover brushed two more little metal trucks forward to the north. He twisted his head to the blurry shapes along the wall. “I need a report! Where are the reserves for Army Group North?” He waited until one of the griffons ran down the stairs on all fours before turning back to the map.
“Duke Gerlach assumed command,” Benito reminded him quietly. The dog still stood beside the Reichstone to his left.
“I am aware,” Grover said absently. He hooked the glasses back onto his beak.
“Some of the Changeling bombers nearly reached the Everfree,” Benito continued.
“They were shot down by the Princess’ forces,” Grover dismissed, “and we have anti-air installed. It hasn't even fired yet.”
“Canterlot is burning,” Benito tapped a sharp claw on a sheet of paper. “They are clearly struggling to contain the breakout. If they breakout, they will be behind our lines.”
“It is burning,” Grover agreed. “She said she was willing to burn it to the ground.” He turned to the attendants and picked one with a claw. “Get an update from Mudbeak.” He’s not the fastest griffon. We have to cut the south off while we have momentum.
“The Princess is not with her army,” Benito added. He finally put a paw down on the wooden alicorn standing in a line of tanks before the Duskwood Forest. The tanks were far ahead of their supports, though the knight figures were right behind them.
Grover sighed. Ahead of schedule. “Our air support isn’t in place. Is Bronzetail holding?” he asked aloud.
No griffon answered him. He pointed a claw at another courier. “Go find out.”
The first courier returned through the door as the other tried to leave. The Aquileian’s horn flashed and magic brushed through his feathers. “Clear!” the mare announced in clipped Herzlander.
The courier rushed forward and bowed with a claw clasped to his chest. “Divisions are breaking off to cross the river. Bridges are in place.”
Grover waved him away with a claw, not even looking up from the map. He swallowed thickly, beak clacking. I can hear my heartbeat. The Kaiser almost laughed.
He was having fun.
Ancestors above, did you feel the same way? Grover II liked to fight at least, but his temper and disdain for the war table was legendary. His loss. For the first time since he folded his wings and landed on Equus, Grover was actually enjoying his war.
Another courier landed on the balcony. The knights held her at gunpoint until the unicorn announced she was clear. She bowed. “Knight-Captain Wavewing reports that she’s captured one of the new panzers, my Kaiser.”
“Good,” Grover scoffed. “Have her break off a squad and send it to the reserves. I want the engineers to study it.” Tear the damn thing apart. He clacked his beak at the map.
He expected the Changelings to try something; the Hegemony was predictably unpredictable and uniformly cruel. He himself had similarly used the Everfree to disguise the movements of his own tanks, but disposable armor designed to look like one of the weaker models was ingenious.
Not Synovial, Grover decided. Perhaps Vaspier’s plan. The panzers had slammed through Thundertail, but Grover had artillery in place to shell the valleys to halt any continued fallback. The Princess’ ragged force withheld a minor push along the northern face of Mount Canterhorn well-enough. At any rate, the call-ins from the field commanders indicated that there weren’t many of the new panzers; the old Changeling armor appeared after the initial spearheads were repulsed. The front was stabilizing to the north and holding. Air support to the north, then the Duskwood.
The casualty reports were littered across the cracked stone. Many griffons had died today, and many more would die over the coming days, but the Hegemony couldn’t compete with enchanted armor and the mechanized normal Reichsarmee. Grover glanced at the bound Friendship Journal holding one of the edges of the map down; the most recent casualty list from the field hospitals was atop it.
Starlight Glimmer may not have lived to see it, but the Equestrian Liberation Front broke the Hegemony’s back. It is up to us to shatter their fangs and finish the job.
A griffon burst through the stairwell door, halfway flapping his wings. One of the knights slammed the butt of his assault rile into the courier’s back and he tumbled to the floor. Benito drew his saber.
“Wait to be checked,” Grover commented without looking up from the map.
“My Kaiser,” the mustard-colored griffon coughed in apology from the floor. “Field Marshal Bronzetail is advancing to the north.”
Grover blinked and looked at the map. He’s still too far ahead of his supply lines. Wait, to the north? The metal changelings had pressed up against the Canterhorn north of the Celestial Plain. With Duke Gerlach in command and holding, that front had stalled.
The Kaiser traced a talon up to the large, vaguely elliptical line at the top of the map. We could pin them against the shield wall with a breakthrough. He shook his head, snapping back to the pile of metal changelings lumped across the large forest. The reserves in the Duskwood will hit our exposed flanks.
“Army Group Center holds at the Duskwood,” Grover announced. “Mop up the survivors from the plain.”
“He’s already moving, my Kaiser,” the griffon panted.
Grover tilted his head, then jabbed two talons towards the armored knights beneath the map of the world hanging next to the balcony. “Go down there with him and find out what in Boreas’ name is happening! Hold at the Duskwood!”
The knights clasped gauntlets to their chests and hauled the courier up. They dragged him down the stairs together. Grover returned to the map beneath his claws.
The little wooden alicorn stood above the line of tanks. Grover exhaled at it, and the figure wobbled. Volley fire like Grover the Great? This better not be her idea. They had broken through well-enough, but it was straining their reinforcements to keep up with the advance.
The two knights returned after a few minutes; they held their helmets in their claws and looked nervous. “Field Marshal Bronzetail is requesting the supply trucks be sent along the plain,” the one on the right said. “He’s moving north.”
“He’s exposing his entire flank to the Duskwood!” Grover snarled. He glared down at the map. The little wooden alicorn didn’t have any real features carved into it, just bumps that suggested wings and a lump atop the head that could be a horn. “Where’s the Princess?” Grover asked lowly.
The one on the left swallowed. “The Marshal said the Princess will deal with the forest.”
Grover stared blankly at them. His claws clenched the table and he inhaled to screech. At the last moment, he snapped his beak shut. “Thank you,” he ground out, “for your information.”
More couriers arrived after the knights walked back to their positions. Grover refocused and dealt with their information. He continued to adjust the battle plan atop the map. Benito and two attendants helped organize the reams of paper.
The command center below the tower was doubtlessly frantic with squawking radios and frenzied, inaccurate, or outdated information. The Reichsarmee was known for its bloated bureaucracy during his father’s reign. Thank you again, Eros, Grover thought as he pushed the little wooden alicorn out of the way and over the forest. By the time anything reached him, it was verified and accurate.
“My Kaiser!” a knight screeched from outside the balcony. He flapped up before the guards with flailing claws. “There’s a dragon above the Duskwood! It’s torching the west!”
Grover slammed a claw down on the southern edge of the map, atop the Dragon Isles. Dragon Lord Ember still remained neutral, refusing any offers of negotiation. The dragons did not trouble the convoys to Baltimare, but they also did not engage any of the Changeling fleet.
"Our scouts would have noticed a dragon," he said dryly. "Verify it."
The knight looked west on hovering wings. Two of the guards on the balcony followed his gaze, seeing the beginnings of a swath of smoke clouds. Grover gave the balcony a side-eye, then returned to the map. He ignored the wooden alicorn.
The Kaiser had almost pushed it out of his mind before another courier returned. "The Changelings are breaking off the attack from the Duskwood," she panted. "Army Group Center is advancing north with little resistance."
Looks like Bronzetail's gambit paid off. "Just so," Grover commented idly.
"There's, uh," the courier hesitated. "Uh, shouting. Coming from the forest."
"Shouting?" Benito scrunched his muzzle.
"That all the Changelings are going to die," the courier clarified with twitching wings. "It's in Herzlander."
Grover's eyes went to the small alicorn, then he wrenched them back to the north. "I want the 17th Artillery Brigade to shore up the Flutter Valley," the Kaiser said.
Several minutes later, an even more nervous messenger arrived, an Aquileian pony. "There's two more reports about a dragon." He hesitated. "The Changelings are shelling the Duskwood with mortars."
Grover did not respond.
"We have not located the Princess," the stallion added with visible reluctance.
Grover took a deep breath. He ripped his talons free from the aged wooden table and took off his glasses. The Kaiser calmly set them down atop a stack of reports, then pulled his goggles free from a shirt pocket. “Sir Ewing and Sir Erreck, with me.” Grover affixed the goggles over his eyes. The world came back into focus. The two nervous Opinicus knights saluted and replaced their helmets.
“My Kaiser,” Benito said quietly, “please allow us to get a proper escort.”
“Handle any reports until I return,” Grover said instead, facing Benito with flared wings. “I will be back shortly.” He shrugged his long-sleeved shirt off, now only in slacks and an undershirt. The fur was matted under his wings, and the primary feathers flexed.
“My Kaiser-”
Grover ignored him and walked to the balcony. The guards bowed their heads and stepped aside. The Kaiser leaned his claws on the broken railing, then turned back to look at the Reichstone still on the table. He twisted his head back to the west and leapt.
Grover snapped his wings into position and flapped, catching an updraft and soaring above the dilapidated castle. The knights followed with a squawk. Grover was faster, only clad in clothes, not armor. The chill wind blowing across the midday helped dry the cloth. The griffon kicked his bare paws as he flew; he folded his wings and corkscrewed before snapping them back out
When was the last time I flew somewhere? Grover considered. Probably back in Griffenheim, somewhere inside the palace. The walls and roofs were high enough for griffons to fly in the spherical golden tops.
Grover continued to ascend, sparing a quick glance at the cloud air base to the southeast. The Princess’ fighters had scrambled early that morning and spread over the rear, but most were in the north. Duke Gerlach reported that some rammed the tank line in the northern valley as the crews bailed and returned to Mount Canterhorn.
Canterlot and the mountain still poured smoke. The anti-air fire and artillery echoed in the distance, audible from the clouds. Grover slowed, flapping his wings unevenly. He was about at Canterlot’s height now, and could see the inky smoke pouring from the west. He flapped up towards a cloud.
A two-griffon Reichsarmee spotting team was atop it, both male brown griffons. Grover landed behind them as they faced west. One spoke into a radio pack strapped to his chest.
“Zone four clear,” the griffon said in a light voice. He might have only been a year or two older than Grover himself. The scout noticed the griffon flying up behind them and tensed while holding the headset to his beak.
“Give me your binoculars,” Grover said as he landed. He stepped forward on the rough cloud. The Everfree was wild magic and the clouds tended to move on their own. It didn’t feel as springy as it should have. The older griffon turned around with the binoculars in his claws.
The griffon dropped his binoculars and they hung by the strap around his neck, but his claw moved down to his wing holster with wide eyes. “S-step back!” He tugged on the pistol grip, but hadn’t unclipped the holster.
Both griffons were in cloth gray uniforms of the standard Reichsarmee, not armor. Grover inhaled to say something to them, but instead he leapt forward at the older scout. His beak opened in a snarl instead of an explanation.
Grover lunged forward with his left claw and caught the griffon’s arm. His right claw punched him in the throat. The scout choked on his spit. The Kaiser used his momentum to spin the griffon around and block his partner’s aim.
The radio pack griffon was slow on the draw. He fumbled with the wing holster. Grover let go of the choking griffon’s right arm and buffeted him with two wing strikes around the head. The disoriented, choking griffon coughed as Grover unclipped the holster and pulled the pistol free.
He flicked the safety off with a talon and pointed it at the other scout with his left claw, wrapping his right arm around the coughing griffon’s head. The radio pack griffon had just gotten his own pistol free. He gaped up at the tall teenager that was using his partner as a shield.
“Drop it!” Sir Ewing screeched. He ascended with a readied assault rifle, flapping to stay airborne in one position. Sir Erreck appeared on the other side of the cloud.
The radio griffon dropped the pistol. It fell off the cloud and to the forest floor far below. “He just came out of nowhere!” the young griffon pleaded to the knights. “W-what’s happening!?”
“My Kaiser!” Sir Ewing shouted. “Are you alright?”
Grover dropped the coughing griffon and flicked the safety back on. The radio scout gaped at him with outstretched claws. The gray uniform developed a stain around his back legs. The other griffon wriggled backwards on the cloud with wide, terrified eyes. Through the griffon’s choking sputter, he attempted to gasp out, “My Kaiser!” and failed. His right claw flumped into a salute against his chest, only adding to the coughing.
“My Kaiser!” Sir Erreck continued. “Are they changelings? Shall we shoot them?”
The radio scout shook his head and his raised claws shook. “N-no! No! We…we just-”
You just what? Grover opened his beak to sneer. His claw reflexively drifted up to adjust the Reichstone. It met empty air.
The griffon blinked blue eyes behind thick goggles, then looked down at his stained white undershirt and rumpled slacks. His bare paws sank into the cloud. The two scouts stared at him like they had no idea who they were looking at.
The radio griffon didn’t finish his sentence. He just shook in place with a growing stain on the crotch of his pants. Grover looked to both of them and guessed what he was going to say.
“We just didn’t recognize him.”
Grover tossed the pistol to the coughing scout, leaned forward, and used a sharp talon to cut the strap of the binoculars free from his neck. The older griffon caught the pistol and nodded rapidly, trying to say, “Thank you, my Kaiser!” He wheezed instead.
“Help him up,” Grover ordered with a clack of his beak. He stared to the west and raised the binoculars to his goggles. His beak twisted underneath the lenses.
At this altitude, the Duskwood Forest stretched across the horizon. It burned in a mix of golden and blue fire. Even with the binoculars, it was difficult to see anything further beyond the tree line.
She might stop a counterassault, but taking the forest will be hell, Grover scoffed to himself. Hopefully, the magical fire will burn itself out by the time our air support and ground assault are ready. There was no flash on the horizon from spellfire. He was high up enough to see beyond the flaming tree line, and occasional bursts of smoke emerged from somewhere deeper in the center of the forest. Parts of the forest were burning further in, but nothing like the destruction against the plain.
Grover sighed as he remembered Bronzetail was pushing north. Ignatius can cut the Duskwood off to the south. Send the reserves through the Celestial Plain to follow Bronzetail, then swing north and cut the forest off. We can pin the northern advance against the shield wall and encircle the forest afterwards.
Grover spared a quick look north. It was a bright, sunny afternoon through all the smoke and drifting explosions. The sky was tinged pink from the distant shield. Grover thought about the history report he requested from Vedina, the northernmost peninsula on Griffonia and the first settlers of what became Nova Griffonia.
“The earliest runestones speak of a pink Aurora Borealis across the ocean, but also of other colors. It was a known presence, but not particularly important after several generations. Griffons were busy with griffon affairs. Only one runestone speaks of the glow fading, roughly dated to the Time of Contempt (Discord).
“The earliest settlements of the Nova peninsula reported the foundations of crystal structures in the frontier. Many of the structures were dismantled and the shards shipped back to the Reich for enchantment, greatly boosting the value of the colony. Archaeology has been discouraged since the reappearance of the Crystal Empire.”
“Well, you got your land back,” Grover said to himself.
“My Kaiser?” Sir Erreck asked, having landed on the cloud behind him and shouldering the assault rifle.
“The Princess is trying to stall a counterassault from the Duskwood,” Grover explained. “It is not a dragon,” he added wryly. “Go ahead and radio that,” he said to the younger griffon. “I do not want any panic at facing a dragon, nor any eager dragonslaying knights hunting for a challenge.”
The scout reported it dutifully, ignoring the stain across his pants. The other griffons also ignored it.
He watched for several more minutes before tossing the binoculars back. The older scout had recovered enough to catch them and scramble to look west again. He thumped his claw in a hasty salute, but Grover ignored it.
“Bronzetail will get his fuel,” the Kaiser planned aloud, “and reinforcements.” Grover flared his wings and walked to the edge of the small cloud. His talons pulled on a bit of the cumulus. The Kaiser and his two knights looked down to the east, towards the castle below.
The Princess can play at war with her spells and ragtag army. I have-
The sun rose in the west.
Just for a moment, no more than the time it took to blink. Grover still saw the flash, even though he was facing the opposite direction. The two scouts behind him inhaled to scream.
The wave of magical discharge hit before they could, riding the sound of the world’s largest soap bubble popping. It sounded nothing like it should have. To Grover, it sounded as if a balloon was popped next to both his ears.
The magic blasted through his extended feathers, unbalancing him for a second, then the wave continued past him across the eastern Equestria. Grover looked up to see crackles of blue magic extend to the eastern horizon, traveling as gusting wind. He flexed his claws on the cloud. Lingering arcs of blue electricity tingled along his talon tips.
Grover looked to his knights first. Sir Ewing and Sir Erreck’s enchanted armor sparked with blue electricity as the residual magic reacted against the spells woven into the steel. He registered the screaming from behind him and turned around, looking to the scouts.
The older griffon with the binoculars was clutching his eyes, binoculars long-forgotten and fallen off the cloud. He whimpered through his ruined throat and blinked wide, watery, dilated golden pupils between his talons as he screamed hoarsely. Blue sparks clung to his uniform.
The younger scout stared west, eyes wide and unfocused. His beak was open in a wail that continued into a dry squeak. The griffon seemed to forget how to breathe. The radio on his chest sparked with blue arcs. Grover followed the scout’s eyes west.
A massive cloud of ash stretched across the sky. It was vaguely in the shape of a dome, but that shape was breaking apart even as he watched. It was higher up than he was, reaching across the entire Equestrian Heartland. The ash would blot out the sun.
The sounds of the battle on the plain, the planes fighting above it, the anti-air and artillery fire from Canterlot, the distant rumbling of the trucks moving supplies forward through the Everfree, everything stopped. The gray cloud began to break apart and drift down, twisting in the winds. The world was quiet.
The Duskwood Forest was gone. Grover did not need the binoculars to see it. There was a massive crater shining like glass where it used to be. A few scattered and burning trees still stood against the Celestial Plain, but the crater now sat in the horizon, roughly in the center of the former forest. Nothing moved.
“Though Scheißwald wood be come to Griffing…” Grover quoted distantly. The ash began to settle across the world as it was frozen in silence.
“I can do this, and I will, even if it means my death.”
The Duskwood was the size of Griffenheim, Grover remembered suddenly. All of it, the palace, the industrial centers, the Reichsarmee barracks, the city, the temples…
“Any guess that does not say Princess Flurry Heart could lay waste to most of a continent is inaccurate.”
Sir Ewing stepped forward on the cloud, helmet in his claws. “Oh sweet Gods.”
Sir Erreck followed him, moving past Grover like he wasn’t even there. “She…she can’t…” he trailed off. “She must be dead.” His voice sounded pleading.
Grover stepped up to the western edge of the cloud beside the radio scout. His scream was a wheezing rattle now and his eyes bulged above his beak. The Kaiser remembered the alicorn with hidden leg braces stumbling awkwardly through the snow, and he remembered what she said to him several minutes before.
“I was preparing to fly to Griffenheim and burn it to the ground the night your bombers turned away.”
The planes fighting above the Duskwood drifted through the ash; they broke off together, trying to escape the cloud before their engines clogged. Some dropped low, Changeling and Reich flying side-by-side in a momentary truce. Some pilots abandoned their planes and leapt from the cockpits as the engines failed. Grover watched the dots fall from the sky underneath the ash.
“I look ridiculous, don’t I? Quite the joke.”
The world was silent. The crater glittered beneath twisting clouds of cinders.
“She must be dead,” Sir Erreck repeated with a relieved nod.
Grover did not know what to say in response to that.
A golden beam lanced into the sky from the center of the crater. It trailed wisps of blue electricity until it nearly reached the falling ash clouds, then exploded outward like a firework. Blue and gold sparkles fell down towards the earth.
The artillery fire resumed from the base of Mount Canterhorn. Flashes of spells and gunfire echoed from the eastern side, where the road winded up the mountainside. As Grover stood atop the cloud, it seemed to only intensify.
The echoing sound of trucks and planes resumed from around him. Grover clacked his beak and turned around. “Follow me,” he ordered over his wing to the knights. They stumbled backwards and twisted around to see their Kaiser, but Grover leapt off the eastern side of the cloud and drifted back towards the castle.
Grover landed on the Nightmare’s balcony several minutes later. No griffon challenged him or stopped him. The guards snapped to attention with extended wings and a salute, but the Kaiser walked past them without a glance. He stripped his goggles off with a claw as he walked on all fours.
Benito leaned over the low table. Papers and figures were scattered across it, knocked out of place. The Friendship Journal was half-way off the edge of the table; Grover bumped it back with a wing as he resumed his position. Benito opened his muzzle, but words failed him and he shuffled his paws to the side.
Grover reared up and braced his claws atop the old wood. He scanned the room. The dozen knights, six attendants, four dogs, and two unicorns were all staring out of the shattered balcony.
“You forgot to check if I was a changeling,” he said in Aquileian. The unicorn near the balcony flinched and her horn flickered. Grover felt the spell wash over his feathers, not even half of the wave that blasted across Equestria as an aftershock.
“We need to redirect the air force,” Grover said in Herzlander. He jabbed a talon at an attendant. “Get Ebonwing. Avoid the Celestial Plain. Shift everything to the south until the ash settles.”
The courier blinked and wandered out of the room. The knights and dogs slowly recovered and resumed their guard watch. Sir Erreck and Sir Ewing arrived back on the balcony, and the unicorn remembered to scan them.
“The radios still work?” Grover asked Benito.
The dog nodded shallowly.
“Good.” He jabbed a claw at another courier, then pointed at the two recently-arrived knights. “Get Bronzetail what he asked for. We redirect to the Celestial Plain and assist the push north. We can drive the army against the shield wall and shatter them.”
They moved a bit more quickly than the last courier.
Grover looked down at the fallen figures. “Have Countess Raison’s mages assist to the north. Run down the infiltrators. Have Ignatius push straight with Army Group South rather than try an encirclement.”
“My…” Benito blinked. “My Kaiser?”
“The Duskwood is gone,” Grover answered. “It’s unnecessary.”
Benito licked his jowls and his black nose scrunched around the whiskers. “I-I’m sorry, my Kaiser?”
“The Duskwood is gone,” Grover repeated calmly. He gathered the metal changelings that had fallen over in the forest. Out of all the figures atop the table, only the wooden alicorn remained upright, standing over the changelings around it. The muzzle wasn’t carved very well, but it seemed to have a smirk.
Grover tossed the figures under the table; they scattered across the stone floor. Deal with it later, he shrugged a wing to himself. “We need to go around the crater,” the Kaiser said. “It is too deep. When the rains come, it will surely become the Duskwood Lake.”
Not a single voice laughed at the joke. A small blue spark blew in from the balcony. Grover stopped to watch it settle atop the Reichstone. He brushed it off with a talon and put the crown atop his head, ignoring the strain in his neck.
“Right,” Benito nodded. “Just so!” he said, louder for the entire room. “We have a war to win! Move!” He pointed a paw at two couriers. “Relay it to Countess Raison! We need to move! The Heer will be scattered after that!”
After that. Grover’s blue eyes flicked down to the table. The smirking wooden alicorn stared up at him, even though no eyes had been carved into the muzzle. He looked up at the map of Equus and Griffonia on the wall above his knights.
The newspapers would print his headline. But there were dozens of photographers and film crews along the frontline, all to travel back east to the Reich with evidence of the cruelty of the Changelings and the Kaiser’s victory. Grover took a breath through his nostrils and his tail curled around a leg. The tuft whipped around the paw and tapped on the floor.
The largest coordinated naval invasion in history. The largest mechanized assault, the largest armored engagement, the first time the Kaiser has led his armies himself for two centuries…
He clenched his beak and looked down at the map.
She followed my plan. She went to Manehattan on my orders, to Baltimare, to the Everfree. She fought with my army.
Grover thought about the painting. Grover the Great’s gray, enchanted plate armor and his iron crown. He had reports about the Princess’ armor, but he hadn’t seen it for himself. The knights that had were unusually subdued, and described it only as ‘crystal’ and ‘heavy.’
Or my army fought with her.
The little wooden alicorn stared up at him.
Grover stared down at it, then flicked it over with a talon.
The armored hoof sank fetlock deep into the ash.
Flurry Heart moved out of inertia more than anything else. She hated the rigidity of the armor overall, but she was deeply grateful for it now. The stiff joints kept her upright and her wings from dragging. Her entire world was the next five steps in front of her, and once she reached that, the next five steps beyond.
The alicorn walked east, back across the Celestial Plain. The helmet occasionally swung to look at the corpses, both griffon and changeling, that disappeared under the growing blanket of gray. She almost fell into one of the partially buried gorges in the once flat plain; Flurry was forced to leap over it with aching legs. The armor kept her from falling over on the landing.
The hollow shell of a Changeling panzer passed by to the alicorn’s right. She tiredly gazed at it from the side of a bloodshot eye. It was too intact to be from her. Chrysalis’ trident crown was burned over, only visible as a warped shadow on the side of the wreck.
Flurry did not stop to inspect anything. She kept marching east on numb hooves, moving back towards Canterhorn. There were lights at the base of the mountain, and lights in the trenches beyond, but the mountain above was only lit by a dull glow of burning fires.
It was not yet dusk; it was only the afternoon, but the ash cloaked the Equestrian Heartland as if it was almost night. A shroud had fallen over the battlefield. The Celestial Plain had already been cleared, the wounded evacuated to field hospitals and the Changelings that survived her explosion executed. The Reichsarmee was never truly inclined to take prisoners, not after finding cocoons and infiltrators. But her army was not inclined either. The Reich was tearing north to slam the overstretched attack against her shield wall.
At least, that’s what Bronzetail said they’d do. Flurry had no idea if he was alive. She didn’t know if Spike or Thorax or Fizzlepop or Sunset survived. The alicorn did not have a radio; she had no way of contacting anypony after she blew out her shield. She had to walk through the glassed forest and back out of the crater. It was difficult, and slow. Several empty planes crashed down in the bowl, though none near her.
By the time she reached the edge and climbed back onto the Celestial Plain, the fighting had long moved north. Flurry was alone; she’d been alone in the crater, and now she was alone with the dead on the plain. Her horn throbbed, deep at the base. She didn’t need to see the rest of it to know it was charred black from base-to-tip.
I’ll have to borrow a hornfile, Flurry thought sluggishly. She reserved what little magic she had left in case anyone tried to kill her while she marched across the plain. She didn’t dare teleport back; she’d drop like a puppet with its strings cut on the other side.
Headlights appeared through the ash in front of her, small pinpricks shining through the cloud. The falling ash had continued for hours, thickening like a mist over the Celestial Plain. Flurry recognized the shadow of a flatbed Grifftruck without the canvas back. More headlights appeared behind it.
Flurry did not change direction, and the trucks were turning north. They drove slowly, moving through the ash carefully and watching for the cracks in the earth from her earlier spells. The alicorn eventually trudged into the headlights as she crossed paths with the convoy.
The lights made the purple armor swirl with fire again, but most of the effect was dampened by the layer of ash stuck to the crystal. Her wings were entirely gray; the blood stuck the cinders to her feathers. The same happened with her helmet. Her lower jaw was only spared by the half-helm, but the pink fur was stained red from blood.
Not all of it was hers. Most of it wasn’t.
The ash gathered in the pockmarks along the crystal armor. A decent amount filled the chunk missing from the side of her helmet near the eye slit. Flurry felt some of it dislodge when she marginally turned her head to the headlights. She did not stop moving.
The truck slowed and turned to go behind her. The one behind it instead turned slightly to go ahead front of her. Flurry peered up through the eye slits to see the griffons in the bed, having lowered her head to see her hooves as she walked.
They were mechanics, clad in jumpsuits. Shells and ammunition boxes bounced along in the back of the truck with them. Probably headed north to resupply the tanks. All of them, male or female, only had a dusting of ash. The boxes were relatively clean as well. The trucks worked their windshield wipers with a soft swishes, barely audible under the sputtering engines as the exhaust struggled under the cinders.
The griffons stared at her, all of them, including the driver. His beak gathered ash as it poked out the window. None of them made eye contact with her, but they stared. Flurry recognized the stare as the same ones the maids and servants had when she was growing up.
“You always were a monster,” Flurry remembered. How does it feel to be right, Sunburst? She kept walking as the convoy slowly drove north. Not a single griffon called out to her, either as a challenge or to offer her a ride. The final truck passed far behind her mutely; Flurry did not even hear a radio crackle. Monsters win wars.
After another hour of walking across a desolate and deserted Celestial Plain, Flurry risked a teleport. Her horn sparked with golden light, flicking like a lighter, and she vanished with an abrupt crack. She felt sick to her stomach and closed her eyes.
She reappeared a dozen hooves above the Nova Griffonian trenches to the south of Mount Canterhorn. True to her fears, she tumbled down like an unstrung puppet. The alicorn flailed to her side and did not rise, fallen between two of the forward lines. Blackness encroached in the corners of her vision.
Should’ve just walked, even if it took me all night. Flurry’s legs moved slowly as she gathered them under herself. She felt the dull slaps of claws on her armor.
Flurry blinked as a beak swam into view. “What?” she whispered.
The beak twisted and shouted something into the distance. Flurry felt more claws on her armor, pushing her up. Two claws wrapped around the gorget and pulled.
You’ll need a lot more than that, Flurry chuckled in her head. She was too tried to laugh.
Surprisingly, more claws joined in, some grabbing at her legs as she finally began to stand up. They avoided her bloody and ashy wings, and some even shoved against her flank. Flurry blinked rapidly as her eyes focused.
Two dozen Nova Griffonians had flung their weapons to the ground around her. They grabbed at her, pulling her back to her hooves through the sheer weight of numbers. A few formed a chain and pulled on each other due to the weight of the armor.
Flurry glanced down at the purple Imperial Snowflake band on the right claw around her gorget; it was partially obscured by gray smears. The female griffon attached to the claw was visibly puffing to pull the alicorn back up, even with two more grabbing her shoulders and assisting. She fell back and tumbled over her paws as Flurry finally stood back up.
Shouting voices overwhelmed Flurry. She couldn’t pick out any of them. Someone dumped a canteen on her left wing; she whickered in surprise. Another followed quickly with the right.
A canteen was thrust up to her muzzle. Flurry managed to tilt the helmet back in surprise to see Duskcrest standing before her in an ash-coated uniform. He mouthed something at her.
It took Flurry several seconds of working her jaw to reply. “What?”
Duskcrest held up a claw in a fist. The shouting stopped. “Princess,” he repeated. “I know this is a stupid question, but are you alright?”
“Are you?” Flurry asked back in a near-whisper.
Duskcrest uncapped the canteen and drank from it, then held it up to her muzzle. He slowly angled it back himself until Flurry coughed, then pulled it back. “We’re fine, Princess,” he assured her. “Minor incursion.”
Flurry felt the blackness in the corners of her eyes as she struggled to stay conscious. I’m not dreaming, am I? She considered it. No. Mom would be here.
“What happened?” Flurry rasped. “I saw the fires.”
“Gabe,” Duskcrest ordered to some griffon behind him. “Fly ahead.” He twisted back to Flurry. “Princess, can we get you out of that armor?”
“Not…easily,” Flurry said slowly.
“Can you walk?”
I need to or I’m going to pass out. Flurry forced a leg forward, then another. Duskcrest stepped backwards, walking ahead of her and guiding her. Flurry nearly walked into another trench before following Duskcrest.
“This way, Princess,” Duskcrest said quietly. “It’s a short walk up to the camp. Thirty minutes. Can you make it?”
Flurry kept walking forward instead of replying.
Duskcrest lead her past the entrenched anti-tank guns and machine gun nests. Out of the darkened corners of her vision, Flurry noticed all the griffons staring at her. Most left their positions to follow for a moment.
“I saw the fires,” Flurry whispered again. “I wanted to go back.” Her guide clearly struggled to hear her.
“The Changelings attempted a breakout,” Duskcrest explained. “The Field Marshal ordered Canterlot to be shelled. The eastern road was badly mauled, but we held.”
“Casualties?” Flurry coughed.
“Let’s get to the camp,” Duskcrest dodged the question.
“Tell…me.”
“I don’t know, Princess,” Duskcrest claimed. Flurry wasn’t sure if he was lying. They continued walking in silence. Flurry heard the crunch of steps behind her even after he started guiding her up the mountain proper.
“We sent scouts to look for you,” Duskcrest began, “after the fighting slowed. We rammed the Changelings back to the city. The ash made it difficult to search from the sky.”
Duskcrest clacked his beak. “The Reich bastards were no help, all of them going north after the bug push. Tried to get on the radio and see if you were with them, but they stonewalled us. I finally shot one of the fuckers in the leg and he still couldn’t tell me where you were.”
“What?” Flurry asked numbly.
“He was fine,” Duskcrest shrugged a wing in a way that indicated the soldier was probably not fine. “Come on, just a little bit further, Princess.”
For a moment, Flurry considered she was walking into another ambush. She slowed and listened to the movement behind her. She risked taking her eyes off her hooves and turning her head over a wing. The helmet moved very slowly.
Nearly three hundred Nova Griffonians were following her up the mountain trail. All of their uniforms were covered in ash, purple bands and brown uniforms mostly obscured by gray. A few were flying, flapping their wings above the crowd. Flurry turned her head back to her hooves.
“They want to see you,” Duskcrest said quietly. “The fighting’s moved on from the trenchworks. And I can’t stop them even if I tried.”
What’s there to see? Flurry thought. Some poor little princess dead on her hooves?
They climbed the inclined trail at a snail’s pace. Flurry’s hooves dragged across the ash and left smears on the ground. Duskcrest occasionally reached up to her gorget to steady her, but it was a futile gesture; the armor was too heavy. The Nova Griffonian was too quiet.
“When’d you stop drinking?” Flurry rasped suddenly. She needed to hear something beyond ash blowing in the wind and the crunch of hooves and paws.
“What?” Duskcrest asked, nonplussed. “I didn’t stop drinking.”
“Your flask is full of coffee now,” Flurry stated. “I could smell it.”
“It’s distilled the same way as our moonshine,” Duskcrest elaborated without a single trace of sarcasm. “It’s just as strong, a proper frontier brew.”
“I never tried it,” Flurry began, “when I was out in the frontier. I should try it.”
“We’ll be happy to make some for you, Princess,” Duskcrest said deferentially.
Flurry lifted the helmet at him. The brown griffon, now mostly gray with ash, continued to walk backwards up the mountain trail to guide her. A few trucks were parked along the sides of the narrow road, all of them empty. Boxes and empty shell casings littered the backs from hasty supply runs. The black paint of the repurposed vehicles faded to a dull gray.
Duskcrest stopped as they made eye contact. Flurry looked down at him, even with her head slumped forward. The armor made her a head taller. The griffon took a deep breath. “Can you keep going?” he asked with a steady voice.
He’s afraid of me. His dark golden eyes tracked her horn, even when it was a useless, blackened spear. The griffon had to force himself to look at the Princess.
Flurry kept walking towards him out of inertia. “Yes,” she whispered. Lead the wolf to the sheep she’s supposed to protect.
Even through the ash, the northern sky still glowed pink. The sun had begun to lower in the east, and the world was quiet. Her mother’s voice echoed against her flattened ears.
“It’s not your fault. You were born on the eve of war.”
By the time Flurry stumbled to the edge of camp, it was twilight. The thought made her very sad, but she was too tired to cry. A large crowd had gathered around the tents and artillery pieces, looking down the trail at the approaching alicorn followed by hundreds of Nova Griffonians.
Flurry stared over Duskcrest’s wings to see yaks, griffons, pegasi, earth ponies, unicorns, bat ponies, crystal ponies, and even changelings. All of them stood in one herd. Ash covered their uniforms, no longer brown or blue or green. Everyone was gray.
Thorax stepped out of the crowd, descending to meet Flurry. His black chitin was smudged with ash; streaks smeared across the purple uniform matched it. As he trotted down the road, ash clogged the holes in his bare hooves and stuck to the dried blood along them.
“Uncle,” Flurry whispered. She pulled her chapped, bloody lips into a smile.
“Niece,” Thorax replied. He smiled, fangs and all. “We saw the flare. I knew you’d make it anyway.”
Duskcrest stepped to the side, now following Flurry and Thorax. He nodded to the changeling before disappearing into the crowd of Nova Griffonians. The changeling scanned over the alicorn’s limp wings, held up by the armored wing joints more than her own muscles. Flurry did not stop to hug her uncle, nor did he embrace her; he took Duskcrest’s position of walking backwards ahead of her.
“You’ve lost some feathers, Princess,” Thorax chided with a hiss. “You won’t fly right until they grow back.” He buzzed a wing. “Not that I’m an expert.”
Flurry was too tired to laugh, and she knew Thorax too well. “How...many?”
“Many,” Thorax admitted with a chitter.
“Who?” Flurry whispered.
“Barrel Roller was killed during the initial assault on the road,” Thorax reported quietly, speaking in a soft, dual-toned hiss that echoed between his fangs. “Spike took command after Limestone was hit. She’s alive.”
Flurry kept walking. They reached the edge of the camp and the crowd parted as the alicorn marched towards the distant radio tower. She didn’t have the energy to look up at them; she simply trudged forward with her eyes on her hooves, occasionally glancing up through the slits to the changeling guiding her.
For once, no one had a comment about her being led by him.
“How’re your ‘lings?” Flurry coughed.
“Some wounds from scuffles with infiltrator teams.” Thorax bared his fangs. “We fought better than they did.”
Flurry inhaled. “Spike?”
“At the radio tower,” Thorax promised. “With Marshal Tempest and the rest of your commanders, Princess.”
Tempest? Flurry licked her lips and attempted to laugh. It came out in a breathy wheeze. “Who else?” she asked after recovering.
“We lost two dozen in the Mage Units,” Thorax responded. “Magical Exhaustion.” He eyed the blood under Flurry’s bare muzzle, but didn’t say anything more.
There was a cart amongst the tents, piled with the bodies of unicorns from the high slope. Flurry forced the helmet over to see them. A bedsheet had been draped over the pull-cart, the ash weighed the edges down and pulled it back slightly.
Amongst three muzzles, Flurry’s old tutor stared up at the falling ash. His muzzle was caked in dried blood from the eyes, ears, and mouth. The mustard-yellow unicorn’s fur was a pale and brittle white, and it was not from death. Far Sight had pushed himself into cardiac arrest.
I didn’t even know he was here. Flurry’s jaw worked soundlessly. Thorax followed her look and buzzed a wing. A yak stepped forward from the crowd following her and pulled the sheet back over the entire cart. Yona did not make eye contact with the alicorn after she finished. The brown yak was entirely caked in gray.
Hiding them doesn’t mean anything. Flurry closed her eyes, then forced them back open as she felt the darkness close in again. “Who else?” she repeated.
Throax licked his fangs. “Scootaloo was killed-in-action over the north after the Reich fell back. Rainbow’s at the radio tower. Half our planes are gone.”
She was like a sister to her.
Herzlanders landed from their trenches, flying up the mountainside. Edvald broke rank and walked between two tents, then joined the ragged group trailing behind her. The other Herzlanders followed and joined the Nova Griffonians. They made room without bickering about it.
Shapes moved between the tents in the corner of Flurry’s eyes. Creatures, people of all kinds, moved parallel to the alicorn, following her towards the radio tower. The figures marched through the ashfall almost in unison. Flurry Heart remembered the armored ponies plunging through the snow to the Crystal Heart.
We will face them together! All of us!
The sky glowed pink around the top of the mountain. Canterlot hung above the camp, alight with dull red fires through the ash. Echoes of gunshots carried through a moaning gale. Flurry tossed her head back to stare up at it; ash fell onto her exposed jaw. Her vision swam from the movement and she struggled to focus on the city.
Twilight Sparkle will die first.
It was the hour of twilight. The setting sun to the west was completely obscured by the cloud of falling ash. It was not yet nightfall, but the sky was only lit with the dull glow to the north. Even it struggled to break through the falling clouds.
Thorax followed her look; Flurry’s head drooped back down to her hooves. She had nearly stumbled on a rock hidden under a pile of ash. Her hooves stepped unevenly for a moment.
“Canterlot rebelled,” the changeling sighed. “We’ve pushed them up the eastern road, but we don’t have the numbers to break through. There’s fighting inside the city, but it's quieted for the past few hours.”
“Did we find a way in?” Flurry whispered.
“No,” Thorax answered immediately. “Duty Price blew out some tunnels with his task force. We stopped the breakout.”
“Who else?” Flurry asked again. She was almost at the radio tower. The tables were gone; all the repurposed bullets and shells taken away to be fired by her army. Flurry’s helmet was facing her hooves. Her neck strained against the stiff metal gorget around her neck to see her hoof steps.
“Commanders Altiert and Eagleheart are dead,” Thorax admitted. “The Aquileians took the full force of an armored assault in the northern trenches.”
“How many?” Flurry exhaled.
“Thirty-five,” Thorax answered.
That’s not too- Flurry’s brain caught up to the thought. She blinked slowly, feeling the dried blood on her eyelids.
“We used balefire,” Thorax continued. “We withstood the attack. Jacques led a few survivors through the fires to a fallback position.”
“He’s here?” Flurry asked absently.
“Of course I am,” a voice called out behind her. The light-yellow griffon appeared from the crowd trailing her, walking along Flurry’s right side. He bent his head down nearly to her hooves as he walked on all fours.
“You are not so little anymore, Little Flurry,” he said with a sharp cough. Flurry didn’t turn her head all the way, but she saw the bandages swathed around his left side. Many of them were raw and discolored. “Feathers and fur can grow back,” he assured her in Aquileian.
“Good to see you,” Flurry whispered.
Jacques nodded and stopped. The crowd caught back up to him and he blended in, disappearing into the creatures. Flurry kept moving forward.
What was left of her commanders and friends awaited her, surrounded by a massive crowd of several hundred creatures. My subjects, Flurry thought. All that’s left of them.
Frosty Jadis stood beside Arex and Ocellus. The crystal pony’s smile glittered in the fading light, even as sparkly tears trailed down her muzzle. The other crystal ponies in the crowd no longer shone, their coats and manes too covered with gray.
Thorax broke from his position in front of her and crossed to the two other changelings. They stood side-by-side in the falling ash, all gray instead of black. No one looked at them with suspicion.
Duty Price sat next to Jadis’ other side. His booney hat was covered in cinders, and he used a smoldering one to keep his cigar lit. The blue earth pony was completely covered in dirt, mud, and blood. He nodded at Flurry around the glowing end of the cigar. His eyes were tired.
Duskcrest flapped over to Dusty Mark. The unicorn was already gray, and she rubbed ash and char across his uniform as she embraced him. Rather than laugh or shove her away, the griffon leaned his beak atop her head, mindful of her horn. They pulled apart only after a long moment.
Nightshade and Murky held each other, the older sister supporting her younger brother. Amoxtli stood to the side. Flurry shifted her helmet towards them. The two siblings embraced with their eyes closed.
Echo…
Amoxtli met Flurry’s eyes, looked down towards the alicorn's armored, ash-covered left hoof, and shook her head. The Thestral’s tribal markings on her wings were completely obscured. She stood slightly aside from the siblings, but Murky’s wing was extended and laid against her own.
Rainbow Dash sat beside the bat ponies with a bloody metal wing. Her buzzed mohawk was all red and gray. The pegasus still breathed shallowly between bared teeth, even after an entire day’s fighting. Her hooves coiled under an ashen flight suit, ready to lift off at a moment’s notice. The short pegasus stared up at Flurry and gave her a savage grin, but nothing else.
Zecora stood under the radio tower's supports, the black and white zebra now entirely gray. Her mane had flattened down and fell around her muzzle. She hummed quietly as she swayed, some old Zebrican melody on her chapped lips.
Sunset Shimmer stepped forward from behind a tent. Her mane and tail bounced with dislodged embers. The tip of her amber horn was a dark black and smoked. The unicorn glared up at the Princess, particularly at the blood around her muzzle. Sunset’s own muzzle was caked in red, even smeared with old cinders.
Tempest Shadow followed, black armor battle-scarred and covered in pockmarks and blood. She approached after Sunset, eyes ahead but not truly looking at the Princess stumbling towards them. Her opal eyes were lost, seeing something far, far away and in a past she hoped to leave behind. The sun and moon she scratched above the Storm King’s lightning bolts had been covered with falling cinders.
I bring ruin to everything I touch, don’t I?
Cerie leaned against the radio tower. Her wings were hitched into medical slings, so the Aquileian reared up and hauled herself up the metal support beams. Her claws shook from the effort, but she held on to stare at the Princess from above a gathering crowd.
Flurry finally stopped before a half-circle of her commanders. The armor prevented her from swaying and her wings from trembling. The alicorn slowly moved her lips, but nothing came to her.
Yona and Sandbar joined the half-circle together. Gallus shifted forward between two tents with three knights escorting him. The blue griffon stopped at the very edge of the almost complete circle. His black coat was only half-covered with ash, so he couldn’t have been there very long.
Flurry eyed the ash falling like snowflakes and forced her head up. It lolled, caught by the gorget and the helmet. She was now surrounded by her army, but the alicorn only faced half of them.
She didn’t even register Spike standing beside her until the claws brushed against her lower jaw. Flurry blinked slowly and looked through the eye slits. Spike stepped into view from her left; the dragon’s green eyes were tired. Several of the scales were missing in a line under his right eye and a nostril was bloody.
The dragon’s uniform was more hole than cloth, pockmarked by bullets and sliced with knives. His right wing was folded into a sling behind his back. Spike smiled at her; one of his lower fangs was chipped.
“I came back,” Flurry whispered.
“You won,” Spike agreed. “We can see flashes in the north. The Reich is using your shield wall to entrap the remnants of Synovial’s army. They’re going to break them.” He unclipped her helmet and gently lifted it.
The padding stuck to the fur around her ears and eyes. Flurry felt the dried fur peel away uncomfortably. Spike was careful to pull the helmet up at an angle, but black bits of char fell from the alicorn's horn. He finally tugged it free and held it between his claws. The crystal was burnished black at the six points under the horn slot. The damage looked like swirls of fire, not burn marks.
“There was a message in Canterlot,” Spike said quietly down to Flurry’s muzzle. “We saw it on the road. A projection of Twilight. One of the pilots confirmed it.”
Flurry inhaled with a shudder. “Changeling?”
“No,” Spike shook his head. “We couldn’t hear all of it, but the fighting started inside the city afterwards.”
She was alive. Flurry’s muzzle trembled. Her eyelids were heavy with crusted blood.
“It was a recording,” Spike said in a low rumble. “She must’ve recorded it after she teleported me away. I don’t know who could’ve had it all this time.”
With the weight of her helmet off her head, Flurry stood up straight. Lights had been strung up on the radio tower and illuminated the camp’s center. Flurry looked up again at the smoldering city above them. Spike stepped away, carrying the helmet back to Thorax.
Flurry flicked her ears, no longer pressed against the helmet. She felt the dried blood stains that streaked down from them through her fur. Her eyes had similar trails, her glacial pupils deeply red-ringed and bloodshot. The alicorn took a deep breath through her nose, also smeared with trails that ran down to the gorget fastened to her neck.
Her army stood around her. The camp was quiet.
“I’m sorry…” Flurry apologized in a broken voice, “…that I wasn’t here.” Her voice did not carry very far.
Sunset stepped out of the circle with hard eyes. They drank in the teenager’s bloody muzzle, the pockmarked battle armor, and the tattered wings only held up by stiff wing joints. After a long moment, she squeezed her eyes shut and took a step back. The amber unicorn seemed to physically deflate as the fire left her.
“I think,” Jacques said from behind her, “that you have done plenty, Princess.” He stepped out from the circle and waved his unbandaged wing with an unusually subdued look.
Flurry jerked her head over to Gallus. “Why are you here?” she asked slowly. Each word took conscious effort.
The griffon coughed and his claws brushed through the ash on the ground. “We would like to know your battle plans,” he said in Herzlander. “The Reichsarmee is advancing to the north.”
Flurry turned to Fizzlepop. She tossed her head slightly to focus her eyes. “Field Marshal…” she paused to swallow thickly.
“Tempest,” the mare provided in an absent voice. The unicorn took a deep breath and the contralto returned. “What are your orders, Princess?”
Some of the ash and embers that fell onto them came from Canterlot above. Echoes of gunshots still rolled down the mountain on the wind. Flurry did not look up at it, instead looking at her exhausted and shattered army. Limestone Pie had crawled forward in a neck cast, carried by two other earth ponies. Others that could still walk had followed her into the camp from the field hospitals.
Flurry met Limestone’s hard yellow eyes, then paused. The mare’s armband was thick with ash, as were the ponies below her. The alicorn slowly wrenched her head over the crowd, over all the identical uniforms and armbands, then to Cerie on the radio tower, then above the Aquileian to the top of the mast.
The ELF’s Sun and Moon and Imperial Snowflake blew in the ashfall at equal height; the fabric was coated gray.
It was impossible to tell which was which.
Flurry took a breath. Her chest rattled. “We take Canterlot tomorrow morning.”
“If they fell back through the city,” Sunset interrupted, “they’ll hold around the castle or the estates. We can punch hard there.”
“We will take the road,” Amoxtli spoke up.
“We will,” Thorax agreed readily.
Flurry breathed in again. The crowd stared at her through the falling cinders.
“I will lead the assault and breach the wall.”
Not a single voice spoke out in argument.
“Rest,” Flurry continued as her voice gave out. “Get whatever we can scrape together. Everything. Whoever’s not injured or can still fight.”
The alicorn glanced at Gallus. “Whatever…” she gasped in Herzlander. “Whatever the Kaiser wishes to provide will be appreciated.”
“As you say, Princess,” Gallus nodded, then hesitated and looked around at the crowd. No one had moved, and everyone was still staring at Flurry. She took another rattling breath and coughed from inhaling a piece of ash.
Dusty Mark stepped forward, as she did seven years ago on a small freighter headed towards Nova Griffonia. Her gray eyes swept the gathered crowd, then she bowed deep in the ash and touched her horn to the ground.
“Princess,” she intoned.
Jadis limped forward. Price helped her kneel, removing his booney hat and stamping his cigar out in the ash. They bowed together, earth and crystal pony side by side.
“Princess," they said quietly.
Yona knelt, the yak heavily touching her horns to the ground.
“Princess.”
Sandbar followed her, closing his eye.
“Princess.”
Arex, Ocellus, and Thorax, changelings and supposedly oathbound to follow the Queen of the Changelings, knelt together and pressed their horns to the earth. Thorax smiled a fanged grin up at his niece.
“Princess,” they hissed together.
Rainbow gave Flurry a vicious smile and bowed low.
“Princess,” the pegasus rasped.
Nightshade and Murky, the duet that was once a trio, bowed with extended wings. Amoxtli bowed with them. She chittered a tribal dialect as they said the word in Equestrian.
“Princess.”
Zecora, the Zebrican zebra with no real allegiance to Equestria, ceased humming and opened her eyes. She knelt onto her knees and inclined her head.
“Princess.”
Tempest Shadow dropped in the heavy armor, pressing her broken horn forward as ash gathered on the stump.
“Princess,” she said softly.
Sunset Shimmer stared west, towards the dark cloud obscuring the setting sun. Her eyes were searching, but the alicorn she hoped to see was not there. The unicorn turned back to the alicorn before her and bowed with collapsing forelegs. Her voice was a mere whisper.
“Princess.”
Duskcrest bowed beside Dusty, claw clasped to his chest and wings extended. The silver-plated grips of his pistols flashed in their wing holsters as he lowered himself to the ash.
“Princess.”
Jacques limped forward and laid on the ash, sprawled like a supplicating pony. There was not a single trace of mockery in his yellow eyes before he closed them.
“Princess,” he said with absolute sincerity.
Cerie climbed down from the radio tower. She vanished into a crowd of kneeling, bowing figures. It rippled through the camp, down from the command center. They moved as a wave, uncaring of the glowing cinders drifting through the air. Limestone was helped into a bow, as were the wounded in the crowd.
Spike held the helmet and dropped to a knee to look up at her. Flurry gazed down with bloodshot, tired eyes. He nodded to her, seeing Cadance's daughter and the niece of Twilight Sparkle. The dragon inclined his head and took a deep breath.
“Princess,” he rumbled at a near-roar.
Gallus watched the gathered crowd bow and twisted a head to look back at the helmeted knights escorting him. Their wings and tails rustled against the plate mail. He turned to look up at Flurry. They were the only creatures still standing before the alicorn; they were not sworn to her, and they had no responsibility.
Gallus clasped a claw to his chest and bowed as if he was bowing to the Kaiser, prone on the ground and wings extended.
“Princess,” he announced.
The knights shuffled their paws and claws, then knelt behind him. Their beaks echoed from their helmets.
“Princess,” they said with only a slight stutter.
Flurry Heart, only still standing due to her armor, looked over her subjects.
Creatures that had never knelt to a pony before, that had never knelt to her before, that had never submitted to the rule of Equestria or the Empire, now bowed low and waited for her to say something to them.
Flurry wanted nothing more than to pass out for several hours.
But they knelt and bowed and awaited her command as flurries of ash fell around them.
One of her bloody ears twitched at the sound of the wind. A voice, nothing more than an memory, carried from the north.
Destiny is a choice.
Flurry Heart closed her eyes. And she imagined the future.
She would never be a teacher.
She would never take a student.
She would never write a purple-bound book.
She would not be a guide.
She would not be an example.
She would not love them as the others did.
They would not come to her for advice or reassurance.
They would not stand before her to be married.
They would not be her little ponies, to be protected and coddled from the world.
They would love her and hate her and fear her and adore her and fight for her and die for her.
And there would always be a distance between them.
A distance that the Sun did everything she could to bridge, and the Moon found unbearable.
A distance that her mother and father and aunt never had.
Love is the death of duty, Flurry.
The Princess of Ponies took a breath, and her voice carried down the mountain.
“Rise.”
Grover awoke to a rapping upon the chamber door. He blinked for a moment, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. The crumbled roof and old rafters swam into focus for a brief moment, then receded into vague blurs. Grover was laying on his back with his wings splayed out on the double-mattresses. Even with the extra padding, it was still uncomfortable.
The knock repeated; Grover recognized it as a paw instead of a claw. The sound was too soft. He groped against an elegant willow nightstand brought from Griffenheim before his talons touched his glasses. He hooked them across his beak with a well-practiced motion, then rolled and sat up on all fours. The movement tangled the linen bedsheets.
“Enter,” Grover called out. His voice cracked into a scratchy squawk. He thumped a claw to his nightshirt and coughed. “Enter,” he repeated at a deeper register.
The old wooden door creaked open slightly and the light from the hallway spilled into the interior storage room that functioned as a royal bedchamber. A dark brown muzzle poked through. “My Kaiser?” the dog asked with a bowed head. “A thousand pardons for the intrusion.”
“General Loudbark,” Grover suppressed a yawn. He fumbled along the table until he found a crystal and tapped it twice with a talon. It sparkled with light as the enchanted activated. It cast the room in a gloomy pale light.
Grover began to extract his wings from the tangle of bedsheets. Should’ve thrown them off before rolling over. “What is the situation? Has the northern advance stalled?” the Kaiser guessed.
“No, my Kaiser,” the dog assured him quietly, “but there is a situation.” The paw tapped on the doorframe with a nervous flutter. “It is something neither Benito nor myself can attend to in your absence.”
My absence? Grover rolled his eyes. The light was dim enough that the dog did not catch it. I am sleeping. “Just so, I will deal with it in the tower. Dismissed.”
The door closed. The guards shuffled back to their positions in the hallway with a clank of steel and the sound of fading boots as General Loudbark left. Grover listened for a moment as he folded the bed sheets back up clumsily.
He had not brought the full complement of household staff with him from Griffenheim; it was beyond impractical. And those that did arrive with him remained in Manehattan and far from the front. Only his guards and army staff traveled with the Kaiser to the Everfree.
And that meant Grover had to make his own bed. The dogs would do it, of course, and Bentio was quick to offer that they did along with preparing his meals. Grover had seen the truth of it well enough, and the last thing he wanted was to have four armed dogs watch him sleep all night.
They already taste test all my food and watch me eat. Grover clacked his beak as he tugged on the monographed nightshirt. It was a simple white silk shirt that hung loosely on his lean frame. Grover stretched on the floor, shaking out a hind paw with a muted pop as his tail bobbed. The pajama bottoms nearly reached his bare paws, also a fine silk but black.
Grover looked to the dresser, another willow cabinet brought from Griffenheim. It was nearly as tall as the old storage room at the base of the tower. The Castle of the Two Sisters was over a thousand years old, and Grover suspected that its dilapidation under the sole reign of Celestia was a gambit to erase the sins of her sister. Not as if Griffonstone looks much better in less than a tenth of the time.
He huffed at the cabinet, crossing and opening the doors to stare blankly at a collection of leather coats, pressed slacks, polished boots, fine gloves, dress shirts, medallioned sashes, and popped collars. Grover grabbed a pair of boots, then hesitated. He looked back over to the bedtable. Next to the little crystal, the Reichstone rested on its pillow, gold and gems polished to a shine. Grover ran a claw through his tan head feathers to smooth them, then rubbed the back of his neck.
The door to his chambers opened from within, and the dog guards snapped to attention with paws clamped to their chests. The griffons further down the hall, knights in enchanted plate, similarly dipped their wings. The hallway was technically below ground in the basement of the castle, and the dogs found it similar enough to Bronzehill’s great mountain holds to be more comfortable than the griffons.
The dogs were not comfortable when Grover exited in his nightshirt and slacks with bare paws and talons clicking on the stone floor. He flapped and refolded his wings with realigned flight feathers in the hallway. The Kaiser squinted at the guard to his left, needing to look up at the dog from all fours. Height had always run in the family, and Grover was tall for a sixteen-year-old, but he only reached the dog’s upper chest.
“My Kaiser,” the dog intoned with eyes straight ahead.
“Sir Terrance,” Grover acknowledged him. “With me.” He looked over a wing to the Reichstone on its pillow, then fully exited into the hallway. He let the guards close his door behind him as he walked through the low tunnel and up a curving flight of stairs.
His bare claws gathered dust and bits of chipped stone. The dogs had sniffed out dozens of secret tunnels in the castle, and Grover wondered if they were remnants of Celestia’s supposed pranks, or Luna’s descent into paranoia and Maar-touched madness. He scuffed a talon along the stairwell before inspecting the sharp point.
The Kaiser could have exited through the courtyard and flown to the tower by the balcony; he walked up the stairs instead. Griffons and dogs bowed their head at him as he passed, always with a “My Kaiser,” on their beaks and muzzles. Their eyes, however, were befuddled. Only the household staff had seen him without his full regal dress, and of those griffons and dogs, less than five had ever seen him naked.
Grover found he did not particularly care tonight. He paused at a dilapidated window and judged the full moon. “Do you have the time, Sir Terrance?” he asked behind him.
There was a shuffling as the dog pulled a gauntlet off partially to inspect a watch. “It is nearly four in the morning, my Kaiser,” the dog replied deferentially. There was a click as the gauntlet slid back into place.
“Just so,” Grover nodded. “I thank you.” His ears perked as he passed the hallway connecting to the true Reichsarmee command center. The large vestibule clamored with reports and radio static under the sounds of hundreds of griffons speaking and consolidating information.
That bodes well. The push against the shield wall to trap the northern army would have slowed during the night, but the fresh reserves would keep the pressure up. And the shield itself glowed; the closer one got to it, the easier it would be to keep attacking. Before he went to bed, the initial reports guessed that over 80,000 Changeling soldiers were cut off in the north.
And the reports also guessed that 200,000 Changeling reserves had been within the Duskwood. Grover snorted and his tail lashed, the bob at the end bouncing off a stone step. He climbed the tower briskly.
An Aquileian stallion guarded the door with two Longswordian knights. His horn glowed and a spell ruffled over Grover first, then the stallion knelt and dipped the horn to the floor. “My Kaiser,” he said in a whisper.
You are bowing to the wrong monarch, Grover almost quipped, but he held his tongue. One of the knights pushed the door open with a gauntlet and Grover entered. Benito and Loudbark crowded the aged war table in the center of the room. The figures atop it had been shifted to the north of the sprawling map, with many of the metal changelings lined along the far edge, permanently out of the fight.
The gray dog and brown dog registered his entry after a moment of shock at Grover in his pajamas. They knelt abruptly with a paw clasped to their chests. Grover shook his bare head and beckoned them up with a claw. “Rise.”
“My Kaiser,” Benito said regretfully. “The situation is not so urgent that you could-”
“I am dressed fine,” Grover said shortly, “and there is a dreadful lack of strong coffee on this continent. Equus was a land of tea.” His escorting knights were scanned by the unicorn and allowed entry before the door was shut.
“Just so, my Kaiser,” Loudbark said after a moment of silence. “The Ironpaws cornered a changeling attempting to reach our lines.”
“General Loudbark means that a changeling surrendered to our reserves just south of the Princess’ camp,” Bentio rephrased with a sharp glance at his fellow dog. Loudbark rubbed his helmet and looked askance.
Grover crossed to the table and leaned against it. He studied the northern advance for a moment. “Attempting another breakout?” he guessed.
“She wishes to surrender,” Loudbark explained. “Says she’s from Canterlot.” He smirked. “The Ironpaw team that captured her says a rat ran up to them and begged for mercy.”
“Are you certain the changeling is female?” Benito asked.
“She is naked,” Loudbark scoffed. “It is easy to check.”
“One changeling attempting to surrender is a ruse and not a concern,” Grover interrupted. The two dogs’ ears pinned back.
“Apologies, my Kaiser,” Loudbark said in an ironically quiet voice. “The hour is late and I am tired. She claims to be the personal attendant of the Generalmajor. She wishes to surrender to you.”
Grover leaned against the table and processed the statement. His deep blue eyes flicked to wooden alicorn laying on the base of Mount Canterhorn. Benito must’ve noticed. He raised a brow upward at the dog, then gestured his beak to the figurine.
“The Princess’ army is still readying for an assault up the mountain,” Benito offered. “All accounts indicate they were bitten quite badly.”
Grover hummed. “I suppose she wishes to see me?”
“As an envoy, I suppose,” Benito nodded.
“It is hard to tell from all the blubbering,” Loudbark muttered. “I suspect changelings lack spines. I shall have to ask an Ironpaw if they savaged one of them badly enough to notice if they do.”
“Send her up,” Grover ordered.
Both dogs hesitated, eyes sweeping over Grover’s pajamas.
“Send her up,” Grover repeated. “If she is naked, I trust she lacks weapons.”
“She has been shackled and an inhibitor ring was placed upon her horn,” Benito said. He folded his arms. “We are still uncertain about their emotion senses,” he reminded his Kaiser.
“Thranx said it was a struggle with the horn blocked.” Grover waved a claw. “If she is nervous, doubly so. I do not care. She will sense I am tired if nothing else.”
Both dogs knelt again. “My Kaiser,” they said together.
Grover waved them away with a wing and yawned. “Dismissed. Fetch her.” He blinked and shook his head. “Bring her to me with a detachment of knights,” he rephrased. “As many guards as you wish, Benito.”
“I would recommend the great hall downstairs, then,” Benito offered as he stood.
“I am afraid you will have to compromise,” Grover clacked his beak. “I wish this done quickly.”
“We can simply execute her,” Loudbark remarked.
“I wish to hear what she has to say,” Grover replied. Loudbark accepted that as reason enough and followed Benito. The door opened, then closed.
Grover looked to the hole in the wall of the tower, leading to some ancient tunnel for listening in. Was it for Luna to escape the shadow of her sister? Or her sister to ensure her power? The entrance below had been blocked off.
The map of the world was still pinned up next to the balcony. The Griffonian Reich was in the focal point in the center of the map. The three continents of the world were divided, but only one was divided in two. Grover’s eyes traced the long land border with the River Federation. The core of his Reichsarmee was far from home.
You will attack. He knew in his heart they would, the moment any true weakness appeared on Equus. The Riverlands' entire defensive alliance that became their River Federation spawned from his ancestor’s Great Crusade. Time may heal wounds, but wounds always scarred.
Grover dragged his previously discarded chair up to the table. The table had been part of the castle, and while the griffon doubted it was truly a thousand years old, the wood had blackened with age and grown hard. The chair was imported from Griffonheim; a plush bottom with a narrow back for folding your wings. The end result was that the chair was slightly too high for the table, hence why Grover usually preferred to stand.
Grover sat down and leaned his beak in an upturned claw. He drummed his talons along his cheek. While he waited, the griffon gazed out the balcony. Two knights stood guard, facing away from him and scanning the night sky for any threat with readied assault rifles.
“Have you been on shift long?” Grover asked suddenly.
There was no response for a moment, then one of the knights slowly turned her helmet to peer over a wing. “My...” she stumbled, then quickly slung her assault rifle under a wing and fully turned around.
“My Kaiser!” she exclaimed. Her helmet muffled the squawk. Her partner twisted around as well, uncertain if he was also addressed, then decided it was best to act as if he was. Both bowed facing the interior of the tower.
One of you should probably still be keeping watch, Grover thought, but instead repeated, “Have you been on shift long?”
There was a pause that stretched on too long. “No more than two hours, my Kaiser,” the female knight answered.
Grover tried to place her accent. “Are you Rumarean?” he asked in Herzlander. “My accent is rather poor,” he said in the Rumarean language, “but the tutor assured me that I am understandable.”
The knight’s wings ruffled. “I apologize, my Kaiser,” she said in a pained voice. “I am Rumarean, but I do not know the language.”
Grover waved a wing at both of them. “Remove your helmets, if you would,” he said in Herzlander.
Both did so immediately. The male was fire red with a hooked beak, and the female knight was a bright blonde with a narrow cleft. The tips of her head feathers turned strawberry in a natural tint. It framed her green eyes. She was several years older than Grover, and clearly beautiful.
“I do not know either of you,” Grover observed. “Who are you?”
“I am Morgain,” the Rumarean said deferentially. “Sworn to the Longsword Order.”
“I am Hans,” the male said in a southern accent. “I am from Cyanolisia and sworn to the Longsword Order.”
Grover nodded absently. “Do you miss it?”
Both paused with their helmets in their claws. “My Kaiser?” Morgain ventured.
“Do you miss home?” Grover clarified.
“We are fighting a great war,” Hans replied slowly. “The Second Great Crusade.”
“You appear to be guarding me,” Grover said with a slight smirk.
Neither had a retort. Morgain’s green eyes struggled to make eye contact, clearly wishing she was watching the horizon for threats instead of actually speaking to him. Hans seemed little better.
Grover’s smirk fell from his cheeks and he returned to the map. “Dismissed,” he waved his wing. “Return to your posts.” Both quickly replaced their helmets and turned around.
The Kaiser flipped through stacks of poorly-organized reports atop the edges of the map, sorting them with a lazy claw. The casualty reports were high in the north from Thundertail’s folly, but it was overall lower than anticipated. It would be a great victory.
He flumped a heavy folder atop the fallen alicorn. It left an indent in the papers. Hardly my victory, Grover thought. One of the last papers was his own notes from Gallus’ return.
The Princess had requested “whatever he could spare,” and the Kaiser was quite busy running down the army that nearly shattered her force. The back of the page was a short summation of the Princess’ physical condition: a fact that Gallus had conveniently excised from his debriefing, but the knights with him had spoken of in subdued tones.
She’s going to try and lead an assault with Stage Four Magical Exhaustion. Grover read over the details again. Perhaps Stage Five. Griffons could work enchantments into steel, and depending on who was asked, could even fly better than a pegasus, but they did not suffer from the same magical ailments. A griffon blacksmith would collapse from mundane exhaustion or heart failure before anything magical.
Several sets of steps began to ring up the staircase, echoing with the clank of armor and scrape of steel. Grover set the folders down and waited in chair. At the last moment, he retrieved an old Changeling pistol from its case beneath the table and made sure it was loaded. He left it on the table in easy claw reach.
This time, they did not knock. The knights simply entered and took positions along the walls, spreading out with readied assault rifles and sheathed blades under their wings. Grover did not nod to them as they entered, nor did they bow. This was purely an intimidation display.
Grover did pick out Sir Ewing and Sir Erreck beside Grandmaster Jürgen of the Opinicus Order, then Knight-Captain Wavewing of the Rosewood Order and a detachment of her own knights. Sir Geralt of Longsword stood in his black armor beneath the map of the world with a team of a half-dozen black-plated griffons.
I see we have gathered a collection of who was available, Grover thought. He resisted a yawn and sat straighter in the chair. Countess Raison D’Etat of Vinovia, the only Aquileian pony in the room, stood beside the broken wall. Count Ignatius of Bronzehill stood beside her, making a valiant effort to look awake. The dog’s whiskers twitched with a suppressed yawn.
Benito entered and knelt in the doorway. Grover waved his claw at him. “Rise. Bring her in.”
Benito stood to the side with one paw on his saber’s hilt and another on his holster. General Loudbark entered next, sparing Grover a deep nod as he walked backwards with his eyes locked on the stairwell. The Kaiser picked up the clink of chains underneath armored footfalls.
Two Ironpaws, the heavily armored dog soldiers comparable to griffon knights, dragged a chained changeling between them. Her hooves dangled off the ground as she was carried into the room. Grover did note that she was indeed a mare; the shorter, rounder muzzle gave it away with the slightness of her frame. The changeling’s eyes were wide and a deep purple.
The crooked horn above was topped with an inhibitor ring; it couldn’t fit over a knot in the keratin to reach the base, so the dogs had shoved another atop the first. It looked deeply uncomfortable. Grover was reminded briefly of the casual ease that the Princess blasted off the ring in Manehattan, then resisted looking at the wooden alicorn. He had left it atop the desk.
The dogs carried the changeling three steps into the room, just enough for the door to be closed, then dropped her. The chains clinked as she stumbled. A set tied her forelegs together, and another her hind legs. A final set bound her wings to her side. The changeling was forced to stand awkwardly with her legs nearly pinned together.
“You stand,” Benito began in hard Herzlander, “before Grover VI, Kaiser of the Griffonian Reich, King of Aquileia, Vedina, Cloudbury, and Wingbardy. The Grand Prince of the Evi Valley. The Kaiser of Griffonkind.”
The changeling blinked her purple eyes at the griffon wearing expensive pajamas halfway across the room. Grover did not move, so the changeling began to slowly bend her legs to bow. Halfway through the attempt, she simply fell to the floor as the chains constricted her legs too much.
Half the knights in the room aimed at her. She froze.
Grover pointed a claw at the Ironpaws. “Help her back up,” he ordered. “I trust you know our language,” he said down to the changeling.
“I d-do,” she confirmed with a stutter. Benito growled. “K-kaiser,” the mare quickly tacked on.
Grover waited, staring at her. The Ironpaws hauled her back up, then stood a step back. It was hard to tell without true pupils, but the changeling seemed to look around the room and further shrink in on herself. She mouthed something.
“You waste the Kaiser’s time,” Loudbark snarled. “Speak louder, bug.”
“I…” the changeling struggled to find her voice. The wings buzzed against the chains and the knights tensed. “I a-am Alcippe, assistant to Generalmajor Jachs of Canterlot.”
“Actia Pagala is in charge of Canterlot,” Grover answered with blank eyes. “Jachs was the previous Generalmajor of the Commissariat.”
“She is dead,” Alcippe said hurriedly. “Jachs took the position back.”
Grover was too tired to particularly care about formalities. He openly rolled his eyes at the mare. “That is not how it works, changeling. You speak of mutiny.”
Alcippe took a shuddering breath. “W-We wish to surrender to you, Kaiser Grover VI.” Her eyes seemed to linger on the table in front of Grover. He tried to track her gaze, and it landed on the wooden alicorn sticking out from the bottom of the folder.
“I am not the one surrounding the city,” Grover responded dryly. “You are speaking with the wrong army.”
“We wish to surrender to you.” Alcippe did not stutter this time. “We hold the bridges to the Estates and Canterlot Castle, easily a third of the city.”
“It is not my city,” Grover shrugged a wing. “And you are speaking with the wrong army.”
“C-canterlot is a great prize,” Alcippe stumbled.
“Honesty may be difficult,” Grover said in a blithe tone. “You are a changeling, after all. But you will speak nothing but the truth in my presence.” He fully turned his blue eyes on her. “Why are you here?”
Alcippe swallowed. “I-I represent Generalmajor Jachs. We w-wish to surrender.”
“That is not why you are here,” Grover stated. He removed the folder and stood the alicorn upright at the base of the mountain. “You are hoping to place my army in between you and the ponies.”
“We…we have 40,000 Changeling soldiers entrenched,” Alcippe claimed.
“The Princess is assaulting the city,” Grover responded. After a pause, he added, “Herself.”
The look of utter terror on the mare’s face was unmistakable. A forked tongue slid along a fang as she breathed shortly. Grover clenched his beak as he waited for the changeling to recover.
“We...we w-wish to s-surrender,” Alcippe managed. “We w-will completely comply with any of your d-demands. As long as y-you guarantee our safety.”
“You do not get to make demands of the Kaiser,” Loudbark barked.
Canterlot would be a prize, Grover considered it. We could use the propaganda of seizing it before the Princess. His eyes wandered to the balcony. The Everfree Forest stretched into the night, but somewhere to the west was a large crater a quarter full of ash.
Grover turned back to the mare. “I get nothing from this arrangement.”
“O-our s-surrender-”
“Is worthless,” Grover finished for her. “We do not need your equipment. We certainly do not need you as prisoners. Every time my army attempted an exchange, as we have done in Griffonia, there was always an infiltrator mixed-in.”
Grover moved to lean atop the desk, then realized the chair was too large. He stood and braced his darker claws atop the wood. “One of our earliest rules of chivalry was not to fly your enemy’s banner,” he lectured. “You took our language but sullied everything else.”
Alcippe had no response to that. Grover debated whether to even bother sending her to the Princess, or simply executing her in the tower. Benito clearly guessed the Kaiser’s thought process: he tapped his saber’s hilt with a paw.
“Twilight Sparkle is yours,” the mare whispered. Grover almost missed it, then he was sure he misheard her.
Loudbark, Ignatius, and Benito’s ears twitched. “Speak…” Loudbark hesitated. “Louder.”
“T-Twilight,” the mare stumbled, this time from pure hesitation instead of nervousness. “Twilight Sparkle is yours. We surrender.”
Grover looked at the purple-bound Friendship Journal covered by reports. He shifted them aside to expose the book, then dropped it atop the center of the table. It landed with a muted thud that rang through the room.
“Twilight Sparkle is dead,” Grover said flatly. “We are aware of illusion magic. Projection or not, the mare is dead.”
“She has been in t-the Queen’s custody since the war ended,” Alcippe answered. She took a deep breath, as deep as she could with the chains keeping her wings to her barrel. “She is in Canterlot Castle. Less than a dozen changelings knew, and most are dead.”
“After your mutiny,” Grover guessed. His eyes searched her, then scanned over the knights lining the walls. None of them offered a hint if they believed her, not even Sir Geralt's yellow eyes.
“If you guarantee our safety,” Alcippe continued, “y-you can have her.”
“I can have her,” Grover repeated with open disdain. “Unlike the Hegemony, the Reich does not practice slavery. What am I supposed to do with her, changeling?”
“She is…is the rightful Princess of Equestria,” Alcippe said with trembling lips.
Grover saw her gambit. He immediately squawked a fake laugh that cracked into a shrill screech. For the moment, he did not care how it looked.
“You think that matters?” Grover said mockingly. “You are desperate to put anything between yourself and the alicorn at the base of the mountain.”
“The Equestrian L-liberation Front fought to f-free Twilight Sparkle,” Aclippe tried. “T-they don’t w-want-”
“Offer her to them, then,” Grover interrupted with a brisk flap of a wing. Something made him pause, but he dismissed it and pushed forward. “What am I intended to do? Carry her out in a cocoon to the thanks of Equestria? Or should I attempt to name her the true Princess?”
“She is the r-rightful Princess,” Alcippe repeated. Her dual-toned voice sounded incredibly weak. “P-princess Flurry H-heart has no claim to Equestria.”
She has a horn and wings, fool. Grover openly leaned atop the table with a bobbing tail. “Am I meant to leave her in your cocoon, then?” he sneered. “You are a fool if you think Twilight Sparkle would ever reject her niece.”
Alcippe closed her eyes. “T-that won’t be a concern.”
It took Grover a moment to process her stance, like that of an insect waiting for the rock to crush them. His dark blue eyes scanned the room. A few of the knights’ eyes had narrowed in suspicion and confusion. Sir Geralt’s yellow eyes widened in realization and his claw gripped the hilt of his sword.
Benito blinked and cocked his head with Loudbark. A hush descended.
Grover broke the silence first. “What did you do to her?”
“T-the…” Alcippe tried to breathe in. Her wings fluttered. “The Q-queen-”
“Benito,” Grover said as his voice cracked lower. “On my command, cut off her head.”
Benito drew his saber and held it at his side.
The changeling completely locked up, frozen in terror.
“What,” Grover began with a low snarl, “did you do to her?”
Alcippe took two short breaths. She did not answer until Grover began to raise his claw to give the signal to Benito. “She’s in a coma!” she rushed out in a shrieking hiss. “She’s not dead! She’s in a coma! She won’t wake up!”
Grover set his claw down atop the table, next to the Friendship Journal. “Explain.”
“The Queen,” the mare began, only for Benito to nearly froth at her. Grover waved him back. The dog sheathed his sword with a hard clang and retreated. Alcippe took several seconds to recover, then several more to begin.
“After the e-end of the war, Twilight Sparkle was moved to a c-cave outside Canterlot. The Queen’s Guard h-had her plugged into a love extractor.”
“A what?” Loudbark interrupted. “A cocoon?”
“N-no, it was…” Aclippe paused as her ears pinned back.
“You tortured her,” Sir Geralt broke the silence. His bright yellow eyes fixated on the changeling.
“N-no,” Aclippe whimpered. “T-the Q-queen’s Guard…”
“You knew, didn’t you?” Sir Geralt replied. A claw gripped the sword under a wing. He clearly wanted to murder her.
Alcippe did not shake her head in denial. Her forked tongue licked across her fangs rapidly. “T-they u-used her for power. F-for love.”
“For love?” Grover echoed. “You still believe that is what this war was for?”
“D-during the u-uprising,” Alcippe continued, “she was e-evacuated before t-they reached Canterlot. T-the Queen…after it was over, she w-wanted…” the changeling trailed away.
“Finish it,” Grover stated. His voice cracked lower.
“She fell into a coma,” Alcippe whispered, refusing to look above her hooves.
Grover’s eyes went to a series of boxes stacked next to the hole in the wall. “Count Ignatius, would you please go to the second box on the right?”
Count Ignatius wrenched his eyes away from the mare and stomped over to them. “My Kaiser?”
“Pictures in the pink folder,” Grover clarified.
Ignatius used a gloved paw to flick through files until he found the folder, then slightly opened it. His muzzle wrinkled with disgust, pulling back from his teeth.
“Any of them will do,” Grover said blandly. “Show one to her.”
The Count pulled out a copy of a photograph out and stalked over to the changeling with a low tail. Alcippe tried to shrink down, chains rattling. The dog stood over her and thrust the picture down towards her muzzle.
Aclippe closed her eyes.
“Look at the picture,” Grover ordered. Benito half-drew his saber, and the scrape of steel on the sheath made the changeling open her eyes and look. “Do you know who that is?”
Alcippe’s mouth trembled, but words did not form.
“That is the Princess’ mother,” Grover said. “One of five alicorns in the known world. At the very least, she was dead when you did that to her. Tell me: Does Twilight Sparkle look better or worse than that?”
Alcippe gasped as her wings tried to buzz. “P-please, we s-surrender.”
“No,” Grover countered. “You wish to have an army protect you. She will breach the city, and she will kill you all.”
That seemed to be the end of it. Ignatius twisted the photograph away and stomped back to the boxes. Benito sheathed his sword again with a harsh clatter of steel, then looked to the Kaiser for orders. The griffon only tapped a claw on the table. What am I supposed to do with you? Grover considered.
“The ELF wanted Twilight Sparkle,” Alcippe stammered. “No one knows she’s there. I…I can convince Jachs to move her. We can do it t-tonight!”
“Convince him?” Grover stopped tapping a talon on the table. “You…” he paused and stared at the mare. She shook in her chains.
“You are not a spy,” Grover stated, “and you are not an envoy. If you were only interested in saving yourself, you would have fled. The Generalmajor does not know you are here.”
“I can c-convince him,” Alcippe repeated in a whisper. “We’re…close.”
“Blessed Boreas!” one of the knights squawked. “How does that even work? Do you just suck the love from each other, or is there nothing there?”
“I love him!” Alcippe hissed, then immediately quailed when the knights angled the assault rifles towards her. “I am here for him.” She turned desperate, pleading eyes to the Kaiser. “N-no one knows where she is…You can find her in C-canterlot. O-or…”
Grover snorted. “Benito-”
“You won’t need her anymore,” the changeling said suddenly, rallying all her courage. Her eyes were on the wooden alicorn.
Grover’s command strangled in his throat. His claws dug into the table and he hauled himself over it with flaring wings. The griffon landed several hooves from the mare with wings extended over his head. His feathers puffed instinctively.
“I do not need her!” Grover roared back.
“She killed thousands of your griffons,” Alcippe said, sheer desperation overpowering the fear in the changeling’s eyes. “We know what she’s done.”
The Ironpaws and Benito stepped forward when Grover advanced on the changeling. The Kaiser snarled up at them. I do not need protection from one chained mare. His wings buffeted the air and the Ironpaws stopped at the mare’s black flanks.
“She approached me! She came to me! To my army!”
“You accepted,” Alcippe forced out.
Grover’s dark eyes snapped to a radio resting beside the door behind her. An eye twitched, and whatever retort he intended did not leave his beak. His eyes swept over the room, landing on the map of the world upon the wall. None of the knights below it met his stare.
“We know about your spymasters,” Alcippe continued. She had lowered herself to the floor. “And the purges in the navy.”
“You dare!” Benito growled. He stepped forward.
Grover held up a claw and halted the dog. He stood straight and glared down at the mare. “What…” he swallowed. “What else do you know, changeling?”
“The ELF is divided,” Alcippe said from the floor. “She ordered executions. She’s not the Princess they want.”
“You believe they would prefer a broken mare?” Grover asked bluntly.
Alcippe did not answer verbally, but her teary purple eyes still spoke to him. You would, they said. Grover abruptly turned away from her and walked back to the table. As he did, he imagined walking down the Temple of Boreas in Griffenheim.
“Like this?”
She could bow the entire way. Grover imagined the scene. She could wriggle across the floor like a worm, and it would all be undone the moment she stood up beside me. His eyes drifted to the balcony. It was not a concession; it was another bit of her low cunning.
The room was silent. Wings rustled against armor and chains clinked as the changeling shook. She stood up.
“My Kaiser?” Benito asked.
Grover faced away from the changeling; he reared up and leaned his claws atop the table. It had been a table meant of a pony, so it was lower than it should be. The Kaiser stared at the chair from Griffenheim.
Why did we never get involved before? Grover wondered to himself. Ancestors Above, did you stare across the ocean in wonder, or resentment?
“My Kaiser?” Benito repeated.
“How would you even move her?” Grover asked aloud. “Where is Twilight Sparkle, anyway? Some cave?”
“It can be done,” Alcippe said quickly. “She’s in Canterlot Castle; she’s been there for years. We…we can do it. I c-can convince Jachs.”
You’ve said too much. Grover fiddled with the reports. The Princess had asked for whatever he could spare, and he could easily send knights in to secure the castle ahead of whatever hellish rampage the alicorn inflicted on the Changelings. Griffonian knights would save the Princess of Friendship…or whatever was left of her.
Or…the thought hit Grover suddenly. Or I could order something else.
Dark blue eyes drifted over the notes on the Princess’ condition. I spared that feckless bluebird, and he still chooses to bow to her. I even spared that precious pilot. Grover gazed up at the old support beams above his head. Did Luna stand here and wonder about how she could remove her sister?
As impressive as her shiny crater was, Princess Flurry Heart was clearly gravely injured. She was rushing into Canterlot to try and protect her precious ponies, secure that his Reichsarmee could deal with the Changelings. She was weak. A few hours of sleep wouldn’t change that. She might even die on her own in the assault.
But she did ask for help. A dozen knights with enchanted steel and whispered orders. They would have to avoid her changelings, but it could be done. Grover scanned along the wall and considered who would do it. Who could do it.
“If it were done when ‘tis done, then ‘twere well it were done quickly,” Grover quoted distantly, staring at the hole in the masonry.
“W-what?” Alcippe stumbled.
“You took our language,” Grover said over a wing, “but not our plays, apparently. Garbeth.” He returned to staring at the mortar. “That but this blow might be the be-all and end-all here.”
Urban combat was already a nightmare, and the Princess fought recklessly. She could fall somewhere in Canterlot, then the last Princess of Equestria would be found in the ruins of her home, saved by Griffonian knights. There would be a great deal of risk, but the changeling was right.
Ponies loved Twilight Sparkle. They remembered her. And the Changelings tortured her. They would whinny for vengeance for their Princess across the continent. Flurry Heart could die a martyr, as she clearly wished to, then the grief would turn to anger and rage.
I am at least in a place known for regicides, Grover laughed to himself. His chuckle, not as deep as it should be, made the room tense. Ignatius still stood beside the boxes. He had folded his paws as he waited beside Loudbark. My most loyal followers are dogs, not griffons. Look at her. She can sway anyone to her side with that damn horn.
The map of the world was behind Grover. He could still see it in his mind. The ponies of Equus would cry, and some would splinter away, but many would be united in anger and heartache. And his Reichsarmee would provide that outlet. They would march across the continent and kill Chrysalis.
And in the end, Equestria would truly be his. The entire continent, Grover reconsidered. Which one of us could claim that? What would you have done here, Eros?
He immediately dismissed that thought. You would have never come here, never gotten involved. My father would have called this entire war folly.
“P-princess Flurry Heart is n-not what ponies want,” Alcippe said behind him. The chains clinked as she shuffled forward. “In e-exchange for T-twilight, do you accept our surrender?”
Grover did not respond. His tail bobbed. The first step is to execute the changeling and swear the others to secrecy. He looked over his wing to the nervous, purple-eyed changeling. She licked bright white fangs, but seemed truly oblivious, blinded by sheer desperation and love.
Grover remembered Eros’ final words as he lay dying in a hospital bed.
“All the terrible things I did, I did so you wouldn't have to."
And the Kaiser of the Griffonian Reich had ordered tanks to roll across his capital less than three weeks later.
I had to do terrible things, Eros. The world is a terrible place.
There was a path before him, a hard path, but one that would lead to untold glory. There would not need to be a sham marriage, or further humiliations. It would be his army that led the way, and his army would return in triumph.
“Is this a dagger which I see before me?” Grover said, then laughed again, this time high and loud. It descended into a screeching guffaw that clearly made the entire room uncomfortable. As he laughed, his eyes swept the room, seeing confused muzzles and beaks.
I spent years learning our languages, reading our plays and history. Griffons don’t want that Kaiser; they only want iron and blood and gold. Grover picked at his nightshirt as his laughter died down. They would rather have Grover II reborn.
And that was currently an alicorn in crystal armor who spent an entire battle atop a tank.
Who would be Guinevere, begging before Grover?
“My Kaiser?” Benito asked one final time. His boots sounded behind Grover and the dog rounded the table. He avoided eye contact; the gray dog simply waited for a decision. Grover still had his back turned to the changeling. The chains clinked a little closer.
Grover realized the changeling had been talking the entire time, descending into a desperate, mumbling prattle as she tried to save her love. “S-since the Q-queen ordered…” She stepped closer, as close as she dared.
Kaiser Grover VI tuned her out. He looked at the Friendship Journal, then the pistol, and finally the wooden alicorn. He plucked it up with a claw and held it in his palm. He gazed over the little wooden figure to Benito.
Benito finally made eye contact. He stared over the alicorn with brown eyes, meeting Grover’s deep blue. The dog’s chest swelled and he nodded after a moment. His paw clenched the saber’s hilt.
Grover’s cheeks pulled into a slow smirk at the figure. The little muzzle seemed sad, though it truly had no expression. Nothing personal. I know you would do the same to me.
The changeling continued behind him. “Y-you’d n-no longer n-need Princess Flurry-”
Grover knew, intellectually, what an alicorn was. He had been shown pictures, only a few pictures, considering that clothing seemed optional for them, but pictures all the same. They had the strength of an earth pony, the wings of a pegasus, and the magic of a unicorn. Until a few years ago, there were none on Griffonia.
The light pink filly standing in the broom closet seemed to get the wings of two pegasi. They were absurdly large for a ten-year-old, larger than his own even though he was a male griffon. There was a fleck of blood atop her spiraled horn that hadn’t been washed away, and her fur and curls were matted down. Her mane was stringy and hung about her muzzle, wet from the empty jug.
“Pinkie Promise?” the filly said in accented Aquileian. She clearly had a professional tutor; her accent was impeccably noble.
“What?” Grover asked, thinking he misheard her.
“Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.” The tall filly did a series of absurd motions with her right hoof, pressing it against her right eye as she finished. It probably rhymed in Equestrian, but the entire ritual seemed odd.
Grover repeated it, careful not to poke his eye. The filly seemed pleased, and he smiled. “A strange promise.”
“Breaking it is the fastest way to lose a friend,” the filly said resolutely, as if it was common knowledge. Perhaps it was in Equestria or the Crystal Empire. Grover knew little about them, and even less about her.
Benito shuffled behind Grover, but the griffon only had eyes on the alicorn. She had a narrow muzzle, still with a bit of baby fat around the chin, and her bright eyes resembled glacial ice. She had no crown, and her dress was rather simple and plain even if it wasn’t waterlogged, but she still stood with an easy grace.
As far as he knew, though he was not done with his history lessons, this was the first time any of his family had met an alicorn in person. He would need to ask Eros why. The old Archon stood beside him, seemingly troubled, but that was perhaps due to the confines of the broom closet.
“I am proud to be your friend, Princess Flurry,” Grover stated.
Grover dropped the wooden alicorn, turned around, and lunged forward.
He carved out the changeling’s purple left eye with one hard swipe of his claw.
It happened too quickly for any in the room to react in time. Grover felt the shock run up his arm and a burst of warmth on his talons as they raked across her muzzle. The changeling had been in the middle of a sentence, and her entire head snapped to the side.
Grover felt droplets land on his beak and fur. One landed on the lens in front of his right eye. He blinked at it and angled his head to the left. He straightened himself up from his pounce, standing directly in front of the changeling.
Alcippe did not react. Her mouth continued to move, though no words came out. Blood ran down the side of her muzzle. The changeling did not seem to realize what had happened to her; she stood very still with her head to the side.
Grover heard Benito take a reflexive step back at the same time as a dozen sets of wings rustled against steel in shock. It was a quiet series of sounds, but it rang through his head. Grover’s right claw was wet.
The changeling’s wings buzzed and she inhaled to scream.
Grover reared up and seized her by the horn and neck. Pivoting, he flung her across his body and she crashed against the low table. Figures and folders scattered across the floor from the impact. Benito and Loudbark took another step back. The chains tangled her hooves and she fell against the side. Grover crossed to her and took her by the horn. He used it as leverage, shoving her head back up.
“You wretched coward.” He slammed her muzzle down against the table as she began to shriek. It cut off abruptly. He hauled her back up by the horn.
“You serve your Queen loyally, when serving was safe,” Grover snarled. He slammed her down again. The entire table shook from the impact and more papers scattered.
“And now you slink away like a rat to save yourself.” He took her by the neck with his bloody talon as well, hauling her up on his paws. Grover slammed her entire body into the table headfirst. The old legs gave out and the changeling collapsed atop the splinters.
Grover noticed a fang lodged in a broken chunk of wood. “If I did not know better,” the griffon said in a low, reverberating growl, “I would believe that your entire species is this dissolute. That your entire being is incapable of honor. But I know that is not true.”
The changeling inhaled with a shuddering breath. Blood leaked across the scattered folders and splinters. She did not cry or scream; the shock of the injuries was too much.
“I know you have some concept of honor. I have seen it.” Grover grabbed her hind leg by a hole and hauled her away from the shattered table and across the stones. The chains rattled. “And that means you choose to be this. Is your entire cursed species this craven?”
Grover pulled her free from the wreck of the table. “You took our language,” he said to the walls of the tower. “You should have taken our proverbs. You have sown the wind, and now you flail in the whirlwind, seeking any shelter for the storm you have wrought upon yourselves.”
Alcippe might have attempted a reply, or she simply hissed a whimper.
“Do you know your history?” Grover asked suddenly. “Of course you do not. Your Queen burns everything she does not like.” He waved a bloody claw about the room; his nightshirt was soaked to the elbow and it stuck to his arm. “This was the Nightmare’s tower.”
Grover leered down at her. “I wonder if Maar came to her like you came to me, whispering poisoned honey into her ears. A promise of an endless night and eternal winter as the world froze. The death of everything under the adoration.”
The Kaiser of Griffonkind shoved the changeling over with a paw. He straddled the mare’s barrel, wrapping his claws around her throat. The changeling had lost several teeth, including her left fang. She sputtered and her hooves flailed weakly against his shoulders.
Grover ignored her hooves, even as one knocked against his beak and dislodged his glasses. He shook the pair off with a feral twist of his head. “You come here with nothing but more false promises of deception, dreaming of using family for betrayal, just to live another day.”
Grover was taller than her, and he had a longer reach. He pinned her hooves to her barrel with his elbows when he leaned down atop her. His light brown wings folded down to keep her hind legs from kicking.
“But I am not an alicorn,” Grover snarled loudly, “and I am not so easily tempted by whispers in the night.” The changeling gasped as the claws constricted her neck; she already struggled to breathe from her broken muzzle. Grover lowered his beak, almost to her remaining eye.
“If the Gods exist and they desire anything in this world,” Grover whispered only to her, “it would be this war. Keep your eye open. I wish to see your light fade from this world.”
The purple eye began to dim.
“My Kaiser!” a voice barked out. Grover felt something grab his shoulder. He turned with a squawk and buried the tip of his beak into the paw.
Benito howled in pain and tugged his paw free.
Grover blinked, suddenly registering the dozens of knights surrounding the tower turret. Blood dripped down from his beak. He lifted his head up and stared at them. None of the blurs along the wall met his wild deep blue irises.
Benito’s muzzle trembled. “Please,” he said in a measured voice to control the pain. “If you wish her dead, allow us, my Kaiser.” He clutched one paw over the other. Blood seeped into gray fur and dripped onto one of his boots.
Grover looked down at the changeling, then wrenched his claws free. It was hard to tell with black chitin, but there was an imprint around her neck. After a moment, the changeling shuddered and breathed in.
“I…” Grover paused and heaved. He slowly stood to all fours. “I do not wish her dead. Bring up healing potions.” His eyes scanned the wall until he landed on the vague shape of a pony. “Countess Raison, bring up the Aquileian healers. I want her alive.”
The pony did not move.
“Now,” Grover added. The tip of his beak was wet and he felt something drip from it.
The vague shape galloped out the room, taking the door to the stairwell.
Grover stalked back to the table. His claws and paws moved carefully over the debris trail and notes. A piece of paper stuck to a sticky claw and Grover brushed it free.
“Ironpaws,” he said aloud to the room. “Bring Alcippe downstairs for treatment. It will be easier there. Once she is stable, bring her to the Princess’ camp.”
“My Kaiser,” Loudbark nodded. Grover only saw the head bob.
“Knight-Captain Wavewing,” Grover announced. There was a shuffling of wings behind him, but nothing more. “Bring her to the Princess’ camp by flight. I want the entire Rosewood, Longsword, and Opinicus orders to assemble a war flock.”
“My Kaiser,” several voices said behind him. Grover stood over the wrecked table. His claws pushed through the folders and wooden splinters for a moment.
“You will repeat your offer of surrender to the Princess, Alcippe,” Grover said in a hard voice. “If you are not capable of doing so, one of my knights shall do it for you. Volunteers?”
“I will.”
“Thank you, Sir Geralt,” Grover said idly. He did not look over his wing at the white-furred griffon, having guessed by the voice. The room was still very quiet, and only the faint exhales of the broken changeling on the floor carried across the stones.
“If the Princess chooses to assault the city,” Grover said aloud, “you are under her direct command. Go now.”
“My…” Grandmaster Jürgen swallowed. “My Kaiser, that is-”
“That is my order,” Grover completed for him, “and my knights will follow it. Dismissed.”
There was a shuffling and clanking of armor as the room knelt and bowed. Grover sat down on the chair and squinted down at the ruins and blood before it. He waved a wing. “Dismissed. See to the changeling first.”
The noise of shuffling armor pervaded the room. Grover sat quietly in his chair as the two Ironpaw dogs hauled up the changeling and carried her down the stairs between them. She hung like a ragdoll, and only the choking exhales indicated she was still alive.
Grover turned to the balcony and two shapes against the forest and the stars. “You as well,” he said to Hans and Morgain. The shapes bowed and flew off the balcony without argument.
A pair of glasses swam into focus in front of his beak. Grover blinked at them, then at the paw, and finally at Benito. The dog held them in one paw, with his other paw held behind his back.
“My Kaiser,” Benito said lowly. Grover wasn’t sure if he was trying to be quiet, or trying to suppress the pain from entering his voice. “I shall fetch your medical team.”
Grover moved to accept the glasses with his right claw, then hesitated and grabbed them with his left. He wiped the lenses on his nightshirt, adding his claw to the stain after a moment.
He didn’t need to hook the glasses onto his beak to know the shirt was ruined. Grover examined his split knuckles and talon tips. “I am fine, Benito. Bruises, nothing more.”
“I would still send your-”
“Have them see to the changeling,” Grover said with finality. “And your paw.”
“Nothing more than a glancing wound by a careless dog, my Kaiser.”
Grover licked the tip of his beak and examined how Benito’s whiskers shook slightly as he suppressed a grimace. I doubt that. “See to the injury. That is an order. Dismissed.”
The dog backed away over the scatter of splinters, but hesitated with his paw still behind his back. “I would still-”
“Get the fuck out,” Grover sighed atop his chair.
The dog left. He never let Grover see the paw, but as he turned to the door, the griffon saw the red stain on the back of his jacket where he pressed the wound against his coat. The door shut behind him as a guard reached backwards and tugged it closed.
Grover was alone in an empty room, like he preferred. He rubbed his claws against the nightshirt again to clean them off. “Out, out damned spot!” his beak mumbled in an attempted laugh. He did not find it as funny as he hoped.
The Kaiser stood in his shirt and pajama bottoms; he pushed the chair to the side and began picking through the wreckage of the table. He found the pistol first, having falling under one of the collapsed legs and knocked clear. Lucky, Grover snorted to himself. He tucked into the waistband of his pajamas. The Friendship Journal was found next; Grover used a few ruined reports to wipe blood off the cover of the bound book. He set it to the side.
He did not find the wooden alicorn. It seemed to disappear in the splinters and metal figures. After several minutes of fruitless searching, Grover picked up the book and walked to the balcony. He stopped under the map of the world, then turned back and climbed into the hole in the tower. After a moment, the lights strung through the rafters flickered off as he unplugged the cord. The tower was dark. Grover climbed back through the hole with the book tucked under a wing.
The full moon lit up the Everfree, and the ash had settled across the earth. The sky was clear again. There was barely enough light to see the horizon, and Mount Canterhorn loomed from the valley to the north.
Grover did not go to the railing; he leaned against the stone opening and undid the lock on the bound Friendship Journal. He opened it after wiping his claws against his pants one last time to clean them.
Several dozen sheets of paper rested inside a carved-out section. The Friendship Journal was hollow, pages scooped out to make a secret opening. Grover had thought it was terribly clever when he was eleven, but deeply regretted it now. It was hard to find an intact copy after the Great War.
There was not truly enough light to properly see the folded papers, but Grover picked through them by feel. The one he shook free was unlike the others. It had been torn apart and clumsily glued back together. When he unfolded it with delicate talons, a corner was missing that had never been recovered.
It appeared to be a blank page.
Grover set the book down and tucked it back under a wing. He leaned against the opening with the blank page, not truly looking at it and feeling a zephyr blow through the forest. He stayed there for some time.
He stayed there long enough for a long, low scream to echo from the base of Mount Canterhorn. It was a cry of rage and despair that melded together into one long note that swayed through the trees. Grover looked up from the letter as a bright golden light flared at the base of the mountain.
A pure beam of golden fire lanced up the side of the mountain, searing through the air and turning night into day. The entire valley was lit up by the glow. It burned all the way up the mountain, aiming at the edge of the city hanging off the side.
At the last moment, the beam turned away, tearing across the sky as the cry of rage guttered into a wordless howl of anguish. It choked out in a sob. The beam lost power and began to fade.
Grover looked back down at the torn note. The fading light illuminated the page. It was blank; the spell that once was on it had been destroyed when it was torn apart. The words did not appear even after it had been rebuilt. But Grover still remembered them.
Grover,
I don’t want your help.
If you ever cared, let Frederick’s family go.
Flurry.
The fire arcing through the sky was finally spent with a long sob. It faded as quickly as it came, and the base of the Mount Canterhorn was quiet again. Distant lights shone from the camp. Grover carefully refolded the note.
Grover tucked the letter back with the rest, then carried the book back to his private room. He washed his claws off properly in a basin and decided to eat a simple breakfast of cereal long before dawn. Grover stayed up, and word reached him with the sunrise.
There would be no assault. The Princess’ army had pushed up the road during the night, nearly to the city gates. The crumbling garrison had fallen back against the castle and noble estates, facing a herd of their former servants and slaves attempting to run them down through the city.
The first negotiations were scattered. There had been an hour of confusion, then Generalmajor Jachs formally surrendered Canterlot for the lives of his remaining soldiers. And Alcippe.
The city gates were opened. A combined force of ELF veterans and Griffonian knights entered the city to disarm the garrison and assess if it was a trap. More followed as the sun dragged across the sky. Clouds were brought in to put out the remaining fires.
The Princess did not appear all day. She remained at the base of the mountain in camp. The Kaiser remained at the castle.
Two flags hung outside the gate to Lower Canterlot. One was svelte, vibrant, and made of the finest cloth. It depicted a shadowed griffon rearing into a roar against a yellow and orange background. The edges of the banner were black and golden tassels swayed in the wind. The black personal banner of the Kaiser of the Griffonian Reich hung proudly on the wall.
To the left, on the other side of the gate, a discolored purple banner hung limply. It was a deep purple, but not everywhere; there was clear sections cut and spun from different pieces of cloth. The Imperial Snowflake of the Crystal Empire radiated out from the center, white branches extending to the edges. Like the purple background, some areas were discolored from multiple pieces of cloth; the snowflake was partially pearl rather than truly white.
Flurry snorted, then leaned her armored hooves atop the Gunnhildur’s turret. The tank hummed underneath her. She craned her neck to see to the front of the line, feeling the stiffness of the gorget on her neck and chipped helmet. Several orange and gray half-tracks waited at the very front with a mass of griffons on the ground. She was too far back to get a good look, but they were not knights.
Flurry turned down to Sir Geralt. He was sharpening a sword and leaning against the armor skirt along the treads. “Are we waiting for something?” the alicorn asked.
“Mhm,” Sir Geralt confirmed.
Flurry looked up and squinted. “Kaiser Grover’s ahead of me, right?”
“Mhm,” the knight agreed.
A low-flying griffon flapped over the line of waiting vehicles. She was wearing a gray, gilded dress uniform and carrying a trumpet. The griffon flapped unevenly for a wingbeat when she saw the sharp pink horn track her under a scarred purple helmet.
“I’ve always wondered,” Flurry said down to Sir Geralt, “how do you blow a trumpet with a beak?”
“Mhm,” Sir Geralt waved a white wing. “How do you hold a gun with hooves?”
Flurry glanced down at her massive armored hooves. “Well, not wearing this is a start,” she shrugged. “And practice.”
“Just so,” Sir Geralt agreed lightly. After a moment, his sharp yellow eyes flicked up to her. “It’s usually the dogs or ponies,” he clarified. “You’ll know if you hear a griffon trying to play the trumpet.”
A strangled note sounded from the front of the line of vehicles. Sir Geralt pointed his sword at it lazily before sheathing it under a wing. He scuffed a claw on his black armor. “Mhm,” he shrugged.
Flurry rested her hooves on the turret. She was still tired, and her horn ached at the base, even after six days. Most of her feathers had been clipped to regrow properly. She wouldn’t be able to fly at all, if not for her sheer wingspan making up the difference.
She had let her wings sprawl across the back of the tank in the meantime, as best she could with the armored wing joints. The crystals threaded through the stunted feathers drank in the sunlight and appeared to swirl with fire. The rest of her armor, cleaned from ash, similarly burned around the chips and pockmarks.
Several griffons walked up the line of vehicles on the road, stepping over the holes and gouges from the artillery bombardment. They carried stands and cameras with packs of film reels. One male kicked up a shell casing from the broken asphalt as he stumbled. He fumbled the heavy camera with a claw and nearly dropped it before diving to all fours and catching the lens just before it hit the ground.
“Imbecile!” one of the other griffons screeched in Aquileian. “That is worth more than you!”
“I-I’m sorry!” the other griffon apologized and hastily recovered.
“If you drop that,” the first said lowly, “I will flay the feathers-”
Flurry clanged her hoof on the top of the turret. She stared down at the film crew arguing several hooves away through the eye slits of her helmet. Both griffons immediately stopped, fluffed their feathers, then rushed ahead to the front of the line without looking back.
“Mhm,” Sir Geralt assessed with a roll of his eyes.
Flurry sighed and leapt off the top of the tank. She landed with a thud hard enough to crack the asphalt road around her hooves. The alicorn rolled her stiff wings and the crystals sang in the air, then she trotted languidly towards the city gates.
She met Limestone Pie and a half-dozen of her soldiers halfway to the front. The earth pony was glowering at every griffon she passed with twitching lips. A white bandage was swathed around her throat like a scarf; it stuck out above a gray uniform.
“Princess,” she rasped with a nod once Flurry was close enough. Her voice, usually grating and loud, was reduced to a near-whisper. The Princess looked down and noticed Limestone had both armbands around her forelegs, the Imperial Snowflake and the Elements of Harmony.
“What’s the situation?” Flurry asked quietly.
“The feathered idiots are trying to do a parade,” Limestone tried to spit. She only wheezed slightly.
“I meant with the city,” Flurry clarified.
“Birds are on the roofs, we’re on the streets until Canterlot Castle,” Limestone summarized. “We haven’t cleared the city, but we got the bugs mostly rounded up. The ones that surrendered anyway.”
“Any trouble?”
“Just what you already know about,” Limestone coughed. She sat on her flank and drank from a canteen for a moment with a choking gasp. “Sorry, Princess.”
“I’m going to the front,” Flurry said. “Thank you, General Pie.”
“The dogs guard Grover like he’s made of solid gold,” Limestone offered. “Hassled us to even get down through the line.”
Flurry scuffed an armored hoof across the road.
“Right,” Limestone rasped. Her eyes looked hesitant. “It’s bad, Princess.”
Flurry closed her eyes under the helmet. “I’m sure it is,” she said slowly.
“Bad enough that the Nova Griffs have to guard the bugs, and even Duskcrest has shot a couple for…” Limestone paused. “Escape attempts.”
Flurry was quiet for a moment. She forced the word out. “Twilight?”
“At the castle,” Limestone wheezed. “With Spike and Thorax. Tempest and Sunset are managing the city. I, uh, haven’t seen her.”
Tempest, Flurry opened her eyes. She nodded her horn to Limestone and walked around her soldiers. They bowed as she passed through them; her wings drifted over their lowered heads. Flurry Heart remembered an old knighting ceremony where the Princess would do that to her guards as she took their oaths of service. She spared a look at her clipped feathers. Some Princess.
Flurry trotted up the line of waiting vehicles. Some were parked crookedly due to the damage to the road; it would take weeks to make even the most basic repairs. The shelling to Lower Canterlot had started fires; fires that had spread through the outer ring and added to the spellfire damage as the city rose up. Flurry read through as many of the reports as she could stomach from her bedroll at camp.
Flurry did not remember the night she accepted Canterlot’s surrender. According to Thorax, she was asleep upright in the ancient way, head lolled to the side in as she stood in her armor. He had roused her at the arrival of a knightly war flock to assist in the assault of the city, then Sir Geralt had translated the offer of surrender from a changeling with a broken muzzle dumped in front of her.
The mare, an assistant to the former Generalmajor, was only slightly less coherent than Flurry. The alicorn had apparently thanked the knights for the information about Twilight Sparkle, accepted the changeling’s surrender, then wandered down to the latrine pits and fired a laser at Canterlot while screaming loud enough to give most of her army tinnitus for several days. Afterwards, though she did not remember it, she wandered back to her tent and passed out.
No one talked about it, at least not to her muzzle. And Flurry did not think about it. She couldn’t think about Twilight looking like her mother, or worse, or better, or how long she’d been like that.
She noticed the griffons lining the road stepping out of the way with wary eyes, and felt a trickle of blood run down her lips. Flurry licked her muzzle, then took a deep breath and pushed it out with an armored hoof. The golden fire around her horn guttered out. The gray-uniformed standard Reichsarmee soldiers still gave her a wide berth as they waited.
Flurry stomped up the road in decent time. The walls of Canterlot stretched out along the mountain, built into the supports that kept the city hanging off the side of Mount Canterhorn. They weren’t tall walls, and they were carved with ornate pictures of the sun and moon that had been broken down and defaced into Chrysalis’ trident crown.
Most of the damage was due to the recent shelling and attack, however, but Flurry could pick out plastered cracks from the first time the ELF assaulted the city. All to save Twilight, who wasn’t even here. The news about Twilight’s survival had spread through the camp. Sunset and Tempest had to restrain the shattered army from charging the city for the first few hours. Then the rest of the information spread, and Thorax quickly took his changelings into Canterlot to help deal with any holdouts that refused to surrender.
Flurry saw through it. She couldn’t blame him for getting out of the camp.
Forty thousand soldiers of the Changeling Heer were gathered in the industrial district, held in the factories that churned out whatever the Hegemony they served demanded, to be made by forced labor and slaves. The equipment they gave up would help replenish her army’s depleted stockpile, but there were also warehouses in the dockyards full of stockpiled Love, condensed and bottled. Canterlot was a hub point for the entire Love Tax across the Equestrian Heartland. Her army, what remained after the Battle of the Celestial Plain, was stretched to the limit between Canterlot and the Reich's supply lines.
Flurry eyed one of the half-tracks with a muted scoff. It was polished to a shine. Nothing in the armored column had seen combat; there was no mud, no scuff marks, no scorched plates or battle damage. Of everything about to go on parade, her purple armor was the ugliest thing in the line.
Wonder if Grover intended that. Her horn glowed idly as she stopped beside a half-track. The soldiers inside, Reichsarmee regulars in pressed uniforms, eyed her with clear fear as the alicorn stared unreadably at their vehicle. Flurry clicked her tongue.
Fresh off the assembly line, shipped to Equus, never seen a day of combat and kept in reserve. Flurry craned her helmet up and looked at the soldiers. All of the griffons were armed with semi-automatic rifles, though none reached for their slung weapons. Flurry’s eyes swept over them; her glacial blue irises were still bloodshot and she glared through the helmet.
Conscripts, she concluded for the aura around their weapons. A few regulars with some service here. Some killers, but mostly showpieces for the parade. Some had been issued the rifles so recently she couldn’t sense anything at all from them.
The core must still be pushing west or north. There had been another victory yesterday as the Reich’s Army Group North smashed the overextended Changeling Heer against the Crystal Heart’s shield. Flurry hadn’t heard about any prisoners, but that was up to Grover.
Despite the parade, it was abundantly clear that Canterlot was going to be her mess. The Kaiser had ‘requested’ part of Canterlot Castle to continue managing the frontline, but Flurry suspected he was done leading the army. You got your victory to preen your feathers with, Flurry thought.
She reached the front of the line, still parked a good distance from the gate. Her height and armor let her see over a veritable wall of armored dogs surrounding a black and gray half-track almost at the front. A low flat-bed truck was parked in front of the half-track, and the film crew that ran by was setting their multiple cameras up in the back.
Flurry groaned as the marching band in front of everything checked their instruments. It was actually a mix of griffons, ponies, and dogs, all in ornate dress uniforms. She walked towards the cordon of dogs; beyond everything, the city gates were open and she could see piles of rubble and debris swept to the side. Knights lined the edges of the street and laid atop the low roofs, scanning for threats.
To their credit, the dogs held their ground even as their ears pinned back under helmets and tails swung slightly. A few shifted their paws against the stock of their rifles. One dog stepped forward before Flurry reached them.
“No further, Princess,” the brown dog said. He wore a half-helm like her, but his eyes were clearly nervous. His whiskers twitched. “Please,” he added.
Flurry looked over his shoulder at the half-track. She blinked at the tan-feathered head leaning out of the back. With his back to her, Flurry almost didn’t recognize Grover without the heavy crown. He had leaned outward slightly, black long coat and gloves pressing against the metal of the turret atop the vehicle.
Another strangled trumpet sounded from the marching band. Flurry lost her patience.
“Kaiser Grover,” Flurry called out. The dogs in front of her tensed at the half-powered shout. The general noise of the instruments and conversations stopped. Flurry felt the stares behind her as well as the ones in front of her. All of the Reichsarmee had tried to willfully ignore her as best they could, and failed in one moment.
The dog wrenched his eyes from the Princess to look up to the half-track. Grover did not seemingly notice; Flurry realized he was reading something. After several seconds, his left wing flicked out and a few feathers bent in a signal. The dog made a gesture with his right paw and the cordon broke.
“Follow me, Princess.”
Flurry followed the dog up to the half-track. She stopped alongside it and looked up at Grover’s side. He was reading a folder. His deep blue eyes scanned a page.
Flurry waited.
Grover flipped a page in the folder and kept reading.
“Kemerskai did the same thing,” Flurry commented to the dog. “Just before I killed him.”
Grover snapped the folder shut. “Leave us, General Loudbark. Dismissed.”
The dog was clearly conflicted about it, considering the implicit threat the alicorn had just leveled at his muzzle, but he backed away with a paw on his assault rifle’s slung stock. Flurry watched him leave, then flicked her muffled ears at another warbled horn note.
“Is there something you want, Princess?” Grover asked from the top of the half-track. He looked down his beak at her, eyes slightly enlarged by the glasses perched atop it.
“Are you planning on entering my city today, Kaiser?” Flurry asked. “I could just walk or teleport in.”
“This is supposedly one of the greatest cities in the world,” Grover said slowly, as if lecturing to a foal. “It has stood for a thousand years atop this mountain, probably longer. This is a moment of triumph that will be remembered for generations.” He waved the folder at the film crew.
“Yeah,” Flurry acknowledged. “I agreed to this farce. Great military parade.”
“We had one for every kingdom reclaimed,” Grover replied.
“I’m not sure that comparing this to your reconquests is a good idea,” Flurry snarked with a toss of her head. Her horn glowed as she tugged her helmet off. Several of the nearby dogs tensed at the golden magic. The alicorn carefully sat on her flank and balanced the helmet on a crystal greave. Her buzzed mane was slick with sweat.
Grover stared down at her flatly. “Your nose is bleeding.”
Flurry snorted to check. “Was bleeding,” she corrected.
“Did you truly think you could assault this city half-dead?” Grover asked. He turned back to the report and flipped it open with a claw.
“Yes,” Flurry answered bluntly. Another series of notes rang out from the band ahead of them. The Princess’ ears twitched. “What are they playing?”
“The traditional triumph song,” Grove said idly.
“Changeling music,” Flurry stated.
“Our music,” Grover said with some heat. “The Königgrätzer Marsch if you must know.”
“Have them play something from Aquileia,” Flurry advised. “Or Wingbardy, or anything not from the Herzland.”
“They took it from us. I did not ask for your advice.”
“Fine,” Flurry scoffed. “Go ahead and march into Canterlot like Chrysalis did. Equestria didn’t have military parades.”
“Equestria did not have a military.”
Flurry actually laughed at that, and it seemingly took Grover by surprise. He lowered the folder and gave her a side-eye. Another set of instruments beat out a quick rhythm as they were tuned. The Princess listened. “All ponies are going to hear is the Changeling Heer marching through their home again.”
Grover considered it, then screeched in a high whistle. He snapped his gloved claw, and a griffon in an elaborate dress uniform broke from the band and flapped up. He hovered above the half-track and clasped a claw to his chest. “My Kaiser?”
“Something from Aquileia, one of the Discret’s songs,” Grover ordered.
The conductor paused and worried with his claws. “My Kaiser, some of the instruments are not-”
“The ponies are Aquileian, and the film will have audio added later. It makes no difference now,” Grover said. He waved his claw and the griffon nervously flapped back to the band. Flurry watched several dozen of the musicians look confused before frantically adjusting their instruments.
“Did you march all this way up here to give me musical advice?” Grover asked. “How very pony of you,” he said in a lighter tone. He tucked the folder into his jacket. “I did hear that ponies sang and frolicked.”
“I have shit to do,” Flurry retorted.
“How eloquent,” Grover quipped back in Equestrian. “Equestria was always ruled by country matters, so I suppose you will fit right in.” He leaned to the other side of the turret. “Benito, the Reichstone.”
The gray dog, scowling at Flurry, rounded the back of the half-track with the polished crown in his paws. Flurry noted one paw was heavily bandaged and the fur shaved down. Grover accepted the Reichstone, but his deep blue eyes lingered on the scarred paw until Bentio pulled his gloves on with a wince and turned away again.
Flurry shook her head. “As long as you don’t pour poison into my ear, Clawdius,” she snarked before twisting away to walk back to the tank. She levitated her helmet up to her head.
There was an abrupt clang behind her. Flurry turned around before she put her helmet back on.
Grover had dropped the Reichstone against the side of the turret and caught it awkwardly with one claw. He narrowed his eyes at her and pulled it back up. His beak opened and closed for a moment. Benito reappeared around the side of the half-track, and some of the dogs stared at the two of them from the cordon.
“What?” Flurry asked with a raised brow.
After a moment, Grover asked, “When the fuck did you read Gamlet?”
Flurry’s muzzle scrunched in amusement. “Katherine,” she answered. “Said if I could read Shakespear in Herzlander, I could read anygriff. It was a pain in the flank, but the dirty jokes were worth it.”
Grover did not respond. He put the Reichstone atop his head and adjusted his glasses.
“So I know what you just called me,” Flurry continued. She gave him a hooded look before slipping the helmet on. “How eloquent,” she repeated before turning around. The dogs did not interfere as she walked back down the line. Echoed bits of an Aquileian waltz followed her until she reached her tank and clambered back atop it.
The convoy began moving several minutes later. The driver of her tank was a griffon named Edwin, and he wanted absolutely nothing to do with Maar’s Daughter. Flurry caught enough mumbled prayers whenever he poked his beak out of the hatch. She settled for simply grinning at him whenever he turned to his left to look at her.
The road wound up the mountain on the eastern side; the crater from the former forest wasn’t visible, but the heaps of ash that had been cleared from the road were spread out every two dozen hooves. It was still being cleared from the mountain camp and a few of the supply lines. Parts of the Everfree Forest to the south were tinted gray. Until the spring rainstorms hit, it would remain that way.
Flurry didn’t ask about the casualty estimates from the Duskwood Forest. The Reichsarmee had lost less than they thought they would from Gallus’ veiled answer coated in propaganda, and the Changeling dead were still being counted. Chrysalis had not appeared on the radio, but the Changelings tried claiming both Flurry and Grover were killed in the attack by heroic VOPS agents smuggled behind enemy lines.
Everything she does is to try and destroy us, Flurry thought and leaned her jaw atop a bent foreleg. She felt the engine rumble underneath her. We have to do this stupid parade, she conceded. The film could be shipped back to the Reich as proof of victory, and from there it could reach the Riverlands and forestall an attack. They could attack when Grover’s losing, but now they would be truly siding with the Hegemony.
Flurry thought about her letter. No…they wouldn’t. They wouldn’t let them do it, not after this, not after I’m Princess of Equestria. She ground her teeth together and squeezed her eyes shut.
They won’t let them take Twilight again.
The tank moved forward and Flurry was jarred out of her thoughts. She forced herself to exhale and her horn dimmed as the golden flames died out. She licked her lips and wiped away the new nosebleed. I look nothing like a Princess.
Her uniform was trashed, and Rarity was still coming down from the Crystal Empire with a replacement. I’m surprised she’s even making one. Flurry’s choice was her armor, the jumpsuit, or one of three pairs of identical sweatpants. With her tail cut down to the nub, it was indecent otherwise.
“Show them who you are.” Great advice, Spike. I’m the Princess, the Nightmare Reborn, Maar’s Daughter riding atop a tank into a city I can scarcely remember.
It took a long time to enter the city gates, the gilded marble redone with obsidian black stone and Chrysalis’ trident crown stamped where the sun and moon once were. Queen Chrysalis wanted the city to know it was hers. The street was empty at first, just rubble swept aside with marching knights lining the column as it slowly moved through Lower Canterlot.
Flurry had plenty of time to absorb the shattered windows and pockmarks in the bricks along the buildings, the blackened scorch marks from spellfire that melded with the fires that spread from the shelling she ordered. From the first street, it was clear that it would take decades to truly rebuild Canterlot.
Grover must be laughing at the cost. I’ll only be able to pay the debt off if I’m immortal.
Sir Geralt walked alongside the tank with a dozen other black-plated knights. His eyes swept the devastation, then lingered on a red stain around one of the drains in the street, where the rainclouds that had put out the fires washed away the blood.
Flurry sniffed and smelled smoke somewhere further in the city, though there was no more rampant fires. Burning the dead, she realized. The main street of Lower Canterlot was once full of markets and bazars, but now it was nothing but echoes and rubble.
The band played an Aquileian waltz ahead of her. Flurry listened to half of the notes; she was far back enough that she couldn’t hear everything, but she did not recognize the song. Makes sense, I doubt the Aquileian Republic ever wanted something from the Discrets.
“Citizens of Canterlot!” Gallus’ voice squawked out from a speaker ahead and behind the tank. Flurry twisted to see the speakerphones installed atop several dozen of the vehicles. “Presenting Grover von Greifenstein, Sixth of His Name, Vanquisher of the Changeling Hegemony! As we speak, his army marches across Equestria to liberate your friends and families from the cruelty of the Changelings!”
The city was quiet aside from the marching parade.
As the tank turned a corner, Flurry finally saw her ponies.
The ELF soldiers and a few Nova Griffonians had formed a cordon along the sidewalks and shattered stores to keep a wary crowd back, but there were only a few ponies there. Several dozen stood and watched with a detached weariness as the Aquilieian march rang out over the rumbling engines. Canterlot had been a unicorn city, but the crowd was mostly earth ponies in Lower Canterlot. They were thin, though not as thin as the Crystal Empire, and their eyes were tired.
Flurry looked at the scars from bullets and spells along the buildings, the shattered windows and gutted-out frames of stores and homes that had stood for centuries. Canterlot had risen up for Twilight Sparkle, but it did not seem a victory. Flurry eyed another faded stain along a drain on the street.
A pony, a blue earth pony mare, stood above the drain, looking over the rifle of an ELF pegasus. She locked purple eyes with Flurry, and her blank stare suddenly sharpened. Flurry looked away to the other side of the street as the mare began to trot along the sidewalk. She moved slowly with heavy steps.
A pegasus in a faded jumpsuit was watching Flurry from the other side of the cordon. The stallion’s eyes lit up and he quickly trotted down a side alley and disappeared. When he turned, Flurry saw clipped primary feathers along a wing. He couldn’t fly very far.
Some of the knights on the rooftops screeched victory cries as the convoy passed, and the Reichsarmee regulars marching with the vehicles screeched back. Flurry’s soldiers nodded to her when they noticed her halfway down the convoy. The parade took another turn; the road ahead burnt out and blocked by rubble.
“The Reichsarmee,” Gallus continued, “valiant soldiers of the Griffonian Reich! They fly forward under the blessing of the Gods to strike the Hegemony!”
Flurry wondered if he ever regretted going back to Griffonstone. As the tank leaned into a turn, the Princess blinked. The crowd on the next street had tripled in size, now with several hundred ponies staring at the parade. Their eyes swept along the knights and soldiers until they landed on her. Flurry spied the pegasus stallion, now with a foal on his back. The foal’s wings were similarly tattered, but the colt pointed a foreleg at her and squealed.
“Princess!”
Probably doesn’t even know my name. Flurry kept that to herself and extended her wings, letting the crystals slice through the air atop the tank. Braced atop the turret, her purple armor swirled in the midday sun. It was a bright, sunny day, and gusts of wind made the crystals in her feathers whistle.
The herd along the road stirred. Some stepped forward, checked by the ELF soldiers standing guard. A few still turned their heads to see Flurry as she rode past them. Flurry stared at the ponies of Canterlot as they seemed to suddenly come back to life after years of a holed hoof pressing down on their necks.
Earth ponies with leaden horseshoes to limit how far they could run. Unicorns with chips and divots in the base of their horns or the point filed down. Pegasi with clipped feathers to limit their flight. All of them, lean and tired with rough fur and manes. Some stood with groups of friends and family, and some strangers formed little herds along the sidewalk, strangers banding together in an instinctual show of solidarity. Many were as young as her, but their eyes seemed decades older.
I’m sure mine look the same.
“Princess!” another mare’s voice shouted. The blue earth pony tried to shove her way through the crowd, still following the tank on leaden hooves. “Princess Flurry Heart!” the mare screamed again. She suddenly tried to push her way onto the street, checked by a rifle held by an ELF earth pony. She backed up and continued to push her way through the crowd.
“Princess!” the pegasus added his voice to his son’s shout. “Princess Flurry!”
The knights and Reichsarmee soldiers fluttered their wings as the crowd along both sides of the street began to chant. Hooves pounded. Some ponies tried to keep following through the crowd, causing it to surge along the cordon.
“Ponies of Canterlot…” Whatever else Gallus attempted to say was drowned out by the stomping of thousands of hooves. By the time Flurry reached the end of the street, the beat had solidified into a rhythm above a chant.
“Princess!”
“Princess!”
“Princess!”
Flurry could no longer hear the marching band at the front of the convoy. Every street the convoy turned down gained more ponies. They only began to stomp once they saw her, clearly waiting feverishly. Fillies and colts balanced on the backs of their families or older siblings. A few pegasi flapped with their wings above the crowd, checked from approaching by nervous Reichsarmee soldiers. Some struggled up to the roofs only to be chased away by the knight standing guard.
The convoy reached one of the connective marble bridges to Middle Canterlot. The gates were open on both sides, and the sandbag checkpoint dismantled. Flurry, still atop her tank in the middle, stared over the side of the bridge to the river below; the water flowed down the mountain into a sparkling waterfall somewhere to the west. She spotted sandbags and debris in the current. A black-uniformed changeling was caught in some of the twisted wreckage, floating muzzle down in the current.
The whinnies and shouts from Middle Canterlot were deafening. Flurry’s eyes widened as thousands of ponies came into sight lining the street and barely checked by soldiers. The knights along the rooftops had readied their rifles and screeched warnings to radio griffons alongside the roofs. More ponies were joining the herd, and all of them stomped and shouted one word.
“Princess!”
Some added her name, lost in the whinnies. Many more just saw the horn and wings and surged forward. Flurry’s horn glowed with the detection spell, and the magic pulsed through the nearby crowd.
None of them were changelings, but they felt the magic and redoubled their stomps. Several of the Reichsarmee soldiers broke their formation alongside the convoy to assist Flurry’s ponies from preventing the crowd from breaking through. The gray-uniformed ELF soldiers did not complain as the Reichsarmee helped shove the crowd back.
Sir Geralt looked up at Flurry, then began running swiftly down the line. “Check your weapons!” he screeched. “No firing! Do not fire!” The nervous soldiers adjusted their grips on the rifles, eying the increasing herd.
Flurry opened her mouth to say something, then shut it with a clack of her teeth. I’ll just make it worse. She did not wave to the crowd, though it did not seem to matter. They waved to her even as she kept her eyes forward.
Halfway through the Arts District, ugly and broken and damaged, the cordon finally shattered. A mare shoved her way past the griffons and ponies, fell into the street, then ran towards the tank. Reichsarmee soldiers aimed at her and tensed, but hesitated to fire. Flurry grabbed the mare in her aura and lifted her up. She felt another trickle of blood come down from her nostril.
Grabbing somepony with your magic was highly rude, and most unicorns could not manage it. Flurry remembered her father admonishing her for doing it once when she was three. It was her first proper scolding, and Flurry did not even remember what the maid did that upset her enough to pick her up and carry her away from her toy box.
The mare was ecstatic and weeping tears of joy.
“Princess!”
Flurry floated her back to the crowd. Ponies grabbed at the mare and held her up when the alicorn released her, and the mare surfed along the top of the crowd for several hoof lengths before disappearing into the herd. The crowd surged again, and Flurry heard voices shouting behind her. She twisted around on the turret.
Ponies had followed the tail of the convoy, and now they started to overwhelm the rear guards through sheer numbers. It wasn’t an attack; they were clearly trying to follow her. Flurry heard the engine rev underneath her as the tank gained speed. The convoy began to speed up, no longer at a sedate parade pace.
The convoy drove past an old observatory, twisted down another road and passed the burnt-out husk of Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. A herd stood in the rubble, using it as a vantage point to see the convoy. They whinnied as Flurry blew past them.
The checkpoint to the Estates District and Canterlot Castle had been abandoned as the Reichsarmee and ELF fell back towards the castle, just like the Changeling garrison. The herd practically chased the convoy through the city, even as the vehicles started to blitz through the streets. They left the walking soldiers behind; a few climbed back onto their vehicles, but many more climbed off to join in trying to keep the crowd at bay.
Flurry continued to cast the detection spell, letting it flow through the city blocks as she rode the tank. The whinnies seemed to only get louder each time the spell ran through the crowd. The chant and stomp rattled the broken cobblestones and vibrated the windows of the houses they passed.
“Princess!”
“Princess!”
“Princess!”
After they crossed the bridge, the ponies of the Estate District roared as the convoy blitzed through the streets. Flurry spotted a discarded trumpet from the marching band along the side of the road. The ponies lining the street weren’t wealthy, many wore rough servant uniforms or stood naked. The alicorn did not see any of the supposed nobility in the crowd, though that made sense. The main road didn’t go through the mansions; it led directly to the castle at the city’s edge.
Canterlot Castle loomed ahead of them. Once gold and white marble with purple trim, the castle was now trimmed black and purple, and a large arch stood before the courtyard entrance. Chrysalis’ trident crown was emblazoned at the apex of the arch. Flurry stared at the crown as she approached, eyes sweeping over shattered windows beyond and scars of battle damage.
The convoy stopped. Flurry knew it was intended to park before the courtyard and castle, but it was too early. It was supposed to line up ahead of the grand entrance. She turned around to see the rear completely overwhelmed by the herd following it. Soldiers fell back from the vehicles, but no shots rang out under the shouts. Sir Geralt returned leading a group of black-plated knights from the herd surging up the line.
“My ponies seem to be swarming you,” Flurry observed dryly.
“Mhm,” Sir Geralt nodded. “They’re leaving us alone. They aren’t here for us.”
Several griffons flapped over the vehicles, rejoining the front of the convoy. The tank’s engine stopped and Edwin poked his beak out of the hatch. He turned around to see the colorful herd rush up the line, then he tugged the hatch shut with another fearful prayer. The tank remained idle.
“We have orders not to shoot and fall back,” Sir Geralt explained up to Flurry.
“How gracious,” Flurry remarked back. She flexed her legs and leapt off the side of the tank. Her horn glowed above her helmet. “I’ll buy time.” A shield flickered around her, and the alicorn ignored the pain in the base of her horn.
Sir Geralt nodded and quickly left. Flurry moved towards the rear, trotting briskly under the shield. The Reichsarmee had stopped their tanks and half-tracks as the parade collapsed; the drivers and remaining soldiers gaped at her as Flurry descended back downhill to her ponies.
The herd, earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorns, noticed her golden shield and the shouts increased in volume. More griffons took the moment to break away. A few of the ELF soldiers still tried to keep the herd at bay, but they were being pushed up the street, too nervous to shove back with any force.
A unicorn commander noticed Flurry’s approach and turned to her with a sparking horn. “Get to the castle, Princess,” she pleaded. “Please, we can’t hold them.”
“Let them through,” Flurry said instead.
The unicorn’s eyes drifted to Flurry’s muzzle, and her nosebleed.
“Let them through,” Flurry said again. The herd beyond whinnied.
“Princess!”
The mare bit her lip, then fired up a green flare with her horn. Flurry’s soldiers moved to the sides, and the herd spilled forward up the vehicles. The Princess trotted down to meet them in her golden shield.
The blue earth pony was part of the head of the herd. She had kicked off her leaden horseshoes and stood on bloody hooves. Her coat was frothy from the exertion of keeping up with the vehicles. A dozen ponies, unicorns and pegasi and earth ponies, suddenly hesitated as the resistance to their advanced crumbled. They were pushed forward by other behind them.
Flurry waited until they reached her shield. The blue mare reached out with one of her bloody hooves and touched the edge. Her eyes shimmered with a mix of fear and awe as static clung to the hairs on her foreleg.
The mare was older than her, but Flurry was taller. The alicorn raised her wings to the edges of the golden bubble and let arcs of electricity tumble down her feathers and race along the crystal wing joints. She smiled under her helmet. Flurry hoped it was a nice smile.
The mare cried and hugged the shield, uncaring of the static and electricity. “Princess!” she sobbed. The herd rushed forward and around and embraced the golden bubble, pressing their hooves against it to feel the aura. Flurry was surrounded by hundreds of ponies in less than a minute. All of them only shouted one word.
“Princess!”
Flurry began to slowly move towards the castle, letting the shield flex. It expanded and contracted slowly, and she pushed the crowd back as gently as she could. The blue mare disappeared into the crowd as a unicorn stepped forward and pressed her hoof into the bubble for a moment, then a pegasus stallion replaced the unicorn. The herd ebbed like a tide as Flurry moved through them. A few pegasi struggled to flap with their clipped wings, just long enough to skim across the crowd and touch the shield before vanishing back into the herd.
Flurry Heart did not say anything; she simply plastered a smile onto her muzzle and walked through the crowd. Her height made her easily visible, and Flurry could see the hundreds swell to thousands coming up from the road. The crowd had completely overtaken half the convoy, and ponies clambered up onto the tanks and half-tracks to get a better view of the alicorn walking alongside the parked vehicles to the castle.
“Princess!”
“Princess!”
“PRINCESS!”
Hooves pounded on the metal as the chant solidified into a rhythm. It was almost musical, and Flurry briefly wondered if she should try to sing. She looked up to the black arch she was approaching, and the urge faded as quickly as it came.
A line of scout tanks had blocked off the courtyard, and Griffonian knights stood ready atop the tanks to keep the crowd at bay. Canterlot Castle, black and purple and nothing like it should be, stretched out like a blackened spire and monument to the Hegemony.
Flurry trotted under the arch, and the crowd gradually receded as she flexed the shield again. Her ponies finally gave her space and she pushed herself free just before the line of tanks. Flurry Heart turned to face her subjects in her armor.
Thousands of ponies stared back and pounded their hooves with the chant. Colts and fillies had been lifted up onto backs, and ponies swarmed the stalled convoy to see her. Flurry could spot her soldiers slowly working their way through the crowd and horns pulse with the detection spell.
“My ponies!” Flurry called out. Her voice caused a crackle of magic to wave across her golden bubble.
“PRINCESS!” the crowd roared.
“I said I would come for you,” Flurry continued, “and I have!”
“PRINCESS!”
Flurry looked behind her to the line of tanks and knights. She flexed her legs. She dropped the shield and leapt in one bound onto the turret of one of the Gunnhildur tanks. Her hooves dented the metal with a clang. The knight atop it startled back with ruffled feathers and a half-drawn sword, but Flurry turned to the crowd as he stumbled down into the courtyard.
“I am here,” Flurry shouted, “because of you, my ponies of Canterlot. Because of the ELF. Because of the Crystal Empire. Because of Aquileians and Nova Griffonians and Herzlanders! Yaks and dragons and changelings!”
The crowd whinnied.
“I am here because of Kaiser Grover VI,” Flurry concluded. “Because of the Griffonian Reich and the Reichsarmee who race across Equestria to defeat the Changeling Hegemony! As long as we live, we have not lost!”
The crowd cheered, and the chant remained the same.
“PRINCESS!”
“PRINCESS!”
“PRINCESS!”
Her ponies did not attempt to rush the tanks. Flurry hopped down and out of sight, but the chant continued anyway. She faced the inner courtyard. Hundreds of Reichsarmee regulars and knights waited along the walls, mixed with the fancy uniformed marching band. The flatbed truck still had the film crew atop it, but they were seemingly disoriented about where to point their cameras.
Grover VI stood before the main entrance to Canterlot Castle, up a set up steps that allowed him to see over the tanks and down the street. He was surrounded by two dozen dogs and a few knights.
Behind him, Thorax and Sunset Shimmer waited in the open doors with several soldiers. Flurry approached, taking the steps up the castle as the crowd whinnied. The dogs let her pass without issue this time, staring out at the screaming crowd. Benito checked her at the last moment with a gloved paw and turned to his Kaiser.
Grover stared out at the crowd from behind his glasses and idly waved a wing. Flurry walked up next to him. The street to the castle was covered with colorful dots as far as the eye could see. They had climbed atop the stalled vehicles and beat their hooves against the cobblestone and metal.
Flurry, clad in purple armor and as tall as any dog, was easily visible from the double doors. She raised her wings again, stepping to the side and moving them slowly as Benito glanced at the crystal knives at the end of her feathers. The herd whinnied in one great noise that reverberated through the city.
Grover said something. The Reichstone bobbed atop his tan feathers.
“What?” Flurry asked.
“You ordered this city shelled,” Grover said in a low squawk. “You nearly blew it off the mountain.” His eyes scanned the crowd. "You were willing to destroy the city."
“Yes,” Flurry agreed.
“And they still cheer,” the griffon whispered. Flurry nearly missed it.
A photographer approached from the flatbed. “My Kaiser!” the griffon called out, struggling to be heard over the crowd. “A photograph, my Kaiser? For the papers?”
Grover nodded to Benito. The Reichstone shifted and he steadied it with a claw. The dog waved the photographer up. The griffon flapped his wings and hovered, adjusting the lens. He hesitated and shifted to the side, then steadied himself.
The photographer paused again and lowered the camera. His beak went from Grover to Flurry before he flapped up slightly higher. Benito stepped to the side, and the dogs spread out along the steps to get out of the photograph.
Flurry Heart was reminded of Kemerskai again, and how he wanted a photograph of her. She looked down at Grover to her right, who was still staring out at the crowd with unreadable blue eyes.
She looked down at Grover. Her helmet and gorget were stiff.
Right.
Flurry folded her wings back up, then stepped down on the stairs until the Princess and the Kaiser appeared to be at equal height. Her horn still spiraled above the Reichstone. The photographer flapped backwards and steadied himself to get them in the frame.
“I do not need your pity,” Grover said suddenly from behind Flurry. She sensed movement as he turned to enter the castle. “Benito!” Grover called out. “With me.” The dogs quickly formed up and followed as the Kaiser entered Canterlot Castle ahead of Flurry Heart. The photographer dropped back down to the rest of the film crew without taking a picture.
Sunset and Thorax stepped aside as the entourage of guards swept past them. They waited for Flurry as the crowd continued to cheer. Several of the soldiers pulled the doors shut after the alicorn entered. She cast the detection spell one last time with an apologetic grimace to Thorax.
Thorax smiled as the magic buzzed across his carapace and purple uniform. “It’s fine, Princess,” he assured her.
The crowd faded to a muffled reverb with the doors closed. Grover, the dogs, and the knights disappeared down a corridor to the east wing of the castle. Flurry watched them leave, then inspected foyer to the castle.
All of the white marble and gilded lattices had been replaced with solid black stone. The floor was checkered black and green, the colors of the Changeling Hegemony. Flurry trotted forward towards the grand throne room where Celestia held court for petitioners, and her small group followed wordlessly.
An obsidian throne sat upon the high dais. Black steps led up to it. The entire throne room was redecorated, none of the blues or golds or whites remained. It was all green and purple and black, from the pillars to the chandeliers to the floor and the rug leading up to the steps to the throne.
Flurry turned her helmet up to the windows last. All of them depicted Chrysalis leading a swarm of changelings, either from atop a tank or flying herself. The Queen pointed forward in some of the windows, or she stood proud and watched as her changelings rushed ahead on their own.
One window had her standing over a white unicorn and a pink alicorn, defeated and broken below her hooves. The window across from that one had her standing above three alicorns, one white, one blue, and one purple. I’m not even worth a window, Flurry thought to herself.
The grandest window, behind the throne room and facing west so the sun could shine through it as it set, depicted the Great Queen and Empress of Equus sitting atop her throne as uncountable changelings bowed to her. Ponies of every tribe bowed behind the changelings. Chrysalis’ fanged smile in the image was radiant, even when it was barely detailed.
Thorax stopped beside Flurry and nuzzled her unarmored lower jaw. She leaned into it. “Thank you, uncle.”
“We’re still sweeping the city,” Thorax said quietly. “The holdouts were taken care of in a day.”
“Executed?” Flurry asked. She already knew the answer.
“Yes,” Thorax said. “The rest are being held near the dockyards.”
“The castle is secure,” Sunset said from behind Flurry. “They didn’t build new wings or overhaul the floor plan. I grew up in this place.” Her eyes swept the windows. “Celestia redid it when Luna returned. We can redo it again.”
“We’re broke,” Flurry sighed. “I’m not bothering with redoing it. We’ll strip it.”
Sunset nickered. “Princess-”
“Where’s my aunt?” Flurry interrupted with cold eyes.
Sunset’s ears pressed back. She took a moment. “West wing. Guest quarters.”
“I don’t know where that is,” Flurry shook her head. “I remember a dining hall, maybe.”
“You would have been six or seven,” Thorax said lightly. He buzzed a wing towards the hallway to the western side of the castle. Flurry followed him. “Spike’s with her.”
“How is he?”
Thorax licked his fangs and stopped in a hallway. He nodded to an ELF soldier guarding the intersection, and the pegasus opened the door. The mare swallowed queasily at the smell of burnt flesh, but her eyes were hard.
Flurry stared at the smoking, mangled corpse of a changeling in the hallway beyond the door. She couldn’t tell the gender. Another was behind it, with a great claw wound in its back.
“Follow the smell,” Thorax said quietly.
Flurry Heart stood in front of a wooden door. It was slightly ajar.
The door was a beautiful decorated mahogany, even when emblazoned with Chrysalis’ trident crown. The wood wasn’t very old; the Changelings had replaced the door during the near decade-long occupation of Canterlot. The frame along the bottom was splinted, as was the wood around a brass doorknob. It had been kicked in at one time.
Flurry twisted her helmet to stare along the wall to the right the door. It was peppered with shrapnel and covered in scorch marks. The alicorn had seen enough grenades explode to identity the damage, and a rough line of bullet holes sprawled all the way into the ceiling of the hallway.
Wind whistled from the west in the open windows behind her. The glass had been blown out and swept up, and the hallway was still slightly damp from rainfall that blew in when the fires were contained. There were several bloodstains on the tile floor; they went up and down the hallway in both directions. Some of them were fresher than others.
There were a dozen changelings that she could see, or at least the pieces of nearly a dozen changelings. It was hard to tell. From the smell, the bodies had been left for a few days.
There was a changeling mare, or at least Flurry assumed the body to be a mare, crouched in the neighboring doorframe. Her hooves had been raised in a surrender when she was burned. Or the muscles contracted from the heat to look like that. The scrap of a white coat had been caught in the door and spared the fire.
Flurry swallowed and looked to the door before her again. Her ears twitched.
There was a faint beep and a rhythmic whooshing sound. The alicorn’s mind went back to the long nights with the tube in her throat as the respirator did the breathing for her, after the Crystal Heart. The monitors beeped beside it as well, and Flurry always slept poorly; it was too uncomfortable and exhaustion always took her just before dawn.
The door was ajar.
It would take the simplest knock of one of her armored hooves to open it. Flurry had been standing in place for half an hour. She finally pushed the door open and stood in the doorway.
The room was well-lit, and there was a shape on the bed directly opposite the door. Flurry turned away, back into the hallway, and stared at the burned corpse. The mouth was open in a wail. In her peripherals, nearly blocked by her eye slits, the shape on the bed moved. It rose up and down with the whooshing of the large machine next to the bedframe.
Flurry Heart forced herself to look at her aunt.
There was a purple mare laying atop the covers. It took Flurry several moments to recognize the pony as a mare. Her mane and tail were falling out, her coat was thin and patchy, and her ribs were harshly outlined by her skinny chest. Her chest rose and fell with the whoosh of a tube rammed down her throat. Her head and horn tilted back atop a pillow; a metal probe had been drilled into the mare's horn, and her wings were disheveled and dirty. Most of her feathers had fallen off.
The mare laid on the bed with her legs facing up and tucked against her body. They were skin and bone. The furless patches of skin on her back had developed lesions and bed sores, including a few on her flank. But her cutie mark was still there, that iconic arrangement of stars with a bright purple star in the center. It still shined in defiance of everything.
Flurry traced the wires to the machines crowding the bed, the drips of intravenous lines and the whoosh of the respirator. She couldn’t tell how much of it was meant to hurt her or how much was meant to help. Or if any of it made any difference.
The mare’s chest rose and fell. Her eyes were closed.
Flurry Heart stepped into the room. Her horn glowed and she slid her helmet off, letting it fall to the floor with an impact that cracked the tile. The sharp sound overpowered the whoosh of the respirator and the beep of the heart monitor, but neither changed.
Flurry did not know her mother’s adoptive parents. She did not even know the name of the village Cadance grew up in. Her father was dead, and his parents died with the ELF, fighting to save their daughter. Night Light and Twilight Velvet were one of the innumerable casualties of the last stand; Flurry did not know where they fell, but she knew in her heart they were gone. Twilight Sparkle was the last member of her family.
And Twilight Sparkle, the last Princess of Equestria, laid unmoving except for the whir of machines.
“They said they could help her,” a deep voice said suddenly from behind her.
Flurry turned her head to the right. Spike sat against the wall, on the floor with his arms and tail looped around his legs. The dragon looked somehow smaller as his wings curled around everything. His eyes were closed as well.
Flurry noticed the dried blood and ash around his claws, then more under his mouth.
“They said a lot of things,” Spike said in a lost mutter. “They talked and talked and talked. They had papers and reports and everything. All the progress that they made.”
Flurry said nothing.
“The same paperwork and proof they showed to Chrysalis, so she wouldn’t execute them for failing. She wanted her awake. She wanted her to watch.” Spike’s voice cracked into a snarl crossed with a sob. “Just like they watched.”
The smell from the hallway had entered the room, charred flesh, blood, and ash.
“I know she would have forgiven them,” Spike’s voice lost the heat, “but I don’t care. The day she wakes up and yells at me for it will be the happiest day of my life.”
Flurry looked back to her aunt and simply stood in her pockmarked and scarred armor. She did not cry, and she didn’t know what that said about her. The machine whooshed again and forced Twilight to keep breathing.
“She wasn’t even here, you know,” Spike said suddenly. “We were so sure she was. They sent her out on a train weeks before Starlight ever made it. We never even came close.”
There was a long pause.
“How does it feel to be right?” Spike growled.
Flurry turned back to his slit eyes. “What?” she asked absently.
“How does it feel to be right?” Spike repeated. “About everything?” He bared his fangs in a snarl. “I remember. I remember all your whining about the ELF slowing down, all the complaints, all the foalish screams. You were so sure she was dead,” he spat with a small flame.
The heartbeat monitor beeped.
“She’s not dead,” Flurry denied.
Spike wrenched his eyes from the standing alicorn to the one in the bed. “This isn’t living.”
Flurry did not have a response, so she stayed silent and stared with him.
“You killed Blackpeak, didn’t you?” Spike asked after a moment.
Flurry nodded.
“Did it hurt?”
Flurry thought about the snap of his arm as she forced the pistol under his chin, and his wide, terrified eyes. They were the only thing he could move in her telekinetic aura. The alicorn felt nothing when she made him pull the trigger, and she still felt nothing when she remembered it.
“Yes,” Flurry answered.
“Good,” Spike growled behind her. “I came to him, asked him to help. I should’ve reached across the table and tore his head off when he refused. Smug little bird was so sure of himself.” Flurry heard claws scrape on the tile.
“I could’ve done it,” Spike said to himself. “He only had two guards with him. I could’ve killed him right on the floor of the Capitol and no one could’ve done a thing about it. That’s what a dragon would have done.”
Flurry flexed her wings and the crystals sang.
“I was always afraid of what others would see,” Spike admitted. “But I don’t think I care anymore.”
“I’m sorry, uncle,” Flurry said softly.
“Why?” Spike choked out. “You got what you wanted. You always said you were the last one, and now you are.”
Flurry turned around. One of her hooves knocked her helmet to the side. “W-what?”
Spike stared at Twilight. “You’re the last one that counts. You always wanted to be, didn’t you?”
“I…” Flurry licked her lips. “Spike, I loved her.”
“Loved,” Spike pointed out.
“Don’t,” Flurry shook her head. “Don’t go there. You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to find her like this?” Her wings flared and the crystals sliced through the air before the dragon.
The alicorn’s muzzle trembled. “I don’t even remember the last time we met. She used to read me Daring Do and looked up big words in the dictionary. Don’t…don’t you dare put this on me.”
“It’s not on you,” Spike snarled. He didn’t look away from the bed. “It’s on us, on Starlight and Trixie and all of the other idiots who wasted time on everything. We argued over the fucking flag while those parasites drained her of everything she had. We should’ve killed them all.”
“She…” Flurry took a breath. “She wouldn’t have wanted that. She wouldn’t have wanted any of this.”
“I don’t care,” Spike muttered. “You still did it. Good.” He snorted a jet of flame. “That bastard and his little ‘lings marched in here and took photos.”
Flurry frowned. “What?”
“Thorax,” Spike growled. “Walked in without a word, gathered the reports and photos, then just left. He didn’t even look surprised.” Spike’s eyes wandered. “We met up once, all of us, just before Canterlot. Thorax even came.”
Thorax had not always been in the ghetto, and Flurry had Dusty and Jadis to help around. Sometimes the changeling was gone for nearly two weeks or more. Flurry always gave him an extra long hug when he came back. Even after she knew about the crime syndicate, she never asked where he went.
“I remember,” Spike said slowly, “all of us sat around a table a day from Stalliongrad and talked about what would happen with Twilight back. Starlight, Trixie, Barrel Roller, Sweetie Drops, plus a dozen more ponies that are also dead. Thorax sat in a corner. He was quiet the entire time.” The dragon laughed bitterly. “I thought he was nervous, like when we first met in that cave.” Spike clacked his muzzle shut. “I bet he knew.”
Flurry looked away to the bed.
The heart monitor beeped. Flurry felt Spike’s draconic stare on her gorget and shaved mane as she looked at her aunt. The fur on the back of her neck bristled.
“Did you know?” Spike growled behind her. There was a shifting and a scrape of claws. Flurry turned her head as the dragon stood up to his full height; his green fin brushed the ceiling.
Flurry said nothing.
Spike inhaled with a ragged breath. “Did you know?” he repeated with a smoking sob. His wings buffeted the wall behind him. The spade of his tail flipped into the wall with a muted thwap.
Flurry gazed up at him. Her pale blue eyes met green slits. Both sets were wet.
Twilight Sparkle will die first.
“On my birthday,” Flurry began, “a Queen’s Guard came down the mountain. He…he said she would die if we tried to take the city…if we fought.” Flurry wrenched her head back to the bed, and looked at her aunt’s wings. There were very few feathers left. “He had her feathers.”
Spike did not react. He did not even breathe.
“I burned them,” Flurry admitted in a small voice. “Thorax told me to, but I did. We would have all charged up this mountain and we would have lost.” The alicorn turned back to Spike. “I’m so sor-”
The dragon lunged forward, seized the alicorn by the metal gorget around her neck with both claws, and slammed her into the doorframe hard enough to embed her halfway into the wall. Flurry inhaled as her armored forelegs flailed against the scales of the larger dragon. Despite the weight of her armor, Spike held her up in the shattered wall, hoisting her muzzle up to his fangs. His eyes were slits nearly too narrow to see. The dragon opened his mouth and Flurry saw fire in the back of his throat. Her horn sparked.
Rather than flames, a sob spewed forth from the dragon’s mouth. He abruptly released Flurry and let her fall from the hole in the wall. The alicorn fell to the ground with a clatter of crystal and metal, and felt the indentations in the metal around her neck. She coughed.
Spike slumped back against the other wall, next to the bed and the machines. He flumped to the floor with a coiling tail and folded his wings around himself again. The dragon’s eyes were wide and his claws shook.
Flurry coughed again. It was in time with the whoosh of the respirator and the beep of the heart monitor. Despite the violence, Twilight Sparkle did not move on the bed, outside of what the machines moved for her.
“I…” Spike trailed off. His voice broke. “I can’t do this. I can’t. I just want things to go back to the way they were.”
“I’m sorry,” Flurry gasped. “I’m sorry.” She gathered her hooves under herself and stood up with a wince. Dust and bits of brick slid off her crystal armor as her wings flapped. “Please, Spike.”
Spike did not look at her muzzle. His eyes stopped at the rent metal around her neck. His claws had sliced through the enchanted metal, and if Flurry had not been an alicorn, he would’ve broken her neck from the sheer force of the impact into the wall. Both of them knew it.
The last of Twilight Sparkle’s family sat in a room with her, and cried separately.
“If I go out there,” Spike finally said, “I’m going to kill them all. All of them. Twilight wouldn’t have wanted it, but I don’t care. I don’t care what she would’ve wanted. She was my family, and they took her.”
“She’s an alicorn,” Flurry tried. Her voice was raspy. “She’s the toughest pony in the world. She fought Discord and Tirek and Sombra.” Flurry looked at her aunt’s withered muzzle, and the tube jammed past her lips. “She…she’s tough.”
“That’s what the bugs said,” Spike stated.
“I woke up,” Flurry whispered. “She can do it. I know she can.”
Twilight’s rib cage showed whenever the machine had her exhale. Flurry looked at the divot drilled into her horn, where the metal probe had been installed to drain her magic. Alicorn or not, the damage would be permanent. The Element of Magic would probably never cast spells properly again for as long as she lived.
“I know she can wake up,” Flurry swore. She stared hard at the bed with wet eyes. The machines whooshed and beeped, and her aunt did not wake up. Spike scraped his claws against his knees as he drew himself up into a ball.
“I need to be alone,” Spike stated quietly. “With her. I’m sorry.”
Flurry stayed in the room for several more minutes, then slowly walked backwards through the shattered door. Her wings bumped against the doorframe and the crystals chimed as she adjusted the armored wing joints. Just before she left, Spike asked, “Thorax told you to burn the feathers?”
“Don’t blame him,” Flurry exhaled. “I could’ve said something.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Spike dismissed. “They broke her years ago. We had one chance to save her, and we wasted it.”
“She’s…” Flurry hesitated. “She’s not broken. She can get better.”
Spike’s forked tongue licked at a fang. “When you get to Chrysalis,” he stated, “kill her. Just kill her. Don’t give her a chance.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Flurry said.
“Twilight would,” Spike countered.
Flurry backed out of the room, then turned and trotted past the changeling forever frozen in a scream. There was a living changeling at the end of the hallway, standing over a mangled corpse. The purple uniform was rumpled with the sleeves rolled up to the knees.
Thorax stared at the body with blank blue eyes. One of his holed hooves nudged the eyelids closed as the Princess approached him. “Where’s your helmet?” Thorax asked once she was in earshot.
Flurry’s ears pinned back. “Still in the room.”
“I’ll get it later.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Flurry rasped. Thorax observed her neck. It was hard to tell without irises, but the changeling looked her over with obvious worry.
“The gorget’s ruined,” he said quietly. “We’ll have to get another made.”
“I told him,” Flurry said, “about the feathers.”
Thorax nodded as if he expected it. A wing buzzed. “He’ll hate me for a bit, then realize I was right. He’ll hate me more for a little longer after that.”
“Did you know?” Flurry asked tiredly.
“Know what?”
“Don’t,” Flurry shook her head. “Don’t play that game.”
Thorax looked down at the body. “I knew it would be bad,” he chittered. “Finding your mother confirmed it. I knew Chrysalis and the ‘lings she surrounded herself with. According to the doctors, less than two dozen actually knew where Twilight was.”
“What doctors?”
Thorax gestured to the corpse.
Flurry bit her lip. “Were they actually trying to help her?”
Thorax nodded. “Yes, because the Queen ordered it. Because she wanted Twilight awake to watch her home burn. They kept her plugged into an extractor for years, harvesting her love and making sure it hurt. Chrysalis demanded it, and the Queen’s Guard obeyed.”
Flurry looked up and down the hallway at the corpses.
“They would have done the same to you,” Thorax stated. “If you had gone with her in Aquileia, you would have ended up beside Twilight. Or your mother.”
“How many times did they try to take me?” Flurry asked. “You never told me.”
Thorax shrugged a wing. “I didn’t keep count,” he lied.
Flurry closed her eyes and blinked back tears. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I am a changeling,” Thorax replied. “Changelings lie. It’s what we do. But I will tell you the truth, because it matters coming from me.”
Flurry opened her eyes and looked at her uncle.
Thorax stared at her over the corpse. “They wanted you alive. The ones that came knew exactly what would happen to you. I knew as well. I do not regret a single thing I have ever done to any of them.”
“Why’d you have pictures taken?”
“Because ponies need to know,” Thorax responded easily. “We’ll have copies made, and sent out in leaflets. Or pamphlets and papers. I’m sure the Reich will want it as well. She had a speech recorded; I’ll show it to you.”
Flurry looked at the corpse. The strike that killed the changeling had been in the back, as they tried to flee down the hallway. “Thorax-”
“And changelings will die,” Thorax interrupted her. “They’ll die in the fields, in the houses, in the streets. They’ll die screaming that they didn’t know or that they had no idea. They’re dying right now, out in Canterlot.
“There are thousands of civilians that resettled here. When the garrison fell back, they were left behind in Middle Canterlot. The patrols aren’t doing a thing to stop it. They lived over ponies, or in their old houses. They shopped in stores and ignored the ponies in chains that bagged their groceries or pulled their carts.”
“I want the violence stopped,” Flurry whispered. “The garrison surrendered.”
“Doesn’t apply to civilians,” Thorax shrugged a hoof.
“They’re your people!” Flurry snapped. “Do you care at all?”
“No.”
Flurry reared back.
Thorax stared at her blankly.
“I want the violence stopped,” Flurry said again. “I don’t…” she hesitated. “The Crystal City was a massacre. I don’t want this here. Not in Twilight’s home.”
Thorax took a deep breath. “You can give that order, and some ponies will follow it. Others won’t. You’ll have to make examples of them.”
“Fine,” Flurry huffed. “I’ve done that before.”
“You’re going to get me killed,” Thorax said bluntly.
Flurry blinked. “What?”
“They won’t kill you,” Thorax said slowly, “but they’ll look at the changeling beside you, the one you call uncle, lived with, and love, and they’ll kill me to save you.”
“Sunset and Tempest-”
“It won’t be them,” Thorax answered. “It will just be somepony with a snowflake on their foreleg. A pony that lost their entire family to changelings, or watched their friend vanish into green fire, or was pulled out of a cocoon themselves. They will see their Princess that has lost everything order mercy when they received none, and they will look at me.”
Flurry narrowed her eyes at him. “Has it happened before?”
Thorax didn’t answer, which was all the answer she needed.
“I am not fighting a war like this,” Flurry denied. “I am not letting my army rampage across every changeling they come across. It’s happened enough.”
“Look out the window,” Thorax jerked his head to the shattered stained glass. “You can see the crater.”
“That was different!” Flurry snarled. “Those were soldiers! In a battle!”
“Yes!” Thorax hissed. “They were! And they deserved it!” He jabbed a hoof into the corpse. “Like they did! It’s the same!”
“It’s not the same!”
“Yes,” Thorax disagreed. “It is.”
Flurry took a breath. “You told me to fight, and now you’re saying it’s my fault?”
“No,” Thorax said immediately. “It’s our fault.”
“What do you mean-”
“We decided to fight like changelings,” Thorax continued. “We decided to use every advantage we could get, and this is the price.” He glanced at the body. “For what we’ve done. For what Chrysalis did.”
“I am not wiping them out,” Flurry rasped. “No matter what anypony else wants. Or what you want.”
“I don’t want you to,” Thorax said. He stared up at her with hard eyes. “But I want you to fight. I want you to kill every Changeling Heer soldier that gets put up against you, smash every tank and every plane. I want you to kill every single one of us that Chrysalis throws at you, until we realize she will kill us all.”
Flurry looked to the window. Wind whistled through the broken glass, and the horizon glittered from the sunlight reflecting down into the former Duskwood. “The war wasn’t like this.”
“Equestria lost,” Thorax said in a kind voice. “The Empire lost. When we get to my home, but not before. That’s when it will matter.”
“Millions of changelings settled in Equestria,” Flurry mumbled.
“Yes,” Thorax agreed. “And when those pictures come out and they realize what their Queen did while they were good little ‘lings, they are going to run. Some won’t run fast enough.”
Flurry stared at the crater. Thorax left the body and walked to the shattered window. He nuzzled the bottom of her jaw. “I love you,” Thorax said beside her.
“I love you,” Flurry said to her uncle.
Thorax observed the glittering horizon. “You were named after a storm. Be the storm.”
Twilight’s voice rang out through the throne room.
“Fight the Hegemony!”
The projection froze on her muzzle, defiant and proud with hope in her eyes. Twilight stood tall, unbowed and unbroken, despite her disheveled feathers and the bags under her eyes. The Princess of Friendship wore no regalia, but she did not need to. Her cutie mark of stars was visible on her flank just before her legs shimmered into sparkles.
Twilight Sparkle blurred as Flurry walked through her aunt. The Princess of Friendship quickly reformed, still standing defiantly with a gaze that encompassed everything and nothing. Her niece was able to look her in the eye, then her horn glowed with a gentle gold light. Twilight vanished with a burst of purple sparks, and the crystal laying on the floor dimmed.
Flurry Heart, Princess of the Crystal Empire, soon-to-be Princess of Equestria, and the Princess of Ponies, took a deep breath and pushed it out with a foreleg. “This was the only message?” she asked in confirmation.
“Yes,” Sunset Shimmer nodded. Her voice was soft, having lost the heat and bite she usually had. Ever since the battle, the mare’s yellow and red fire had guttered to a slow burn. She levitated the crystal back over to her hooves.
Flurry looked around, clad in her black padded jumpsuit for her armor and the purple crystal band below her shaved mane. The throne room was packed with her command staff and lower officers, many of which she did not know personally. Regardless, all of them had bowed to her and stared enraptured at the recording. Even the Nova Griffonians, who proclaimed not to care about Equestria, watched with serious eyes.
Flurry walked down the central aisle to the open doors, then exited out to the courtyard. Hammers and saws reverberated as a great scaffolding was expanded below the pronged arch of Chrysalis’ Hegemony before Canterlot Castle. Flurry didn’t consider it truly necessary, but some display was needed.
Equestria did not practice the death penalty. The fabled Canterlot Dungeon was truly a glorified guest quarters; the actual jail was in Middle Canterlot. Generalmajor Pagala had converted some of the rooms of the castle into something that could be charitably called a dungeon, but the mare was dead.
Pagala was hanging from one of the first ropes set upon the gallows. Flurry was certain the body stank after so many days, but ponies still stopped and spat at her. Lord Commander Lacin Cardo swung next to her, held upside down by his legs. Flurry looked over a wing to Thorax and Jadis behind her.
“Are you sure that’s the Lord Commander?”
“His muzzle is ruined,” Jadis added to Thorax. “That could be any ‘ling, no offense.”
“They said it was, and he was wearing the armor,” Thorax replied. “I trust their version.”
Flurry accepted it with a nod. She waved a wing down the stairs at the workers, all earth ponies with Limestone overseeing them. The mare gave a gruff wave back from the scaffold. Nearly a dozen bodies, all commanders of the Changeling garrison that had refused to surrender or died in the attack, swung in a slow breeze. It was a cloudy day, and the rumble of distant thunderstorms rolled across the northern sky. It was too cloudy to see the pink horizon.
Flurry returned to the throne room. Twilight’s crystal had been carefully placed back in its velvet-lined, padded box and reverentially closed. Rainbow and Sunset stood next to it. The blue pegasus flicked her metal feathers constantly with cold eyes.
Upon Flurry’s reentry, the room bowed as one. Dusty Mark, Duskcrest, Zecora, Tempest Shadow, all of her commanders except Spike and Limestone were present. Flurry Heart raised her wings.
“Rise.”
The room stood and moved to the sides of the hall, standing beside the support pillars and stained-glass windows of swarms of changelings and their Queen. Jacques innocently wheeled a cart with a gramophone forward from a side door. He whistled through his beak. Several glared at him.
Flurry walked down the black rug. Her army nodded to her as she passed. The alicorn stopped just before the steps to the obsidian throne and looked to Jacques. The griffon had wheeled his little cart to the edge of the dais, and carefully setup the gramophone atop it.
“Did you find it?” Flurry asked the griffon. Jacques’ brown fur and yellow feathers regrew slowly along the strips of bandages swathed around his left side. The Aquileian’s tail bobbed.
“Cruel, Little Flurry,” he said chidingly. “Sending a burn victim to hunt for a record.”
“It’s called delegating,” Flurry corrected, “and you seemed eager.”
“True,” he clacked his beak. He flourished his right wing with a vinyl record slipped between the feathers. “I did happen to find it, and I also happen to enjoy theatrics.”
“Princess Flurry?” Gallus called out. He was standing beside a pillar to the right side of the room, escorted by two knights. The blue griffon waited until Flurry turned to face them, then slowly walked to the center of the rug and dipped his head.
“Kaiser Grover VI would request a copy of the message.” Gallus eyed the pony and changeling photographers replacing their lenses near the back. “We would like to have it filmed.”
“Sunset, Tempest,” Flurry stated. “Have the crystal brought over to the east wing. Escorted at all times. We’ll send it over tonight,” the alicorn said to Gallus.
“It’s a delicate spell,” Sunset added. “Copying it won’t be easy.”
“I understand,” Gallus nodded. He looked to Sandbar and Yona in the crowd with uncertain eyes. The yak and earth pony stood near the double doors.
“This is an Imperial and Equestrian matter,” Flurry announced from the first step, “but you may remain as a representative of the Griffonian Reich. Take whatever place you wish.” Gallus traded a look between his old friends and his escort, then returned to the knights and leaned against the pillar.
Flurry took the steps in a long-legged stride. Atop the obsidian throne, a purple book with frayed pages rested on the hard surface. Flurry gingerly picked it up with a wing, then gracelessly sprawled on the seat and wiggled her lean flank. It was deeply uncomfortable, but the crystal throne in her Empire was harder.
“Chrysalis had cushions, certainly,” Thorax called up from the bottom of the steps.
“Get your ass up here and turn into one, then,” Flurry retorted. “Get up here, uncle.” The alicorn let a large wing droop to the floor, laying sideways on the throne like it was a couch. Her purple band glittered from the chandeliers hung in the rafters. Once the crews were done with the scaffolds, they would begin stripping all the black marble and tile from the throne room, but this was to be settled first.
Thorax buzzed his wings and flew up the steps, landing in his purple uniform and standing like he belonged there. “Rainbow,” Flurry called out. “To the right of the throne.”
The pegasus similarly flew from the crowd and stood with an expressionless muzzle. The Air Marshal was wearing her leather jacket above a Wonderbolt flight suit, scuffed and worn from service. Her eyes were distant as she surveyed the windows. “You’re tearing all of this out, right?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” the Element of Loyalty snorted. “You gonna keep the purple?”
Flurry looked at the purple accents on the pillars and the purple checkers on the tile floor. “No,” she decided. “I’m stripping all of it and we’ll sell it off.”
Rainbow nodded like it was a reasonable decision to gut Canterlot Castle.
“Jadis,” Flurry called out. “Bring them in.”
The crystal pony raised her bent foreleg, then exited out the doors to the foyer with a small squad of ponies. The double doors remained open as everyone waited. Jacques set the vinyl record up and adjusted the gramophone. He held the needle up in a claw as he cast yellow eyes up the throne to Flurry Heart.
Flurry waved a foreleg. Jacques let the needle drop, and the record spun. The Princess recognized the opening riff, though this time there was no jaunty polka and other Changeling instruments. Sapphire Shore’s melodious voice followed the opening.
“There is a house in Canterlot; they call the Rising Sun…”
Flurry spoke to Thorax from the side of her muzzle. “How hard was it to find?”
“We couldn’t find it at all,” Thorax answered. “I have no idea how Jacques got his claws on it, but we’ve been busy with more important things.”
Flurry let the jab roll off her feathers. “That’s why I asked him.”
Jacques snapped a talon to the beat at the base of the throne.
Flurry laid sideways atop Chrysalis’ black throne as Jadis returned. She stopped in the doorway and checked her rifle with a hoof, then bowed against the edge of the rug. Flurry waved her sprawling wing forward as the song echoed through the throne room.
The crystal pony and two dozen mixed soldiers marched down the pillars with five figures between them. Four were changelings, shackled by their legs and wings with rings on their horns. They were naked. Two of Flurry’s griffons pulled a litter with a tan pegasus wrapped in a white sheet behind the four ‘lings.
Duskcrest spun a cylinder of his revolver as the group passed the Nova Griffonians. He twirled the silver-plated pistol on a talon with hooded gold eyes before holstering it back under a wing. The group moved slowly, stymied by Jadis’ limp and the chains around the changelings’ legs.
Yona, Sandbar, and Duty Price glared as the procession moved by the gathered ELF veterans. Price had removed his hat; he used a knife to slowly peel off the end of a cigar. The few yaks in attendance were uncharacteristically silent, letting the song ring through the throne room.
“Oh mother…tell your foals…not to do what I have done.”
Flurry gripped the Friendship Journal in the crook of a bent foreleg as they approached the base of the dais. Sunset and the Mage Units stood just before the throne in a line, joined by Tempest Shadow in her black Storm Armor. It was scoured clean to a shine that rivaled the black marble in the room. The duumvirate of the Equestrian Liberation Front had locked eyes on the group from the moment they entered. Sunset’s horn burned at the tip with a red flame.
“Well, got one hoof on the platform…another on the train…”
Rainbow scraped her metal wing along the back of the throne. The sound peeled under the musical interlude. The prisoners stopped before the throne and Jadis whirled around with a smooth movement and shouldered her rifle. The escorting soldiers formed a square around the prisoners and took several steps back with weapons drawn. The two griffons set the pegasus down and joined the formation with submachine guns.
Arex and Ocellus emerged from a small group of purple-uniformed changelings closest to the throne. They partially ascended the steps to the dais after the unicorns broke rank to let them pass. They stopped together after bowing to Flurry, then stared down at the five figures.
“Well, there is a house in Canterlot; they call the Rising Sun…”
Jacques raised a talon to the gramophone, but looked up to Flurry. Her horn shook to the side down at him. He failed to suppress a smirk on his cheeks as he let the song continue to the end. The five supposed ringleaders of the coup attempt waited. None of them looked above their hooves to the alicorn lounging in their Queen’s throne.
The song finally ended, and the faint sound of a needle on a record skipped through the throne room. Jacques lifted it off the vinyl with a talon, but still whistled the song quietly. The guards at the double doors pulled them shut, and the clang tolled through the throne room.
“I must’ve heard the original at some point,” Flurry mused, “but I couldn’t quite recall it. It’s a good song; I understand why you wanted to copy it.” She brushed her wing against the bottom of the throne. “Have you heard it before?”
None of them answered, so Flurry continued. “There was a general in the Duskwood, back when there was a Duskwood. He was playing your…imitation…from his tank. You don’t happen to know who that was, do you? I didn’t get his name before I killed his entire army.”
None of them answered again.
“Very well,” Flurry said languidly. “We’ll get started.” She rapped a hoof on the side of the throne.
“Jachs von Volistad,” Arex declared. “Former Generalmajor of the Canterlot Commissariat.”
The green-eyed changeling stallion in the center of the group shifted his hooves. He did not look up. He was very well-built and broad-shouldered with large wings, standing taller than the others.
“Alcippe Xanade, former Oberstleutnant.”
A maimed changeling mare shifted closer to Jachs, as close as she could. She accidentally bumped into Jachs and he steadied her after the mare misjudged the distance with her one purple eye. The left side of her muzzle was covered in bandages, and several wrapped around the bottom of her jaw. She would have been very pretty, but her muzzle was now crooked.
“Marsilio of Vanhoover, Generaloberstabsarzt and Surgeon-General of the Heer.”
The doctor looked the worst out of all of the changelings. His carapace was a sickly gray, and the veins on his wings were discolored. His eyes drifted up to the throne and around the room, but they were cloudy. He was very thin, to the point that the chains had to be looped through the holes in his legs because the cuffs were too large.
“Finicus Vesali, CEO of Main Hive Industries.”
“I’m bankrupt,” the last changeling said in a dry voice. “I don’t own anything.” He was slimmer than Jachs, and a slightly lighter black. His long ears twitched. “Went bankrupt last year, actually,” he rambled.
One of the surrounding pegasi raised a rifle to his muzzle. The barrel was nearly close enough to touch one of his fangs. Flurry rapped her hoof on the throne again. “Make a note,” she responded with equal dryness. “Bankrupt.”
“And,” Ocellus swallowed. “Second Wind, Kommandant of the Canterlot Guard.”
The tan pegasus laid on the litter, breathing shallowly. Part of the linen sheet was stained red, and the overall shape was asymmetrical. Flurry lifted the sheet off with a horn.
Second Wind had lost both legs on his left side, along with his wing. The pegasus stared up at the ceiling, part of his mane shaved away with stiches along the left side of his muzzle. He kept both eyes, but they stared up at the ceiling blankly as he breathed.
“Is he aware of anything?” Flurry asked.
“We’ve kept him sedated with medical spells,” Sunset answered from the mages. “We stopped a few days ago for this.”
“Was that necessary?” Flurry asked. Probably not.
“All the remaining leadership of the Canterlot Guard died in the assault of the castle,” Thorax answered. “He’s the only remaining survivor of the officers.”
“789 surrendered with the Changelings,” Flurry recalled. “How many are still alive?”
“765,” Thorax answered.
Flurry’s horn glowed and Second Wind was enveloped in a golden glow. His breathing steadied after a moment and his eyes started to focus slightly. The alicorn snorted a drop of blood onto the base of the throne after the spell ended. “Let’s not make it 764 yet. Soldiers, at ease.” The square shouldered or slung their weapons and took another step back.
Flurry stared down from the throne. “I am Flurry Heart,” she called out in a half-powered Royal Voice. “Daughter of Mi Amore Cadenza and Shining Armor, niece of Twilight Sparkle, the Princess of the Crystal Empire, rightful Princess of Equestria, and the Princess of Ponies.”
The throne room echoed with three beats. It rattled the stained-glass windows. The alicorn in the throne waited until the sound faded.
“Were any of you involved in the attack on my parent’s wedding?” Flurry asked.
None of them answered.
“Jachs was,” Rainbow said from the side of the throne. “I remember him.”
“I thought you couldn’t tell changelings apart?” Flurry said back.
“Yeah, but the asshole got a medal for capturing us,” Rainbow responded. “I was gonna kill him until that Jaeger got me.” She scraped her metal wing against the throne again. It sparked.
“Well,” Flurry shrugged her hoof. “Thorax was involved, and I hardly hold that against him. You might as well share,” she said down to the group. “Doctor Marsilio? Is that the correct title?”
The gray changeling did not respond, but Flurry suspected he may have been incapable of doing so. He looked as bad as the corpses on the gallows outside. She kept going anyway.
“You were born in Vanhoover? My mother was born near there. I hear Chrysalis tried to make it another Great Hive of the Hegemony. Did you help?”
Surprisingly, Marsilio responded. “Yes,” he croaked in a harsh dual-toned voice. “We all did. It failed. It’s all concrete and black spires. It’s pathetic.”
“I’ll see it for myself,” Flurry replied. “It’s a good port, right between Olenia, the Changeling Lands, and western Equestria. I never knew that changelings lived there before the wedding. It’s a shame Chrysalis ruined that. A shame you worked for her afterwards as well.”
The throne room descended into silence once again.
“The next question I ask,” Flurry said in a cold tone, “will be answered. When did you find out?” Her hoof gripped the purple book to her chest.
The room was quiet, and then Jachs answered in a dull voice. “When I was Generalmajor.” He sounded tired.
“Before the ELF?” Flurry asked.
“Yes.”
“When?” Flurry asked again.
Jachs was silent.
Flurry’s muzzle twitched. “Before Aquileia fell?”
The changeling’s eyes finally shifted up to the throne. “Yes.”
The alicorn let out a short breath. “She was in some cave. I saw it a few days ago. You stuffed her in some cave to rot while you sucked away everything she had.”
Finicus interrupted, “The Queen’s Guard kept it a secret.”
“Do not-” Flurry cut herself off and took a deep breath. “You knew for years,” she continued. “You knew for years, and what did you do? Did…" the Princess hesitated. "Did you ever talk to her?”
Jachs looked back down at the floor.
Flurry laughed, high, shrill, and harshly. “Oh, that’s wonderful! What did she say?”
“We could spread a little bit of harmony wherever we went,” Jachs answered. “She…she didn’t expect us to let her go.”
“W-we w-would’ve been executed,” Alcippe added in a lopsided mutter.
“Now you find your voice,” Flurry snarled.
“We tried,” Jachs said. “We tried to make it better.”
Flurry choked on her words. Her muzzle spasmed as the room tensed in one great motion. Rainbow beside her gave a low growl.
“What?” Flurry eventually spat.
“I paid my ponies,” Finicus added. “Drove my company bankrupt, destroyed my entire family’s legacy.”
“Synthetic Love,” Marsilio remarked. “It would’ve ended our dependence on taking it.”
“You don’t need to take it,” Arex hissed.
“Look at where you are,” Marsilio shrugged a wing.
“I’m above you,” Arex retorted from the steps. “Fucking parasite.”
“You were going to make it better?” Flurry asked in disbelief. “While my aunt died in a cave?” She clutched the Friendship Journal to her chest. “While you kept her book?”
“They wanted her alive,” Jachs responded slowly.
“So she could watch it all burn!” Flurry snapped. “That’s what your Queen wanted.”
Jachs’ ears flicked and he licked his fangs. “We made progress. Things were getting better.”
“Until the ELF,” Sunset snorted. “That’s what you mean. Say it, bug.”
“Chrysalis was content with her artillery cannons and useless projects,” Jachs replied.
“She’s a monster,” Sunset countered. Heat returned to her voice. “Celestia’s School burned while you were Generalmajor. Twilight’s book burned. POW camps drained, Vanhoover mutilated.”
“Our Princess,” Jadis snarled, “plugged into a cocoon and cut apart! Our ponies stolen!”
“I know what she is,” Jachs sighed, “but-”
“I hate you,” Thorax said from beside the throne. He stepped forward, and his voice carried across the throne room. “Out of all the changelings I’ve ever met, I hate your kind the most.”
Jachs closed his mouth.
“You know who I am?” Thorax hissed.
“The harmonist,” Jachs answered. "The Princess' adopted uncle."
“The Traitor,” Thorax corrected. “The idiot, the pony with a skin condition, the ‘ling that’s been executed seven times over the years, the pet. All the titles I've gotten from the Queen's Guard and VOPS, but I still hate ‘lings like you the most.”
Thorax descended the steps in his uniform. “I pity the fanatics,” he began. “They’re so blinded by it all that they barely know what they’re doing. The cowards and opportunists? They’re in it for themselves. And some just don’t care at all. They enjoy it. But changelings like you are the worst of us.”
Thorax stopped a step above the base so he could see over the line of unicorns. “Why’d you join the Heer?” he asked. “Why’d you stay? Were you born under Chrysalis, or one of the other hives?”
“Under Chrysalis,” Jachs answered.
“Like me,” Thorax nodded. “And like me, you saw exactly what she was. And you followed her anyway.”
“I should’ve killed her,” Jachs said. “Is that what you want me to say? The Queen’s Guard would’ve annihilated Canterlot, everything that I tried to-”
“You failed!” Thorax hissed. “You failed just like I did, and you’re too blind to see where you’re standing! What she’s been doing while you played around!” He burst into green fire and his clothes collapsed.
An orange tabby cat leapt out of a purple coat and slunk between the legs of the unicorns, then burst into flames as Thorax reappeared within the square of guards. He stood naked, shorter than Jachs but with smaller holes in his legs. His wings flared.
“We all look the same to them!” he shouted in Herzlander. “All of us! You take away that blue armor, and the Queen’s Guard are just us! Don’t you get it!? We aren’t even speaking our language!”
Jachs and the other three changelings stepped back as Thorax advanced. “There’s no other Queens! Have you heard from Helvia? Yaria? Argynnis? She's the only one that ever existed now! Look around! See it! See it!” He jabbed a foreleg at the windows. “We’re hers!”
Flurry scanned the windows. In all of them, one tall changeling was the centerpiece. The quality varied, as did the detail, but Chrysalis stood out in all of them, standing or flying or pointing a hoof as an army of changelings advanced or bowed. Sometimes ponies bowed with the changelings, always positioned at the base of the window. The alicorn could recognize Chrysalis’ sea-green mane. No other Queen was depicted in any of them.
“We’re hers!” Thorax screeched in Equestrian. “You think it matters what the fucking Queen’s Guard did!? You still don’t get it! Chrysalis tortured Twilight Sparkle!”
He took a step forward. “The Queen’s Guard tortured the Princess of Equestria!” Thorax burst into green fire, and purple wings flared out of the pillar of flames.
“We tortured the Princess of Friendship!” Twilight Sparkle screamed at the changelings in front of her. There was another burst of fire. Flurry inhaled at the pink wings that emerged first.
“We killed the Princess of Love!” Cadance shouted in a wild snarl. She advanced another step. Fire burst around her again as Jachs tripped on his chains.
Flurry Heart stood before the changelings with green magic vibrating around her horn. “They told stories about us for years, and we went and proved them right!” The Princess of Ponies abruptly shrunk down in a flicker of green flames, and Thorax stood muzzle-to-muzzle with the taller stallion. He panted raggedly.
“The other army out there thinks they’re fighting a holy war,” Thorax rasped. “Who’s going to tell them they’re wrong?” The changeling pulled himself back from the stunned stallion.
“I’m sure you did it for the Hives,” Thorax admitted with a broken voice in Herzlander. “That’s what your kind always says. There’s no Hives anymore. She already broke us while you were too blind to see it. There’s nothing left to break. If you cared about changelings at all, you would’ve put a bullet in Chrysalis’ head or freed Twilight years ago. She would’ve been the last one that could’ve stopped the fire.”
None of them responded. Thorax stared down at Second Wind, then shook his head. “We’re all going to burn for what Chrysalis did. I have one last question. Don’t answer. I already know.” He paused for a moment and looked around at the crowd of ponies with sad blue eyes.
“When Flurry was ten years old, Chrysalis came for her in Aquileia,” Thorax said in Equestrian. “If she had been taken, she would’ve ended up with her aunt. What would you have done if you found a ten-year-old filly screaming in a cocoon with a drill through her horn?”
Thorax bared his fangs at Jachs, then lowered his lips. “What would you have done then?” The smaller changeling twisted away with narrowed eyes and raised a hoof to leave.
Jachs opened his mouth behind him.
Thorax suddenly whirled back around and hissed, a true, proper, screeching shriek that echoed through the throne room and made ears pin back, tails lash, and feathers rustle. It didn’t sound like a changeling’s scream; it was a feral cry of pure anger and hunger, like an animal.
Or a monster.
Jachs stumbled back on his hooves and fell to his flank with wide eyes. Thorax sneered down at him, then spat something in the lilting language of the changelings. It sounded wrong when coming from such a raspy, angry hiss. He stomped away to a side door with twitching wings. The crowd parted to let him past.
Flurry gathered his clothes and levitated them over. Thorax noticed at the door and collected them out of her aura. He bundled them into a rough ball and carried it between raised wings.
“What would you do?” Flurry called out.
“It’s your decision, Princess,” Thorax stated back.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I would kill them,” Thorax answered immediately.
Flurry blinked on the throne and looked down to the changelings surrounded by her soldiers. “They surrendered.”
“They did,” Thorax accepted. “Changelings lie.”
“There will be reprisals,” Flurry tried.
“Gallus!” Thorax shouted across the throne room. “Has the retreating Heer started draining villages yet?”
“They’ve done it since the start,” Gallus responded. “Worse now, they’re trying to slow the advance down, tearing up the railways and burning some of the smaller villages.” He cast his eyes up to the throne. “We aren’t stopping.”
“Don’t,” Flurry countered. “We’ll keep the supply lines moving. Sunset, we’ll need to organize more relief units. Catch up and kill them.” She turned down to the changelings, moving from Arex and Ocellus to the ones in chains. “Do you want to...” she hesitated, “recruit any?”
“Any of the ones I wanted to take would have been drummed out years ago,” Thorax answered. He spared a look at Ocellus. “I don’t have the time to go through 40,000 of them, nor do any of my changelings.”
Flurry sighed. “Dismissed.”
“I’ll see you when you’re done,” Thorax promised and bowed. He left through the side door, and it closed like the sound of a gavel declaring a judgement. The throne room descended into a deep silence as Flurry rustled her wings against the obsidian stone. She kept the Friendship Journal clutched to her chest.
“Just kill us,” Marsilio sighed from the center of the group. “I spent my life sensing emotions, inhibitor ring or not. You want to kill us. Just do it.”
“I want to kill you,” Flurry admitted, “but I won’t.”
Her announcement caused heads to turn from the changelings up to the throne.
“I accepted your surrender,” Flurry continued. “I’ll keep it. You’ll live.”
Alcippe whimpered against Jachs and pulled him back to his hooves. Their chains looped together, and the guards closed in and untangled them. “Have them taken to the warehouses with the others,” Flurry Heart ordered. “We need to make plans to ship them east, away from the frontlines.”
“Princess,” Rainbow growled.
“I know you want to kill them all, Rainbow,” Flurry said from the side of her mouth, “and I know that more will die anyway. Please.”
The pegasus glared at Flurry but nodded and took a step back. “He deserves to die,” she said with her magenta eyes drilling into Generalmajor Jachs.
The changelings were separated. Jachs and Alcippe looked relieved. Finicus looked ambivalent, and Marsilio’s eyes remained unfocused and cloudy. The guards supported him, practically dragging him away from the throne. Two griffons picked up the pegasus.
“Not him,” Flurry called out. “Hang the pegasus.”
Jachs and Alcippe stumbled in their chains. The guards shoved them and tensed. “What?” the changeling stallion shouted.
“I accepted the surrender of your garrison,” Flurry remarked. “Soldiers of the Hegemony. Second Wind is a former guardstallion, sworn to the Equestrian crown. He committed treason, and so he hangs.”
“No!” Jachs shouted. Frosty Jadis slammed the butt of her rifle into the side of his head and the changeling sprawled to the rug.
Marsilio stirred in the hooves of the guards dragging him. He turned his head back. “He took a grenade for Twilight! Killed Lacin Cardo!” The guard rattled him and the doctor vomited a sickly pink slime across his wings. The ponies dropped him in disgust.
“He…” Jachs slurred from the ground. “He saved her.”
Flurry vanished with a crack of golden lightning. She burst back into existence in the middle of the guards and knocked them back from the concussive snap of her overcharged teleport. Jachs blinked as the Princess suddenly stood over him with a burning horn, tall and terrible with icy eyes.
“Saved her?” Flurry shouted. The force of her voice physically pushed him down the rug and his ears bled. “He saved himself, all of you! Cowering behind her like Trimmel!”
The crowd winced and lowered themselves. Jadis rolled back with her bad hoof wrapped over her head. Flurry flared her clipped wings and reared up, still holding the Friendship Journal clutched to her chest.
“You imagined you’d build a better future atop her bones. And when that failed, you clung to her to save yourselves. Like rats,” Flurry sneered. “Or parasites.” The windows rattled again, and Flurry took a deep breath and pushed it out with a foreleg. The crowd slowly recovered and Jachs was hauled upright.
She landed on three legs and set the Friendship Journal down. Flurry trotted to the litter and Second Wind. The pegasus’ eyes struggled to focus on her as she stood over him. The alicorn inhaled and knelt down beside the litter to listen.
“Did you know?” she asked in a quiet whisper. “Before?”
Second Wind blinked. His mouth moved for a few seconds before he managed a faint, “Yes.” Flurry closed her eyes and held her breath. The pegasus worked his jaw. “I’m sorry,” he exhaled in such a breathy rasp that the alicorn barely caught it.
Flurry stood up. “Hang him,” she said loudly. “Make sure his neck breaks. Don’t let him dangle.” She glanced at Sunset. “Could we use any of the others?”
“We don’t want them,” Sunset snorted.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“We can use some of them,” Tempest countered. She walked from the base of the throne and regarded Second Wind. “For a while. Some might get fragged.”
Flurry’s muzzle scrunched. “What?”
“Friendly fire,” Sunset explained. “We can separate them into units to keep it to a minimum.”
The Princess twisted and looked over her shoulder. “Price!” she called out.
Duty Prince lowered his knife and sheathed it. “I’ll find a use for them. Clearing minefields if nothing else. Or caves. They want to redeem themselves; they work for it.”
“Hang the worst offenders, if they aren’t already dead,” Flurry said to Tempest. “Accusations of bribery or cruelty or whatever.”
“Princess!” Jachs shouted again. Flurry reared back around and flared her wings. “It’s my fault!” he continued before she opened her muzzle. “It’s mine!”
Flurry ground her teeth. “Yes. It is,” she growled.
“He tried to kill Chrysalis!” Jachs shouted again. His head was bleeding from the fin and Jadis moved to hit him again with her rifle. Flurry caught the stock in her magic for a second and Jadis relented.
“Explain,” the alicorn ordered. She waved her wings for the group to be dragged back to her and Second Wind. The tan pegasus’ eyes rolled to them and his mouth moved, but no sound came out.
Jachs licked his lips several times. One green eye blinked as blood ran down the eyelid from his head. “He tried to kill Chrysalis before she was crowned Empress of Equus.”
“She’s the Queen of the Changelings,” Flurry rolled her eyes. “She crowned herself Empress of the Crystal Empire, too. How many titles do you want to give her? I already have too many with three.”
“I talked him out of it.”
Flurry scoffed. “That really helped his case.”
Jachs looked down at Second Wind. “He didn’t know about Twilight-”
Flurry’s horn sparked.
“He didn’t know until afterwards. I didn’t tell him. He would’ve made a different choice.”
“Don’t answer for him,” Flurry said lowly. She cast an eye down at the crippled pegasus. “Is that true?” she asked him.
Second Wind’s eyes were glazed over again. His mouth moved, but there was no verbal answer. “He’s my friend,” Jachs pleaded. “Our friend.”
“Your friend,” Flurry sneered. “How nice. He knew for years, then. And left her. Like his friends.” She straightened her neck and glared at the other three changelings. “Well, friends. You can hang with him, if you want.”
None of them responded. Jachs looked away from Second Wind. Flurry snorted again and waved a wing. “Get them out of here. Hang Second Wind.” She looked around the room and saw disappointment, but it was disappointment that the changelings were leaving alive.
Just as Flurry turned her head back to Sunset and Tempest, chains rattled. She paused, then looked back. Marsilio had pulled himself free from the guards and flopped to the floor. He struggled to stand under his own power. The guards aimed their submachine guns at his back.
“Hang me,” Marsilio coughed. “With him.”
“You clearly want to die anyway,” Flurry said.
“I was there with your aunt,” Marsilio slurred. “I was there when we found her in the cave, and I was there when she fell into a coma. I knew they were hurting her for fun.”
Flurry’s legs shook.
“She said it wasn’t my fault,” the doctor rasped, “but it was. I don’t care anymore.”
“Fine,” Flurry managed.
“Oh, hell!” Finicus spat in Herzlander. “I don’t have anything anyway!” He tugged against the guards. “Rope me up! I won’t have to pay all my debtors! No ‘ling wants to buy my art anyway! I wanted to be a painter!” The guards looked to Flurry. She nodded with twitching lips.
Jachs looked to Second Wind, then to Alcippe behind him, and finally closed his eyes. “I love you, Aly,” he said softly. He pulled himself forward to stand beside the pegasus with a bleeding head.
Alcippe wept from her broken muzzle and her legs shook in the chains as the guards restrained her.
“Get her out of here,” Flurry sighed. Her breath caught. “Hang the rest.”
Alcippe was dragged nearly to the double doors before she twisted back. Her voice was muffled from the bandages around her muzzle. “Me!”
Jachs looked over a wing. “Aly-” Flurry clamped his muzzle shut with her horn and he bit down on the tip of his tongue.
“Me,” Alcippe repeated softly. Her eyes went to Second Wind from Jachs. “I w-was t-there too.” The guards looked to Flurry. Her wings shook against her side.
Flurry Heart stared at the four changelings and one pony spanning the breadth of the throne room. “Well,” her voice cracked. “I wonder which one of you is Honesty, Generosity, Loyalty, Kindness, and Laughter? You’re missing Magic. You left her in a cave. Hang them all.”
Flurry turned back around as the griffons picked up Second Wind and dragged him to the doors with the rest. Sunset and Tempest nodded to Flurry, and ignored the tears in her eyes. “I want...” Flurry paused to control her breathing, “find the second-in-command. Or third. We’ll have to get with the Reich about moving them.”
“Of course, Princess,” Tempest agreed. The two unicorns stepped back as Flurry waved her trembling wings to the throne. She lifted her hoof.
It froze above the Friendship Journal she left on the floor. Flurry inhaled. I nearly stepped on it.
She exhaled with a sob. “Wait.” The alicorn sobbed again and her cry rattled the widow panes. The chandeliers swung above her. The throne room scuffed hooves and claws on the floor from the sound.
“Princess,” Sunset started. “You don’t…”
Flurry ignored her and picked up the book with a shaking wing. She turned around with tears rolling down her muzzle and walked to the guards waiting by the doors. They had stopped with the five prisoners that abandoned her aunt.
The Princess of Ponies halted in front of them wearing a black jumpsuit and purple crown. Tears ran down her muzzle and snot hung from her nose as she sniffled. The alicorn extended a quivering wing to Jachs with the book balanced atop the feathers.
“Take them all down to the warehouses,” Flurry ordered to the guards. “Second Wind with the rest of the Canterlot Guard. See that he gets treatment.”
Jadis bit her lip as her blue coat glittered. She nodded. “As you say, Princess.”
“Thank you, Princess,” Jachs said quietly.
“Take the book,” Flurry bit out. “I don’t forgive you. I’ll never forgive you. But my aunt would.”
Jachs, under wide, focused eyes from Jadis, accepted the book and tucked it under a chained wing. This close, Flurry noticed a scar running down his muzzle, along the side of his jaw. She sniffled again. “Why?”
The changeling did not answer.
“This would be easier with her,” Flurry whispered in Herzlander. “I can’t stop the storm, even if I wanted to. My mother could’ve. Twilight could’ve. It’s just me.”
“I tried,” Jachs said back, green eyes averted from the tall, weeping teenager.
“Words are wind,” Flurry sobbed. “I hope you live. For all of it. She could’ve done better.”
“I’d rather we all burn,” Jachs whispered.
Flurry wiped her muzzle with a wing and looked at him questioningly.
His ears pinned back. “It’s what your uncle said.”
Flurry Heart eyes swept over the changelings and her guards. “I never want to see you again,” she said in a louder voice. “Dismissed!” her voice cracked on the command.
The throne room stomped a hoof or pounded a claw. The four changelings and one pony were taken through the foyer out of the courtyard, then down a sideway and away from the main entrance and the gallows. Flurry trotted back to the dais and ascended the steps on shaking legs. She sat in the throne and rubbed her hooves together. Even with her height, it was a large, ugly stone designed like Chrysalis’ crown. Rainbow bit her lip and flapped her good wing beside Flurry.
Sunset, Tempest, Dusty, Duty Price, and Duskcrest waited below as the crowd filtered out of the throne room. Gallus stopped for a moment beside Yona and Sandbar, then looked to the knights and simply waved. They waved back before the griffon left.
Flurry sniffled again and wiped her muzzle on her clipped feathers. She trailed snot into them. “Yes?” she asked after a moment.
“I’ll, uh, get started on that, Princess,” Duty Price said. He bowed awkwardly and backed away from the throne.
“What else?” Flurry gasped.
“Actually,” Duskcrest shrugged a wing. “Not important.” He pulled Dusty Mark away with a claw. “We’ll get with, uh-”
“Us,” Sunset answered, covering for Duskcrest. “We have some things to discuss.”
“I’ll be there in a bit,” Flurry promised and scrubbed her muzzle.
“It’s not important,” Tempest assured her.
“Don’t lie to me,” Flurry sighed. “Dismissed.” She turned to Rainbow. “I know you wanted to kill them. I’m sorry.”
Rainbow blinked back tears. She scrunched her muzzle. The pegasus leaned in for a moment as if to hug her Princess, then receded and flapped down the steps. The Element of Loyalty nodded at the bottom of the dais. “I understand,” she rasped.
Her commanders left. The throne room wasn’t truly empty; several dozen soldiers stood along the pillars, though none met the alicorn’s eyes. The griffons and ponies scanned the room as the double doors were pulled shut.
The refrain from Sapphire Shores’ song whistled from below the throne. Flurry blinked and leaned down. Jacques still sat with the gramophone on a cart. He looked up at her and ceased whistling. “I spent a long time looking for this,” he said in Aquileian. “Seems a waste to just cart it off.”
“I’d like to listen to it again,” Flurry choked out.
“Of course, Little Flurry,” Jacques agreed. He quickly spun the record back and held the needle up with a talon. “It is a good song. It would be better in Aquileian.”
“You could sing it,” Flurry suggested.
“Oh,” Jacques squawked. “I am banned from singing in Griffonia and Zebrica. The ladies could not resist. I have no desire to add Equus to the list.”
Flurry giggled and it turned into another sob partway through.
“Little Flurry?” Jacques asked from below. The Princess looked down again. Jacques smiled. “Your aunt would be proud of you for that.”
“She wouldn’t be proud of a lot of things I’ve done,” Flurry swallowed.
“But she’d be proud of you for that,” Jacques replied. He let the needle drop and the song began again.
Flurry flipped through the stack of reports. “How many have we verified?” she asked over her withers as the papers shuffled by her muzzle in gold magic.
“Half,” Thorax shrugged.
“Accurate?” the alicorn asked again.
“Yes,” the changeling nodded. “Servants confirmed it.”
The papers suddenly pulled together into a neat, thick stack. Flurry stuffed them into a folder, then tucked the overstuffed folder into the hem of her sweatpants, using a wing to keep it in place. She used the opportunity to sniff her wingpit and grimaced.
Thorax rolled his eyes. Flurry could only tell from practice, considering the solid blue nature of his pupils and irises. She raised her muzzle haughtily and declared, “Do I not look the very image of a Princess?”
“You look like you’re about to wander the ghetto in Weter,” Thorax deadpanned.
“No, these are my good sweatpants,” Flurry retorted. “Only one stain.” Her grin faded. “Is this the right thing to do?”
“The smart thing,” Thorax answered neutrally.
Someone knocked on the door to Flurry’s appropriated office in the west wing of Canterlot Castle. It saw little use, nearly as little as the cot against the interior wall. “Grandmaster Jürgen is here, Princess!” Jadis called through the door.
“Enter!” Flurry shouted and dispelled the ward keeping the door locked. The Grandmaster of the Opinicus Order entered in full plate armor with a speckled cloaked draped over his back and wings. The pale blue griffon inclined his head, but did not bow.
“Grandmaster,” Flurry nodded back. “How are your knights?” she asked in Herzlander.
“Good,” the griffon gruffly answered.
“At the shield,” Flurry stated.
“The Kaiser says we are at your disposal,” the Grandmaster agreed with visible reluctance. “And so we are.”
“Do you have an issue with the plan?” Flurry asked. “Or taking orders from a pony?”
“The latter,” Thorax said for the Grandmaster. The griffon’s beak twitched and he glared at the changeling. Thorax buzzed a wing back.
“Hardly honorable,” Jürgen muttered.
“You came to the wrong continent for honor,” Flurry said dryly. “Thank you for coming, and your help.”
“As the Kaiser commands,” Jürgen said formally and exited. His eyes never left her horn for the entire discussion. Jadis stood in the doorway after he left, eyeing the hallway. Her tail swung in a pattern.
“How many arrived?” Flurry asked. “More than half?”
“Hard to tell,” Jadis said back. “A lot of fancy dresses and families.”
The Princess sighed. “Right. Well, let’s get this done.” Her horn glowed and Thorax stepped back. She vanished with a snap.
Flurry reappeared just before the obsidian throne at the top of the dais. Her magic popped softly, too soft to be heard over the din of voices that rang through the throne room. The alicorn flexed her wings and tucked the folder back into place.
Rainbow Dash leaned against the throne on one side. She brushed a sleeve back on her leather jacket to check her watch. “Little early,” the pegasus said quietly.
“I chose not to walk,” Flurry responded. The crowd was looking toward the closed double doors, not the dais. She only saw a room full of horns poking out of manes and hats.
“Sweet Celestia,” Rarity mumbled from the other side of the throne. She eyed Flurry with clear horror. “Sweatpants?”
“And my crown,” Flurry defended. She raised a hoof and bumped the crystal band.
“Your uniform is being pressed, but it’s perfectly presentable,” Rarity offered. The pearl unicorn had fastened her purple mane in a bun, and wore a matching purple vest over a flowing skirt. “Please, Princess,” she whickered. "First impressions-"
“I promise I’ll wear it,” Flurry said apologetically, “after I shower. It’s been a few days.”
Rarity blinked and stared back at the crowd. She mumbled something in disbelief under her breath. Rainbow snickered from the other side of the throne.
A few of the unicorns turned around in the crowd and noticed the Princess standing before the throne. They locked up, torn between bowing or pointing her out to the others. Flurry scanned over the well-dressed, well-fed, and well-bred herd of remaining Canterlot elites.
“Thank you all for coming!” Flurry Heart chirped in a high voice. It failed to overpower the general clamor in the throne room, but most of the crowd turned around when the others did. Horns pointed to her in a wave.
The herd of Equestria’s remaining nobility looked fairly nervous, though some immediately bowed to her. And a few even smiled indulgently, ignoring that the Princess was currently in stained sweatpants and only wearing a cheap crystal band under her horn. Flurry flapped her wings as the pony guards lining the throne room, only a few dozen, glared at the crowd.
“Hello, everypony!” Flurry continued. “I’m Flurry Heart, the Princess of Ponies, the Princess of the Crystal Empire, and Princess of Equestria!” She paused. “Well, I’m not Princess of Equestria yet,” Flurry admitted. “I need to be coronated. All of you swore oaths of loyalty to the Equestrian crowns, to Celestia, Luna, and Twilight.”
Her voice darkened. “And Chrysalis.”
The herd shifted. Flurry stared over a sea of upturned muzzles and a few sparking horns. You walked past a gallows to get here. Some of you approached before I invited you. The Republicans were right, weren’t they?
Flurry frowned. “I can’t say I’m happy about that, but Equestria is hurt. In times of like these, we need to pull together, and the nobles of the Principality of Equestria have always helped carry the burden of the throne.” Her horn pulsed and the changeling detection spell rolled through the crowd.
A few horns flared at the magic, but suddenly dimmed as the unicorns recognized the spell was harmless. Flurry did not expect any changelings in the crowd. A few families had even brought their foals, dressed in little suits or dresses to see the alicorn. “Before you swear fealty to me,” Flurry stated, “I should get to know you, and your duties. A Princess should know her ponies.”
Several horns nodded slowly in the front of the crowd. Flurry smiled. “I apologize for meeting you like this, but I’ve been very busy and my nice outfit is in the wash.” Several unicorns near the front chuckled.
“That wasn’t a joke,” Flurry explained. “My nice outfit is being cleaned. I apologize.” The laughter stopped. The Princess surveyed the crowd of her subjects. Her left wing flapped at Rarity, and her right at Rainbow Dash.
“I’m sure you recognize Rarity, the Element of Loyalty, and Rainbow Dash, the Element of Generosity,” Flurry declared, then her muzzle collapsed into a pout. “My aunt cannot be here; I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, and they are true.”
“Our condolences, Princess,” a unicorn mare near the front of the crowd called out. It was swiftly repeated by the herd behind her. Flurry studied the sea-green unicorn in a flowing indigo dress that spoke up. The mare wilted with pinned back ears and shuffled slightly into the crowd.
“Guards!” Flurry suddenly shouted. There was a long pause as the soldiers along the pillars turned to the Princess before the throne. Flurry tossed her head back. “Dismissed!” she shouted with a stomp.
The doors opened and the armed soldiers exited in lockstep. Flurry descended the stairs as they did, standing before a herd of nearly two hundred unicorns. There was not an earth pony or pegasus in sight. Canterlot had always been a unicorn city, and the upper crust of Equestria was often dominated by horns.
The Princess’ height let her see over most of the crowd. Her muzzle scrunched at a small band of unicorns wearing masks over their muzzles in the back, then she preformed a double-take at another Rarity. The pearl unicorn had stylized her mane to match a gaudy red and gold mask over her eyes. She clearly felt the Princess’ stare and smiled softly.
Flurry noticed she was standing at the very back, and close to the open doors. The alicorn looked back up at the throne, seeing the actual Rarity still there with Rainbow. The Element of Generosity had also spotted her doppelganger and frowned.
Flurry raised her wings after adjusting the folder again to make sure it didn’t fall out of her sweatpants. She advanced on the crowd and the unicorns parted and bowed along the pillars. Parents and older siblings helped the colts and fillies kneel and press their horns to the black tile while the Princess crossed the rug.
The masked unicorns in the back bowed with a flourish. The Rarity double bowed last, but twirled a hoof in a theatrical motion. Rainbow and Rarity descended the throne and followed Flurry Heart.
“Rares, you got a sister?” Rainbow asked. “Another one?”
“Not that I know of, darling,” Rarity responded dryly.
Flurry stopped before the masked unicorns just in front of the double doors to the foyer. Her guards remained beyond it, waiting with slung rifles. The Princess folded her wings and called out, “Rise,” to the throne room.
The herd did so in a wave; ‘Rarity’ stood last and tossed her expertly coiffed mane back. “Princess?” she said in a smooth Upper Canterlot accent. The mare wore a red dress that hugged her flank below a prim tail.
“I’m sorry, but who might you be?” Flurry asked.
“I am Gloriosa of the Cornucopia Society,” the mare answered readily. She waved a hoof to the other masked unicorns. “These are my companions. We were close to the former Generalmajor.”
“You admitted that quite readily,” Rarity pointed out.
“I assume you know that,” Gloriosa said to the Princess. She had a smile, but her eyes were cold behind the mask. “I was invited like the others.”
“I have no idea who you are,” Flurry said lightly. “Generalmajor Pagala and Lord Commander Lacin kept files, but most of them were destroyed in the battle for the castle. She lifted a wing to show Gloriosa the folder. “I have names and addresses for the estates in Canterlot, and nothing else.”
“I see,” Gloriosa allowed. Her muzzle scrunched as she leaned in. Rainbow preened her metal feathers in warning, but Gloriosa was apparently undeterred. The masked mare sniffed and recoiled before she got too close.
Flurry smiled apologetically and folded her wing. “I haven’t had the time to shower,” she nickered. “Large wings, you know?” She glanced up at the mare’s horn. “Or perhaps you don’t.”
Gloriosa cleared her throat uncomfortably and stepped aside. “Our society is dedicated to the preservation of Equestrian culture,” she said slowly. “I’m sure you can appreciate that goal.”
“I don’t know much about Equestrian culture myself,” Flurry shrugged. “I grew up in Aquileia and Nova Griffonia. And the Crystal Empire was…” she trailed off. “Behind.”
Gloriosa eyed the Princess behind her mask, then twirled her hoof. “The Cornucopia Society will be happy to assist you, Princess Heart.”
“Flurry is fine,” the alicorn stated. “My parents named me after a storm.” She suddenly reared her head back and looked around at the crowd. Flurry gasped, “Oh! Please, before I forget! Follow me!” She trotted hurriedly towards the corridor to the west wing of the palace. Unicorns scrambled to get out of her way.
The guards at the doors opened them ahead of Flurry and bowed. The Princess stopped in the doorway with Rarity and Rainbow Dash still following her. Rarity’s look of concern deepened. “Everypony!” Flurry belted out.
The crowd tensed.
“Sorry,” Flurry apologized with a wince. “Please, everypony, follow me to the dining hall. My advisors set up a dinner so we could get to know each other.” She trotted out without looking back at the herd.
After several moments, a few of the closest unicorns walked into the hallway with twisting tails and worried muzzles. Flurry waited halfway down the corridor. “Is this rude?” she asked aloud to Rarity. “I should escort them, right?”
The Element of Generosity rubbed her muzzle. “Princess…”
“Anyway,” Flurry interrupted. She faced the slowly growing crowd and smiled softly. “My name is Flurry Heart! I was born in the Crystal City in the Crystal Empire, and I’m seventeen.”
“I’m sure they know that,” Rainbow muttered.
“Then it doesn’t hurt to tell them,” Flurry retorted nasally. She turned around and continued down the hallway, speaking over her wing. “When we lost the war, I went to New Mareland with my father, then Aquileia, then Nova Griffonia. I’ve been a lot of places.”
Flurry Heart continued to recount her time in Aquileia as she guided the herd down the hallways. They moved slowly, eyes scanning the scattered guards along the boarded-up broken windows and interior walls. The alicorn trotted past two mahogany double doors, too engrossed in explaining the foal's game ‘Tyrants and Revolutionaries’ to the crowd.
One of the crystal ponies guarding the door cleared their throat and rapped a hoof on the floor. Flurry’s ears pinned back, and she cut herself off with a sudden clack of her jaw. “Whoops,” she chuckled uneasily. “I don’t know the castle,” Flurry admitted. “I’ve been trying to read up on things.”
“That’s…” one of the mares at the front of the crowd hesitated. “That is fine, Princess.” Her horn glowed as she moved the hem of her flowing dress about her hooves.
“Thank you,” Flurry bobbed her horn. “Uh, countess?”
“Duchess,” the mare corrected in a gentle voice. “Duchess Lavender of Vanhoover.”
Flurry grimaced. “I’m not gonna remember that.” Her ears perked. “My mother was born near Vanhoover. Did you know her?”
“Of course,” Lavender said quickly. “I was brought to her coronation here in Canterlot.” Flurry looked the mare over. She was probably as old as Rainbow and Rarity, but her fur was prim and well-groomed.
“I’d like to hear about that,” the alicorn remarked.
“I’m sure most of us could tell you about it,” Lavender offered. “Princess,” she added quickly.
Flurry turned to the doors. The crystal ponies pushed them open. Canterlot Castle had two dining rooms, one on each wing. They weren’t as spacious and grandiose as the throne room, but large stained-glass windows of the rising or setting sun filtered in the fading light from outside. The hall had been set with several long tables covered in fine linen and set with tableware along the cushioned benches.
The chandeliers hanging from the rafters were off, and the roof was obscured by gloomy shadows. A few crystals on the walls glowed by the tables to add to the light from the windows. Flurry trotted in and waved her large wings across the ends of the long tables.
“Please, everypony! Have a seat!” she called out. She trotted down the lines of silverware and benches. “Most of this was already set up,” she said blithely. “The Queen's Guard liked to eat well. And I’m sure all of you were invited to the Grand Galloping Galas before the war.”
There was a smaller table with five chairs arranged in a row that faced the long tables. Frosty Jadis and Amoxtli stood in purple dress uniforms. Jadis had several sheets of paper and saddlebags propped next to her chair. Amoxtli’s marked wings and sharp golden eyes tracked the crowd as they slowly wandered into the room, looking around with affected, detached interest but twisting tails.
There were no guards along the walls.
Flurry stopped before the small table with Rarity and Rainbow. She turned to face the crowd gathered at the doorway. Horns twisted as they looked around at the room and tables. Most seemed nervous, and Flurry saw a flew auras flicker around horn points.
“Please, have a seat!” Flurry called out.
Duchess Lavender stepped forward out of the herd and smiled uncomfortably. “Princess, how would you like us to sit?”
Flurry blinked. “You put your flank on the bench?” she replied. “Is posture important, or…” she trailed off and looked to Rarity beside her. The unicorn sighed.
“In order of rank and title,” she provided.
“In order of rank and title,” Flurry repeated in a louder voice. “I’m sorry, the Crystal Empire didn’t have any nobility, and, uh, neither did Nova Griffonia. Or Aquileia.” Sombra had them all executed.
The herd clearly knew who was more important than others, and began to jockey for positions along the tables. Flurry couldn’t really tell the difference; all of the unicorns were wearing the fanciest outfits she had seen in years, tuxedos, dresses, coattails and a few hats. They had clearly eaten well. Some horns bent at each other as ponies whispered.
The seats at her end of the long tables were filled last. Duchess Lavender took one of the places early, at the very end of the table so she could turn and see Flurry and her four advisors with a quick glance. Several more unicorns, emboldened, stood with her.
Flurry waited.
“You should be seated first,” Rarity said in a tight voice.
Flurry pursed her lips. “Oh.”
She trotted around to the other side of her smaller table and pulled the chair back with a flick of her horn. The Princess sat down on the cushion gracelessly and pulled herself back against the table with her forelegs. The chair’s legs squeaked on the tile floor.
Rainbow Dash, Amoxtli, Jadis and Rarity took their seats, in ascending order of etiquette and grace. The crystal pony set her papers down at the end of the table and passed a sheet down to Flurry. The Princess took it in her hooves and cleared her throat.
“Since the Concordat of the Three Tribes,” Flurry read aloud, “the lines of the old nobility have endured as the bedrock of Equestria. I welcome you, my ponies, to this hall and sincerely wish for this to be a new beginning for Equestria and the Empire. The war has not been won, and the time has come to renew our oaths and rebuild.
“I am sure you know I have entered an alliance with the Griffonian Reich; Kaiser Grover VI currently resides in the other wing of this castle. I hope that the bonds forged in this war endure and finally put aside our old rivalries between pony and griffon.
"May the-” Flurry paused. “Ef-fa-ves-cent light of Equestria rise again.” She floated the paper back to Jadis and clapped her front hooves. Rarity rubbed her muzzle.
The guards shut the doors to the hallway, and two side doors opened. Flurry saw a sea of horns turn to the doors with nervous eyes below. Several ponies wheeled out covered dishes and a large amount of wine bottles. Unicorns levitated the banquet plates above the tables and set them down. More ponies entered with more carts behind them.
Jacques entered last with a massive cart stacked with wine bottles. He wore an apron and hat that mostly covered the bandages along his left side. “Hello!” he called out to the tables. “I am Jacques, and I am your sommelier for the night!” His accent was incredibly thick, even worse than it usually was. “Aquileians know two things: love and wine, and I have a love of wine tonight!”
“Generalmajor Pagala, who you saw outside, had the castle well stocked,” Flurry explained from the table. Her voice carried across the room. “Let this be the first of many victories!”
A few hooves rapped on the tables in agreement.
“As everypony eats, I’ll call you up my table,” Flurry stated. “Please, tell me who you are. I need to put cutie marks to names. I apologize for interrupting your dinners, but I hope this will be quick.”
Flurry Heart finally pulled out her folder and leafed through the papers. “Duchess Lavender Lace,” she called out. “Thank you for your help earlier. Let’s start with you.”
Lavender, a light lavender unicorn in a matching dress, sidled up from her seat at the edge of the table. She bowed with a flourish before the seated alicorn. “Princess.”
“Rise,” Flurry nodded. “You are the Duchess of Vanhoover? Do you have any family?”
“My husband,” Lavender said, “and my daughter.”
“Are they here?” Flurry asked.
Lavender turned and waved her hoof. A stallion in a gray tuxedo stood and approached, bowing low with a gangly filly in a very poofy dress. Her horn stuck out above rosy curls.
“Does that make him Duke of Vanhoover?” Flurry asked again.
“By marriage, but not by right,” Rarity interrupted. “The line goes matrilineally.”
“What?”
“Through the mare,” Rarity sighed.
Flurry turned to Jadis, who had begun scratching notes out with a pen in her teeth. She nodded to the Princess. The alicorn looked back to the older couple.
“Thank you for your help,” Flurry said gratefully. “I think Vanhoover was turned into another Great Hive, right?”
“Yes,” Lavender said regretfully. “I was forced to give my permission as they mauled my domain.”
“We’ll reclaim it,” Flurry promised. She tapped a hoof on her chin. “Did the mayor of Vanhoover answer to you?”
“Not technically,” Lavender smiled. “She worked with the Princess' administration, but we’ve always kept close ties.”
Flurry looked down at her folder, then passed the paper down to Amoxtli. “Thank you. You may be seated. We’ll speak more later, I’m sure.”
Lavender brushed a hoof against her daughter’s dress. The filly squinted up at the alicorn with blunted feathers, a shaved mane, and a plain purple band. “I greet you, Princess,” she squeaked with confused eyes.
“And I greet you,” Flurry returned. “What’s her name?”
“Lavender,” Lavender Lace answered. “We call her Lily.”
Jacques and two helpers pushed the wine cart up and down the tables as more ponies set out platters. Salads, mashed potatoes, green beans, fruit and vegetables of nearly every kind mixed together into a feast. Some of the unicorns picked at the food, eyeing each other and the Princess with low whispers.
“I would recommend the Amontillado,” Jacques drawled in a nearly unintelligible accent. He waved a wine bottle at a unicorn in a top hat. “It is quite the flavor, earthy with a hint of something more.” Before the stallion could refuse, Jacques was already pouring into a glass. “Drink!”
The stallion levitated the glass up to his lips as several nearby watched. His muzzle quivered.
“Drink!” Jacques repeated.
The unicorn closed his eyes and took a sip. He opened his eyes and hummed after a moment. The others seated with him watched the stallion critically.
“I am Aquileian,” Jacques squawked. “I know wine. Is good, no?”
The stallion nodded.
Flurry chose another paper. “Duke Golden Gate?” she called out. “Please, if you have family present, bring them. I’d like to meet everypony.”
A gold-furred unicorn in a black tuxedo arrived alone. He had a monocle and bowed before the table. “Princess Flurry Heart.”
“Rise,” Flurry nodded. “Thank you for coming. Please, you’re the Duke of Stableside?”
“Yes,” Golden Gate nodded. “Among surrounding territories.” He spared a quick glance at Amoxtli. The Thestral licked a fang and bit into a mango. She lifted a leathery wing to reveal a holstered pistol.
“She’s my bodyguard,” Flurry said to Golden Gate.
“The bat ponies are excellent workers,” Golden Gate replied. “My family has worked with them for generations. The southeast wouldn’t be what it is without them.”
Amoxtli chewed on the mango expressionlessly.
Flurry asked several more questions, then dismissed him once Jadis finished scratching down notes. The Princess passed another paper to Amoxtli through Rainbow Dash. More servers entered and exited the room, carrying banquet plates. Chatter had begun to pick up as everypony began to speak louder. Flurry could still hear Jacques shout about wine as he moved through the tables.
The process continued. Flurry moved through the duchesses and dukes. Duke Berry of Bales brought up his son, an eighteen-year-old white stallion. “We’ve always had close ties to Equestria," he declared imperiously, "ever since Platinum.”
“Really?” Flurry asked. She checked the paper.
“If I may ask,” the Duke said, “what did the Changelings have to say about us?”
“Oh,” Flurry nickered, “it’s just a list of estates and some names. That’s why Jadis is taking notes.” She jerked her horn to the crystal pony at the end of the table.
“I’m sure they inflated how much we cooperated,” the Duke continued.
Flurry’s ears fell. “Oh,” she said softly. “I was hoping you did own some of these marble quarries. We’ll need the revenue.”
Berry cleared his throat. “I do,” he admitted. “Apologies, Princess.”
“Well,” Flurry’s ears perked up. “That’s good!”
“This is my son and heir,” the stallion edged his son up to the table. “Beryllium.” The colt gave Flurry a dazzling smile. He was tall with broad legs that filled out his suit.
Flurry smiled back, then sneezed into her hoof. She wiped it on her chest. “Sorry.”
Beryllium and his father kept their smiles until she dismissed them. As they trotted back to their place at the table, Flurry heard the colt give a low whine.
“Father-”
“Lie back and think of Equestria.”
Flurry disguised her laugh as another sneeze. She scanned the room. The wine was flowing, and small talk had picked up. It had been nearly an hour and ponies kept bringing in more platters to the tables, or removing the cleared trays. She spotted the masked unicorns, including Gloriosa, sitting at the opposite end of the room, right next to one of the doors to the kitchens. The mare’s horn turned as she waited; she had barely touched any food or drink.
Duskcrest assisted Jacques with more wine bottles. The Nova Griffonian wore an apron over both wings, tied across his back. A slim crystal pony pushed a cart up to the table and set a stack of hayburgers down before the Princess. Flurry glanced at Crystal Hoof.
“Duskcrest and the Rarity look-a-like,” Flurry said under her breath. Crystal Hoof nodded and set down two unopened Fizzlepop Colas. The Princess popped one open and chugged it, much to Rarity’s horror. Afterwards, the alicorn levitated a hayburger into her muzzle and chewed.
“Princess, it’s rude to just use your magic,” Rarity implored.
“Who uses utensils on hayburgers?” Rainbow answered from Flurry’s other side. She ate her own salad with her good wing, holding the fork between several feathers.
“That’s the wrong fork,” Rarity commented.
“It’s the bigger one,” Rainbow answered. She leaned down and bit into a sheaf of lettuce with a messy crunch.
Rarity picked up the correct fork on by her plate and daintily took a bite of her own salad. She desperately tried to prevent her eyes from rolling, then failed after Flurry hiccupped and used another hayburger to wipe the ketchup off her muzzle. The Princess bit down with relish, swallowed, then carefully checked her folder.
“Countess Rare Find?” she called out after another hiccup.
The counts and countesses of Equestria took longer. There were more of them, apparently, which made sense to Flurry because they were lower-ranked. Jadis had left her sandwiches untouched as she scribbled on her notes next to Rainbow Dash. The pegasus looked over at the crystal pony’s stack and suppressed a snort.
“You think that’s going to help any?” Rainbow nickered.
“It’s for the Princess,” Jadis replied.
Sunset Shimmer, mane pulled into a bun, carried a plate of sushi above her horn over to Amoxtli. She was wearing a plain jumpsuit for the pockets. Her eyes swept the tables while she trotted across the room.
The nobility of Equestria now spoke freely with each other, now longer whispering or murmuring amongst themselves, though that still happened. Ponies that the Princess had asked more questions of sat down with larger smiles and gossiped with their families and little cliques.
“You think any recognized you?” Flurry asked through a mouthful of hayburger.
“No,” Sunset said shortly. “It’s been more than a decade, but I recognize some of them.” She set the plate down in front of the bat pony. "The more things change..." she mused.
The Thestral scrunched her lips and exposed her fangs. “You borrow this from the griffons?” she asked with a clipped accent. She poked at the sushi with the tip of her wing.
“I made it,” Sunset replied, “but yes.” The amber unicorn left and took up a position against the wall, as if she was waiting to be called upon. Several other servants, all unicorns, joined her slowly. Rarity frowned at Sunset for a moment, then returned to her salad.
Amoxtli leaned back in the chair and gulped down a sushi roll. Her slit eyes flickered over the dark rafters above the unlit chandeliers. As the sun lowered in the sky to the west, the natural light from the windows continued to recede. She caught Flurry’s eye and nodded.
Rainbow checked her watch. “We’ve been here awhile.”
Flurry eyed her diminished stack of papers. Several of the duchesses and countesses did not respond, apparently remaining at their estates or having fled ahead of the advance. She used her feathers to flick through the remaining names.
“Which one asked about the abandoned estates?” Flurry asked, leaning forward on the table to see Jadis. The crystal pony shrugged her bad hoof in reply.
“Then what’s the point of taking notes, darling?” Rarity snorted. Jadis gave her an even look, then took a bite of her sandwich and waited for Flurry to call another noble forward. The crystal pony tapped the end of her pen against the table using her muzzle.
“Baroness Silver Seal?” Flurry called out. A slim mare with a husband and two foals approached. Her earrings glittered above a sequined dress. She bowed before the table like all the rest.
Flurry bit into a hayburger. “Rise,” she said around the mouthful. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled afterwards.
“That’s quite alright, Princess,” the mare said graciously. “Goodness knows after that battle you must be quite famished.”
Flurry giggle-snorted. “Oh, I nearly died a dozen times.” She waved a hoof. “Lemme tell you, that really smarted somethin’ fierce.” The Princess brushed her crystal band with a hoof stained with ketchup and angled her horn down. “You can still see the felt growing back.”
The mare’s smile turned strained. “Yes,” she eventually said, “I can. I must say, that’s quite the accent, Princess,” she continued in a refined Canterlot pronunciation.
Flurry blinked. “What accent?” she trilled in the harder consonants of the Nova Griffonian Frontier. “Do I have an accent?” she asked Rainbow.
“Your accent is fine, Princess,” Jadis muttered around the pen.
“I don’t know if a crystal pony is the best judge of that,” Rainbow said to her. “You tend to sound like some old play actresses.”
Jadis spat the pen out and gave Rainbow a deadpan look. “I was born a thousand years ago,” she said in a slow northern lilt. “Your luck is truly fortuitous that we can be understood in any regard.”
Rainbow waved a hoof as if that reply proved her point.
Flurry Heart twisted back to Silver Seal. She wrung her hooves. “I don’t sound bad, do I?” she asked worriedly. “You’re the first to say something.”
“Forget I said anything,” Baroness Silver assured her. “You sound perfectly fine, Princess,” she very obviously lied.
“Your accent is exotic,” Rarity agreed. “It lends a sense of mystery. Nova Griffonian, Aquileian, Equestrian, and Imperial rolled together.”
“Is that how you came up with your accent?” Rainbow asked over Flurry’s horn. “I remember your parents. Whinnypeg, right? A changeling once pretended to be you to trick me, but couldn't get the accent right. What do you really sound like?”
Rarity puffed her lips and took a bite of her salad instead of replying.
Flurry asked several more questions, then moved on after sparing the two foals a smile. They looked disappointed at the gangly alicorn in sweatpants, but thanked her after prodding from their parents. Flurry continued to eat hayburgers in between the talks, slowly working through the stack of papers until the sun set.
She finally passed the last page down and looked at seventeen papers of ponies that hadn’t appeared. The hall was gloomy now, with only the crystals on the walls providing light. Flurry looked out the stained-glass windows of the sun. Twilight. Several of the panes were cracked from her explosion, but these windows had been sheltered by the barracks and Twilight’s old tower.
Amoxtli stood and left the table, excusing herself to go to the bathroom. She passed her papers back to Flurry, then took the seventeen pages from the alicorn with her other wing. As she exited through a servant’s side door, Duty Price reached out a hoof and tucked them under his apron. The blue earth pony leaned against the door, mane and mustache combed back with a plain white cap on his head. He followed the bat pony surreptitiously.
Several minutes later, Jadis finished her last sandwich and stood. She left the notes and pen on the table as she left through the same door as Amoxtli. She nodded to Sunset and twenty unicorns along the wall before one of the unicorns shut the door behind her.
Jacques passed out the rest of the wine bottles freely while chattering complete nonsense in Aquileian. A few of the nobles nodded along, pretending to understand his prattle, and a few even tried to speak to him in Prench. The Aquileian waved the wine bottles wildly whenever that occurred, drawing attention from the entire room.
Flurry stood in her chair and leaned her forelegs on the table. She wiped her hooves on the linen, then scrubbed her fetlock across her muzzle to check for crumbs. “Everyony!” she shouted. “Is there anypony that I haven’t met?”
The room quieted and looked around. The alicorn scanned over the tables from her position at the front. Gloriosa and her socialites hadn’t been called up to the front of the room, but she remained seated. Duskcrest leaned against the wooden side door behind her, picking at his apron with a talon.
Jacques wheeled out his empty cart. He glanced at Flurry with his tail slinking under his sommelier's outfit. He winked at her as he pushed the cart by Duskcrest and left.
“Very well,” Flurry declared. “I know I’m not Princess Celestia, but I enjoy cake as much as her.” She tapped a hoof on the table and reconsidered. “Maybe not as much as the Changelings say she did.”
The room laughed, shrill and fake. Flurry plastered an equally fake smile on her muzzle. “I never truly had a proper Canterlot cake in Weter, and my birthday was just before the battle. So, I decided to have some cakes made for everypony!” Flurry waved her wings at the side doors.
Three cakes were brought out on large carts, decorated in pink, white, and purple frosting. It was more than enough for the 172 ponies to have a slice. Crystal Hoof stood in between the cakes.
“Everypony,” he called out apologetically, “the next information may be a bit disturbing. It concerns Princess Twilight Sparkle. The Princess would like to ask that the foals go with us to a side room.”
Flurry’s ears pressed against her head. “In Nova Griffonia, I always made sure that everypony got a slice of cake, especially my littlest ponies. We have water, milk, and soda, and I promise they won’t get too wild.” She bit her lip. “They shouldn’t have to hear this.”
Crystal Hoof and a few crystal ponies soon gathered the foals, colts, and fillies together while the adults finished the last of their plates. Sunset and the other unicorns collected them, then set out new plates for the cakes. Crystal Hoof held a vote on which cake the foals wanted, and they voted overwhelmingly for the purple one. It was wheeled out ahead of the tiny herd, back into the hallway. The double doors were pulled shut behind the gaggle of happy kids.
Flurry bit her lip, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. She leaned her hoof against her barrel and exhaled, pushing it out. When she opened her eyes, her glacial blue irises shimmered.
“My aunt-” Flurry’s voice cracked. She took a moment. “I’m sorry, I usually have something written down. My aunt was tortured. She’s in a coma, and has been for nearly two years. Before that, the Changelings had her drained of love and magic. The pictures will come out soon, and the news will spread.”
The crowd of horns dipped in sorrow.
“I believe,” Flurry continued in a wracked voice, “that my aunt will wake up, and she will wake up to a victorious Equestria. But I didn’t get here alone. I need help. I need your help, especially. We’re shattered.”
The room quieted, and Flurry saw their eyes turn to each other. She could see the kingdoms and crowns in their eyes, probably the same desire that drove them to accept the invitation to the castle in the first place and see the Princess. They nearly smiled as one and nodded along their seats to Flurry.
Rainbow stood up beside Flurry and gripped her wine glass with her blue wing. “A toast to Princess Flurry Heart!” the pegasus proclaimed. “The Princess of Ponies! May she lead us to victory!”
Rarity stood up on the other side and took her wine glass in her magic. “The Princess of Ponies!” she echoed.
The herd lit their horns and raised their glasses to the only alicorn in the room.
“The Princess of Ponies!” the crowd shouted.
Flurry sniffled. “Thank you, everypony. Please, be seated. We need to discuss territory and governance, but I need time to figure it out.”
Rainbow gulped down the wine and set the glass down. “Woah,” she huffed, “that went right through me. I gotta take a leak. Come on, Rares. That’s your fifth glass.”
“I am perfectly fine,” Rarity said shortly. “It’s my second, Rainbow. I have restraint.”
Rainbow wiggled her wing. “Come on.” She walked behind Flurry’s chair and wrapped her wing around the unicorn’s side. “I bet you need to go.”
“Darling!” Rarity nickered. “Rainbow, what-” She turned and met the pegasus’ eyes. Her muzzle stilled.
“Come on,” Rainbow said with hard eyes. She tugged the unicorn free from the chair and led her away. As Rarity was pulled back from the table, her horn flickered and she opened Jadis’ folder of notes left behind.
A rough scribble of a unicorn was drawn atop a page, followed by a sailboat and a half-finished tank. Flurry knocked the folder shut with her magic and gave Rarity a side-eye as she finished the other soda. The unicorn’s eyes were wide.
“Princess?” Lavender Lace called out. Part of the room quieted, but not everypony. Lavender smiled from her seat. “I know I speak for everypony when I say that we’re here for whatever you need.”
Flurry Heart looked at her, and then herself. She didn’t see the Daughter of Maar or the Princess of Hope. In grimy sweatpants and a cheap crystal crown, she saw an orphan with a subpar education. A pony that grew up in a ghetto and had no idea how to act in high society; a pony that had only gotten where she was because of her advisors and friends.
And all of that was true.
After all, she reflected, the best lies are true. Flurry smiled and flipped through her own folder with a wing. She stopped on Lavender's page. “How about Dust Feather?” the alicorn asked. “I need her. Can I have her?”
Lavender frowned. “I’m sorry, Princess?”
Yes, I’m sure you are. Flurry eyed the unicorns along the wall. She winked to Sunset Shimmer. “The mare you gave Generalmajor Pagala,” Flurry answered Lavender Lace, then sparked her horn.
A golden bubble shield snapped into existence around Flurry Heart. It sliced down through the wooden table and knocked it apart with a fizz of magic. The alicorn pushed the broken half away, then sat back in her chair under the shield.
There was a chorus of scrapes from the darkened rafters. Flurry recognized the sound of drawn steel, but none of the nobles did. Lavender blinked and looked up.
Two dozen fully armored Opinicus knights landed atop the tables with flared wings and swords. Horns sparked in shock as the unicorns fell off the benches and scooted away. The griffons kicked the empty plates and flexed their sharp gauntlets around the hilts of their swords as they assessed which ones were actually threats.
The doors and windows glowed as the room was warded by Sunset and her unicorns. They lined up against the far wall, guarded by a line of other servants that removed their aprons and shouldered stocky submachine guns. There was a sudden whinny of fear that rolled through the herd as the shock wore off.
Gloriosa twisted around with a glowing horn, only to see Duskcrest blocking her intended escape route by standing in front of the side door. The griffon stared her down, and whipped his apron aside to show off two holstered silver-plated pistols under his wings. He reared up onto his paws and narrowed his eyes at the unicorn. Gloriosa’s horn dimmed.
“All your titles are henceforth disbanded,” Flurry stated from under the shield. “Your estates, property, and assets will be returned to the crown.”
“W-what?” Golden Gate whinnied.
“All of you are guilty of treason against Equestria,” Flurry spat. “All of you bowed to Chrysalis, worked with the Hegemony for years. None of you have divots in your horns, not like the ponies outside your precious mansions!”
“We…” Lavender stuttered, “we had to work with them!”
Flurry levitated the page up. “During a garden soiree with Generalmajor Pagala, Lavender Lace noticed the changeling’s interest in one of the servers,” the alicorn quoted. “Lavender offered the server to Pagala. She was never seen again.”
The unicorn’s lips trembled. “Pagala demanded her.”
“That’s not what this says,” Flurry brandished the paper in her hooves. “Offered.” Flurry knocked the folder open with a wing and whirled the papers around the shield. “All of you! Embezzlement, betrayal, abuse! Any noble that was worth their title lost it a long time ago. There is only one title in Equestria that ever mattered: Princess.”
“You have n-no right to do this!” a unicorn in the herd shouted.
“I have the only right,” Flurry returned. “As the last of my family. Your titles are henceforth destroyed. Your foals will inherit nothing.”
Lavender’s muzzle screwed in rage. “You urchin! We’ve held those titles since Platinum’s day! Celestia herself gave them to us! You can’t just take them away!”
Flurry snorted. “I will be taking far more than that.”
In the back of the room, Duskcrest and Gloriosa glared at each other. The unicorn smiled disarmingly under her mask, then lunged. The griffon drew first, and put a bullet in her muzzle before she managed to unleash a spell from her burning horn. He fired again with the other pistol and shattered her face as she fell back.
The crack of the gunshots spurred the herd into frenzied action. Spells flew at the windows and walls. It was wild, without any accuracy and precision. Nobles that could fight had enlisted in the Royal Guard; they were stripped of their titles or followed the Princesses into exile many years ago. A few clearly tried to teleport from the flexing of the wards shimmering on the walls, and failed.
Spells bounced off the knight’s enchanted plate. The griffons hacked down at anypony with a glowing horn. Several unicorns rushed towards the side doors, only to find them guarded by the supposed serving staff along the walls. The ELF veterans knocked them back or fired a shot into their legs.
An errant spell bounced off Flurry’s shield. She watched in dismay as a unicorn ran straight into one of the cakes, splattering his nice tuxedo with frosting. The stallion slipped on the floor before a knight kicked him down.
It was over in less than two minutes. Not many died, most cowered on the floor below the armored knights. Several had crawled under the tables, only for the linen to be ripped away and the screaming ponies to be dragged out by gauntleted claws. The herd was roughly knocked against the right side of the room, gathered under the stained-glass windows of the sun.
“Any injuries, Grandmaster?” Flurry called out in Herzlander. She wiped a trickle of blood from her nose onto her foreleg, just over the white fur of her swirling figure-eight scar.
A knight in an ornate horned helmet raised a claw and looked around from the top of a table. He lifted his visor and rested a bloody sword atop the wood. “None, Princess,” he said with a squawk. “I’ve seen Wittenland peasants put up a better fight.”
“I’m sorry for making you wait so long,” Flurry shrugged a wing. “Feel free to have the remaining cake.” The Princess gathered the notes back up into her folder and tucked it under her wing again.
Jürgen gave a confused glance at the pink wedding cake. “I, uh, okay?”
Flurry dispelled the shield and stepped around the ruins of her table. The herd had been shoved to one side of the room by the knights, or the wounded dragged over. The armored griffons glowered over the ponies besides the ELF veterans that played servant.
“Sunset?” Flurry said. “Any injuries?”
“We’re good, Princess,” Sunset answered.
Duskcrest and two Nova Griffonians with short submachine guns stood next to the double doors. Duskcrest reloaded his pistols above the masked unicorn’s corpse. “She was quick,” he commented and let the casings fall on her bloody mask.
Flurry eyed the other members of the Cornucopia Society, wounded and at the edge of the prisoners. “Give the masked ones to Thorax,” she ordered. “I want that group burned out. All of them. Bunch of Wind Riders.” Flurry walked through a puddle of blood between the tables, then stepped over a corpse. “Hang the dead first,” she kept going, “then the others. I’m sure Limestone will be thrilled.” She stopped before crowd.
“My son!” Duke Berry wailed. He and his son cowered on the floor before a knight. “Please!”
“Beryllium’s old enough to sire a foal with a servant,” Flurry nickered. “He’s old enough to hang.” She raised a wing to show off her folder. “His daughter is in Lower Canterlot. You know that, of course, because you threw her out of your estate.”
The Duke mumbled some reply, and failed. Flurry sneered at Beryllium, and a stain developed on the teenager's tuxedo. He clung to his father like a foal.
“Sweet Celestia,” Golden Gate prayed with a bloody head. Part of an ear had been shorn off from a sword. “You…you can’t do this…you can’t do this…”
“Why not?” Flurry asked.
“We…we’re your ponies!” Golden tried.
Flurry hummed. “You think I should treat you differently because I’m the Princess of Ponies?”
“Yes!”
Flurry snorted. “You sold out your sister for supplying the ELF,” she growled. “You weren’t even in line to inherit, and her foals ended up in a labor camp. They're probably dead because of you.”
“No!” Lavender wept. She crawled forward from where the knights had dragged her out from the table. “Oh, please! Not Lily!” An Opinicus knight pinned her to the ground.
Flurry recoiled with bared teeth. “You think I’m going to kill your damn foals? They have no idea what’s going on here, and they’ll be better off without parents like you.”
“We had to!” Lavender pleaded. “Twilight would’ve wanted us to cooperate!”
“My aunt said to fight the Hegemony,” Flurry snapped. “Not help them. None of you did anything but line your own horns with gold, just like you did with Celestia.” The alicorn rolled her eyes. “I am not Celestia. I am not going to spend centuries centralizing a bureaucracy to remove your privileges when I can just do this.”
“You…” Lavender trailed off.
“Your estates are already being looted,” Flurry said down to her, “along with anypony that didn’t come. I’m sure some will try to disappear into Lower Canterlot or flee. It’s not as if they can run to the Reich, and Chrysalis has no use for you anymore. It's over. Only one title has ever mattered in Equestria, and now it will be official.”
“You’re the Princess of Ponies,” Lavender repeated hollowly.
“I am,” Flurry confirmed, “and I do hold my ponies to a higher standard. Half of you bribed your way out of service during the war, or bribed the War Office to put your foals in cushy jobs. We call the changelings parasites, but you were present in Equestria since the start.” She turned away. “We’re done here.”
“Mercy!” Lavender screamed. The knight kicked her with an armored boot and she whinnied. “M-mercy, Princess!”
Flurry looked to Rarity, standing horrified behind Rainbow Dash. She sighed. “You want mercy?” the Princess asked over a wing. “You didn’t show any mercy to Dust Feather. Did you know she had a sister?”
“Please,” Lavender begged.
Flurry walked over to the knight and Lavender. “Let her up,” she said in Herzlander to the griffon. The knight stepped off the unicorn. “Do you really want my mercy?” Flurry said in Equestrian. Lavender’s husband stared with pinprick eyes from the crowd.
“What did you think of your wife selling a pony to Pagala?” Flurry asked him. The stallion didn’t answer. He shook and scooted back into the herd of cowering unicorns.
Lavender swayed to her knees and lowered her horn to the tile. “Mercy,” she begged with a snotty nose. “Please, Princess…”
Flurry blinked heavily. “Mercy,” she agreed.
Her horn glowed and she snapped Lavender’s neck with a quick twist.
The body twitched.
Flurry raised her head and stared over the prisoners. “I cannot guarantee your neck will break from the rope. Would anypony else like my mercy?”
The herd did not move, and the room was as silent as Lavender Lace.
The Princess of Ponies clicked her tongue. “Very well. Rainbow, Rarity, meet me in the study down the hall when you’re finished here. Sunset, please have Sandbar and Yona come.” She switched to Herzlander. “Grandmaster, please have Gallus come, if he’s available.”
Grandmaster Jürgen observed Lavender’s corpse. After a moment, he chuckled lowly. “Half our nobility rebelled with the Kaiser’s aunt,” he said with a squawk. “Wish we could’ve done this.” He shouldered his bloody sword.
Flurry met Rainbow and Rarity at the double doors. The guards in the hallway opened them after Sunset dispelled the wards. Rarity gaped at the alicorn in horror, then at the other ponies and griffons in the room. Not a single one of them shared her look. They stared at the gathered unicorns in disgust and anger.
“I’ll see you in a bit,” Flurry promised to the Elements. She exited to see Thorax in the hallway with Arex and Ocellus.
“We have her waiting,” Thorax said.
“How are the kids?” Flurry asked.
“They’re full of cake and soda,” he summarized. “There’s already a lot of orphans in Canterlot. What’s several more?”
Flurry's ears pinned back. “Wrong choice?” she asked.
“You think you haven’t made thousands of orphans already?” Thorax questioned back. “I’ve certainly made a share. It’s war.”
Flurry looked over a wing to the corpse being dragged away from the herd of prisoners. Sunset and the ELF unicorns advanced beside the knights and began pulling the unicorns to their hooves. Lavender died with her eyes open, and her husband did not resist as he was tugged to his hooves.
“Duty Price is hitting the estates,” Thorax added. “A lot of their assets were tied up in the Hegemony’s bank system anyway, so Chrysalis probably liquidated their funds. We’ll take everything we can get.”
“So this isn’t necessary,” Flurry concluded.
“Ponies are already angry about the changelings down in the warehouses,” Thorax admitted. “Something has to give. You can’t protect everyone.”
“A Princess should protect her ponies,” Flurry answered. She looked to Duskcrest and the Nova Griffonians. They stood beside Sunset like they belonged there.
Because they did.
Flurry sighed. Jadis and Amoxtli trotted up the hallway with rifles, bat pony and crystal pony unbothered by each other. The alicorn nuzzled Thorax, then waited for Jadis and Amoxtli to escort her down the hall. The changelings entered the room and stood beside griffons and ponies together. And the muffled whinnies of protest faded as Flurry got farther away.
The clock ticked away on the bookshelf. Flurry Heart's ears twitched in time with its ticking while she sat in a plush chair and waited, idly flipping through her stack of papers with her hooves. She had sprawled her wings out on the armrests.
Sunset and Tempest sat on cushions in front of the bookshelf. A window was behind Flurry's chair; the curtains were drawn across the glass, and the room was lit by a series of electric lamps along the bookshelves. They illuminated the spines of dozens of books, all of them fake and meant to give the illusion of a well-read, well-used study. The Queen’s Guard had held Canterlot Castle for years, and this was apparently Lord Commander Lacin’s personal meeting room, whenever he used it.
Rainbow picked at her metal feathers, having undone her straps and taken off the prosthetic. The one-winged mare scrubbed the sharp feathers with a rough cloth, sitting with her back to the wall and propped up by another cushion. She hummed something under her breath.
Flurry felt Rarity’s stare on her horn. The pearl unicorn was the only one standing in the room, glowering above a tasseled cushion beside Rainbow. She breathed deeply below piercing azure eyes.
“Have you talked to Spike?” Flurry asked aloud. She kept rereading a page, eyes scanning over the list under the name and title of one of the nobles she just condemned to die down the hallway. Might be already dead, Flurry admitted to herself.
“He hasn’t left Twilight’s side,” Rainbow answered for the other Element Bearer. “Went to talk to him a few days ago.” The pegasus grimaced. “Wasn’t much of a talk.”
Flurry swallowed and felt a mild pain from the bruises around her neck. The welts had mostly faded and were obscured by her light pink fur. “He’s still eating?” she said aloud.
“Yeah,” Sunset said softly. “I set a team to keep an eye on him.”
“Good,” Flurry answered.
“Good?” Rarity finally nickered. “Is it? Good?”
“He killed all the changelings that oversaw Twilight,” Flurry responded from her papers. “You think he cares what we just did?”
“Don’t you dare lump me in with the rest of you,” Rarity snarled.
“Easy, Rares,” Rainbow said in warning. "You saw Twilight, same as I did. Don't go there."
“No!” Rarity stomped a hoof into the carpet. “You…you…oh, I don’t even have words for this!” She tossed her head. “You used me!”
“I would have told you if I thought you wouldn’t go into theatrics,” Flurry answered.
Rarity sputtered. “Theatrics!? You just lured hundreds of ponies to their deaths! For nothing!”
Flurry snapped the folder shut with a burst of her horn. She levitated it over to Rarity. “Pick one,” she said shortly. “Pick one piece of paper and read it. Any of them.”
“I don’t want to read whatever justifications you say you have.”
Flurry pulled one out herself and flipped it back to her muzzle. “Oh, it’s Baroness Silver Seal,” she snorted. “Bribed the War Office in Canterlot with her generous silver mines to place her nephew favorably in the Royal Guard.” The alicorn skipped several lines. “Made use of ‘free labor’ by the Changelings' work squads in the expansion of her mines outside Hollow Shades. Tunnel collapse killed seventy-two.”
The Princess lowered the paper with half-lidded eyes. She turned them on Rarity. “You think she deserved to live?”
“There is a difference between deserving to live and deserving to die,” Rarity countered. She looked around the room, disgusted. “I can’t believe all of you just agreed to this.”
“Nobles always held their horns high above everypony,” Sunset stated. “I remember Celestia rolling her eyes at them whenever they weren’t looking. All of them that are left are scum, high horns pretending to be higher.”
“So that excuses killing them all?” Rarity shook her head. “You could’ve just revoked their titles and been done with it.”
“Oh yes,” Flurry laughed sardonically. “Leave a bunch of angry, embittered ponies that want their titles back. Great decision. I’m sure their foals will grow up to try and kill me. That’s bad enough.”
“The fact that you don’t see anything wrong with that statement is striking, Princess,” Rarity snorted.
“I didn’t revoke their titles,” Flurry corrected. “I destroyed them. Half their lines can barely trace themselves to Nightmare Moon, let alone Princess Platinum. There’s barely anything from before Discord.”
“Hay, I didn’t even know about Discord,” Rainbow offered.
“Princess,” Sunset interrupted, “do you really mean to just discharge every title in Equestria?”
“Ponies will call you a tyrant,” Rarity agreed.
“That’s not what I meant,” Sunset immediately huffed. “The ELF was funded by several ponies that used what they had of their offshore accounts after the fall of Equestria. They lost their titles in the war and-”
Flurry leaned back in the chair and groaned. “Are you seriously going to tell me that ponies fought in the Equestrian Liberation Front to be called duke or duchess again? Are there thousands of former ennobled ponies waiting with sharpened horns for their titles?” She crossed her forelegs. “I bet they got along great with the communists.”
“They did not,” Tempest said bluntly. “There are a few dozen. Most died in the last stand, if not in New Mareland. But there's a few.”
“The economy is ruined, Princess,” Sunset said. “Whatever farmlands you have in the Crystal Empire might keep ponies from starving for now, but-”
“We’re not on the brink of collapse,” Flurry cut her off. “We’ve already collapsed. Ponies barter for what they need. Currency is worthless. I’m tempted to adopt the Reichsmark as currency for convenience. We're already melting down gold bits, just like the Changelings did.”
“That makes us look like a puppet.”
“We are a puppet,” Flurry nickered. “Accept it. The reconstruction will bridle us with enough debt that your grandfoals will be paying it off.”
Sunset’s ears pinned back. “That’s not what-”
“That’s not what Starlight envisioned,” Flurry said for her. “Starlight is dead. What, was she going to tell ponies to eat hope? The self-sufficient communes will keep everypony from starving for now. We support the Reichsarmee’s advance and serve as garrisons. Maybe integrate the mages into anti-infiltration units just behind the frontline.”
“Ponies aren’t going to like taking orders from griffons,” Tempest warned.
“Nova Griffonia and Aquileia,” Flurry answered. “You mean the ELF, not all my subjects. We need to get Equestria up and running, practically raising a corpse back to life with dark magic. It's not going to be easy.”
“You aren’t going to have any ‘subjects’ as long as you keep killing them,” Rarity snorted.
Flurry exhaled. “Please, Miss Rarity, enlighten me on how letting two hundred ponies live would fix Equestria? I have 40,000 changelings in this city, probably less because my soldiers keep finding ‘escape attempts’ and shooting them.” She gave Sunset and Tempest a cold look.
Both looked away and scuffed hooves on their cushions. “We’re working on it,” Tempest said slowly, “but short of executions it’s not going to stop until we get them out of the city.”
“Why bother?” Rainbow huffed. She adjusted a metal feather and pricked her frog with it to test the sharpness.
"You want me to kill 40,000 changelings?" Flurry asked Rarity. "I could give that order tonight. Or would you prefer I order hangings from ponies that keep trying to take it out on their slavers? Please, tell me how killing two hundred ponies is worse than killing 200,000 changelings in battle?"
Rarity shook her head numbly at the gathered ponies. “I refuse to believe this is Equestria.”
“What did you see when you came down from the Empire, Rares?” Rainbow asked angrily. She puffed her lips. “You see happy ponies tilling the fields? Or just shattered villages along the railway, ponies long carted off to factories and slums to work for the bugs? Wake up.”
“You’re supposed to be the Princess of Hope,” Rarity sighed to the alicorn.
“Hope of justice,” Flurry shrugged a wing. “I could spare them, let them go behind my back like the industrialists in Weter. I didn't go after them and they tried to cut a deal with Grover. Or would you prefer I turned Canterlot into a bloodbath as we sacked the Estates District? That happened in the Crystal City.”
“I would prefer you did not do it at all,” Rarity argued. “Just take the titles. You just wanted to do all those ‘theatrics,’ as you said.”
“Yes,” Flurry nickered. “Because they would just roll over and give them up, then turn around with sharpened horns when the time was right. At least this was done quickly, and away from their foals. I'm not revoking titles just to give them out again like candy to sycophants.”
“That Rarity look-a-like didn’t fall for it,” Rainbow commented. “Duskcrest’s fast.”
“She walked in here,” Sunset replied.
Rarity stomped her forelegs and exploded. “Because she probably didn’t think that the Princess would slaughter them all like…like...”
“Like Suri?” Flurry asked. “Or did you mean Kemerskai?”
Rarity clacked her muzzle shut and flumped on the cushion.
“Celestia had a bureaucracy,” Flurry snorted, “and we’re broke. I’ll take what we can get from those that profited off the Hegemony as they raped my lands. I don’t see a point in humoring the lie any longer.”
“What lie?” Sunset asked in confusion.
“That any title other than Princess mattered,” Flurry responded. “You think the average pony in Vanhoover knew they even had a duchess? Hay, my mother was Princess of the Crystal Empire and she could still give orders in Equestria.” Flurry fluffed her wings. “Ponies just see the wings and horn. That's how Equestria worked. How it always worked.”
The room descended into a long silence.
“How many ponies do we have in the ELF that formerly had titles?” Flurry sighed. “Give me a list. I’ll meet them.”
Rarity snapped her horn up.
“I’ll give them positions in the government,” Flurry rolled her eyes at the unicorn’s glare, “provided they have some competence.” She bared her teeth at Rarity. “What? You think I’m going to string them up? I don’t think even Caramel Marks would’ve done that. He would’ve accepted their help to save Equestria.”
“Caramel Marks was a mare,” Rarity answered in a deadpan.
“Huh,” Flurry blinked. “Steel Stallion was a stallion, right?” she said sarcastically.
“Some might not be happy with just that,” Sunset admitted.
“They can argue why they should keep a title that their great ancestor deserved to have,” Flurry said lightly. “I’ll meet them one-on-one, in a study like this. I won't kill them. Unless they try to blow up my castle.” The alicorn's stare intensified. "Like the other ELF members that got angry about the alliance."
Tempest exhaled. "We've dealt with it. Internally. It won't be a problem."
"How many did you kill?" Flurry asked bluntly.
The Storm King's Right Hoof looked away with pinned back ears. "Enough to prove a point. The cells in the west hate the Changelings more than they could ever hate the Reich. They'll play, especially once the news about Princess Twilight spreads."
Rarity huffed. "Twilight would-"
"Don't!" Rainbow snapped suddenly at the unicorn, then returned to her wing. “What’re we even doing here?” the pegasus asked from her cushion. She leaned back against the side of the wall and avoided looking at Rarity.
“Meeting the pony that had all this,” Flurry held the folder up in her magic. “Only non-unicorn in the Estates District, and only one whose staff had nothing bad to say about her. Thorax checked.”
“One pony collected all of that?” Sunset whickered. “How?”
“Hired a bunch of familial staff,” Flurry summarized. “Let’s hear it from her.” Her ears pricked at the sound of hooves in the hallway and she straightened herself in the chair.
“Thorax is here,” Jadis called from the other side of the door. “With guest.” Sunset dispelled her ward and opened the door to the study. Amoxtli shifted her bat wing on the other side of the doorway and unclipped her holster.
Thorax entered first in his purple uniform. He nodded to Tempest and Sunset. “The others are on their way,” he said vaguely, “but we’ve been taking care of the situation in the dining hall.”
Rarity crossed her forehooves.
The changeling trotted over to Flurry’s chair and she embraced him with her wings, pulling him into a hug. “You alright, uncle?”
“We have the Cornucopia Society members,” Thorax answered. “They have some meetups in Middle Canterlot and elsewhere.” He licked his fangs. “Unicorn supremacists.”
“If there are earth pony supremacists in Appleoosa I’m just going in with a sword and swinging,” Flurry groaned. “This is absurd.”
“Well,” a voice said softly in the doorway, “Neighsay was the head of the E.E.A. It's hardly surprising.”
Flurry released her uncle and stared over his head fin at the other pony. A slightly built pegasus stood in the doorframe, salmon-pink fur covered in a light blue, simple dress with white frills. The pegasus’ long, pale blue mane framed heavy glasses balanced on her muzzle. It made her eyes look owlish and the mare look older, but Flurry judged she was only a few years older than herself.
The mare bowed in the doorway. Her dress tented at the side from covered wings while her lengthy tail pooled on the floor from the bow. “Hello, Princess Flurry Heart,” she said in a refined Upper Canterlot accent. She stood up before Flurry told her to rise and smiled softly.
“Your information was appreciated,” Flurry said neutrally.
“I hope it was,” the mare agreed. “My name is Chess Piece. I was born in Lower Canterlot, but I’m sure you know that.” She stepped forward into the room on light, polished hooves while Amoxtli pulled the door shut.
Thorax licked his right fang before facing the mare and sitting beside Flurry’s chair. The Princess nodded and set the folder down. She took off her crystal band and held it in her forehooves. “I know very little about you,” Flurry admitted, “except that you trotted up to the castle like several of the other nobles.” She paused. “And hoofed over a file that condemned them all.”
“Canterlot has stood on this mountain for a thousand years,” Chess Piece explained in an airy voice. “Everypony is interconnected. Generations of noble families breed generations of servants. When the Changelings came, many took the opportunity to increase their own power, especially once Twilight surrendered the city to stop it from being sacked."
The pegasus looked regretful. “My own family was lost in Lower Canterlot. I wandered for a time, making friends where I could on the streets, and soon found a web of gossip about the excesses of Canterlot. Ponies eager to collaborate and sell out their former friends and family for the graces of the Changelings.”
Flurry waved her hoof. “Continue.”
“It was trivial to find enough testimony to condemn one of them,” Chess Piece said. “A countess named March Match. She embezzled funds meant to reconstruct her lumber yards to fund her lifestyle. Servants hear things, Princess, and they’re inclined to share when they stop being paid and start being drained of love.
“I made sure VOPS looked into her, and I was awarded her estate for loyalty, I do confess.” Chess Piece scuffed a hoof. “I suppose she was sent to the lumber yards she so dearly loved. Everypony in Canterlot is family to somepony, and I soon bribed and blackmailed my way into the soirees and parties of Generalmajor Pagala.”
“Not Jachs?” Flurry asked.
“Oh no,” Chess Piece nickered. “I was still on the streets during his time.”
“Were you here when the ELF assaulted the city?” Sunset asked. She was frowning in puzzlement at the younger mare.
“Yes,” Chess Piece shrugged. “I watched from an alleyway as the attack on the east gate was beaten back. The airborne troops fought very hard.”
Rainbow scrubbed her wing and squinted at the mare. Rarity also frowned beside her and chewed on her lower lip. Both looked wary. Flurry waved her hoof for the pegasus to keep going.
“Hiring the families of servants and protecting them from the Love Tax helped dearly. My mansion is bursting with ponies that do little work, I’m afraid. But servants talk, and they talk freely when they know their families are protected by somepony who actually cares.”
“And that’s you?” Flurry asked without inflection.
“I lived on the streets,” Chess Piece protested with pinned ears. “My family was never wealthy. I understand hardship in a way that no noble in Canterlot ever did.”
“You decided to blackmail the nobility for what?” Sunset snorted. “More money?”
“Money, influence, favors,” Chess Piece waved a hoof. “Or reporting them to the Changelings for their rampant overspending and neglect. Pagala was a poor accountant and addled by her…vices. Lord Commander Lacin did little except kick ponies in the street.”
“So you helped the Hegemony,” Flurry assessed in a low voice.
“The nobility tried to destroy me many times,” Chess Piece laughed daintily. She removed a cloth from a dress pocket and wiped at her thick glasses. “I was ruining their grift.” She suddenly grimaced. “I’m never sure if that is offensive to griffons or not. They even did the same before and during the war. Some of their servants were holdovers from Celestia’s rule, and they knew all the family secrets. Ponies talk, Princess, especially if they’ve been hurt. And ponies also forget who they’ve stepped on.”
Flurry pointed a few feathers at the window just behind her. “Please, do you mind walking over to the window and looking through the curtains?”
Chess Piece did so and brushed a curtain back. “I’m afraid it’s nighttime, Princess. I can see the city?” she offered with a light nicker. She looked over her dress to the chair.
“Somewhere to the west is a large crater,” Flurry said dryly. Her horn pointed at the pegasus over the low back of the chair. "There used to be a forest there." The alicorn folded her wings and twisted around partially in her sweatpants.
“I felt the magic from my mansion,” Chess Piece stated in a wistful voice. “Blew out the window to my study and gave a few ponies a terrible fright. The Changelings deserved it, I’m sure. If the old Princesses fought like that, none of this would’ve befallen Equestria.”
Flurry opened her mouth to respond, then a knock on the door interrupted her. “Princess?” Jadis asked. “The others are here.”
“Enter!” Flurry called out with a partially turned muzzle. Thorax stared at Chess Piece from the other side of the chair. The pegasus did not look too perturbed by the changeling with long fangs leering at her.
Amoxtli pushed open the door from the hallway. Sandbar, Yona, and Gallus stood chatting with each other, sharing some joke. The earth pony and yak were in gray ELF uniforms, and Gallus was in his black coat. Two knights stood behind Gallus, helmets gazing at the crystal pony and Thestral.
Sandbar and Yona bowed, and Gallus clasped a claw to his chest. Their small talk ceased. “Princess,” Sandbar said slowly.
“I was told this was an Equestrian matter,” Gallus added.
“It is,” Flurry confirmed. “It concerns your time here. Please, the knights may remain outside.”
Gallus spared them a backwards glance, then entered the room after Yona and Sandbar. The study was now cramped with Tempest and Sunset below one wall, Rarity and Rainbow along the opposite, and Yona, Sandbar and Gallus standing before the door. The griffon pulled his gloves off and stuffed them into his jacket. He blinked at the mare by the window and paused.
Chess Piece looked back guilelessly, then met Flurry’s hard stare over the back of the chair. “From this moment forward,” the alicorn said in a growl, “there will be nothing but honesty in this room. Do you understand?”
Chess Piece looked to the changeling, then Rainbow Dash and Rarity, and finally back at the three former students of the School of Friendship in the doorway. The three stood in various stages of dawning realization. Chess Piece blinked scarlet eyes, then smirked.
“Golly,” Cozy Glow snorted in an oceanic accent. “Long time, huh? Friends?”
Gallus recovered first. “You’re dead,” he stated numbly. His claw reflexively drifted towards the holster under his right wing before he placed it back on the floor.
“Good to see you too, bluebird,” Cozy chuckled. “You look good in your little fascist uniform, very much like a VOPS agent.” The salmon pegasus sat down in front of the window and folded her forelegs against her dress.
The blue griffon clacked his beak. Sandbar and Yona scowled next to him with narrowed eyes. Rarity and Rainbow, both surprised, leaned back and scrunched their muzzles in unison. Tempest’s horn crackled beside Sunset Shimmer’s; both unicorns tracked the slim pegasus.
Cozy brushed a hoof against the thick black frames of her glasses. “Geez,” she snorted. “Tough crowd, huh?” She glanced at Thorax and the seated alicorn over the top of the lenses. “You know, not a single one of those nobles figured it out.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Flurry stated. She pointed two feathers to the center of the room. “Stand there.”
“Oh,” Cozy pursed her lips and her scarlet eyes lit up, “do I get a trial this time? That’d be lovely.” The pegasus sauntered over to the center of the rug. The room was deathly quiet now, only the exhales of the crowd and the faint, padded hoofsteps sounded with the ticking of the clock on the bookcase.
Flurry put a burst of magic into the lamps around the room; the bulbs hummed as they overcharged, and it cast the pegasus in sudden relief. She was thin under the dress, and some pads were visible, stuffed underneath the frills to make her appear older and slightly heavier than she truly was. Coupled with her wings and cutie mark hidden, Cozy Glow looked nothing like the precocious foal she once was.
Rarity swallowed. “I see you straightened your curls, Cozy,” she managed. “Makes you look a bit older, and such a nice dress surely helps.”
“Thank you, Professor Rarity,” Cozy replied in a sweet voice. “I learned some lessons from you.” Her wings flittered and caused the dress to flutter. “Ponies have short memories, as I said. Who would even remember me?”
“You’re not fooling anyone with those egghead glasses,” Rainbow snorted. “I can buy a bunch of self-centered idiots ignoring you, not like any of ‘em ever paid attention to the Elements or the School, but those glasses are ridiculous.”
Cozy bared her teeth at that. “I actually need them, Professor Dash.” She took the glasses in her hooves and squinted at the thick frames before replying. “Your ‘Awesome Class’ didn’t cover this, but shoving a filly into a dark hole for several years tends to ruin their developing eyesight. But I’m sure you knew that.”
Rainbow puffed her lips. “You had it coming,” she scowled back at the standing pegasus. “Twilight adored her school; it never recovered after you.”
“You blame me for that?” Cozy whickered. “That idiot Neighsay helped every step of the way.” She cast a squinting eye to Gallus and Yona. “Heard he kept his job, even after he called everyone degenerates.”
“That’s not what he said,” Rarity answered.
“As if teaching ‘Friendship’ would destroy Equestria,” Cozy scoffed. “Turns out bullets and bombs did the job far better.” She grinned. “If I had all the magic, I could’ve taken out Chrysalis, easy.”
“Your plan was terrible,” Flurry retorted. “You took over a single school. What were you going to do? Just start blasting?”
Sunset coughed into a hoof.
“I’d have figured it out,” Cozy said blithely. “That’s the problem with magic types, always thinking with their horns first.”
“The Tree of Harmony defeated you,” Sandbar stated. He leaned against Yona while the yak glared. “And we proved you and Neighsay wrong. We could be friends.”
Cozy rolled her eyes. “Fine. The plan had some…logistical difficulties, but I was eight. What happened to Neighsay, anyway? Heard he died.”
“For the ELF,” Sunset stated.
Cozy laughed at the mare’s proud muzzle. “You let him in?” She looked to Tempest. “Of course you did,” she said flatly. “Nopony had a problem with the Storm King’s Right Hoof, did they?”
Tempest’s horn crackled with a bolt of blue electricity. Cozy replaced her glasses and stared the tall unicorn down. “You gonna try her first?” the pegasus suggested. “She never had one, did she?”
“She was pardoned,” Sunset answered.
“And I wasn’t,” Cozy replied shortly.
“You nearly destroyed Equestria as a foal,” Sandbar said behind her.
“I humiliated them,” Cozy countered as she turned around. “All of them,” she continued as she cast an eye at Rarity and Rainbow Dash, “so they shoved me in Tartarus to die.”
“S.M.I.L.E. released all the dangerous monsters as the Equestrian Liberation Front retreated back from Tartarus,” Flurry summarized. “Tartarus was shelled to oblivion by the Changelings.”
“Yes,” Cozy acknowledged. “The Heer spent a lot of money on those railway cannons. One even needed two tracks. It was gossip around Canterlot that it was a massive waste of money until they needed to lob shells down on Tartarus.”
“You were left there,” Flurry assumed.
“Golly,” Cozy said with fake gaiety, “what made you assume that, Princess? The fact that they left me there for an entire war?”
Thorax hissed and looked to Flurry, but she brushed a wing against the side of the chair. “Continue,” the alicorn stated blandly.
“Welp,” the pegasus sniffed, “I had a crate of preserved hay and some barrels of water, also enchanted to last. Figured something was going on once the guards stopped checking in every other month. Me and Tirek worked out a plan, but then the Changelings just sealed up the entrance.”
“Where’s Tirek?” Sunset interrupted.
Cozy clicked her tongue, but continued. “Wasn’t sure what happened until Sweetie Drops and her goon squad showed up with explosives. Turns out millennia old enchantments fail with enough dynamite, who knew?”
“It was a hard decision,” Tempest stated with pinned-back ears. “Releasing some of those monsters would surely mean ponies would die to them, but we hoped to slow down the Changeling’s counterattack and buy more time to make it to the Nova Griffonian border.”
Cozy’s ears perked up at the tall mulberry mare. “Huh, was it your idea?” She licked her lips. “Sounds like something the Storm King’s Right Hoof would think of, to be honest.”
“Watch your tongue,” Tempest snarled.
“The Princess asked for honesty,” Cozy said gracelessly. She locked eyes with the alicorn for a moment, then returned to Tempest. Her tone turned to ice. “Did you tell them to leave me there?”
Tempest blinked and looked away. "It was up to Sweetie Drops. She knew what was in Tartarus better than us."
“I’d have left you there,” Rainbow cut in, “right next to your friend. Where’s Tirek?” She clipped her harness back on and flexed the metal feathers with a scrape of steel.
“Dead,” Cozy answered simply.
“Detail,” Thorax said with a low hiss.
Cozy tilted her head and chewed on the inside of her cheek. She tapped a rear hoof on the rug in time with the clock. “Detail, huh? I remember that bitch waving to us as they set the charges and tampered with the other cells. Heard she died, too. Even heard they used her wife,” Cozy smiled.
“Sweetie Drops was a patriot,” Sunset said angrily. Her horn burst into flames at the tip.
“I didn’t have anything to do with it,” Cozy huffed. “I was still in Tartarus. The Changelings knocked the entire cave down, blasted apart all the enchantments and broke the seals on our cages. We made a run for it during the bombardment. Didn’t make it and got buried.”
Cozy scuffed a hoof on the floor and inspected the bottom of her frog. “Took a long time to dig out. Tirek still had some magic left; he kept us from dying, but the strain took a toll. I was pretty thin and managed to wriggle out of the hole he made before everything collapsed.”
Rainbow snorted. “You make it sound like he died for you. He was a monster.”
“He honored the trade with Twilight,” Cozy pointed out. “He could’ve just snapped her neck; he could’ve killed all the alicorns. I guess he could’ve taken my magic and tried, maybe he thought about it and decided it still wouldn’t have been enough.” Her dress flittered with the motions of her wings underneath it. She chewed on her cheek again as her eyes clouded.
Cozy suddenly brushed her mane away from her muzzle. “That’s all you get,” she declared to Thorax. “Is that enough detail, Mr. Changeling? Or should I talk about the several weeks wandering through war zones eating grass?”
“How’d you get to Canterlot?” Flurry asked preemptively.
“Walked,” Cozy answered with a furrowed muzzle. “Wings were too weak; they still are. Doing wing-ups in a cage only preserves so much strength. I can fly around my mansion, but any wind is risky.”
“You just walked across Equestria as the Hegemony cracked down?” Sunset demanded. She shook her head. “They would’ve noticed you.”
“I hid from some patrols,” Cozy admitted, “but a skin-and-bone pegasus isn’t a hardened resistance fighter. I just walked through a checkpoint up the mountain with a sob story.” She giggled to herself. “Even used my real name. The guards kept trying to talk to me in Herzlander, and I had no idea what they were saying.”
Cozy sat down on the rug and ran a hoof down the frills of her dress. “The guards in Tartarus never said anything about the war, but I’m not surprised you lost. After all, you nearly lost to a foal. I guess the Tree of Harmony only picks fights with those it can beat down.”
“Are you trying to get my sympathy?” Flurry said dryly. “You’re not doing a good job.”
“You wanted honesty,” Cozy answered defensively. “First time I saw a panzer brigade roaring across a field, I laughed at it.”
Flurry leaned back against the plush chair. “You were the last threat Equestria faced before the war,” she stated in a resigned voice. She turned to the others in the room. “What was her intended sentence?”
“What do you mean?” Sunset asked. “She was sentenced to Tartarus.”
“For eternity?” Flurry snorted. “Or until she grows old and feeble? Would she have been dragged out with gray hairs in her mane, blind as a bat?”
“Princess,” Rarity offered, “Cozy Glow nearly destroyed all of Equestria with her scheming.”
“The fact that you don’t see anything wrong with that statement is striking,” Flurry echoed with a slight smirk. “A foal nearly destroyed Equestria. Chrysalis must have cackled from her tower.”
“The loss of magic across Equestria had devastating effects,” Sunset continued. "It would've spread around the world."
“Were you even here for that?” Flurry questioned back.
The amber unicorn’s ears flattened. “No,” she admitted, “but pegasi depend on flight magic, as do healing spells. Cozy Glow could’ve killed hundreds of thousands.”
Flurry turned back to Cozy. The pegasus bit her lip and shrugged a hoof. “Like I said, maybe I didn’t think it all the way through.”
“That’s all you have to say!?” Yona barked behind her. “Pathetic pegasus broke Twilight’s school! Made it a joke!”
“It was already a joke,” Cozy replied over her withers. “Come on, Yona. Didn’t see any deer in school, either. Guess they were too busy about to be bug snacks to attend. Twilight let me around all her magical stuff because I asked nicely.”
“The Dotted Line report was commissioned by the Sisters afterwards,” Thorax provided. He had leaned against the side of the chair, looking completely nonchalant at the pegasus.
“As I said,” Cozy giggled, “totally humiliated a single foal outwitted their heroes. You’d think they’d have learned a few lessons from Stalliongrad. Or hay, Nightmare Moon, Discord, Sombra…” she trailed off and winked at Flurry. “The wedding.”
“That’s not what happened,” Rainbow growled. “You don’t regret a thing.”
“I regret thinking friendship was power,” Cozy answered dryly. “Turns out friendship can’t stop bullets, huh?”
Rainbow stood up and sliced her metal wing through the air. Cozy affected an unimpressed look, but she still took a step back from the angry blue pegasus. Both of them looked to Flurry Heart.
The Princess leaned her head on a hoof and waved a few clipped feathers at Rainbow for her to step back. “How’d you end up at the estates, Chess Piece?”
“Eh,” Cozy nickered, “same story I told earlier. Lived on the streets for a bit, made the right gutter trash friends, learned some secrets, a little blackmail, a little extortion.”
“Your…” Flurry paused, “servants think highly of you. They didn’t know who you are.”
“Of course,” Cozy sniffed. “Treating a pony with some kindness goes a long way. Makes sure they aren’t inclined to tattle on you, for one. And families and friends are grateful for the protection.”
“How generous of you,” Rarity remarked with hooded eyes.
“Nopony else was gonna hire a crippled pegasus veteran,” Cozy answered. “Let alone pay them, and their families needed the money. You know how many of the ‘nobles’ switched to indentured servants the moment they had the chance?”
“According to your files,” Thorax stated, “all of them.”
Cozy’s dress ruffled. “Just the ones left after the ELF,” she corrected. “What’re you doing with them, anyway? Hosting some party?”
“Don’t play dumb,” Flurry warned.
“I saw the gallows,” Cozy deadpanned. “I’m sure they did, too. How surprised were they, Princess of Rope?” She raised a hoof and tapped her skull. “Magic types always think with their horn.”
“Why didn’t you work with the Changelings?” Thorax asked in a neutral voice. “You could’ve been quite the informant.”
“Chrysalis doesn’t play nice with others,” Cozy raised a brow behind her glasses. “I met Vaspier at one of Pagala’s garden parties once. He made too many comments about Twilight’s school in too short a time. I don’t think he actually cared who I was or what I was doing, just as long as it wasn’t interfering with their precious Hegemony.”
“You could’ve helped hunt down the remaining ELF members,” Thorax suggested. “I’m sure many of the servants had sympathies.”
“For what?” Cozy snorted. “A cookie from Chrysalis? Going after the nobility was more profitable, and they couldn’t expose me without destroying themselves.”
“You don’t regret a single thing you did,” Sandbar accused. His one eye blinked slowly. “You deserved Tartarus, Cozy Glow.”
Cozy’s eyes flickered behind her glasses. Her soft smile faded and she took a deep breath. “Golly,” she said in a low voice over her flank. “Means a lot, friend. You want to blame me for the war? I had nothing to do with it.”
“Did you know about my aunt?” Flurry refocused. She still had her head propped up on a hoof as she laid awkwardly across the chair.
“One of my servants’ sister’s cousins had an arrangement with a Queen’s Guard,” Cozy supplied. Her muzzle scrunched. “Don’t ask what it was. She was already a vegetable by the time I made it up the mount-”
A golden bolt of magic struck Cozy Glow in the chest and blasted her off her hooves and to the right. She spun through the air and slammed against one of the bookcases with a terrific crash above Rarity and Rainbow. Both of the older ponies dove out of the way as the slim pegasus fell down in a heap of fake books. Her dress smoked.
The clock ticked on the opposite shelf; Flurry’s horn dimmed. After a moment, the pegasus in the blue dress inhaled with a choking cough, spasming on the floor.
“Magic types do tend to think with their horn,” Flurry said in a high-pitched laugh, “but you wouldn’t have survived a punch, so some gratitude is in order.”
Cozy coughed and spat a tooth out onto Rarity’s vacated cushion. She used the white frills of her dress to wipe her bloody muzzle, then fumbled a hoof around for her missing glasses. Flurry levitated them over; they had been knocked clear across the room, but the heavy frame saved the lenses.
“Thought you…” Cozy gasped, “thought you wanted honesty, huh?”
“You should choose your words more carefully,” Flurry retorted. She glanced around the room. Despite their hostility to Cozy, everyone seemed shocked to see her blasted across the study.
Cozy Glow put her glasses back on and her tongue probed the gap in her teeth. Her dress had hiked up around her flanks from the fall, exposing her chess piece cutie mark of a rook. She pulled it back down and smoothed the pads out; the pegasus was thinner than the dress suggested, and her straightened tail had begun to curl again.
Cozy brushed a hoof against her ruffled mane; it had also started to curl. “I woulda saved her,” she rasped.
Thorax hissed.
Cozy bared her bloody teeth at the changeling. “I would have, if she was conscious, just to hold it over her horn forever. How funny would that be? Starlight and her little clique of friends failed, only for poor, evil Cozy Glow to succeed?”
“I warned you to watch your words,” Flurry repeated. Her horn sparked.
“Twilight didn’t do a thing,” Cozy spat blood onto the floor. “Am I supposed to like her? She knew I was down there, too.”
“You deserved it,” Rainbow snarled.
“I deserved to spend the rest of my life in a cage?” Cozy huffed. “While Discord walked around? And Nightmare Moon? Golly, just saw off my wings and stick me in a normal prison. Would’ve preferred that.”
“It was not going to be forever,” Rarity said to the filly. “The war interrupted-”
“Please!” Cozy scoffed. “I humiliated them, and they had to look strong. Same reason why Chrysalis attacked with guns and tanks. Getting defeated by the power of love is humiliating, take it from somepony defeated by a tree.”
“You could’ve killed many ponies,” Flurry said, “and you destroyed my aunt’s dream. The School of Friendship never recovered from you.”
“I heard her speech,” Cozy coughed. Flurry’s horn sparked, and the pegasus swallowed and visibly thought about her next words. “She didn’t say anything about me.”
“Twilight blamed herself,” Sunset stated, “because she was a good pony.”
“Look at where she ended up.” Cozy shrugged a hoof. She met Flurry’s blue eyes. “When I found out about Twilight Sparkle, I laughed like when I first saw those Changeling panzers. You can’t blame me for the war, and I never killed anypony.”
"You laughed?" Flurry confirmed in a low growl.
"I'm not the one that put her there," Cozy answered. "Golly, not even I would have been that stupid back in the day. The Changelings really are their own worst enemy."
"Something you have in common with them," Flurry retorted.
Cozy licked her bloody lips. "Fair." She looked to Thorax. "I haven't killed anyone."
“Not directly,” Thorax countered. “The nobles you turned into VOPS certainly died.”
“They brought that on themselves,” Cozy answered. “So did the ones being dragged out to the gallows.”
“Some would say you brought Tartarus on yourself,” Flurry pointed out. Her horn dimmed. “Why’d you approach us in the first place?”
“Because you made a giant crater?” Cozy answered with a nicker. “We heard all the stories in Canterlot from the Changelings; the Alicorn of Death that killed everypony in her way. Figured it was all lies, reconsidered after the explosion.” Cozy looked appraisingly at the alicorn. “How old are you, Princess?”
“Seventeen.”
Cozy whistled through the new gap in her teeth. “With those wings? Color me jealous.” The pegasus stomped a forehoof. “Hay for years stunts your growth. I’m stuck at Professor Dash’s height.”
Rainbow stood up again, and only proved Cozy’s point when it was obvious the prismatic pegasus was slightly taller due to her mohawk. Cozy stood her ground this time. “You gonna kill me, Professor? I showed more loyalty to Equestria than all the fancy ponies in this city.”
“You’re only loyal to yourself,” Rainbow answered. “Friends are friends because we hold each other up, not because they make us more powerful.”
“I don’t remember that from ‘Professor Dash’s Awesome Class,’” Cozy nickered.
“What do you think is going to happen to you?” Flurry asked again.
“You don’t seem like the kind of pony to waste time with talk,” Cozy assessed. “I gave you information, and I didn’t kill anypony. I protected sixty-four ponies at my estate, kept them from the Love Tax, and even paid them enough to support their families.”
She glanced at Thorax. “Most of them were cast out, even a few with foals of their own, or crippled war veterans. They were going to die on the streets.”
“You protected them because their families could bring you information,” Thorax replied. The changeling buzzed a wing against his uniform. “That was the agreement.”
“And they were happy to do it,” Cozy said empathetically. “Even happy to risk VOPS. You gonna give Chrysalis a trial like this? I’m nowhere near as bad as her.”
“Why didn’t you try to disappear into Lower Canterlot?” Thorax questioned. “You could’ve run.”
“Running makes you look guilty,” Cozy snorted. "I'm not getting gutted in an alley by some desperate noble trying to keep the fact she sold out her brother a secret."
“You are guilty,” Sandbar huffed behind the pegasus.
“Any family?” Flurry asked suddenly.
Cozy blinked. “What?”
“Do you have any family?” Flurry repeated. “Nopony seems to know if you do. Chess was a griffon game first; how’d you get your mark?”
“It is?” Rainbow interrupted.
“That’s why the pieces are kings and queens, not princesses and princes,” Rarity sighed.
“Huh,” Rainbow shrugged her good wing. “More you know.”
“My family had trade ties to Griffonia,” Cozy admitted, “even some with the old colonies in Zebrica.”
“They’re dead?” Flurry asked in confirmation.
“Yes.”
“Before the war, or afterwards?”
Cozy’s eyes went to Tempest for a brief moment. “Before.”
The Storm King’s Right Hoof broke eye contact and looked to the curtained window.
Somepony please tell me how an undocumented foal made it into Twilight’s school, Flurry groaned and rubbed a hoof against the bridge of her muzzle. “Nopony can tell me how long she was meant to be in Tartarus, so she technically escaped her sentence,” the alicorn summarized. “Nopony can tell me if there was a plan to release her, either.”
Thorax preempted Rarity and Sunset. “Correct.”
“Okay,” Flurry sighed. “Cozy Glow, you have two choices.”
The salmon-pink pony closed her mouth. Her lips were still a little bloody. She used a rear leg to nudge her missing tooth between her forelegs. Yona, Sandbar, and Gallus stood together at the door.
“Your estate and assets have been seized with the others,” Flurry revealed. Cozy’s muzzle twitched, but she didn’t react otherwise. “Due to the severity of your crimes before the war, you will be exiled to the Griffonian Reich, if that’s acceptable to the Kaiser.” Flurry looked over Cozy to Gallus.
The blue griffon blinked. “I thought this was an Equestrian matter,” he said with a resigned squawk.
“You’re free to kick her to the River Federation,” Flurry offered. “They have a habit of gathering strays.”
Gallus rolled his eyes. “It’s not like we have many magical artifacts laying around,” he waved a wing. “We’ll take her,” he continued in Herzlander. “I can’t wait to see her try to retrieve the Idol of Boreas and get dashed against the rocks.”
“Harsh, bluebird,” Cozy said in Herzlander. “I liked you the most for the sarcasm.”
“I’m not being sarcastic,” Gallus deadpanned back.
Cozy turned back to the alicorn and said, “I thought I had an option.”
“You remain in Equestria under probation,” Flurry stated. The alicorn jerked her horn at Thorax. “My uncle will keep an eye on you, or one of his changelings.”
“Doing what?” Cozy sniffed.
“Whatever I tell you to do,” Thorax answered. “Without argument.”
“Slavery or exile,” Cozy Glow snorted. “Golly, such generosity. I’d just love to start over with nothing. Again. Can I think about it?”
Flurry’s ears flicked at the clock ticking on the shelf. “You don’t have a mansion to go home and think in, so it’ll have to be here.” The alicorn wriggled on the chair. "Think fast."
Cozy Glow sat down on the rug and batted her broken tooth between her front hooves. She worked her jaw as she looked around the room, first to Rarity and Rainbow Dash, then to Sunset and Tempest, and finally behind her. Sandbar, Gallus, and Yona stared impassively back at the pegasus. She did not look at the Princess.
“Well, what the hay?” Cozy said after a minute. “I like Equestria; that’s why I wanted to take it over. I’ll stick around with Uncle Thorax as long as I don’t have to sleep in a cocoon.”
Thorax pushed himself away from the chair and stalked forward. “A changeling named Ocellus will shadow your movements,” he said in Herzlander down to the pegasus. “You will obey her every order, and check-in with her at all times. If I believe you are even thinking of treachery, I will kill you.”
“As long as I get a bed,” Cozy said blithely back in Herzlander. “Can I keep the tooth?” Thorax’s horn glowed green and the tooth was chucked into a corner of the room.
Cozy pouted, then stood up and followed Thorax. The three other students from the School of Friendship looked incredulously at Flurry, but stepped aside from the door. Cozy’s lips pursed into a smirk as she sidled behind the changeling.
Flurry Heart ignored the looks from everyone in the room. “We’re done!” she called out. Amoxtli opened the door. Gallus’ knights waited against the far wall, still in a staring contest with Frosty Jadis and the Thestral.
Cozy stopped in the doorframe, bit her lip, and turned around. Her eyes swept the room while her tongue probed the gap in her teeth again. The pegasus studied Flurry Heart, eyes stopping above her crystal band to her horn.
Flurry pulled on her sweatpants with a few feathers. “You’ve been given a second chance,” she said aloud. “Don’t waste it.”
“You said there would be nothing but honesty in this room,” Cozy accused, “but that didn’t apply to yourself, did it?”
Flurry waited with glacial eyes. Her muzzle was expressionless.
“If I chose exile, your guards would have marched me down to the gallows with the rest of them.” Cozy’s scarlet eyes looked far bigger behind her glasses.
“What makes you think you would’ve even left the room?” Flurry said dryly.
Cozy blinked and looked at the broken bookcase.
“It’s a long walk for a short rope,” the alicorn continued. “You might have talked your way out of it.” The Princess met Cozy’s eyes. “You have a second chance, Cozy Glow.”
Cozy stared back.
“There will not be a third.”
The clock ticked on the shelf.
After a moment, Cozy smiled. It wasn’t the fake, soft smile she had when she entered, but a genuine, long grin. It exposed the gap in her teeth; she had lost one of her top right teeth, prominent in any smile. The pegasus dipped into a proper bow with extended forelegs.
“I won’t let you down,” Cozy said in a low voice. “Princess.” She drawled the title out.
Flurry could hear the smirk in Cozy’s declaration. She waved one of her wings. “Rise,” she intoned, not bothering to keep the amusement from her voice.
Cozy stood with a flourish of her dress and pressed her lips together. She followed Thorax without a further comment, and Amoxtli shut the door again. Flurry Heart left the chair and stretched her legs with soft pops.
Her eyes scanned a room full of incredulous faces. “If you have a problem with her,” Flurry sighed, “go kill her. I won’t be too mad about it.”
“You cannot be serious,” Gallus said flatly. “You’re letting her go?”
“Any suspicious behavior will get her killed,” Flurry answered. “I cleared it with Thorax.”
“Pony nearly destroyed Equestria,” Yona snorted.
“I nearly destroyed the Crystal City when I was born,” Flurry countered.
“She knew what she was doing, Princess,” Sunset said from the side. The amber unicorn turned to the door and shook her horn. “She doesn’t regret a thing.”
“Cozy did not collaborate,” Flurry shrugged a wing. “She treated her ponies well and protected them.”
“For all the wrong reasons!” Rainbow spat.
“What’s the right reason?” Flurry tossed her head. “For me? For Equestria? For revenge?” She cast a narrowed eye at Sunset and Tempest. “The Equestrian Liberation Front apparently fought for a parliament and noble titles.”
“It’s a mistake,” Rainbow insisted.
“The alternative is killing her,” Flurry deadpanned, “you understand that? If you want to kill her, go ahead. She was going to die down in Tartarus anyway.”
“That isn’t what any of us wanted,” Rarity nickered. “The filly was dangerous.”
“She’s a pegasus,” Flurry rolled her eyes. “She could’ve been thrown into a normal cell.”
“You can’t possibly believe that crap about being humiliated,” Rainbow huffed. She paced across the room. “Come on, Princess! She’s manipulative!”
“How humiliated were you when she tricked you into Tartarus?” Flurry asked neutrally.
Rainbow’s metal wing spasmed and she grit her teeth. “You seriously feel bad for her, huh?”
“No,” Flurry said to the pegasus’ visible surprise. “But Thorax will be King of the Changelings one day, and he can’t be my spymaster. Sweetie Drops and the rest are gone.”
Sunset’s eyes widened. “Oh,” she laughed. “No, absolutely not.”
“She built an intelligence network from nothing,” Flurry remarked. “I can’t have a changeling as spymaster post-war anyway; it’ll look bad. Thorax gets enough stares now.”
“Cozy is a monster! You think she’s an improvement?” Sunset said ruefully.
“Look to your right,” Flurry retorted with sudden venom.
Sunset did so, and met Tempest Shadow’s eyes. The taller unicorn looked away again and scuffed a hoof on the floor. Colonel Shimmer bit her lip.
“Fizzlepop is sorry,” Sunset tried.
"So was Starlight." Flurry gave Sunset a hard, icy stare. “What did you do?” she questioned in a harsh whisper.
Sunset swallowed. “What do you mean?”
“Twilight saved your life, right? She said you ‘reformed’ and changed your ways,” Flurry summarized. “What did you do, Sunset Shimmer?” The clock ticked on the shelf behind the unicorn.
“My past is not today,” Sunset countered in a smaller voice.
“Did you try to kill my aunt?” Flurry asked. Her wings raised above her head. “What happened?”
Sunset did not answer. She broke eye contact and looked to the ticking clock on the shelf behind her. The unicorn finally said, “It was a long time ago,” and twisted a hoof around her red and yellow mane.
That’s enough of an answer. Flurry drew back. “I don’t care what you did before, Sunset. Duskcrest was a bandit that raided caravans in the Nova Griffonian frontier. Everyone is this room is a killer.”
“I haven’t killed anyone,” Gallus offered.
“I’m not a killer,” Rarity insisted.
“You think some bug didn’t die because of your shitty uniforms, Rares?” Rainbow snorted beside her. “How’s that different?”
“It is different,” Rarity snapped, but her voice lacked confidence.
Sandbar twisted his head to look at the blue griffon. “You haven’t killed anyone? What about when the Reich invaded Griffonstone?”
“Wingbardy invaded first,” Gallus replied, “and I kept missing. The rifle was old. Ask Gilda about it once you get her drunk enough.” The griffon rolled his eyes. “She thinks it was hilarious.”
“Yak rifles old and still shoot straight,” Yona scoffed. “How is yak a better shot with hooves?”
Gallus flicked a yellow claw at her. “Fine. My aim is terrible anyways.”
“Yona will teach you to shoot, sad bluebird.”
“I’ll be there for moral support,” Sandbar added. His toothy smile stretched the burn marks along his muzzle.
“Thank you for coming,” Flurry said to them. “You helped stop her.”
“Barely,” Gallus wiggled his talons.
“It’s this or dead,” Flurry stated. “Do you want her dead?”
The trio shared an uneasy look. “Before the war,” Sandbar said slowly, “I never would’ve thought about, uh, killing her. And Chrysalis puts things in perspective.”
“Funny from one-eyed pony,” Yona huffed. The yak bumped into the earth pony good-naturedly. “I do not want her dead,” she sighed and carefully enunciated her words. “Not unless she does something to deserve it.”
Gallus clacked his beak. He visibly hesitated and looked to his old professors before sighing and running a claw across his head feathers. “The Kaiser didn’t even believe me when I told that story,” he admitted. “I liked the School of Friendship, but…”
“Say it,” Rainbow groaned.
“Neighsay was an idiot and Twilight left a filly in charge of all the magical artifacts,” Gallus admitted with a wince. “All of the other ponies followed Cozy pretty easily, and it didn’t look good. That's not all on Cozy.” He sighed. “Grandpa Gruff told me to bring a gun.”
“He told you to bring a gun to the School of Friendship?” Flurry said in a blank voice.
“Well, it would’ve certainly helped with Cozy,” Gallus shrugged a wing. “Gun’s not magic. I got sucked into a magical vortex and was saved by a tree. Would’ve liked to have a gun.”
“You clearly would’ve missed,” Yona snorted.
Gallus considered it. “Could’ve given it to Smolder or Silverstream. Smolder can shoot.” He looked around the room. “Cozy’s plan was dumb, the school was dumb, Neighsay was dumb, and shoving her into Tartarus was dumb. It’s an Equestrian matter, and the Reich wants no part of it.”
“Magic was going to fail across the world,” Sunset answered. “It just happened to Equestria and the Crystal Empire first.”
“Guns,” Gallus retorted. “You think she’s gonna try to steal all of the magic again? It’s quite the downgrade to go from world-ending threat to blackmailer.”
“Would you kill her?” Flurry repeated.
“No,” Gallus answered. “But I don’t think she learned any lesson from being shoved in a hole, unless she was given a bunch of self-help books down in Tartarus.”
“The war got in the way of a lot of things,” Rarity sighed.
“Rares,” Rainbow interrupted, “stop lying to yourself. None of us spared her a thought after she ended up down there.”
Flurry stared at the pegasus. “If you want to kill her, Rainbow…”
“I didn’t want to kill her then,” Rainbow growled, “not fair to kill her for it now just because she’s older. Thorax can take care of her when she messes up.”
“That’s unusually considered for you,” Rarity huffed.
“What do you want to do with her?” Flurry asked Rarity.
“Oh, do I have a say?” Rarity started. “You lied to her, just like you lied to those nobles. You would have killed her where she stood if she chose exile.”
“Yes,” Flurry admitted shamelessly.
“Instead, you want her to spy for you, and she’s twisted enough to be impressed by it,” Rarity finished. “What was even the point of all of this?”
“I can use her,” Flurry said. She rubbed a hoof on the rug. “Thank you for coming,” she stated to Gallus, Sandbar, and Yona. “We’re done.”
“She could’ve destroyed the world,” Rarity kept going.
“You tell Starlight Glimmer that?" Flurry asked in exasperation. "You want to lock her up, Rarity? You want to shove her back into a broken Tartarus? Let her die? What do you want to do with her?”
The trio of former students shared another look, then backed out of the room after Gallus thumped on the door with a paw. Amoxtli poked her head in, saw Flurry’s twitching eye, and shut the door.
“You spared the changelings that left Twilight, spared the foal that ruined her school, and murdered over a hundred ponies,” Rarity said from her cushion. “Just because you could use her and not them? Your justice is a joke.”
“So was Celestia’s,” Flurry retorted as her wings jittered. “She thought she could use Discord, and he sided with Tirek. How useful was he? Did he feel bad about anything he did?”
“Not really,” Rainbow added.
“Celestia was not perfect,” Rarity admitted.
“Finally,” Flurry rolled her eyes and walked to the door. “I agree, Miss Rarity.”
“That doesn’t mean I wish to see Equestria ruled by Chrysalis.”
“I’m working on it,” Flurry quipped over her shoulder. Her hoof froze as she raised it to knock on the door. The alicorn’s wings flared out with a rush of wind.
Flurry Heart turned around as the clock ticked on the wall. Sunset and Tempest stood to one side of the study, eyes wide, and Rainbow stood on the other. Rarity had moved to the center of the carpet, just before the chair and the window. The Princess set her hoof down with a muted clack.
“Rares,” Rainbow pleaded with a nervous expression, “too far.”
“It needs to be said,” Rarity retorted in a dangerously calm voice. She toyed with her mane bun with a quick flare of magic. “None of you will say it.”
“Say what?” Flurry asked in an equally dangerous voice.
“You have far more in common with Chrysalis than you do with your parents,” Rarity answered. “I watched you at dinner. You enjoyed toying with them; you enjoyed all of it.”
Flurry ground her teeth and glared across the room.
“That’s enough,” Sunset said from the side.
“I knew them too,” Rarity said in a soft voice. “I knew your parents.”
“Did you talk to Suri like this?” Flurry snarled.
“No, and I suppose the years have made me bold,” Rarity answered. “Your parents-”
“Rares!” Rainbow interrupted. “Don’t you dare say it.”
Rarity’s azure eyes met Flurry’s ice. “Your parents raised you with love and kindness,” she said softly. “They were good ponies, and-”
“And they are dead,” Flurry finished for her.
Rarity snapped her mouth shut.
“My parents were good ponies,” Flurry began. Her voice was high-pitched, but cold. “They were kind and just, and ruled fairly. My father was noble and honorable, and my mother had nothing but love in her heart.” The alicorn glanced at the ceiling before returning to the Element of Generosity.
“And they died. They lost the war, they lost their crowns, they lost their ponies, and they lost each other. My mother died beneath the Crystal Heart and my father died on a street in Flowena.” Flurry looked around the room at the others as the crystal band below her horn shimmered.
“Chrysalis is still standing. I am still standing. I did not make it this far because I believed my mother was alive and she came for me in Aquileia, or that I could trust Kemerskai. My parents were valiant and noble and brave. And they died, Miss Rarity.”
The clock ticked on the wall.
Flurry studied Rarity’s posture. “You can die with your horn held high if you wish, but I’d prefer to die stabbing mine into Chrysalis’ heart." She sighed. "I do enjoy it; you’re right. I probably shouldn’t, but I do. I’ve always enjoyed tricking people.”
Rarity swallowed.
“And I enjoy honesty as well,” Flurry said. “Do you really think I’m going to kill you for speaking your mind?”
“I don’t know what you’re capable of,” Rarity managed.
“Not half as much as Celestia could have done,” Flurry returned. “I’m sorry you can’t pretend otherwise anymore.” She turned to leave, and hesitated. The Princess looked over a wing back to Rarity. “You’ve seen Twilight.”
Rarity’s ears pinned back. “Yes. And Spike.”
“The Elements didn’t stop Chrysalis. The Tree didn’t stop her, either. The Crystal Heart nearly shattered.”
“It made a shield over the entire north,” Rarity offered.
Flurry raised a wing and touched her replacement crown. “Did the Elements ever speak to you?”
“W-what?” Rarity stumbled.
“Amore told me I would die,” Flurry continued. “Sombra said the same.”
Tempest, Sunset, and Rainbow turned and stared at Flurry Heart uncomprehendingly. The alicorn gazed at the destroyed bookcase over Rainbow’s head. Her eyes drifted over the broken shelves and crushed, fake books.
“I…” Rarity paused.
“So did my mother,” Flurry whispered.
The room was quiet, except for the clock ticking on the wall.
Flurry blinked suddenly and raised her voice to Tempest and Sunset. “See to the rest of the hangings over the next few days and keep patrolling the city. I need an assessment of our forces. We need to run support for the Reich’s advance until the rain hits.”
Tempest nodded. “As you say, Princess.” Sunset dipped her horn a moment later.
Rarity stared silently at Flurry. “You have my uniform?” the alicorn prompted her. The unicorn’s horn slowly bobbed. “Good,” Flurry sighed. “I can’t wear sweatpants forever.”
Rainbow stood up with narrowed eyes. “I need to check with the scouts.”
Flurry rapped on the door and exited with Jadis and Amoxtli. The hallway was clear, and it was very late. The Princess yawned and covered it with a wing. Rainbow followed her past the boarded-up windows.
“Going the wrong way,” Flurry huffed. “I’m going to my cot.”
“What happened with the Crystal Heart?” Rainbow asked in a whisper. Jadis stopped for a moment. The crystal pony looked up to Flurry, then back to Rainbow.
“It nearly killed me,” Flurry replied in a short voice.
“I’m not that dumb,” Rainbow snorted. “Something else happened.”
Flurry Heart stopped in the hallway and twisted her neck back to Rainbow. She concentrated as her horn glowed, seeing the wisps of magic peel off the pegasus’ prosthetic wing. The wing whispered to her in Rainbow’s voice, part of the mare even when she took it off.
Flurry met Rainbow’s worried, magenta eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she whickered. Her horn dimmed. “I made a choice.”
“You can talk to us,” Jadis added. The crystal pony rubbed her maimed foreleg.
No, I can’t. Flurry took a deep breath. “Don’t ask again,” the Princess ordered.
Rainbow’s eyes fell. “As you say, Princess.” She turned away with a saddened muzzle; it twisted the scar over her eye. “I’ll always be your friend,” she called out. “Element of Loyalty, remember?”
“Thank you, Rainbow,” Flurry said sincerely. She walked the other way with her guards.
“Fight the Hegemony!”
Princess Twilight Sparkle’s muzzle froze, proud and defiant. She stood straight, legs shimmering into vague purple trails above a frail crystal fastened to a mount. Her eyes, despite the bags under them, sparkled.
That could just be the projection, Grover admitted to himself. He leaned against the balcony railing, craning his neck to see the cameras to his left and right on the other balconies. The film crews had stopped and replaced their lens caps, slowly and carefully spooling the reels back. Below him, the director squawked commands to the film crew on the ballroom floor. They rapidly moved their tripods and microphones, trailing the cords across the room behind bobbing tails.
The photographers followed, setting themselves up atop cramped tables, pushed to the sides of the walls and under the balconies. Cameras flashed as half a dozen griffons took the opportunity of Twilight’s stiff and still pose to take pictures. Grover lowered his head, careful not to tip too far forward and dislodge the Reichstone.
“Again!” he called out in Herzlander. “I want every angle!”
“My Kaiser!” the director, a slim griffoness, squawked up with a snapped claw. It pointed at the film crews on the other balconies and she screeched a clipped whistle. They began to shuffle through their equipment for new reels of film.
Grover pushed himself off the balcony and settled onto the cushions. He flipped open his folder with a claw, but then left it on the rug. Out of sight from the railing, he removed the Reichstone and cracked his neck. He set it down on the floor beside him; it gathered a thin layer of dust from the rug.
The Kaiser heard Benito shuffle his boots in distress at the supposed sacrilege. “How many times was that?” he asked over a wing, partially turning his beak and looking over the rim of his glasses.
“Seven,” the blurry dog answered from the balcony door. He still wore one glove on a paw, attempting to hide the sutures and shaved fur. Grover ignored it.
“We will go for an even eight,” Grover decided. He inspected his talons self-consciously; he had clipped the ends several days ago so they weren’t too sharp, but he was still able to spear a page from his folder with a quick jab.
“Princess!” a voice called out from below. Twilight Sparkle vanished as the spell reset; the large mare disappeared from the center of the ballroom. Without her voice ringing through the east wing, the muffled sounds of hammers and saws reverberated through the walls.
“Princess!” two other voices picked up. Grover could tell by the accents they were the Equestrian delegation with their precious little crystal, and it was obvious what they were reacting to. There was a knock on the balcony’s private door.
Benito opened it and spoke briefly to the unicorn and dog in the hallway. Grover tuned out the conversation and flipped through the reports from the advancing frontline. The Reichsarmee wasn’t making as much progress as he hoped, too bogged down in glorified slums that the Changelings had stuffed full of the outlying villagers.
Like the Griffonian Reich, Equestria was decentralized. Unlike the Reich, it did not shatter into pieces that built themselves up over a generation to start stabbing each other again. A thousand years of the ‘Pax Celestia’ meant a thousand years of little towns and villages under nominal crown control. The roads were a nightmare, even the roads in the Equestrian Heartland. It had choked the Changelings, and now it was choking his army. The southeast was far, far worse.
We are going to be rich. Engineering teams had already done some of the work, but the crown corporations of Griffonia were already eyeing up Equestria to tear it into fiefdoms and rebuild. A decade of Changeling extraction wasn’t enough to destroy the forests, farms, and fields, and certainly not the mines and oil wells. Equestria was an empire rich in resources that the alicorns guarded jealously, and the current alicorn was willing to sell it all to save her ponies. It might be a stereotype, but we are greedy.
There had been less enthusiasm from the top corporations after the first newspapers of the Battle of Canterlot landed on the streets of the Reich. Kaiser Grover VI was the front page, but news traveled on wings faster than words. Everyone knew there was a giant crater where a forest used to be, and the Princess of Ponies was still alive.
And apparently waiting downstairs again, Grover sighed. He knocked the Reichstone over and let it thump to the rug, then tugged on the padding. “Send her up,” he squawked loudly over a wing.
Benito twisted around in the doorway. His whiskers twitched. “She’s, uh, wearing sweatpants, my Kaiser. Again.”
“Do you seriously wish to turn her away for décor in her own castle?” Grover asked back. “The others attended court naked except for carcanets and crowns.”
“It is an insult,” Countess Raison whickered. The Aquileian unicorn looked indignant in her dress uniform. Her horn sparked in the hallway as she stood beside two dog guards.
You should hear what the Herzlanders say about Aquileians, but Grover kept that to himself. Doubtlessly, the countess heard the same stories in the Discret court before she fled in exile. The pony minority in Aquileia was sensitive to their standing in the Reich, no matter what the new laws promised. Holding their horns high over Equestrians was no different than a Wingbardian squawking at a Herzlander.
“Send her up,” Grover repeated. You think she will not just fly up? He looked to the balcony. The projection had not restarted yet.
“My Kaiser,” Benito acknowledged. He waved his gloved paw at the countess until she retreated and waited by the door. Several moments later, a wave of golden magic pulsed through the room. Several of the griffons working with the cameras squawked indignantly and hurried to reset them.
Grover eyed his feathers; they puffed up instinctively from the feeling, so he flapped and refolded his wings. The Princess’ magic was odd. It blew hot and cold, and he could not figure out if there was a pattern. It was gold, then blue, then gold again. Nothing about her makes sense.
Benito stepped aside in the doorway with a paw on the hilt of his saber. Grover did not turn around to see Flurry Heart enter, nor did he move from the cushion. At the last moment, he tipped the Reichstone upright and shoved it back on his head after smoothing his tan head feathers down with a claw.
There was a rustle of feathers as the Princess folded her oversized wings to squeeze past Benito. Grover waited. Judging from the lack of hoofsteps, she did not approach further.
“Kaiser Grover,” she stated in Herzlander. She pronounced the title roughly, like a peasant from Katerin. It was hardly a noble accent, unlike her Aquileian. “Am I interrupting something?”
“Princess,” Grover acknowledged. “You always do, but it is your castle.”
“Not until I’m coronated,” she returned. The sounds of hammers and saws reverberated through the walls and under her soft voice.
“Is there something you want?” Grover asked. “I am busy.”
“Gallus told me you refused.”
“I declined,” Grover corrected. He knew what she meant, but he did not say more.
“We need to move the Changeling prisoners east,” the Princess answered. “Civilians as well.”
“Just so,” Grover replied. “Do so. Your forces control several railways and supply lines.”
There was a rustle of feathers against velcro, probably her sweatpants. “I’d like to get support units set up. Your unicorns still cast the detection spell poorly.”
“Is that why you blasted magic through the ballroom?”
“Has Benito killed Changeling assassins yet?” the alicorn retorted. “I promise you, they’re trying.”
“They have not come close to the Kaiser,” Benito growled from beside the Princess. “We can smell them out.”
“I hope that’s metaphorical,” she snorted, “because then you can smell that I haven’t showered in three days.”
Benito coughed.
Grover finally turned his head to see Flurry Heart in stained sweatpants with dust running through her feathers. More had collected on the crystal band below her mane stubble. Her pale, icy eyes had bags under them that matched the projection of her aunt.
She stands the exact same way, Grover realized. He clacked his beak and turned back to his folder.
“The Changelings are draining ponies as they fall back,” Flurry continued behind him.
“And they are tearing apart railways,” Grover added. “They do whatever they can to slow us.”
“I’d like to get mage companies and support units to deal with the infiltrators they're leaving behind.”
“I recall that you said you would do something like that.”
“I can’t do that and guard changelings.” Flurry shook her head. “I don’t have the ponypower, but you have the griffons.”
“I am not wasting soldiers guarding prison camps full of shapeshifters,” Grover deadpanned. “That is a disaster waiting to happen. I need my ponies on the frontlines and guarding supply depots. The rest are facing the Riverlands.”
“I don’t have enough soldiers I can trust to deal with this.”
“The solution seems obvious,” Grover responded.
Twilight Sparkle shimmered back into existence, larger than life in the center of the ballroom. The windows had been boarded up, and several of the chandeliers removed so the remaining lights backlit the projection. As a consequence, the room looked gloomy. The purple alicorn visibly took a moment to compose herself. Cameras flashed again.
“My name is Twilight Sparkle…”
Grover tuned out the speech and returned to his paperwork. One of the spare cushions suddenly plopped down next to him, encased within a golden aura. Soft clops sounded closer on the rug.
“That’s close enough, Princess,” Benito said from the door. The graying dog stepped forward to Grover’s right, eyes tracking the alicorn. His whiskers twitched.
The cushion began to pull away with the chime of magic. Grover reached out with his left claw and snagged it, feeling the coldness of the golden telekinetic field, and tugged it back down to the rug. The alicorn clearly didn’t resist his pull, or he would have never managed to dislodge the velvet.
“You think we are never going to sit next to each other, Benito?” Grover asked with a side-eye. He waved his claw. “Wait by the door.”
Benito rubbed his glove with his bare paw before clasping it to his chest. “My Kaiser.” The dog backed away slowly, brown eyes tracking the Princess.
“It’s good to see you,” Flurry offered the dog, and Grover saw Benito marginally bob his head out of his peripherals, partially blocked by the frame of his glasses. He sighed and removed them for a moment, rubbing his eyes with pinched talons.
Flurry Heart flumped down gracelessly on the cushion about three hooves away, clad only in black sweatpants and her crystal crown. She kicked up dust when she landed, both from the rug and her own feathers. The two monarchs were laying on the long cushions; only Flurry was able to see over the railing.
Twilight Sparkle’s voice continued in the center of the ballroom. Grover tuned it out again and returned to his notes. He took a worn pencil in his right claw and idly tallied the projected fuel expenses for Army Group North in the margins.
“Why are you filming her?” the Princess asked beside him. “For the Reich?”
“For history,” Grover answered. “You filmed her, too. I heard a recording on your radio as well.”
“Some ponies will believe she’s another fake,” Flurry sighed. “I haven’t heard anything from the Changelings, but they’ve played her voice enough.”
Grover flipped through the stack of papers until he pulled out a leaflet. “I am surprised,” he admitted. “You know what these will do.” He took a deep breath and looked at the page.
It was a simple design. The Princesses Twilight Sparkle and Mi Amore Cadenza, two pictures side-by-side. They had been taken before the war, and both wore their crowns and regalia. The two alicorns smiled at the photographer with easy grins, one with a golden crown and one with a crystal tiara.
There were two pictures below. A purple mare laid in a hospital bed with tubes and wires running from her skeletal frame. Beside her, a mare was suspended in a cocoon, clearly dead and covered in autopsy scars. If not for the marks on their flanks, they would be hard to recognize as the same ponies.
There was no text, no warning, no offer of surrender. It was simply a page with four pictures. Flurry glanced at it and looked away, peering over the railing at the projection of her aunt.
“It’s not for the Changelings,” Flurry said. “It’s for ponies. Equestria dropped leaflets when we should have been dropping bombs. They aren’t going to surrender to paper.”
“You know what it will do,” Grover repeated. He slid the leaflet back into the folder and set it aside. “Benito,” he called over a wing, “I want the translations triple-checked before they go out. Copies run by me tonight.” The dog nodded.
Flurry did not answer and listened to Twilight’s speech for a moment. Her ears twitched. “Do griffons actually care?” she asked. “You said they didn’t care about what happens here.”
“Twilight Sparkle was the Princess of Friendship,” Grover said in response.
“She is the Princess of Friendship,” Flurry said shortly. “Aren’t words wind?”
Grover glanced at her. “Just so. But some words are carried on gales and others on zephyrs. Her words will be translated into every language of my empire. ‘The Hegemony is a disease that thrives in darkness.’ Let the River Federation censor what they will. All the pegasi in Nimbusia cannot stop this wind. We are here and they are not.”
The noises of hammers and saws echoed through the wall and rumbled under Twilight’s projection. Flurry clearly heard it better than him, and her head tilted to the side. “Are the construction crews messing with the audio?”
“Twilight Sparkle will be dubbed over in Herzlander,” Grover answered, “and all the other languages. We have enough clean recordings of her.” His eyes went up to the boarded-up windows. All of them depicted Queen Chrysalis in some fashion, so they had been blocked for the sake of the film. It did not hide the black marble and carvings along the walls, nor the checkered tiles of Chrysalis’ trident crown on the ballroom floor.
“Do you truly intend to destroy your castle?” Grover asked in curiosity. The Princess beside him was covered in dust from the walk from the west wing to the east wing. Piles of filigrees and anything valuable already filled the courtyard, just behind the large gallows. Crowds of ponies herded together to gawk at the bodies of the nobility all week. Most swung for a few days before being taken down and burned.
“I’m not destroying it,” Flurry retorted. “Just gutting it. It’ll help pay for stuff.”
Stuff. Grover resisted rolling his eyes. “I assure you, Princess, it is but a drop in the ocean.”
“An ocean is made up of millions of drops,” Flurry stated. She flapped a wing, her left one, and refolded it with a pinched muzzle. “My feathers itch. You ever have to clip your feathers?”
“No,” Grover answered. He returned to the folder. “Stop attempting to change the subject. I am not wasting garrisons on prisoners.”
“I know of that unicorn in the hallway,” Flurry intentionally changed the subject. “She was a Discret loyalist, the Countess of Vinovia.”
“Many of the monarchists fled to the Reich when the Republicans won the second civil war,” Grover humored her. “Gabriela believed she could use them to encourage cooperation during the reconquest; she did the same with the exiles from Cloudbury in the north.”
“Your aunt?” Flurry’s ears perked up.
“My aunt who loved me so much and so hated Eros that she plunged the Herzland into a civil war while we were surrounded by vultures,” Grover said with forced enthusiasm. “Despite his disdain for the excesses of the nobility, Eros agreed for the sake of the reconquest. The knightly chapters in the Evi Valley and the Borderlands were similarly empowered; that was his idea.”
“How is the Riverlands?” Flurry nickered.
“Officially, no response,” Grover flipped a page over. “Unofficially, Vivienne has decried the waste of Aquileian lives in a foreign war. Countess Raison knows who took her under a wing. I do not fear them turning on the Reich.” Not while we are winning.
Flurry shook her head. “I honestly prefer the knights.”
This time Grover did roll his eyes. “How do you expect your coronation to look with no nobles to swear allegiance to you?” he squawked. “Are you going to declare the Storm King’s Right Hoof the Duchess of War Crimes?”
“Celestia didn’t ask anypony to swear allegiance to Luna,” Flurry quipped. “Just propped her back up on a throne. Same with my mother. And my aunt. It never mattered.”
“Why did Equestria even have them?”
Flurry raised a brow and smirked. “Well, Sombra killed all of the Crystal Empire’s nobility. A lot of the lines claimed descent from Platinum’s time, a holdover from Old Equestria. I suppose she didn’t want to look like a monster. Prince Blueblood was supposedly Platinum’s last descendant, you know.”
“And you hanged him out there?” Grover queried with a scoff.
“He died a long time ago, and according to Rarity, he was unlikely to sire foals,” Flurry quipped back. “Any noble worth their title lost it years ago.”
“How convenient for you,” Grover remarked.
“It only took being invaded,” Flurry answered. “I don’t recommend it.”
“Good advice for my aunt,” Grover muttered. The tip of his pencil broke and he narrowed his eyes before tossing it to the side. Flurry caught it in her magic, then picked up the broken end. They levitated back together.
Grover felt Benito tense behind him and gave the dog a severe stare over a wing. The alicorn stuffed the broken end back into the pencil, then the tip blackened with heat as it fused back together. The wood discolored slightly before Flurry blew on it and floated it over to the griffon. Grover plucked it out of her magic wordlessly and resumed looking at his papers.
“Fight the Hegemony!”
The Princess of Friendship’s muzzle froze again, and the Princess of Ponies stared at her last remaining family member for several minutes in silence. Grover let her sit there as his film crews worked. “I didn’t think you liked her,” Flurry finally whispered.
The Kaiser set his pencil down. “I have her book,” Grover replied with a confused squawk. “Her school was absurd, but she at least attempted to call us equals.”
“She agreed that the Griffonian Republic was the legitimate government,” Flurry recalled. Her muzzle quirked into a frown. “Didn’t Eros denounce her with Celestia and Luna?”
“Yes,” Grover shrugged a wing, “but Kemerskai is dead. I saw him hang.”
“Alex’s father?”
“He was also named Alexander Kemerskai.” Grover finally twisted to make eye contact. Laying prone on the cushion, he had to look up to meet the alicorn’s eyes and the Reichstone shifted again. He clenched his beak. “I grew up with stories about the griffon that broke my father’s empire. My Reichsarmee took him alive when Cloudbury fell; his son escaped to die by your horn. Have you ever seen Chrysalis? Yourself?”
“No,” Flurry admitted. She pursed her lips. “Only in Aquileia, when she pretended to be my mother.”
“I hope she is not a disappointment,” Grover stated. “The nobles and priests alike dragged a sad, old bird out to a noose with smiles. I was supposed to see a monster.” The griffon cracked his wrist with a dull pop. “Cécile Gaudreau was the same. I should have expected Kemerskai to be a disappointment.”
Flurry blinked. “President Gaudreau?” she asked softly. “From Aquileia?”
“You think we pardoned her?” Grover scoffed mirthlessly.
“I met her. She was a nice griffoness.”
“She would have carved apart my empire just like Kemerskai. I saw her hang the morning I met you,” Grover replied. “I was in Aquileia to be crowned.”
Flurry Heart closed her eyes. “Eros took you to hangings?”
“How old were you the first time you saw someone die?” Grover asked. “We celebrated our triumphs. Beakolini escaped, but King Talonuel of Wingbardy went down fighting.”
Flurry snorted and opened her eyes. “He was happy to invade New Mareland. Fuck him. How is New Mareland?”
“You have a coarse tongue.” Grover picked up the pencil again. "We are still integrating it. The griffon minority is happy, but few ponies have stepped forward to help with the protectorate. There has been more progress since the battle."
"You mean since I fought," Flurry connected. "Good."
Grover chuckled. “Gallus told me about Cozy Glow. Equestria’s stupidity defies belief. I thought he was being apocryphal the first time he said a tree tried to kill him.”
“I’m sure you think I should kill her,” Flurry assessed.
“It is the prudent thing to do.”
“Like massacring 40,000 prisoners.”
Gods damn it. Grover stabbed the pencil down and rebroke the tip. He shoved the folder to the side. “I have no interest in taking prisoners. All of them have wings and a horn. All of them are shapeshifters. Their agents and saboteurs look the same as their civilians, and they are built to blend in.”
“What do you think is going to happen when your army reaches the Changeling Lands?” Flurry nickered. She fixed the pencil again and set it back down with a deep breath.
“The seas will boil and the sky will burn,” Grover answered. His deep blue eyes bore up at her. “You want something different? After what they did to your family?”
“I want Thorax to be King of the Changelings,” Flurry revealed. “We can’t kill them all.”
“Your uncle can be king of whatever my army leaves in its wake,” Grover retorted. “The Reichsarmee is not taking prisoners. The changeling civilians in the west are fleeing and slowing down the Heer’s retreat. I am not wasting time and resources attempting to deal with a race born for duplicity.”
Grover paused. “There have always been rules, even in the times of Grover the Great. Do not fly your enemy’s banner, do not wear your enemy’s heraldry, respect the civilians.” He counted them down on a talon. “Chivalry was built upon those rules, and the Changelings break every convention we have ever held.”
“That’s not my point,” Flurry shook her head. “You can’t kill them all. It’ll be a guerrilla war for the next forty years. And unless you’re truly just fucking off back to Griffonia, I’ll have to deal with it.”
Grover leaned back. He rested his beak on a claw.
“Alcippe approached you,” Flurry continued. She quirked an eyebrow. “Guess your knights beat the shit out of her, but the ‘lings aren’t going to go to ponies to surrender. Taking them in now and ‘protecting them’ from my ponies gives future surrenders a lifeline.”
Grover inspected his other claw. The bruises had healed, and the Princess did not seem to notice. He hummed, “Chrysalis will call it fake and propaganda.”
“Of course she will,” Flurry sighed, “but the ones that believe her would fight anyway. Especially when we reach the Changeling Lands.”
“You think Chrysalis will surrender?”
“No,” Flurry chuckled ruefully. “Someone will have to kill her.” Her muzzle furrowed. “Grover the Great only slaughtered his prisoners once.”
“In Aquileia,” Grover explained, mildly surprised she knew that. “His army was outnumbered outside Azincork, and when the Aquileians appeared to rout him, he ordered the knights to slaughter the captives and return to battle. It won him the battle and the war.”
“We’re winning. For now. We can afford mercy.”
“And when that mercy makes us lose?”
Flurry shrugged her wing. “Your ancestor had an answer.”
Grover turned to the shimmering projection of Twilight Sparkle. It popped into small sparks as the spell was cut. “For the Princess of Hope, you are very pragmatic.”
“I’m also called the Princess of Rope,” Flurry returned. “I didn’t choose either title.”
“The Opinicus Order are not your personal assassins,” Grover said. "I loaned them to you to help take Canterlot, not commit a proscription of your nobility."
Flurry blinked slowly and narrowed her eyes. “I’m sure they told you what I intended. Besides, ponies hanged them. Not very chivalrous to kill prisoners and take their stuff, I admit, but they had no problem with it.”
“Chivalry is a lie,” Grover admitted, “to be discarded when convenient. My Reichsarmee sharped their claws on other griffons for a decade, fighting to retake my empire. Now we face evil.”
“You face your former allies,” Flurry quipped back. She looked over the balcony’s railing to the gathered photographers. Her eyes swept over the boarded-up windows.
Grover’s left wing jittered against his coat, feeling the imprint of the holster and the pistol inside it. “Chrysalis dies.”
“Yes,” Flurry agreed.
“If she’s taken alive, I will execute her. She is mine.”
“Okay,” Flurry Heart shrugged a hoof, as if it did not matter to her at all. “You think I want to give her a trial to spit more lies?”
“You do not want to kill her?” Grover asked. He blinked. She agreed too quickly.
The alicorn hesitated, only for a moment. “She can fall down the stairs for all I care,” she said quickly. “It doesn’t matter how she dies. This won’t end until she does.”
You’re lying, Grover thought. And then he said it out loud. “You are lying.”
Flurry’s ears pinned back. “What?”
“She destroyed your family. It is natural to want revenge.”
“Justice,” Flurry corrected, “and I don’t care what happens to her.”
Grover’s cheeks pulled into a smirk. “Are you lying to me or to yourself?”
Flurry exhaled. “My entire family is gone. I haven’t even seen my grandparents’ house yet. What do you want me to say? That I hate her?”
“That you want to kill her,” Grover shrugged a wing. “Why do you pretend you do not?”
“Because I don’t care,” Flurry huffed. Her ears flicked above her stubble.
“You do,” Grover said simply. “You act as if you do not. Another play.”
“My family didn’t believe in revenge,” Flurry said in a weaker voice.
“Are you pretending to be them?” Grover questioned. “Look at where they are.”
“When my aunt recovers,” Flurry regained the fire in her voice, “she will rule beside me. You agreed to acknowledge her.”
“If she was alive,” Grover countered. “I will acknowledge her as she is.”
“She is the Princess of Friendship. She beat Discord and Tirek. Chrysalis won’t beat her.”
Grover stared at her. “Words are wind.”
Flurry closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath. “Your army helped Chrysalis as well. Your regent. And your empire.” She opened an icy eye and turned it to him. “Your army killed my father. Not her. Maybe I should blame you.” Her horn flickered with a small flame at the tip.
Benito moved behind Grover, then suddenly stopped. Grover turned his head to see the dog encased in golden magic with his pistol drawn. He had moved fast, and his brown eyes were wide.
The pistol was aiming at Grover. No one beyond the balcony had noticed. Grover knew several knights were keeping watch, but they had shifted to the sides of the ballroom during the projections.
Flurry clicked her tongue. “This is how I killed Blackpeak,” she admitted in a whisper. “His paw isn’t on the trigger, but I could pull it myself. You wanna try reaching for the pistol under your wing?”
Grover studied her. While the Princess laid on the cushion looking down at him with unblinking glacial ice, a thin trail of blood came out her left nostril. Grover raised his right claw and stuffed it into his jacket. The alicorn did not react.
The Kaiser pulled out a monogramed cloth. “Your nose is bleeding,” he said dryly. “From the crater, I take it?” He offered it to her.
Flurry accepted it with a hoof and wiped her nose. “He’s struggling. It would be easier if he stood still.”
“Stop moving, Benito,” Grover said over his shoulder to the completely still dog. “You’ll break something before she does.” The dog did not seem to relax, but Flurry did. She stuffed the bloody cloth into a pocket after folding it.
Flurry Heart plucked the pistol from Benito’s paw and levitated it over to her muzzle. She frowned as her horn glowed. “Same pistol you had in Aquileia,” she commented to the dog. “The one you shot that changeling at the dock with.”
Grover blinked. “What?”
“Did he not tell you?” Flurry snorted. She caught the pistol in a forehoof as her horn dimmed, balancing it on her upturned, pink, chipped hoof.
Benito gasped and coughed, then partially drew his saber before Grover glared at him. The dog’s ears wilted as his muzzle twisted in horror. “My Kaiser-”
“What changeling?” Grover asked. “You reported to the Archon there were no problems.”
“It was inconsequential,” Benito admitted with a wince. “I dealt with it.”
“What changeling?” Grover snarled, forcing his voice into a deeper register.
“Some mare,” Benito finally whined. “Followed us with a pistol for a few blocks. I think she was trying to kill…” he glared at the alicorn. “Her. One shot through the head killed the changeling; she was disguised as a unicorn.”
“They lose the disguise when they die,” Flurry commented.
“I know,” Benito growled. “And she did. I kicked her into the bay.”
“Why did you not tell the Archon?” Grover questioned.
Benito’s ears, already wilted against his head, twitched. “It didn’t seem-”
“He did,” Flurry interrupted. Her lips pursed into a thin line across her muzzle. “The Changelings were too important, weren’t they?”
“You told me there were no problems,” Grover rephrased. He looked to Flurry for a moment, then Benito.
“Eros ordered it be swept under swift currents,” Benito offered. “It was not important, and you were fond of-”
“Do not use excuses!” Grover snapped. “I should have been told!”
“My Kaiser,” Benito said sorrowfully, “with all respect, you were ten.” He knelt. “I beg your forgiveness.”
Grover glared at him. Flurry balanced the pistol on her hoof, watching the exchange. “Thorax kept worse things from me,” she said bluntly. “Probably still does.”
“Get out,” the Kaiser said to her, then turned to the dog. “And you. I do not wish to see you for the rest of the day.” Benito looked away, and stood slowly with his gloved paw behind his back.
“My Kaiser,” he intoned with a drooping tail.
Flurry Heart threw the pistol to the dog. Benito nearly fumbled the catch with one paw and stared wildly at her. The alicorn snorted. “Safety’s on; can’t believe you tried to kill me with the same pistol you saved my life with.”
Benito squinted at the gun before holstering it. He looked to Grover. The Kaiser turned away and reopened his folder, resuming his tallies with the pencil. The griffon’s tan tail lashed counter-clockwise in a signal.
“I can’t believe you recognized the pistol,” Benito growled, given permission to speak. “And she was aiming at me first, not you.”
“Probably wanted to take me alive and shove me into a cocoon,” Flurry quipped. “Why’d you intervene?”
“The Kaiser commanded it.”
“I wasn’t asking you.”
Grover did not look over his shoulder. “What benefit would I get?” he responded to the Princess. “Perhaps she would have sent me another tank for my birthday. I had enough.”
Flurry Heart laughed behind him, crystal bells clinking together. “How many tanks am I worth?” she asked afterwards.
“At least 134,” Grover retorted. “That’s how many amphibious tanks you destroyed in the landing attempt at Nouveau Aquila. Would you like to know how many ships? Or planes? I did make a count. I should look for it.”
There was no response.
“How about my griffons?” Grover continued. “How many are you worth?”
“What about the Nova Griffonians?” a cold voice said behind him. “Weren’t they yours? How many did you plan on killing with my help?”
“As many as I needed to win,” Grover answered without looking behind him. “How many changelings are you willing to kill, Princess?”
“Less than you, apparently.”
“Just so,” Grover chuckled. “And that is why you need my army.”
Hooves stomped out behind him. The door opened and slammed shut. Grover counted the legs, and realized Benito was still behind him. “I told you to leave.”
“And I shall once the Princess is out of sight,” Benito stated.
“You believe you could stop her?” Grover asked bluntly. “She just proved you cannot.”
“Perhaps I can stop you from making more stupid comments,” Benito huffed. “My Kaiser.”
Grover paused, set the pencil down, and turned around fully on the cushion. “I told you to leave.”
“It was cruel to insult her family,” Benito said coldly, “and foolish to mock an alicorn.”
“She mocks me every time we speak,” Grover spat. “She should be grateful I will even consider this folly with prisoners. And I do not need judgements from a liar.”
Benito did not wince. “As you say, my Kaiser. I swore to obey your commands. She should be grateful; if you had not commanded her protection, she would have ended up beside her aunt. Eros intended to let Chrysalis have her. I’m sure you know that.”
“Get out,” Grover snarled. “Dismissed.”
Benito clasped a paw to his chest and exited. Another dog replaced him, bowing before the Kaiser and awaiting the command to stand. Grover only waved his wing and turned back around on the cushion. He grabbed the pencil and resumed his tallies, clenching it tightly in his claw.
My Maar-damned dogs will speak in her defense? She slaughters her nobility and wins my knights over with theatrics? She speaks our language like a peasant and even smells like one. I should have-
The tip of the pencil snapped again. Grover lost his thought and looked at it for a moment, then reared onto his paws and leaned on the balcony. Flurry had left, and the little crystal was packed away and gone as well. The film crews and photographers continued to pack away their things while hammers and saws echoed distantly. The Reichstone shifted on his head again. Grover set it down on the railing of the balcony and stared at it.
The Reichstone laid on its side atop the desk, but Grover was too afraid to reach up and grab it. The room had descended into madness the moment the smaller alicorn had attacked the larger one. This was not how it was supposed to go; Eros promised him it would be simple.
The changelings were nice, but appearing as someone’s mother did not seem nice. It seemed like a horrid trick. Thranx had shown him the trick a few times back at the palace. There was a high shriek and a clash of metal as a knight fought with a Jaeger somewhere near the doors. Benito barked just after a pained, dual-toned scream.
Grover crawled out from under the desk. He looked to Eros first, deep in an argument with some knight, then to Benito standing on the long rug. He had drawn his saber and hacked down savagely at one of the armored changelings. Thranx stood to the side, completely at ease with the chaos around him. The changeling looked resigned.
Grover’s glasses were slightly knocked off his beak. He decided to grab the Reichstone first before fixing them. Eros told him it was always important to look like the Kaiser. He poked his head over the top of the desk.
The light pink alicorn was under Benito, sprawled out across the rug with a bloody muzzle. She shook her head as her pale blue eyes sharpened. Grover angled his beak so she swam into focus with his glasses.
She grinned at him upside down. Her teeth were stained red, and her horn scraped the rug. She seemed completely unconcerned about what was going on. In fact, she seemed rather proud of the chaos.
Grover looked at her with wide eyes, and looked to the Reichstone atop the desk. He was supposed to look like the Kaiser of Griffonkind. The young griffon tensed and leapt atop the desk after a deep inhale. A paw knocked the crown off the edge.
“I command you to stop!” He did not think any griffon heard him.
But surprisingly, they did.
Grover rolled the broken pencil between his claws as he stared at the Reichstone. He tapped one of the gems with the eraser, listening to the dull thump. After a moment, he matched the beat of one of the distant hammers.
I should have… Grover sighed. There were a thousand things he should have done. He could not decide on just one. The griffon tossed the pencil down to the folder and shoved the Reichstone back on his head.
The soldiers guarding the checkpoint stomped their hooves three times as the procession approached the bridge. It was a simple station, only piled sandbags, ugly concrete, and ponies sitting on pilfered velvet chairs stopping anyone attempting to cross. The Changeling barricades had been broken down during the assault and in the first few days; what was left was a formality as Canterlot was secured.
Flurry Heart stared at the chips along the bridge’s stone railing from errant bullets. Like everything else in Canterlot, the bride was sleek and elegant marble with purple accents, but the luster was damaged by faded bloodstains and battle damage. The Changeling soldiers currently held in dozens of warehouses in Lower Canterlot had repulsed several frenzied attacks on this bridge during the uprising. One of five into Upper Canterlot, the bridge the alicorn was standing before was a chokepoint for any non-flier.
The heavy machine guns that once rested on the sandbags had been moved to the castle, secured with thousands of Changeling weapons from the surrendered garrison. Flurry did not seek them out. Sometimes as she laid in her cot during sleepless nights, she reached out with her magic and felt their presence in the bowels of the castle. It would be trivial to trot down there and find out how many of her ponies died to each gun.
A dozen ponies in ELF gray now stood at attention, having left their stolen chairs at the column’s approach. The guards were dwarfed by the size of Flurry’s escort; nearly fifty ponies led by Frosty Jadis in purple uniforms formed a barrier around the Princess. The crystal mare spoke briefly with the commander of the checkpoint, a nervous unicorn who constantly eyed the alicorn scanning over her bridge.
Flurry wore her full armor. Towering over adult mares and stallions, her purple crystal drank in the sunlight and swirled with subdued patterns of flames. She was easily visible coming down the street, yet the ELF soldiers still looked surprised.
Or intimidated, Flurry amended to herself. She hummed under her helmet, smashing a spent bullet case flat under her heavy greave with a solid clop. Most of the large debris had been cleared from Upper Canterlot, but Flurry had spied shell casings scattered along the curbs all the way from the castle.
Two Reich knights flew over the bridge, flying low and banking towards Middle Canterlot. Nopony commented on them, nor tried to stop them. The Reichsarmee had technically ‘partnered’ with Flurry’s army to take control of Canterlot, but Colonel Sunset had rolled her eyes at the reports. “They don’t stop for the checkpoints, they don’t agree to be scanned, and they fly their own patrols,” she had summarized in a sardonic report two days ago.
The two armies hadn’t been in close proximity or forced to work together until Canterlot. Even then, the core of the Reichsarmee was still pushing west at a snail’s pace, bogged down as the Hegemony did everything in their power to slow the advance and hold out until the rainstorms. Flurry tilted her helmet up to the sky for a moment. She peered north, spotting the faint pink tint on the horizon. It was a sunny day, but dark clouds were gathering. The rains would come soon; it was already hailing against her shield at the Crystal Empire.
Flurry angled her helmet back down to shelter her exposed jaw. Through the eye slits, her icy eyes swept over the rooftops before the bridge. She was standing on one of the main streets that ran all through Canterlot to the mountain gates. The estates and palatial houses that flanked her were currently being ransacked. Ponies in purple outfits loaded silverware and anything valuable onto trucks haphazardly parked onto previously well-manicured lawns.
The mansion to her immediate right had been fully cleared. The truck started up with a rumble and eased its way out of the front yard, leaving behind a gutted mansion with broken windows. A mare ran out the mahogany double doors in a purple uniform, carrying a small gilded teapot in her teeth. The soldiers in the truck whinnied in laughter as she tossed it to them in her magic, then leapt aboard. The truck turned around Flurry’s escort and moved slowly down the road, axel visibly sagging under the weight of looted materials.
Flurry had decreed the mansions would be opened for housing, split between barracks for her soldiers and the thousands of homeless ponies from Lower Canterlot. Large portions of apartments and storefronts burned, and all the repair efforts were being expended on the airship dockyards and the road. Canterlot would be ugly for a long time. Sunset had argued that rebuilding it would bolster Flurry’s legitimacy; Tempest simply pointed to the alicorn’s wings and horn with her own jagged stump and ended the argument.
I need to set a date for the coronation, Flurry reminded herself. Then, I need to have a meeting about the reconstruction. Then review the resettlement of Lower Canterlot. Then the Hegemony prisoners. Then…
Flurry sighed. She needed to do a lot of things. Instead, she strapped on her armor to walk through Canterlot. She shoved the growing list of things she needed to do out of her mind. Her horn pulsed with the detection spell again. A few of the soldiers tensed as the magic washed over their fur, but her guards did not react, instead scanning the rooftops and windows of the mansions.
A filly wandered out of the mansion the soldiers left, a maroon unicorn with chubby cheeks. She sniffled and sat on the front lawn besides an overturned chair dragged from the house. Flurry stared, easily visible over the heads of her soldiers.
The filly glared back with teary eyes.
Check with Limestone about the foals, Flurry added to the mental list. The bodies had been taken down from the gallows several days ago. She was busy with Cozy Glow the night most of Canterlot’s remaining nobility were executed. Somepony had a list of heirs that feasted on cake while their parents were dragged away.
Probably Thorax. We’ll need to split them up. War made orphans, and Sunset had taken an interest in reorganizing part of the pre-war Cutie Mark Crusaders Club into a youth organization to help settlement and adjustment for young ponies. Like the communes and worker factories, it was all a temporary measure to keep Equestria walking.
Which goes back to the reconstruction. Flurry turned back to Jadis as the crystal pony ceased speaking with the checkpoint commander and limped back. She kicked a spent case to the side with her awkward gait as she approached.
“Princess,” Jadis dipped her head. “We’re still sweeping through Lower Canterlot. We think a few Changelings might have hidden out in the burnt districts. Middle Canterlot is secure.”
“We’re going to Middle Canterlot,” Flurry said aloud. “The Plaza of the Arts, then two blocks down.”
Jadis bit her lip. “There’s a lot of ponies, Princess.” Her eyes widened. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you,” she said quickly, “but we could get some more ponies and-”
“This is enough,” Flurry declared. She swept her wings at the alert soldiers, crystals slicing through the air with her feathers. Most had learned to always keep two body-lengths away from the Princess due to her wingspan. The knifelike crystals extending from her wings helped. The alicorn was still too encumbered to fly, and her feathers just recovered.
“As you say,” Jadis agreed reluctantly. She eyed Flurry suspiciously, doubtlessly aware that the Princess had set off without informing any of her commanders, but also too loyal to refuse an order. Flurry nodded her helmet to her, then to the stallion commanding the checkpoint. The pony seemed grateful for the acknowledgement and turned back to the sandbags with his soldiers.
Flurry Heart and her guards marched across the bridge. She leaned over the side to check the river flowing down the mountain. The debris was gone, including the body she spotted when she entered the city. Chrysalis’ black arch still remained in front of Canterlot Castle, but the Hegemony was being stripped from the capital piece-by-piece.
The armed cordon was alert and wary. Ponies couldn’t fire very accurately on the move; rifles and submachine guns were in hoof’s reach, but a moving pony was a trotting ambush target. Flurry summoned her golden bubble shield around herself as she walked in the center of the guards. Her ponies didn’t comment.
Jadis was the only crystal pony in her escort; the rest were ELF veterans. Most wore the Imperial Snowflake now, or the Elements of Harmony under the purple armband. An older mare with sagging eyes twisted her head to look at the bubble shield. Flurry smiled under her helmet at her, and the mare returned to scanning the street with a spark of hope in her eyes.
Flurry dropped the smile once the mare’s tail was turned. Hope doesn’t build roads, doesn’t feed foals, doesn’t win wars. There was a truncated list resting on her cot in her appropriated office. Flurry had left it there this morning; a rough summary of the rebuilding costs and expectations, based upon the damage in the east.
Flurry would spend the rest of her life paying the costs to rebuild Equestria and the Empire. If she was immortal, it would be decades before it resembled anything from before the war. The weather system was in tatters and the ecology was bereft. Animals that once looked to ponies for guidance and help were skittish and afraid. The factories and dockyards were still functional, but the Hegemony didn’t care about the damage to the environment; their own land was proof enough of that.
The Changeling Lands were always rumored to be a blighted landscape; it spawned a race of parasites and face-stealers after all, and the rapid industrialization of the past few decades did it no favors. It was all concrete and smog now, a black cloud that hung over the continent for years before the war. Thorax rarely spoke about his home. He had once told her it was legendarily beautiful a long time ago, but something happened that changelings couldn’t agree upon.
The Crystal Empire, the Changeling Lands, Old Equestria, the Thestrals, so much is gone. Even before the war. The alicorn’s mind wandered, letting her cordon lead her down the road. Ponies noticed the procession and began to shout, but the shield and armed guards deterred another herd from approaching. The joy of liberation had worn off with the rounding up of the Changeling prisoners and the ugly work of rebuilding.
Flurry and her guards entered Middle Canterlot properly, taking one of the main roads that ran through the city to the mountain path. There were few automobiles, even fewer than normal for Equestria. Ponies didn’t take to cars very well before the war, and none could afford one in the Hegemony's economy.
A single black convertible was parked halfway on the sidewalk, clearly a Changeling luxury model with a messy white snowflake painted on the hood. Flurry snorted at it. Does that mean it’s mine? I should learn how to drive.
Flurry could fly a plane, but nopony ever taught her how to drive. Celestia famously preferred her chariot for public appearances, and Luna simply walked or flew. It was part of the Equestrian commitment to sustainability, just as Winter Wrap-Up or the Running of the Leaves or a dozen other silly events that had been forgotten over the years.
Beauty doesn’t stop bullets. Flurry regarded her armored hooves. Ugly, thick purple crystal, already marred with slight scars that swirled in the light from the noonday sun. They matched the scarred cobblestone she trod upon, and reflected the state of Equestria better than anypony wanted to admit.
Flurry Heart would be Princess of Equestria and the Crystal Empire, a full integration of both lands that crystal ponies like Arctic Lily once feared, but now welcomed. The Crystal City was the largest city in the world, and while Canterlot was grander and more intact, it lacked the space to grow on the mountain.
The Crystal City was only limited by the Crystal Heart, and it now spanned across the north of the continent. Fields and farmlands were already expanding beyond the industrial center, and Arctic Lily had cobbled together a ‘four-year plan’ to restructure the city into a proper imperial capital. Governor Josette had already connected a few of the railways into the Nova Griffonian frontier to the Crystal City’s network, but the only line to Equestria was still the northern rail from Canterlot, bisected by the shield.
Flurry shook her head. Not thinking about it now. The alicorn had heard Jadis refer to herself as an ‘Imperial’ in a conversation with an ELF member, and wondered how far that spread. The Crystal Heart’s shield covered a large part of northern Equestria, including most of Stalliongrad’s territory. She had claimed everything under the shield was hers under the radio, and it was true enough with Grover ceding Nova Griffonia.
I know that’s going to be a conversation, Flurry huffed. I can already see Sunset and Limestone rubbing their hooves. “Oh, is it the Empire or Equestria? Ponies won’t like that. We’re the Equestrian Liberation Front.” She abruptly stopped and took a deep breath, raising her foreleg to her chest plate and exhaling. Her unarmored jaw twitched with energy.
“Princess?” one of her guards asked. The ELF pegasus fluttered her wings and checked her rifle subconsciously. Flurry stared at the Imperial Snowflake on her right foreleg, then the Elements of Harmony armband on her left.
Which one do you prefer? Flurry let the question go unsaid and jerked her head forward. The group moved forward, wary of the several dozen gawking ponies crying out for Flurry’s acknowledgement. She waved a wing absent-mindedly while her unicorn guards cast the detection spell where they could.
The group slowed near a ruined bar. A dozen armed soldiers had lined up nearly forty ponies against the storefront window and held them at gunpoint. A Reichsarmee squad matched from the opposite sidewalk. Flurry blinked in realization that both armies wore gray uniforms, albeit the ELF’s uniforms were slightly lighter in color.
Flurry dispelled her shield and sliced her wings down. The crystals chimed in a signal and her guards stopped. Jadis shifted and grabbed her rifle, eyeing the street in front of the column.
“What’s going on?” Flurry called out to the soldiers holding the ponies at gunpoint. A mare in a cap broke from the firing line and trotted over, carefully slinging her weapon by her side on approach. The pale pink earth pony bowed before Jadis, several body lengths away from the Princess.
“Rise,” Flurry acknowledged.
The mare stood and removed her cap. “Just a standard sweep, Princess.” She pointed to three unicorns slowly moving down the line of ponies in front of the window. “We’re checking for changelings.”
Flurry studied the civilians. Most wore dresses or jackets for pockets, but it didn’t hide the scarring around their hooves, horns and wings. They just looked tired. A few appeared better off, and they were uniformly more nervous. The hardened ponies holding them at gunpoint were more ragged than all of Canterlot's citizens, years of living in the Everfree or running partisan attacks dulling their eyes and bristling their fur coats.
The mare in command was no different. Her eyes were cold, looking through Flurry, or perhaps at something beyond her, what she represented more than the tall, gangly filly she actually was.
To be the Crystal Empress is to be the Empire. It is a burden, daughter, not a gift.
“Are you ELF?” Flurry asked. The mare’s uniform was a stained gray, homespun and cobbled together.
“Daisy Valley,” the mare nodded. “Ponyville native and commander of this militia.” She waved a rear hoof backward at the soldiers. “I’m under command of General Limestone.”
“Did you know my aunt?” Flurry returned.
“Everypony in Ponyville knew Princess Twilight,” Daisy answered. Her eyes clouded briefly and she hesitated. “She’s still a Princess, right?”
“Now and always,” Flurry said immediately.
“Good,” Daisy nodded, then nodded again. “Good.” Her tail whipped against her rear leg.
“Do you want help with the spell?” Flurry offered. The unicorns were making good progress, but they were clearly fatigued from spellcasting. One’s nose was bloody.
“I don’t want to impose, Princess,” Daisy whickered in surprise.
“It’s no trouble,” Flurry lied. Her horn still had an ache in the base, but nowhere near as blindingly bad as the night of the battle. A golden glow enveloped the spiral sticking out from the top of her helmet. The thin pink felt regrowing on her horn smoked slightly.
A few of the ponies in the row were terrified. Daisy barked a command for her soldiers to step back. Flurry locked eyes with one sweating mare standing next to a tired dockworker with chipped hooves. Her coat was ruffled, but still healthy. The unicorn's lips trembled.
Poor disguise. Flurry cast the spell and let it blow through the street. The Reichsarmee soldiers tensed at the magic, but none of her soldiers even twitched. The spell hit the line of ponies in front of the bar’s open window.
The mare was not a changeling, but the stallion next to her erupted into green fire as his shapeshifting abilities failed. A thin, young changeling in oversized coveralls looked just as tired and resigned as his disguise. He said nothing as the mare shifted away from the green magic with a whinny of fear.
The changeling stood completely still, blue eyes looking up at the clear sky. He didn’t move or lunge or even say anything. The street was quiet as the spell reached its maximum distance.
The soldier in front of the changeling fired her rifle and shot him through the head. The changeling crumbled to the ground with a faint splash of blood on the window behind him. The other ponies in the line-up appeared relieved. The stallion to the right of the changeling spat on the corpse, but refrained from doing anything else with the Princess watching.
Flurry swallowed. “Was that necessary?” she asked aloud.
“They had the opportunity to surrender,” Jadis commented from the side of her mouth. “Standing orders are to execute any changelings found disguised behind the front lines.”
“Whose orders?”
Jadis blinked and twisted her head. “Yours, Princess. Before the Crystal Empire.”
“Bah!” Daisy snorted. “Probably stripped off his little black uniform and found some dead dockworker. They do it all the time to try and blend in until they can escape the city.” She waved her hoof at the rest of the line-up. “Get moving, everypony! Thank you for your cooperation!”
Several wanted to approach Flurry, but the armed soldiers deterred them. Flurry waved her wing again and nodded to them with a plastered smile affixed to her muzzle. The stallion that spit on the corpse waved back.
“Serves them right,” one of the Reichsarmee griffons squawked in Herzlander to his squadmate. “Ruined our beer as well as our language. Did you see that bar?”
“Show’s over,” the other said in a lower voice. “I don’t want to stick around Maar’s Daughter.”
“You afraid?” the first needled in a high-pitched, reedy screech.
Flurry turned around to stare at them from her helmet’s eye slits. The chortling griffon quieted and let his squadmate usher him away with the rest of his friends. The Princess clicked her tongue and returned to the soldiers.
Daisy and several earth ponies unceremoniously stripped the corpse and flung the body into a wooden cart parked along the sidewalk. “We’ll take the body to be burned at the end of the day,” she assured Jadis. “We have enough to worry about without disease. Learned that from the Everfree.”
The mare that stood next to the changeling shuffled slowly down the sidewalk, eyes wide and hooves shaking. She abruptly collapsed against the wall, then stumbled down an alley and cried. Daisy’s ear cocked at the noise and she turned around.
After an assessment, she scoffed. “You know,” she said conversationally to Jadis, “I sold flowers in Canterlot a few times. Those ponies always looked down at Ponyville from their high horns before the war. No wonder they collaborated. Too soft for war.”
“Ponyville had a reputation as well,” Flurry countered.
Daisy’s ears pinned back at the rebuke. “Yeah,” she acknowledged. She didn’t say anything else and bowed again.
Flurry waved her away with a wing. “Dismissed.”
Daisy led her ponies up the street, back towards the castle. Flurry summoned her bubble shield and took her place back at the center of the guards. “The Plaza of the Arts,” she said aloud.
Jadis took the lead again, moving with a native Canterlot soldier. Neither spoke to each other, but each watched their side of the street with practiced ease. Flurry noticed the smear of blood on the sidewalk from the dead changeling, then passed the mare sobbing in the alley.
I should feel something. Flurry knew she should. The ‘ling was young, probably her age or younger. If he served, he would have been a trainee or a conscript, not some hardened Heer officer that kicked ponies for a living. It was possible he didn't serve at all and was just some terrified civilian trying to blend in.
Flurry thought about the changeling filly in the cupboard that she shot in the Crystal City. She was younger than the alicorn, and Flurry didn’t feel anything about her, either. The changeling had a short-barreled shotgun, fighting with a squad of Changeling soldiers. The alicorn didn’t know how young she really was; she only sensed the weapon and the squeak of the cupboard door. Why even fight?
The answer came to her with a glance at Jadis. Because we were killing them all, Flurry realized. We were fighting in her house.
She caught herself and her wings jittered. Not hers. Ours. Ours that they stole. There was a large crowd of braying ponies at the Plaza of the Arts, and Flurry first thought it was for her.
But they were facing the wrong direction, crowded in the middle of the thoroughfare. The Plaza was situated in the middle of a roundabout, perfect for artisans to show off their skills at painting, sculpture, music, or theatre. Flurry had a vague memory of attending some play with her entire family, but she couldn’t remember a thing about it.
The Plaza once had a large marble plinth and seats for an audience, but it had been replaced with a rearing statue of Queen Chrysalis years ago. The statue was gone, only a single leg remained affixed to the marble base, sticking out from a crowd of unicorns, earth ponies, and pegasi. Several soldiers stood atop the plinth, pointing into the crowd.
The noise was deafening and Flurry couldn’t pick out any voices. But she could pick out the corpses swinging from the lampposts ringing the roundabout street. They circled the road, each two-pronged lamppost bearing two corpses, except for one that the crowd surged around. Ropes had already been fastened to the extremities with nooses hanging low and ready to be hitched upwards.
Flurry broke rank, dispelled her shield, and moved towards the lamppost, using her wingspan to clear her way through the guards. They briskly trotted after her to keep up; Jadis lagged behind. The herd didn’t notice the tall armored alicorn striding towards them, too caught up in dragging a mare and stallion to the lamppost.
The ELF soldiers atop the plinth shouted for order, but few in the crowd listened. Whinnies of victory overwhelmed any calls and commands. Flurry’s horn pulsed. A wave of rough telekinetic force staggered the crowd and jostled them. Most finally turned to the street to see the alicorn approaching. All except for a dozen in the center of the herd bowed, nearly two hundred ponies.
Flurry raised her wings and stepped around the prone ponies. A few shifted away on bent knees; Flurry did not tell them to rise. The soldiers atop the plinth leapt or flew down, also moving through the crowd. Mare, stallion, filly, and colt waited in a suddenly quiet thoroughfare.
She didn’t see any foals in the crowd, but it was a interclass gathering of dockworkers, craftsmares, artisans, and veterans judging from the scattered outfits. A few glanced up at her while she trotted by, but most looked down. The dozen in the center inclined their heads, but remained holding onto the stallion and mare.
The stallion was a mundane, brown earth pony with a short-cut mane. He had been beaten; one eye was swollen shut. The mare was a dark red unicorn; her mane was sandy, but it had been roughly shaved like Flurry’s own. Her tail matched her mane to Flurry’s disgust. Both ponies were naked other than their fur.
Flurry scanned over the herd carrying the two ponies to their deaths. Like the crowd, it was a mix of every tribe. A pegasus mare had roughly stuffed a rag into the unicorn’s muzzle. She was sobbing and struggling against her captors; the stallion had been beaten badly enough he wasn’t resisting.
Flurry kept her wings raised, and took a deep breath. “Rise.”
The crowd did so slowly, shuffling away from the soldiers that raced to catch up to Flurry. Jadis limped up just as the commander from the plinth shoved his way through. The alicorn ground her teeth at the growing horn ache.
“Are you in command?” she snapped at the stallion. He wasn’t an Imperial; he was wearing an ELF uniform with the Elements of Harmony on his foreleg.
“Princess,” he dipped his forelegs partially. His soldiers echoed him.
“Rise,” Flurry repeated in a clipped tone. “What’s going on?”
The commander blinked at the Princess, then gazed to the lampposts. “Justice?” he offered uncertainly.
Flurry gave a severe glare to the crowd restraining the two ponies. “I’ll rephrase,” she growled out. “Why is a mob hanging two ponies and what are they accused of?”
“They were brought to the square,” the commander answered with a nervous tilt of his head. “It’s what we’ve been doing.”
“What?” Flurry bit her lower lip.
“We listen to the charges, then decide whether the charges have merit,” the stallion continued. He was an older earth pony with a southern drawl and a scar running into his mane. His graying hair was exposed when he removed his cap to wipe his muzzle.
“And then you hang them?” Flurry snorted. “Who decides if they have ‘merit?’ What’s the process? Who are you?”
The stallion bowed properly this time, as best he could in the crowd. “Balanced Scale, Princess. I was a judge out of Rockville before the war. I was assigned to this task by the Field Marshal. It helped quell the lynchings.”
Jadis’ ear flicked and she looked at the crowd with a flat muzzle. Flurry could guess her thoughts. This is a lynching. At least it isn’t going from street to street.
The alicorn hummed with an exhale. “What are they accused of?”
“The stallion profited off the Hegemony’s exploitation of Equestria,” Balanced Scale explained. “The mare…” he paused and blushed.
Flurry worked her jaw and gazed down at him through the eye slits of her helmet.
“The mare slept with Heer officers for favors,” he reluctantly explained at her glare. Flurry regarded the accused mare. She was pretty, even without her mane and tail. It had clearly been shaved as a humiliation, but apparently that wasn’t enough of a punishment.
“Sleeping with changelings is punishment enough,” Flurry declared. A few in the crowd laughed, but the pegasus grappling with the mare bared her teeth.
“She sold information to them!” she rasped. Some heads nodded beside her, but the mare shook her own head desperately. Muffled, teary shouting sounded through the rag.
Flurry considered her. “How do you know?”
The pegasus wrenched the unicorn’s head up with a headlock. “Look at her horn! No divots! Fancy whore sold us out!”
Flurry studied the sobbing mare’s horn, then examined the crowd. Many of the unicorns had divots drilled into the base of their horn to limit their spellcasting. Most of the veterans that surrendered with the fall of Equestria were punished with clipped wings, leaden horseshoes, or weakened horns for their ‘defiance’ during the war. Feathers could regrow and hooves could heal, but many unicorns would never recover their full potential.
Flurry took a deep breath. Her horn throbbed, but she forced the detection spell and preemptively sniffed to hide the trickle of blood from her nose. “What proof?”
The pegasus stared blankly up at the Princess.
“What proof?” Flurry repeated.
“L-look at her!” the pegasus stumbled. “She’s healthy! She ate well!”
“You know her,” Flurry stated.
The pegasus snarled and shoved the unicorn down. “Yes,” she admitted. “She was our neighbor, me and my brother. We helped the ELF, and she reported us!”
The mare whinnied something through the rag.
The pegasus kicked her savagely in the barrel. “Y-you did!” she insisted with a broken voice. “I know you did! You knew we were helping and you sold us out! They killed him because of you!”
Flurry removed the rag with a flick of her horn. “Let her talk,” she ordered.
The mare sobbed. “I swear to Celestia… I didn’t do it. Please, I didn’t.”
“Wrong Princess,” Jadis snorted from beside Flurry.
The mare crawled forward towards Flurry, checked by a stomp on her back from one of the guards from the plinth. “A few others vouched for the story,” Balanced Scale elaborated from the mare’s other side. “She was a known collaborator and widely suspected of selling information to the bugs.”
“Suspicion isn’t proof,” Flurry answered.
“Well, the commander is dead and it’s not like she’s going to admit to it,” Balanced Scale responded with an apologetic grimace. “Those who accused Scarlet Letter, step forward,” he ordered to the crowd.
The pegasus and five other mares trotted forward and knelt before Flurry Heart. She waved her armored hoof impatiently. All mares. Is this a thing? “It could’ve just been VOPS,” Flurry said.
“They had informants,” Balanced Scale acknowledged. “Her name isn’t on any of the surviving lists, but a casual relationship wasn’t likely to be kept in the records.” He looked to the side. “Not like they kept anything on the Generalmajor’s activities.”
Flurry blinked heavily, then switched to the stallion. “What about him? Profiteering?”
“Cut and dry,” Balanced Scale said with a nod.
The beaten stallion mumbled something.
Flurry gestured for the soldiers to bring him forward with a jerk of her horn. They practically dragged the earth pony up to the Princess. “Who is he?”
“Whistle Whittle,” Balanced Scale replied. “Woodcarver out of Middle Canterlot.”
“I built chairs,” the stallion mumbled.
Flurry turned to Balanced Scale. “Slave labor?”
“Just chairs,” the stallion continued. One of the soldiers shoved him to his knees. “For my family,” he gasped out as he hit the ground.
Balanced Scale waved a hoof at the crowd. “Those who accused Whittle, step forward.” Three stallions limped forward and bowed. One struggled with a crooked knee and Flurry stopped him with a flare of her horn, helping him upright.
“Rise,” Flurry repeated. “You worked for him?”
“The bugs made us haul lumber to his shop,” the middle of the trio answered. “Every time this asshole made something, good ponies carried it on their backs up to some mansion for the bugs.” Ponies nodded in the crowd around them with lashing tails.
“Did you work for him?” Flurry repeated. “You said the Changelings made you do it, not him.”
“Well…” the stallion attempted a shrug of his hoof, then stumbled on his leg and nickered angrily. “That might as well be working for him!”
“Speak,” Flurry said down to the beaten earth pony.
“I took commissions,” he answered listlessly. “I built everything myself. No assistants.” The stallion’s hooves were worn, but from years of woodworking and not from leaden horseshoes. “I didn’t have a say in who they sent, or why. I wasn't involved.”
“You did nothing!” a stallion in the crowd whinnied.
“They paid me,” Whittle coughed. “And I fed my family. They would have shut down the shop and sent me to the dockyards if I refused. Put my foals on the street.”
Flurry assessed the stallion’s age, guessing early thirties. “Did you fight in the war?”
“No,” Whittle rasped. “I wasn’t drafted.”
“Coward!” a voice shouted out in the crowd. Several repeated the cry. The ELF soldiers beside Whittle shared a hard look, then roughly picked him back up from the ground. Flurry had extended her wings and flapped them in warning, making the crystals slice through the air with a chime.
“Neither of them fought in the war,” Balanced Scale said.
“That’s not…” Flurry started and inhaled. “That’s not a reason to hang them.”
“It would help, Princess,” Balanced answered blithely. "Neither worked with the ELF as well."
Flurry shook her head and turned back to the trio of stallions. “Did he oversee the logs? The furniture? Did he laugh and shake hooves with the Changelings while you suffered?”
“I bet he did,” one snorted.
“Bet his wife laughed at us,” another added.
After a moment of silence, Flurry growled, "Where's his family?"
The stallions gaped at the alicorn’s open hostility. The one in the middle stammered, “W-we didn’t do anything to them! We’re not monsters! They’re fine!” His friends nodded beside him.
Flurry groaned. “If the Changelings hurt you, that’s with them, not Whittle. This wasn’t slave labor or mass exploitation.”
“You hanged all those parasites!” a voice in the crowd shouted.
“Does he look like a noble?” Flurry belted out in a dry voice; she tried to pick out who shouted at her, but nopony met her eyes. “Do you want to hang him because he had a better life than you?” she continued at a softer volume. “The Changelings would have worked you anyway.”
“It’s not fair,” the stallion in the middle whined petulantly. He raised a hoof and showed the markings from his leaden horseshoes, now removed. “They paid him while we worked to the bone for years. He knew we were suffering.”
So did I. Flurry shook her head. “Release him. And her.”
Balanced Scale frowned. “Princess?”
“Let them go!” Flurry called out. Her wings flapped again in warning. Jadis and her guards formed a proper cordon around the alicorn. “We’re done!”
The herd took several steps back, but most hesitated. Flurry stomped a hoof into the ground and cracked the stone. “We are done!” she shouted out, and her voice rippled through the crowd. “No more hangings!”
There was a moment of silence, then the pegasus stepped forward with teary eyes. “She sold out my brother!”
“She says she did not,” Flurry answered.
“And you believe her!?”
“I don’t know,” Flurry admitted, “and you don’t either. What about the others? Did she sell out more family and friends? Or are you just upset that she lived better than you?” The Princess twisted her helmet to the trio of stallions. “You want to kill a father because he had a better life than you? Because he didn’t fight?” The stallions looked away.
“Yes!” the same voice from earlier shouted out in the crowd. It was a filly’s voice, high-pitched and young. Flurry did not see the crier.
Flurry Heart unclasped her helmet and yanked it off her head. She reared up onto her hind legs and sliced her wing up at one of the nooses, neatly severing the rope with a sound like a windchime. She seized the falling noose with her magic and looped it around her neck, letting it dangle against the metal gorget like a macabre necklace.
The Princess of Rope kept her wings extended over the crowd. Her height let her be seen by everypony. Flurry glared at the herd, twisting her bare head with a grimace. “I had a better life than all of you. I am sorry for that. Do you want to hang me as well?” she challenged.
The crowd was very quiet, and not even the unseen filly had a response.
“Leave,” Flurry snarled.
The crowed backed away at the edges first, fraying into splinters of smaller herds and retreating from the thoroughfare. Flurry Heart shoved her way forward towards the plinth, giving Balanced Scale a side-eye to follow with his own guards. Scarlet Letter and Whistle Whittle were left alone by the lamppost they nearly died at, but remained on the ground in shock and disbelief.
Flurry Heart bent her legs and leapt atop the plinth, cracking the foundation’s base upon landing. She levitated her helmet back onto her head, leaving the noose in place against her gorget. Balanced Scale climbed up after a rearing hop.
The alicorn levitated Jadis up beside her. The crystal pony squeaked at the magic enveloping her, but pinned her ears in embarrassment upon steading herself against the shattered remnants of Chrysalis’ leg. “I could have made it up,” she insisted.
Flurry Heart spun in a circle, counting the lampposts and watching the crowd disperse. “Is this all from today?”
“This week,” Balanced Scale answered. He swallowed. “Princess, ponies want justice.”
“What’s the difference between revenge and justice?” Flurry interrogated. “You said you were a judge.”
“Justice is impartial,” Balanced Scale nickered. He sat on his flank and wrung his cap between his hooves. “Ponies are running each other down in the street, looking to clear grievances. This is an outlet.”
“Hanging the nobility wasn’t enough?” Flurry huffed.
“There are thousands of bugs down near the dockyards,” Balanced pointed out. “A lot of them deserve the rope far more than these ponies. I admit that. We don’t hang them all, but if we hanged none the streets would run red during nightfall.”
“A woodcarver isn’t a war profiteer,” Flurry retorted. “Who said he was?”
“You did,” Jadis said quietly. “Anypony profiting off the Hegemony.”
Flurry Heart choked on her tongue. “That…” she stammered, “that is not what I meant. Businessponies, bankers, CEO, major corporations, nobles. We’re not killing bakers for selling bread.” The alicorn stared at the bodies hanging from the lampposts, then to the two ponies stumbling to their hooves.
Scarlet Letter and Whistle Whittle shared one look between each other, then left in opposite directions. They moved slowly, wary at the stares from the soldiers and lingering ponies along the sidewalks and abandoned storefronts. Frosty Jadis observed the unicorn.
“She won’t make it back home,” the crystal pony declared. “That pegasus had murder in her eyes.”
“It’s been nearly a decade,” Balanced Scale said. “Long time to build up a grudge. Ponies aren’t as forgiving as we pretend. If we were, I wouldn’t have had a job.”
“Jadis, are you seriously okay with this?” Flurry asked in exasperation.
The blue crystal pony’s muzzle glittered in the sunlight as she thought about her response. “The Crystal City was a mess,” she said, “but it was done quickly. We killed who we needed to kill and moved on.”
"The Empire isn't Equestria," Balanced retorted in his drawl. "No offense to you, but you're just one tribe. Pegasi, unicorns, and earth ponies have history. Not all of it good, no matter what that Hearth Warming's play says."
"I do not wish to discuss your flawed history," Jadis responded in an archaic lilt. "You at least have a play. We have nothing."
“Crystal ponies screamed for the death of foals,” Flurry refocused.
“Yes,” Jadis confirmed. “You have forty thousand soldiers stuffed in warehouses besides the harvested love they helped extract from Equestria, guarded by your soldiers. Ponies can’t get to them, but they can settle a grudge between a neighbor with a sharp kitchen knife.”
“Which we are preventing with this show,” Balanced Scale added. “The alternative is stretching our forces even thinner trying to stop lynchings. We’ll have to kill citizens to quell the bloodshed.”
Flurry stared blankly at the lampposts. Kill changelings, kill my subjects, let them kill each other. She tried to pick an option she could live with. She couldn’t find one.
Amore chose parties and festivals. The alternative was rebuilding the Empire, taking back everything lost to the snow. She would have died miserable after years of effort.
“The first year of the war,” Balanced Scale suddenly mused, “there was a truce during Hearth’s Warming. Just for the night. The bugs didn’t celebrate it, but they stopped shelling and listened to us sing.”
“Not in the Crystal Empire,” Jadis nickered. “I remember there was a sneak attack that we countered with a forced avalanche. We have the Crystal Faire, not Hearth's Warming.”
“Hearth’s Warming Day,” Balanced Scale said, “tanks rolled across our trenches. Heard the commander that stopped the attack was executed.”
Mom wanted Thorax to be King of the Changelings.
“Sounds like the bugs,” Jadis agreed. “Heart have her, Chrysalis deserves a thousand torments.”
We’re going to have to burn them to the ground.
“Not just her,” Balanced Scale said.
Thorax knows.
“Of course.”
He always knew. From the moment I arrived on that dock.
“Make sure they make it home,” Flurry said aloud. “Jadis, go with them.”
“P-princess?” Jadis was jolted from her reminisce with Balanced Scale.
“Go with them,” Flurry repeated in a rush. The alicorn twisted around on the plinth until she spotted the street sign she wanted. “I know where I’m going.”
“Princess, I have to insist-”
“Go with them. I don’t want them run down in the street.”
“I don’t know where you’re go-”
“I’ll meet you back at the castle.” Flurry’s horn glowed. She vanished with a snap, reappearing down the street and surprising several dozen ponies gathered on the sidewalks. Before they could bow, she snapped away again.
Flurry Heart appeared in the midst of a Reichsarmee squad. The griffons squawked in alarm and one fumbled his rifle, clutching it like a stuffed toy. She vanished in another snap, slamming back into existence at an intersection.
The alicorn glared up at the street sign, then vanished again with a quick glance down the road. She reappeared and snorted blood from her nose, then repeated the process. It was faster than walking, and the horn ache took her mind off everything else.
Flurry nearly overshot her destination, then realized she was on a mostly deserted residential street and cut the spell. She took a heaving breath and trotted forward. They can probably find me if they need to, she assured herself.
The street she walked on was undamaged from fighting, which boded well, and the townhomes lining both sides of the road were quaint, two-story houses. None of them looked remarkable in anyway. Unlike the main streets and the castle, the Changelings didn’t bother to remake most of urban Canterlot. They torched Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.
Flurry feared they did the same to her grandparent’s house.
She counted down the numbers on the mailboxes. A few of the houses appeared to have been looted, so she tried to temper her hopes. Could be a museum.
Her hope immediately returned. Maybe that means there’s something left? Chrysalis shipped nearly everything of value to Vesalipolis, all of the Princesses’ remaining items from the city’s fall. Only a few unrecognizable pieces of junk were left from Twilight’s old tower, and only Spike could probably remember what they were.
Flurry Heart stopped at the number she remembered and breathed a sigh of relief. The townhome was intact. The alicorn did not remember what it looked like, but the red door had no battle damage or scars. She smiled under her helmet, raised a hoof to her chest, and inhaled.
Her armored greave bumped against the noose.
Flurry Heart ripped it off with a huff and tossed her head back. She peered up and down the street, but didn’t spy anypony within eyesight. She tensed and cast the detection spell one final time, letting it pulse through the residential block.
No hidden changelings jumped out at her, and there was no motion from the house. We must have cleared this area early. Flurry paused. Did nopony look? I guess it wasn’t important. Night Light and Twilight Velvet died with the ELF. Spike was busy with Twilight. We can use this area for housing. After this.
Flurry trotted by the mailbox and walked up the steps to the red door.
I don’t even remember what they sounded like. I don't even have a picture of them.
She shifted her hooves on an unassuming brick porch. It was a townhome like all the others on the street, not the place of royalty or nobility, but a simple home. Her mother had been adopted; Mi Amore Cadenza grew up in a small village near Vanhoover and never quite lost the rural accent that endeared her to her crystal ponies. It thickened noticeably when she spoke passionately, which was most of the time.
I don’t remember the name of the village. The Changelings probably burned it down.
Twilight Sparkle and Shining Armor were from the most mundane of royal pedigrees. House Twilight had a single page in any guidebook to Canterlot, a late addition after Twilight’s ascension. Her parents were an editor and an astronomer. Neither were noble.
My entire family is gone.
Flurry Heart raised her hoof to the red door.
“Not just her.”
The purple crystal swirled.
“Of course.”
The door was locked.
I should’ve expected that. Flurry lowered her hoof to the porch with a solid clop, then absent-mindedly checked the window to her right. The curtains were drawn; the thin slit between the blue fabric was blocked by wood. A shelf? Did they board up the windows?
Flurry returned to the red door. It was a cheery rose-red, and the paint was new. It looked nothing like the tenements in Weter, nor the houses in the frontier. Aside from the numbers on the mailbox, there were no signs marking it as the foalhood home of two of Equestria's greatest heroes. Night Light and Twilight Velvet enjoyed their anonymity before the war.
Flurry looked down from the porch, overturning a few rocks in a small flower bed with a flick of her horn. There was no hidden key. Obviously. Stop stalling. The alicorn took a deep breath and turned around. She cocked a rear leg.
The door shattered from the one-legged buck, crunching inwards and falling into a small coat room. Wooden paint chips bounced off Flurry’s crystal flank armor, but there was no explosion or hail of gunfire. The snap of fine wood was the only sound in the street.
Flurry had just cast the changeling detection spell, but forced it through her horn again and licked her lips. The wave reverberated through the house, but she did not hear the telltale flare of a failing disguise, nor a flash of green. The house seemed empty.
She stepped on the broken door and smashed it into splinters without truly intending to; her armor was too heavy for it. The wooden floor below creaked as it pressed against the foundation from the armored alicorn. Flurry inspected the empty coat racks and small pot with an umbrella stuffed inside it. The pot had been knocked over, but was printed with bright sunflowers.
Flurry’s chest was tight. She took a breath, and it only seemed to get tighter. This is wrong. Chrysalis made a trophy out of it. She stepped forward through the entryway into the house properly, standing between an open kitchen and living room.
Space was a commodity in Canterlot; the city hung from the mountain. The fancy estates with lawns and gardens cost a fortune, but even the middle-class homes were modest affairs spruced up with elegant carvings and the occasional gilded marble.
The trim along the ceiling was still carved with tiny suns, printed with gold leaf. The walls were lacquered wood, giving the bottom floor a homey, rustic feel. The kitchen had pearl tile with a stove and fridge behind a marble island counter in the center. Shelves ringed the counters along the walls.
The living room had a couch and a plush chair. The couch had been pushed up against a bookshelf that leaned awkwardly against the window and depressed the curtains. A coffee table joined it in blocking another window. Books were scattered on the floor. Flurry could see where the shelf usually sat, on the opposite wall besides a modern sound system. The wall was discolored.
There was a portrait of Queen Chrysalis on the wall beside it.
She was wearing a crisp white military uniform, complete with a high-brimmed officer’s cap. Flurry didn’t recall her ever wearing anything like that; she was usually naked except for her trident crown. It was a bust portrait; the Queen of the Changelings smiled directly into the camera with slit eyes and fangs. Only her head and shoulders were visible, green mane flowing behind her.
Her fangs were very white, and her green slits seemed to burn with zeal. There was no warmth in her stare; it was predatory. Chrysalis leered at the living room.
The picture was dusty and slightly crooked. It hung there as a mandatory afterthought. The pictures beside it were more cared for. Flurry trotted over to them, stepping onto a worn rug and over a few of the scattered books. The wood creaked under her weight.
A changeling posed in front of a fuel truck. It was an old photo, in black-and-white and partially underdeveloped. Flurry guessed it was a mare from the shorter muzzle. She smiled in her black uniform in an unknown forest.
The picture beside it was a changeling stallion in a smock. He stood in a group of three other changelings, posing before a partially finished stained-glass window. Flurry recognized it immediately; it was one of the dozens lining Celestia’s throne room. Chrysalis’ black frame reared above a roaring panzer as the tank charged forward. She wasn’t filled out completely yet. The window was suspended in a mold at the time the picture was taken.
Flurry backed up, stomping atop a book. She crushed it flat, then lifted her hoof and peered down to see the title. It was in Herzlander. A Thousand and One Tips for Homestyle Cooking, the Changeling Way. There was a picture of a changeling in a chef’s hat pouring a pink vial into a pot. His fangs were bright and sharp in his smile.
The alicorn backed into the kitchen. Her flank bumped up against the marble island counter and jostled it. Her horn flickered as the tile underneath her bowed and cracked from her weight. The kitchen was full of knives, but none were ‘weapons.’
But there was a pistol upstairs. Flurry bumped into the doorframe and shattered it when she twisted to go up the open staircase from the living room. She had to fold her wings tight to avoid the wooden railing, and the stairs still almost collapsed from her armor.
Flurry ignored the laundry room and small dining room, only casting an eye through the slit in her helmet to the interior and window beyond. They led to a patio and small flower garden. The flowers had dried up.
The alicorn reached the second story. The wood bowed under her hooves and the entire frame shuddered. There were three rooms upstairs, but Flurry went to the one with the pistol first. Her horn’s aura flickered like a gold flame.
The door had been left slightly ajar. She pushed it open with a hoof as gently as she could. It slammed into the wall and knocked several pictures off their hangers. The room was an office space with a few tables and filing cabinets. It looked like it was partially a storage room, filled with dusty boxes and a closet with a few dresses and one suit.
There was also a black uniform hanging in the open closet. Flurry scanned the lapels around the collar, but didn’t recognize the rank. The sleeves were cut slim, for a mare.
The pistol sat atop the table. Flurry’s entry knocked a few spare bullets off the tabletop; they rolled around on the floor with more. A magazine sat half-filled next to the pistol. Flurry heaved a breath and reached out with her magic.
Spring’s broken. It was standard issue. From the last decade. Fired at training, then never again. The imprint was so faint she could barely feel anything about the owner. It sat in drawer until now. Frantic hooves cursing, trying to remember how to fix it. She picked up the pistol in her magic and drifted it over to her muzzle. It was unloaded.
No time.
The pistol crunched in her aura, splintering into metal shards from her telekinetic grip. Flurry let it fall to the floor and finally properly looked around the room. There was a shelf with two small ribbons propped next to the window to the backyard. Flurry stared at the sunshine reflecting through the glass.
Perfect spot for a telescope. Flurry stepped back, eyes darting from the ribbons to the gun to the boxes. Twilight’s room. She’d never been in it before. She couldn't even remember the house.
…This isn’t her room.
Flurry bumped heavily into the doorframe again with her flank and the wooden wall snapped outwards. She forced herself through the doorway. Her wings flared reflexively and carved a gouge into the wood. The knives in her feathers sliced through beige wallpaper as she walked back to the railing and stumbled down the hallway.
There were two more rooms, but she was only interested in one of them. Flurry stopped before a closed black door, the one next to the office. She leaned her helmet against the door; her burning horn charred the wood and the smell filled her nostrils.
Please.
Flurry twisted the lever with her flailing magic and let herself into her father’s room.
There was a poster of Chrysalis on the opposite wall next to a curtained window, clad in her white military uniform and grinning at Flurry. Follow Your Queen! was printed below her smirking muzzle. A small bed with no pillow or covers was below it. There was another poster glued to the ceiling, and small stickers of green stars that lit up under the flare of her horn. The poster on the ceiling depicted Changeling panzers racing across a field.
It took the alicorn a moment. The poster was for a movie called Blitz! and it proudly starred A Real War Hero! in the leading role. There was a pony running away in front of the panzers, muzzle twisted into a cartoonish, wide-eyed look of terror.
Flurry stepped into her father’s bedroom. Her hoof brushed against something and knocked it forward. She didn’t feel it under her greave, but a tiny figure spun and rolled onto the rug in front of her.
She swallowed, exposed lower jaw working as her mouth went dry. It took her a minute to look down. Flurry Heart whined low in the back of her throat.
It was a tiny figurine of a Changeling in blue armor. The joints moved. It was obviously one of Chrysalis’ Queen’s Guard. There were more scattered near the bed, and a wooden submachine gun toy shoved under the bare bedframe.
…no.
The wooden floor bowed heavily under her hooves. Flurry stared at the figure. The little Queen’s Guard was smiling under his blue helmet. She wrenched her head back up to the poster on the ceiling. Above the tanks, a bust of the lead changeling stallion stared down at her. A Real War Hero!
No.
Chrysalis smirked from her poster. The floor bowed from the alicorn's weight, threatening to break. Like the kitchen.
No.
Flurry Heart reared away from the room with a snarl and crashed through the doorframe with flared wings. She vaulted through the railing and cleared the stairs in a wild leap, landing back in the living room. Her hooves shattered the floor and cracked the foundation below it.
But there was solid ground below her. Her horn glowed and she forced another spell. This time, the blood ran from her nose freely.
Her wild life detection spell picked up three signs below the kitchen. Flurry heaved and flung herself towards the marble island with a roar that sounded more like a beast than anything a pony could make. She rammed the countertop aside, sending it crashing into the shelves.
There was a high shriek below her. A knife flashed in green magic and sparked off her crystal armor. It didn’t even leave a mark. Flurry tensed her legs, standing over the hole and angling her horn down. Her eyes glowed in the light from her horn; liquid fire pooled down the spirals.
The changeling mare retracted the knife in her magic for another wild stab, then registered what was standing over her hideaway. She gaped up at the Princess, and the blade tumbled out of her aura and clattered to the ground.
Flurry breathed in, jaw quivering. Canterlot hung off a mountain, only Lower Canterlot really had basements or space carved directly into the mountainside. Most houses and buildings only had the smallest of storage spaces, if anything at all. Canterlot Castle’s so-called dungeons were barely cut into the supports and reinforced like the airship dockyards.
She took in the sight below her. It wasn’t a proper basement, more a hole cut into the foundation, cramped and meant for storage. Like the musty boxes upstairs. A few crystal lamps lined the rough-hewn walls, coupled with piled-up bedding, pillows, cans of food and a few empty jugs of water.
And pink vials bundled in a small cloth.
Lastly, there were three changelings. A mare, a stallion, and a small colt. The space was too cramped for all of them. The colt crouched under the stallion, near the very back of the crawlspace. His father shuffled backwards, blue pupilless eyes wide and wings jittering. All of them were naked and their black carapaces were gray from dust.
The mare did not say anything. She fell back from the opening and landed with a quiet hiss. Her jaw moved, but only a rasping cough came out. Flurry exhaled above them. Her teeth ground audibly.
The knife had tumbled back into the hole and landed at the mare’s shaking legs. She laid with her legs curled against her, staring upwards in mute horror. The marble top counter had slammed into the shelves next to the stove, scattering bits of plates and utensils. It was embedded deep into the wall.
Flurry stared down at the changeling. The changeling gazed up at her. Neither said anything.
The alicorn’s lips trembled. “What are you doing here?” she finally choked out. The stallion clenched the young colt to his barrel with holed hooves. One hoof pressed over his muzzle, but his son still managed to cry through a hole in his father’s hoof.
The mare blinked and quivered.
“What,” Flurry repeated, “Are. You. Doing. Here?” Her voice echoed through the hole.
The changeling breathed in raggedly. “We…w-we live here.”
“No,” Flurry immediately replied. She shook her head. “No. W-where’s the stuff? Where is everything? What was here before?”
“P-please,” the mare pleaded, “we…we didn’t have any servants-”
“Slaves,” Flurry snarled down.
The mare’s voice broke. “We d-didn’t have any! I…I never k-killed anypony!” she continued. The changeling spoke accented Equestrian as good as Thorax. “My h-husband didn’t! He’s a glassmaker!”
Flurry glared at the stallion, but he was busy restraining his son and whispering desperate Herzlander into his ears. The colt was maybe eight. Old enough to play with Queen’s Guard.
The mare saw Flurry’s eyes drift to her family behind her. Her own eyes went down to the knife near her hooves. The alicorn felt her stare shift and returned to glaring at her. “Where’s…” Flurry swallowed, “where’s the stuff?”
“I don’t…” the changeling managed, “I-I don’t understand.”
“Where is the stuff? F-from the house?” Flurry growled. She blinked and felt tears. Her horn flared brighter.
“I-it was empty!” the mare shrieked. “It was empty!”
Flurry looked up at the walls. She was facing the living room, standing over the hole in the kitchen. Her eyes danced wildly as her muzzle twitched under the helmet. “No.”
“We live here,” the changeling said below her. “We’ve lived here for…” she caught herself. “P-please, we didn’t fight in the war.”
“You did,” Flurry said absently. “You have a gun.”
“I didn’t kill anypony,” the mare repeated desperately. “We didn’t hurt anypony.”
Flurry stared at the picture of the mare, almost a decade younger, standing in front of the fuel truck. Logistics. The changeling smiled at the camera. Where in Equestria did you take that picture? Where in my home?
The mare looked down at the knife again, then back up to the alicorn’s exposed jaw.
Flurry ground her teeth. “You…” she heaved, “you raised your little parasite here? Here?” She tossed her head. “Changelings raise their grubs communally. You don’t…” she trailed off. “You d-don’t get to pretend to be us.”
“We…please,” the mare said. “Please.”
Flurry’s muzzle trailed blood from her nose and tears from her eyes. She shouted, and her voice shook the walls. “You don’t get to raise your parasite in my father’s room.”
The stallion and mare shrank down, pressing themselves to the earth. “Oh Gods,” the stallion whispered.
What Gods? There's a Crusade against you now. Flurry laughed a cold, tight cackle.
The mare shuffled back, blocking her mate and foal from the alicorn. “Please,” she begged, “we…we didn’t know.”
“You think this house was built for you?” Flurry snarled down at her. Her horn had reignited the smaller spires on her helmet and the burning crown framed her eyes in a hellish glow. “You think it was just waiting for you?”
None of them offered an answer.
“Or did you just think none of us would come back?” Flurry bared her teeth. Her eyes went to the stallion. “You…you made the windows of that bitch. While she t-tortured my aunt and c-carved up my mother.”
The stallion licked his fangs, still clutching his son. “It…it was an order-”
Flurry tossed her head back. “Orders!” Her voice blew out the windows on the bottom floor, raining glass shards into the street. “All of you! You were just ordered! That makes it okay!”
The changelings screamed at the rain of glass and the press of magic in the shout. The pictures rattled on the living room wall; the stallion’s and mare’s pictures fell to the ground and shattered.
“You didn’t have an order to live here!” Flurry growled. Her voice cracked deep into a sobbing hiss. “You wanted to live here! In my home! What…what did we do to you!? What did w-we do to deserve this!?”
The colt sobbed in his father’s hooves. Flurry shifted her eyes to him. “You played with Queen’s Guard while they tortured her! While they fucking laughed at her! She d-didn’t do anything to you!”
The mare’s eyes went to the knife again. “P-please, w-we didn’t know.”
Flurry suddenly felt very calm as something inside her hardened. She pulled her head back from the pit the bugs hid inside, and her horn pulsed with the life detection spell again. It bounced through the house, then out to the street.
She felt more bugs hiding in attics and basements and floors. Ponies had no reason to cower, not now. Hiding like rats, like insects, like parasites now that the horseshoe is on the other hoof. How many of my ponies hid? How many begged? Flurry turned her glacial irises down to the mare.
“You knew,” she said in an emotionless tone. “Everyday, you walked past my ponies. All of you knew. We didn’t do anything to you. My mother didn't do a thing to deserve what your Queen did.”
The mare’s hooves shook. Her horn sparked with a feeble green light. Flurry didn’t bother hiding the twist of her emotions from them. The colt trembled under his father.
“Please,” the stallion begged. “Please, no. No.”
How many of my ponies said that? Did you listen? Flurry’s horn burned. She took a deep breath, and snuffed out the fire from her horn. The spires of her helmet still burned, and the crystal swirled with the pattern of flames.
Flurry stepped back from the hole, then took a step to the side. She stared blankly at the wall, seemingly distracted. The colt sobbed below her. He was too young to control his emotion sense.
“Not just her.”
Flurry looked around the house. It was just a house. There was no trace her family ever lived there, that her father ever trained there or her mother ever foalsat or her aunt ever looked to the stars.
Synovial. He watched as Chrysalis came to take me.
Trimmel. Held Quartz up as a shield.
Jachs. Watched my aunt be tortured like a coward.
Vaspier. Sent his good little 'lings after me.
There was nothing. Changelings burned the school and burned her books, rewrote the war and claimed the ponies started it. Changelings shipped her family’s things to Vesalipolis for their Queen and moved into their homes with a smile.
They all did something.
Changelings raised families in the wreckage of Equestria. Flurry looked around at a couch and bookshelves made with slave labor, a sound system that played cover songs of dead Equestrians, books scattered across the floor full of lies. Changelings raised their families while ponies were shoved into cocoons or worked to death in the mines of her Empire.
The Crystal Heart burns them all.
Far to the north, the Heart hummed with fire and whispered with the dead.
Because they all deserve to die.
Flurry waited for the mare to seize the knife and try it. She looked away, towards the living room wall with a dimmed horn, but let her emotions speak for her. The mare could feel it, so could her husband and even the little colt.
You want to be a Queen’s Guard? You can die like one.
There was a shuffling in the hole and Flurry exhaled.
“Please,” the mare said. “Just us. Not him. Please.”
Flurry stared at the wall, eyes wet with tears and nose trailing blood.
“Please, Princess,” the mare begged. “J-just…just leave him.”
You shoved foals into cocoons in the Empire.
Flurry remembered the stallion outside the armory, howling for the death of those little parasites that good little 'lings brought with them while her ponies were worked to death.
“We deserve to take everything from them.”
Her eyes drifted along the living room wall. Jadis’ voice echoed.
“You at your worst could not match Sombra.”
The dusty picture of Chrysalis still hung on the wall. Flurry could see her reflection in it, lit by her burning helmet. Her helmet overlapped the Queen’s muzzle, slit eyes and fangs seemingly protruding from her own muzzle in the glass.
The mare poked her head up from the hole, head fin bent and eyes wide in a pleading stare. The knife was left where it lay. “Please…”
Flurry’s horn glowed and she looked away from the picture, staring down at the mare. The changeling closed her eyes and flinched. Flurry Heart took a deep, shuddering breath.
There was a burst of fire, and the Princess vanished in a crack of magic that raced down the crystal armor. Her armored hooves scorched the kitchen tile as she teleported away, leaving behind a wrecked house and a terrified family.
She reappeared further down the street, horn smoking and stumbling out of the teleport. Flurry fell to her knees, crashing onto the cobblestone awkwardly in her armor. She heaved again, throat dry.
Cadance whispered to her in a quiet wind.
“You have a good, strong heart. Destiny is a choice, Flurry.”
The Crystal Empress answered.
“They say my heart is as hard as crystal. Let us see what their words are worth.”
There was a shout further down the street. Jadis and the group of guards raced down the road, having followed her earlier shout. Flurry could feel their weapons without looking at them. She still looked up and saw the wisps of magic flying off Jadis’ rifle bouncing along her flank.
“You were born on the eve of war.”
Jadis was an excellent shot, even with her limp. She had killed in the Empire, during the war, in Aquileia. She killed the griffon that wounded her foreleg with a shot through the eye. It was her rifle. She didn’t love the rifle, but she loved what it represented to her. Flurry heard Rainbow Dash in her head.
“One weapon failed. We got another.”
There was a crater to the west of the Celestial Plain, full of the ashes of mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers of the Hegemony. Flurry should have felt guilty. Her mother would have. Her aunt would have wept.
Flurry Heart felt nothing.
“Princess!” Jadis shouted. The crystal pony approached, but Flurry summoned a bubble shield around herself like when she was a foal. She turned it opaque so they couldn’t see her. Flurry could still feel them crowd around the shield and fan out on the street.
Her family’s house was quiet. The door was splintered, but there wasn’t any movement inside as the changeling family waited in their ruined hiding spot. It would have been trivial to order her guards into the house. And Flurry knew her ponies would do whatever she ordered them to do.
"Be the storm."
Flurry dispelled her shield and stood up. “Back to the castle,” she ordered in a short voice. “I’m done here.”
“P-princess?” Jadis stuttered, taken aback.
“I’m done,” Flurry repeated. “Let’s go.” Her hooves moved on their own, forcing herself away from the house and back towards the castle. Her ponies milled around uncertainly. The pegasus with sagging eyes glanced at the broken red door.
“Let’s go!” Flurry shouted and flared her wings. The crystals hummed in the air.
The guards scrambled to keep up with Flurry’s long strides, and she marched them away from her family’s house, back to the Plaza of the Arts and towards the castle. The townhome was left behind.
Flurry Heart knew she’d never go back there again.
It’s not home. I was born in the Crystal City. That’s home.
But that assurance felt hollow in her chest.
Weapons don’t have homes.
The wave of magic pulsed through the garden. It wasn’t truly visible; it was more of a feeling, a burst of paradoxically ‘cold heat’ that made feathers flick out in instinct and fur puff up. Sir Erreck scuffed a gauntlet against his enchanted armor while his twin smoothed down his head feathers before resting his claws back on his discarded helmet. Sir Ewing affected a look of nonchalance, but his eyes jittered around the garden.
Grover leaned against the trunk of the tree and flipped over the casualty report from Army Group Center. Sunlight lit the page, filtering through the leaves and branches above him. He had left the other folder tucked against his wing pinned to the bark of the tree, a thicker folder with the details for his traditional birthday feast.
The Kaiser would rather read about the losses in the field. He flapped his free wing and folded it against his long coat. The weather was brisk in Canterlot, high up upon the Canterhorn. Grover suspected that unicorns preferred mountains out of some odd desire to sit on horn-shaped objects, but that thought process turned twisted too quickly. True enough for Wittenland as well. At least we have wings to desire height.
He brushed back his sleeve and checked his watch as his fur settled. The twins, both orange-tinted griffons from Gryphus, kept watch with flicking tails. Grover eyed the bobbing tufts of fur as they tapped against the knights’ leggings. In battle, most knights tucked their tail into one of their leg plates and endured the discomfort. Grover’s own tan tail flittered against the leg of his pressed slacks. He twisted his beak around to the well-groomed brown puffball resting on watered grass.
It had picked up some dirt from laying on the ground, so Grover flicked it against the tree trunk and shook the pollen free before sliding it against his long coat. No griffon in their right mind would shave their tail, though some trimmed the bob at the end down for utility. Not as if we could cut it off.
The Reichstone rested beside him, laying on a small cushion to avoid touching the dirt. He was currently using the points of the crown to hold his spare pens and pencils. Ewing and Erreck did not comment on the sacrilege.
The wave of magic pulsed through the garden again. Grover checked his watch. Seven minutes. Punctual. The gems on the Reichstone glowed from the charge in the air, naturally reacting to the magic even though there was no enchantment on the jewels. Grover snapped the folder shut and shifted away from the trunk of the tree, pulling his other folder free. He smoothed it out.
He had written Traditional Birthday Plans across the front of the folder in his looping, official script. He flicked the folder open with a talon and frowned. He had also scrawled My Stupid Birthday Plans on the first page in a fit of pique.
Rice from Brodfeld, pasta from Wingbardy and Aquileia, meats from Herzland, chocolate from Cloudbury, frozen custard from Vedina, food from across the entire Reich had made its way across the ocean to Equestria. It dodged Changeling submarines and saboteurs, guarded by dogs and griffons, checked by Aquileian ponies, all to reach Canterlot Castle in a massive victory feast.
A few captured Hegemony tanks would be stationed in the courtyard since the gallows had been dismantled. Marching the Changeling prisoners out of their warehouses in a proper Triumph was too risky, but everything else would proceed as it always had, every time his Reich had won a great victory.
It would happen whether he wanted it to or not. It was expected.
A peach fell onto the Reichstone and dislodged his pens and pencils. Grover blinked at the small, unripe fruit. It wasn’t properly colored yet; spring hadn’t even begun, though the weather defied tradition on Equus. He looked up over the frame of his small glasses, squinting into the swaying tree branches. The fruits bobbed with an unseen breeze, reacting to the magic dissipating from the garden.
Grover looked down at his folder of expected guests, mostly his army staff being pulled from their necessary, critical assignments to attend a worthless party, then back up to the fruit hanging above. He finally twisted his beak towards the hedges of the statue garden. The magic had come from within.
The glow around the Reichstone’s gems faded.
Grover snapped the folder shut and stretched out his claws, cracking the joints of his talons after lacing them together. He stood up onto all fours and additionally flared his wings, aligning his primary feathers before refolding them. The laces on one of his paw boots were loose, so he tightened them and scuffed away some grass after shaking out his rear legs.
The griffon checked his wing holster under his coat. The old pistol was still securely fastened with the safety on. He left it clipped into the leather. Lastly, he shoved the Reichstone back onto his head after using his black sleeve to wipe off the gold from the fallen peach. He straightened his neck and let the crown settle. Grover collected both folders and the set of pens and pencils, holding them in one claw as he walked forward towards his bag and his bodyguards.
Sir Ewing unclasped the top of the bag and held it out with an equally deferential, “My Kaiser,” in greeting. Grover nodded to him and rather ungracefully stuffed the folders inside. Sir Ewing slung the pack over his armor, looping the straps over a wing. Sir Erreck replaced his helmet and checked his assault rifle, leaving it braced under his right wing.
Grover paused and glanced at the hedges. “With me,” he said shortly, then moved towards the ground entrance. The hedges were easily short enough to hop over with a quick flap, but Canterlot Castle’s hanging gardens were known across the world. Even the Commissariat administration had left them untouched.
Grover stopped at a partially destroyed statue of an armored changeling next to the arch entrance. Mostly untouched, he amended to himself. The ponies hadn’t quite destroyed everything yet. Chrysalis’ black marble victory arch had been detonated yesterday in a controlled explosion; the rubble was sorted through to the cheering whinnies of several thousand ponies that came to watch the Hegemony's victory be undone.
Canterlot is half of Equestria. The war is far from over. The Heer still destroyed what it could as it retreated across the west, and their efforts would only intensify as they reorganized. The Appleloosan Protectorate was functionally cut-off now, but that left the Reichsarmee with two frontlines and split forces.
And the south had oil fields. The Crystal Empire’s were still strangled by the massive pink shield, a blessing and a curse. It narrowed the frontline across the north significantly, but it would need to be dealt with for a proper push into the Changeling Lands. It cut off too many resources.
Grover squinted north. Clouds had gathered, tinged pink from the shield beyond refracting the sunlight across the sky. The weather had shifted; it was no longer as cold, but he could feel the rain coming as a griffon. Pegasi might sense the barometric pressure shifts better than griffons ever could, but it didn’t take a weatherpony to know a storm was coming.
Not the south. Spring will be the perfect time for the offensive. Not that he could do anything at the moment with his army staff withdrawing to Canterlot for his birthday. If he had stayed in Griffenheim, they would have remained in the field. And I could enjoy my dear aunt Gabriela’s simpering company instead. I am sure she would apologize again.
“My Kaiser?” Sir Ewing asked with audible hesitation within his helmet.
Grover snapped back to the hedge. He was standing in a dead end, staring at a statue of Chrysalis had that been defaced with a mustache. Several curses were carved into the base of the statue over a fawning poem dedicated to the Queen of the Changelings.
Grover walked back, moving between the twins as they stepped aside. He walked deeper into the hedge maze and stopped in an intersection. His eyes narrowed behind the lenses, then he brushed his sleeve back and counted down. The knights waited behind him. There were other patrols, several flew around the castle in rotating shifts along with Ironpaws around the gardens, but it was oddly quiet. The castle menagerie had long been removed by the Changelings; they were unable to interact with the animals like the ponies could.
Cursed by the Gods, Grover mused. Eros and his father had forbid such talk after Chrysalis approached for their military agreement. Even Gabriela agreed; the Reichsarmee had been too battered after the revolution and restoration to turn away any help.
Changelings were a mysterious race and guarded their secrets jealously, if they even knew themselves. Perhaps the Queens had secret knowledge, but there was only one Queen of the Changelings now, and she claimed immortality according to the books littering Canterlot written in misspelled Herzlander. Let them try to call themselves ‘Predators’ instead of ‘Parasites.’ Thranx had mentioned a lot, but even he was reluctant to share everything.
The magic pulsed from the right path, brushing through Grover’s right wing first. Grover set his sleeve back and walked in that direction, passing more statues and moving deeper into the gardens. A few dried-up flowerbeds framed open areas meant for soirees and parties, and the hedges started to look overgrown. I doubt they are wasting time sculpting a garden when they could be repairing factories. Grover’s bare claws crunched on smooth stones while his dress boots made his footing awkward. His knights’ gauntlets scored the stones with their weight behind him.
Grover von Greifenstein turned an overgrown corner in the hedge maze and abruptly found himself staring at the Princess of Ponies. He blinked.
Flurry Heart laid atop an empty plinth, letting her oversized wings hang off the sides like a particularly macabre statue. She was wearing the padded jumpsuit she wore under her armor; the sleek, black fabric hugged her fur, rumpling it slightly around her neck where it zipped up. Her hooves pressed tight underneath her body and her head rested on the stone top.
It looked amazingly uncomfortable. As an alicorn, she was already taller than most mares and stallions, and the plinth was meant for something half her size. The alicorn scrunched her body lengthwise to fit atop it, but even with her nonexistent tail it was a narrow fit. Her flank threatened to slip off the side.
The Princess glanced at him from the side of her eye. It wandered over the Reichstone to the knights behind him, then moved towards the hedge rows. Her icy blue iris was ringed red and bloodshot.
“Do you mind,” the Princess said in her peasant-tinged Herzlander, “not telling anyone where I am right now?”
“If your intention was stealth,” Grover replied after a pause, “you should not be blasting spells across the garden.”
Her right wing raised halfway in a shrug, then sagged back against the side of the white marble plinth. “Better safe than sorry,” the Princess muttered. Her crystal band caught a beam of sunlight and sparkled.
Grover’s claws rubbed against the smooth stones making up the path. He fidgeted in place. Sir Erreck cleared his throat behind him with an echoing cough from within his helmet.
“Where’s Benito?” the Princess asked in a flat voice. “He’s usually with you.”
“He has other duties,” Grover deadpanned. “My dogs make up the engineering core of my army as well as my personal guard.” His blue eyes rolled to the sky for a moment. “Where are your guards?” he questioned, flipping the accusation around.
“Wondering where I am, I’m sure,” the Princess drawled. “I’m due for a meeting about my coronation.” Her muzzle scrunched. “What time is it?”
Grover brushed his sleeve back and glanced down. “It’s half-past two.”
“I’m late,” the alicorn gasped in faux horror. Her jaw clinked back onto the plinth with a clack of teeth. A breeze zipped through the garden and the hedgerows; her wings swayed like sails underneath her. Grover noted her feathers were long enough to brush the ground.
“You should forgive him,” the Princess suddenly said in Equestrian.
Grover squinted. “What?”
“Don’t be mad at Benito,” she whickered.
“I am not ‘mad’ at him,” Grover denied. “He has other duties.”
Her eyes drifted around the hedge. “My uncle,” she began, “ran a crime syndicate my entire life in Nova Griffonia. He never said a word about it. Still doesn’t. I found out on my own.”
Grover waited.
“I’m sure there’s other stuff,” the Princess continued. Her accent drifted between softer vowels and clipped consonants from the frontier. “We still love each other. Benito loves you. Don’t hold something that happened years ago against him.”
“How very 'pony' of you to give a lesson in forgiveness,” Grover scoffed. “You forgave the former Generalmajor, I heard. Hanged your own ponies afterwards.”
“Well, I’m not a very good Princess, am I?” Flurry snorted. “How good of a Kaiser are you?”
Grover’s cheeks flushed, then he twisted around with a lashing tail. The twins stepped aside and followed him back around the corner. The Kaiser stomped down the hedgerow for a few steps, then stopped. He turned back around and the knights stepped aside again.
“My Kaiser?” Sir Ewing asked. Grover ignored him.
Grover rounded the corner and stared flatly at the Princess. “I should tell you,” he said in Equestrian, “you are invited to my birthday feast. You may bring guests.”
“I would hope I’m invited to a party held in my castle,” Flurry replied from the plinth. She had not moved.
“It is not your castle yet,” Grover countered.
“Yep,” Flurry acknowledged. “Hence the meeting. That I’m not at.”
“When is your coronation?” the griffon asked. “I am expected to attend.”
A wing flailed in a shrug. “Dunno. Need to set a date. Like at a meeting.”
Grover snorted through his beak. “Is this your work ethic?”
Flurry rolled to the side on the plinth. Her head lolled off the hedge and she stared upside down at him. Grover immediately thought of Aquileia, but the Princess’ eyes wandered around the garden.
“Celestia used this place to avoid work. One of the few things I happen to agree with her on.” She squinted at him, light pink fur reddening around her muzzle from blood rushing to her head. “What’re you doing here?”
“Canterlot’s sculpture gardens are well-known,” Grover answered, “and it is a good day to tour them.”
“All the sculptures are Chrysalis and Queen’s Guard,” Flurry stated dryly. “You’re not missing anything. I think I’m going to order this place cleared for a proper garden, not this flowery crap.”
“Then I saw it before you turned it into some failed commune,” the griffon countered easily.
Flurry puffed her cheeks out. “Excuse me for trying to make sure ponies don't starve to death. More than they already are.” Her brow raised, or rather lowered considering her orientation. “Tour, huh?” Her eyes drifted to the pack on Sir Ewing’s back.
She did not challenge him on his flimsy deflection, and the courtyard descended into silence. Grover looked around at the hedgerows. The Princess let her head hang of the side of the plinth, horn pointed to the ground. Her legs splayed out above her, bare hooves exposed at the ends of the jumpsuit.
“Does that not hurt?” Grover asked after a long moment of silence.
“What?” Flurry nickered. “The Crystal Empire is made of crystal. Including the bed frames. Padding only does so much.”
“Unlike your ponies, you are not made of crystal.”
“They aren’t made of crystal,” Flurry laughed in a ringing giggle. “It’s magic. They’re fur and flesh like everypony else.” She raised her head up and shook her horn. “What, did you think we just carve more out of hunks of crystal? How would they give birth?”
Grover’s eyes went to her wings, then back to her horn.
Flurry traced his gaze and laughed again. Windchimes rang through the courtyard. “My parents never tried for another foal for a reason. I would have liked a little brother.”
Two benches lined the hedges around the courtyard. Grover crossed to one and flumped down on it. He signaled Sir Ewing to unsling the pack. The knight offered it to his Kaiser with a bowed head, then stood several paces away with his twin. Both lingered on the Princess, then the helmets turned to the openings in the hedge maze.
Flurry watched Grover pull out his folders, then the dirty pillow. He flapped it onto the bench to clear the dust and dirt, then sat the Reichstone down atop it. Grover laid lengthwise on the bench afterwards, partially using the crown to prop up his folder.
“Some tour,” Flurry remarked. “The garden is for avoiding work, not bringing it with you.”
“You are still wearing your crown,” Grover answered without looking up.
A golden zap responded to him. The knights tensed at the sound, and Grover glanced over at the alicorn. Her horn was smoking, but the little purple band was gone from underneath her buzzed mane. Her purple and blue stubble was bare under her horn. Flurry laid her crownless head back on the plinth and smacked her lips.
“Are you waiting for Discord to come back?” Grover jested with a lazy swish of his tail.
“What?” Flurry nickered. She rolled a hoof on the plinth. “This isn’t Discord’s.”
“It’s certainly remote enough to be,” Grover pointed out.
“He was out in the open,” Flurry said bluntly. “You probably passed where he was on the way in here.”
Grover’s eyes went to the hedge around him, then to the plinth, then down the trail he walked. “He was just…” the griffon paused, “out there?”
“Yep. As a trophy meant to represent ‘Discord’ as a concept. Seems like a joke.”
“We remember a Time of Contempt, even on Griffonia.”
“We did not,” Flurry responded. “Just like the Crystal Empire.”
Grover hummed. “Surprisingly cold-blooded for the Princess of the Sun.”
“Statues,” Flurry spat with a look of affected anger. “You want Chrysalis as a statue? I’m onboard if you put her somewhere birds will shit on her. And armed guards for her inevitable breakout.”
Sir Erreck’s helmet clanked as he suppressed a laugh.
“She dies,” Grover said idly. “Summary execution if we take her alive. I am not wasting time with a trial or other such nonsense. She is a shapeshifter and defeated Celestia in combat.”
“That’s not a high bar.”
Sir Ewing’s wings jittered as he suppressed a chuckle like his twin.
Grover flipped a page of cuisine and reached down into the pack with an errant claw, fishing around for a pencil. He pulled out a pen, but resigned himself to it. The other folder drifted out of the pack encased in a golden aura.
“What’s so important you brought it with you?” Flurry asked. The folder opened midair and the papers circled her head.
“It is rude to take other’s things without asking,” Grover replied from the bench. He made no move or signal to the knights, and they looked away again. He caught Flurry frowning at the papers.
“Have you lost a lot of griffons?” she asked in a quieter voice.
“Casualties are overall lower than expected,” Grover deflected, “but we are dealing with a race of inborn saboteurs and shapeshifters cursed by the Gods. Proteus thinks it best to ‘Let Arcturius sort them out,’ and I agree.”
The folders floated back into a neat stack, then slipped into the folder. “Will you still accept the prisoners?”
“Are you still committed to that plan?” Grover questioned back.
Flurry did not answer, and the folder returned to the pack at the base of his bench. Silence descended on the courtyard for several minutes, then another wave of magic pulsed through as the Princess cast her detection spell again. Grover looked over at her idly, ignoring a list of ice creams. The sheer effort to transport it without melting…
Flurry met his eyes and her muzzle twisted into a frown. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Grover blinked. “For what?” he responded automatically.
“For killing all those griffons,” she elaborated. “Your griffons.”
Are you?
“Are you?” Grover squawked aloud, surprising himself.
“I wish it didn’t happen.”
“But it did,” Grover said flatly.
Flurry laid her head back on the plinth. “Yeah.”
Grover’s cheeks twitched and he returned to the list of ice cream.
The cells were overstuffed. So were the prisons in Griffenheim. There was a direct line to from the hospitals near the Palace to the holding cells, once the protestors were given medical attention. The ones that lived from Griffenheim Square, at least.
“Rebels,” Grover said aloud.
“My Kaiser?” Benito asked ahead of him. The dog’s head twisted around and he waved the lantern to Grover. The Ironpaws behind the Kaiser stopped as well.
Grover waved a claw. “Nothing.” He pointed a talon at the jailor, another black dog with a hunched back. “Which cell?”
“We’ve pulled him for you, my Kaiser,” the dog growled. His eyes glittered in the low light. “He awaits, just ahead. You are too good to mingle with this filth.” Grover let the comment about his rebellious subjects roll through his feathers.
Griffons usually clamored to see the Kaiser of Griffonkind, but the ones in these cells cringed away from the bars. A few mutely plead for mercy, hushed by the growls of his dog guards. Loudbark was living up to his name ahead, growling for order while the Ironpaws slammed gauntlets against the cell walls to quiet the overcrowded cells.
Not a single dog had been part of the protest in Griffenheim Square. Or any of the others. Grover had heard the sibling protests in his Reich were dispersing ahead of his rolling brigades in Aquileia and Wingbardy. He would need to shift more troops there to keep the unrest low, far more troops than truly necessary. And the fleet would gather along the western coast to be assessed for its loyalty. The Airforce had redeployed as well.
Grover pressed his left wing against the holstered pistol. It wasn't the way he intended, but he would get his war.
Soon enough, the small vanguard reached a lonely cell down two flights of stone steps, split off from the rest of the Palace’s dungeons. The dogs fanned out along the walls and lit the lanterns with matches. This area had been dug so deep by Grover II’s loyal dogs it was never electrified. There was no need; the Black Cells had never been used since his ancestor’s reign.
Grover VI scuffed his claws in the dark, and Benito brought a lantern up to the bars in front of him. The griffon inside squinted at the first light he’d seen in several days. He would need a bath and preening before he was released, that much was certain.
“Frederick Sharp?” Grover asked in a voice he pitched deeper. “Son of Professor Dougan Sharp and Greta Sharp, brother to Eleanor Sharp and Arthur Sharp?”
The griffon in the cell nodded and rasped, “My Kaiser…”
“You know who I am,” Grover acknowledged, shifting on his claws as the Reichstone glowed from the lamps. “Good. Your father awaits his execution in another cell. Your sister took a round through the lung. She is dying in one of my hospitals, triaged in a surgical center.”
The griffon did not answer. Grover stared at Frederick, squinting through his glasses in the low light. He was brown feathered and tan furred, like himself, but with yellow claws, unlike Grover’s darker talons. According to the profile he extracted from his father, their birthdays were less than two weeks apart.
They were the same age.
“I have ordered your sister to be operated on immediately,” Grover continued. “That will doubtless mean some other traitor will die, but so be it. She will live.”
The griffon licked at a chapped beak. “Mercy,” he croaked.
“There is no mercy for traitors,” Grover answered in a snarl. “Your father made his opposition to the Gods and to the Reich clear, and your family will share his fate.” He paused. “But the Gods believe in redemption.”
The griffon shuffled forward towards the bars. His eyes were wild. Benito tapped on the hilt of his sword in warning.
“You won awards in Yale for cross-country flying,” Grover stated. Frederick bobbed his head rapidly. “I have a task. Should you succeed in everything I ask, your family will be released. I swear it on the Gods your father forsook in defiance of me.”
Grover stared at a griffon his age and nearly his height. His blue eyes hardened behind his glasses as the light from the lanterns reflected in the lenses. “Should you fail-”
“I need to fly,” Flurry Heart said from the plinth.
Grover blinked. He had pressed the tip of his pen into the margin of the list of ice cream to write something, but he had completely forgotten what he meant to note. He licked his beak.
“I lost a lot of feathers in the battle,” Flurry admitted. “Had to clip a few primary feathers down. Should be good to fly now.” She rolled to her hooves and bundled them together, standing up on the plinth and flaring out her wings as she arched her back. She didn’t seem that bothered to have been laying on a stone plinth for more than an hour.
Grover glanced at the pen pressed against his dessert list. “What kind of ice cream do you like?” he blurted out in Equestrian.
Flurry paused on the top of the plinth, looking like an oversized flamingo. She craned her neck down towards him with pressed lips. “What?”
“Do you like ice cream?” Grover rephrased.
“I was born in the Crystal Empire,” Flurry snorted. “It’s cold. And I was raised by Equestrians. Sugar is an essential component of our lifestyle. Of fucking course I like ice cream.”
“…any particular flavor?” Grover managed.
Flurry glanced down at her pink hooves beyond the black jumpsuit. She flapped her wings as she hopped down. “Dunno. Strawberry? Chocolate’s overrated.”
“My grandfather loved chocolate.”
“The one that slept with everything that moved?” Flurry nickered.
“Yes,” Grover answered. His eyes went to the knights. “He wasn’t an Aquileian, however. Never a pony.”
Flurry smirked. “What a shame.” She stretched out her legs in the jumpsuit. “Might have made things easier.”
“You know,” Grover began, “Celestia wrote love letters to Grover the Great-”
Flurry sputtered. “She did not!” the alicorn insisted. “Don’t try to grift me!”
“Grover II found them credible enough to act out,” the Kaiser continued. “It’s called The Secret Letters of Celestia. It’s banned in Griffonia.”
Flurry rolled her eyes. “You should republish them. It’d be funny.”
“Legend goes that Grover II only stopped the reenactments after one of his courtiers got too into playing Celestia. Banished him to Greifenmarschen.”
Flurry hummed. “He didn’t kill him?”
“Grover was afraid he’d keep acting like Celestia during the execution.”
Flurry genuinely laughed, a full-throated, snorting chuckle that rang like church bells. She shook her head and flopped her ears around afterwards. “I’m going for a flight. You wanna come with?”
Grover looked back at the folder, then at the Reichstone behind it. “What?”
“Fly, nerdbird,” Flurry huffed. “You can fly, can’t you?”
“My Kaiser,” Sir Ewing said in warning. Flurry glanced at the knights over a wing.
“You can come too,” she shrugged in Herzlander.
“It’s not wise to fly around an unsecured city,” Grover deadpanned.
“We’re hanging off the side of a mountain,” Flurry said in response. “It’s the ‘Hanging Gardens of Canterlot’ for a reason. You ever follow a downdraft down a mountain?”
Grover flicked his feathers and thought about the times he flew around the high ceilings of his palace, then the open courtyards. He’d never once flown around any of his cities. “No.”
Flurry grimaced. “Missing out.”
Grover checked his watch. “And you are missing a meeting, apparently.”
The Princess’ ears flattened against her purple and blue stubble. “Yeah.” She bit her lip. Her horn glowed gold, then dimmed.
Grover tapped his pen on the page resting in the folder. The Reichstone helped prop it up in front of his beak. The Princess slowly lifted a hind leg and stepped back. She spared a look at the guards. Her horn glowed again. Grover felt the static in the air as the spell charged. Teleport, he assumed.
“Kaiser,” Flurry nodded formally, as if they weren’t just talking about ice cream and illicit letters. Grover spared a nod back.
“Princess.” He just had to say it.
The griffon snapped the folder shut, then rolled off the bench with folded wings. The alicorn cut the spell off from the sudden movement. Grover landed on all fours, then shoved the folder into the pack with the pens and pencils.
“Where were you flying to?” he asked casually in Herzlander.
“Uh…” Flurry hesitated. “Down.”
“To the army camp?” Grover clarified. The Reichsarmee had a base camp of mechanized and armored vehicles down the mountain, all the tanks and equipment that was too risky to bring up the mountain road. Most of Canterlot’s roads were too narrow.
“I mean,” Flurry flicked her ears, “in that direction, I guess.”
“I have not left the city in over a week,” Grover said idly. “I should check on the armored core.” He shrugged off his long coat, weaving his wings through the slits and laying it on the bench after refolding it. He reached back with a claw and unclipped the straps of his holster, pulling the holstered pistol off his pressed, tan dress shirt.
Flurry stepped back again and looked away with a scrunched muzzle. Grover glanced at her and tried to guess her expression. Muzzles were supposed to be easier to read than beaks, but ponies shifted through emotions like cutie marks too quickly.
Sir Ewing coughed into a gauntlet. “My Kaiser,” he offered. “Allow us to assemble an escort-”
“Stay with the crown,” Grover ordered.
The knights looked between the Reichstone and the Kaiser.
You think I can wear that damn thing while flying? Grover leaned down and hid his rolling eyes while he unlaced his dress shoes. He set them atop the bench with his silk socks, then flexed bare paws atop the smooth stones.
That wasn’t truly necessary to fly, and neither was undoing his dress shirt, but Grover found himself unbuttoning the long-sleeved, tan shirt as well. He folded it and left it atop the coat. The golden cuff links glinted in the afternoon sun, next to the Reichstone.
Now only in his dress slacks and a tight white undershirt, Grover grabbed the holster and threaded it back under his left wing. He adjusted the straps and tied them tight, making sure the pistol was in easy claw reach. As a final check, he undid the clip and checked the breech and magazine before sliding it back into place.
Flurry shuffled her hooves. She had turned around and stared at the hedgerow. “Equestrians don’t wear clothes for a reason,” she muttered.
“Are you planning to be naked for the coronation?” Grover asked mirthlessly.
“No, Twilight wore a dress. I have my military uniform.”
“The one that was falling apart?”
“Rarity fixed it.” Flurry turned around and looked down at him. Her muzzle offered no visible reaction.
Grover’s undershirt was sleeveless, fully exposing his arms. It was tucked into his monogramed slacks with a belt. The griffon ignored that his beak barely reached the bottom of the alicorn’s muzzle. He adjusted his glasses.
Then paused.
Grover took a deep breath and unhooked them from his head feathers and folded the frame. He sat down onto his hind paws, reaching into a pocket and pulling out their case. Grover flicked his eyes up to Flurry; she was close enough that his nearsightedness wasn’t an issue. He flipped the case over and plucked his flight goggles out, looping the strap over a wrist while he packed his glasses away.
Grover snapped the goggles over his head and pulled them down after rubbing the lenses on his shirt. He blinked under them. Flurry said nothing. Her cheeks were pursed.
Laugh.
The griffon’s feathers flared out, then he shifted his glare to the hedge. “Sir Ewing, Sir Erreck, collect my things and remain.”
“My Kaiser-”
“That is an order,” Grover snarled. His voice cracked. “Return to the castle. You can tell Benito I am with the tanks.”
Sir Erreck clasped his claw to his chest plate first. “As you command.”
Flurry squinted at the hedge maze, and her horn glowed. The glow increased to a torch.
The piece of the hedge burst into blue flame that blasted into ash in a blink. Flurry clicked her tongue and walked through the hole, then blasted another hole into the next wall beyond it. Grover watched her long-legged stride for a moment, then followed.
“You can just fly over it,” he pointed out.
The Princess extended her massive wings. She made the next hole larger so she could fit her entire wingspan through it. “Eh,” she snorted over her left wing. “I’m tearing it down anyway. Head start.” The alicorn punched through every hedge wall until she was back in the proper gardens, leaving a straight line of holes behind her.
Flurry trotted to the edge of the hanging gardens. There was a tall railing and the wind blew stronger beyond without the trees or anything blocking the gales. Canterlot was high up enough that a few errant clouds broke apart in the horizon. The alicorn stared west, towards the Celestial Plain. The horizon depressed into a bowl.
Grover leaned his claws on the rail two wingspans away from the Princess. He looked down the mountain. Several waterfalls tumbled down green fissures, refracting into rainbows from the sunlight hitting the mountain. The rivers that ran from Canterlot spread through the Equestrian Heartland.
Grover the Great had picked Griffenheim’s location because it was central to his new empire, as opposed to his birthplace of Griffonstone in the mountains. His bastard son Guto had worked ably with the trueborn Grover II to keep the birthplace of Griffonkind from declining in the Reich. But now it was a ruin, the wingpit of Griffonia. Grover looked south, picking out the forests of the expanded Everfree.
Not like their old capital did any better. What happened to the world?
Flurry reared up and leaned her forehooves on the railing. She peered down and clicked her tongue. “You never done this before?” she asked in confirmation.
“I am a griffon,” Grover scoffed. “I know how to fly.”
“Princess!” a mare screamed behind them. Both turned around and looked over their extended wings. A pegasus waved wildly in a purple uniform, summoning more guards to her position. One of the patrolling knight teams paused beside the mare, then stared over at their Kaiser.
“Then you’ll have no problem beating me to the base of Canterhorn,” Flurry said quickly. The alicorn gracelessly heaved herself over the railing and pressed her wings against her sides. She fell like an artillery round down the mountain.
Grover stared.
His claws clenched the railing and he flung himself after her.
The griffon copied the alicorn’s movement, folding his wings against his side to narrow his frame. The wind ripped past his feathers and fur, pressing his goggles to his head. The mountain slope rapidly approached, and he curved his wings to catch the wind peeling down the mountain. He looked up, squinting for the Princess.
Her wings are massive. She can’t be hard to spot.
Flurry was ahead of him, but not as far ahead as he expected. She had flared out her wings to catch the downdrafts from the wind, following the crags in the mountain with slow twists. Grover traced her movements. She was fast, faster than she should be with that wingspan, but her turns were slow.
Grover spun down into the crags and followed a river, using the added pressure difference between the wind and the water for extra speed. He lost sight of Flurry, taking another route down. Grover skimmed the top of the river as it reached a waterfall. It took him a moment to close his beak, belatedly realizing he was smiling.
Flurry burst out of the waterfall below him with a laugh, having spiraled through a lower crag and crashed through the falling water. She flapped her wings as the droplets caught the sunlight. She flapped her wings several more times as she descended, trying to dry the feathers out.
Grover folded his wings and dived past her. He flipped around onto his back, nearly clipping the alicorn’s horn and flashed two talons at her shocked muzzle before he realized that he just flipped off the Princess.
She has hooves. She probably doesn’t know-
“Hey!” a voice belted out above him.
Grover squawked in a laugh. He actually hoped she heard it. The Kaiser twisted down another crag to follow a stream, dodging between exposed rocks and following the water. He sensed the presence above him and rolled mid-air just as he hit another waterfall.
Flurry skimmed through the water, kicking up a massive splash with a curled wing. Grover felt the impact along his left hind leg, but she failed to dampen his wings. She flapped again, trying to clear the water from her soaked feathers.
Grover didn’t flash his claws this time; he dived towards the base of the mountain. The army base was easily in view, and he picked out the several rows of tanks and the checkpoint at the bottom of the road. Flying patrols of Reichsarmee soldiers scanned the surrounding area.
Grover bent his head down to check. The Princess was behind him, waterlogged. But she was close enough he could see her scowl. Grover flapped once, trying to sense a better downdraft. He found it to his left and let the wind spiral him, curving one wing to gain speed before flaring his wings and firing like a bullet towards the farthest line of tanks. He was close enough to make out the models.
He was also close enough to see the two patrols unslinging their rifles and shouting warnings up at him. Grover flapped out his wings and reared, arresting his forward momentum. It still took him several seconds to bleed speed, and he was within earshot when he finally stopped and hovered midair.
“Halt! Remain where you are!” a Reichsarmee Corporal shouted in Herzlander. He repeated the warning in Equestrian. Grover stared at the grey uniform, then to the orange armband with his black roaring griffon proudly displayed.
The soldiers weren’t aiming at him, but their rifles were aiming in his direction, primed and ready for action. The greenish griffoness to the Corporal’s left looked up and her eyes widened. She mouthed something to her commander and he followed her stare. Both griffons backed up, and the other squad mirrored the movement.
Flurry Heart stopped above Grover, flaring out her wings and spiraling around him. “Hah!” she huffed. “I thought you’d be slow, nerdbird.” Her wings were still wet and droplets flew from the feathers.
Grover stared at his soldiers. He ignored the Princess and flapped towards them. The soldiers swayed mid-air, trading glances between the approaching pony and griffon. Their rifles now hung pointed downwards, held loosely in claws.
The green griffonness’ eyes widened into saucers at Grover. She brought her claw up to her chest and pounded it. “My Kaiser!” she screeched. Her corporal blinked, then frantically followed her example. The others squawked out the call in surprise a moment after him.
“My Kaiser!”
Grover raised his beak and took a gulping breath as he flew under them, towards the tanks. “Dismissed!” he crowed out. He heard wing flaps as they scrambled to resume their flight path.
Grover landed atop a Gunnhildur’s turret in the closest line of tanks. A few engineers roamed the ground nearby, but they packed up and left at the second set of wings approaching. Flurry landed atop the tank beside him.
Grover took a deep breath and swallowed. Sweat laced his fur. It wasn’t a truly strenuous flight, but he was winded.
Flurry Heart scuffed a hoof on the turret. “Not bad,” she complimented in her usual tone. Her chest pulled in and out under her jumpsuit as she breathed through her nose.
She was completely fine.
The alicorn stretched out her wings, eyeing the water in her feathers. She stuck out her tongue and her horn glowed. Blue fire raced across her wings, spiraling out from her horn, then crackling off into embers at her wingtips. The Princess refolded her dry wings against her jumpsuit.
“You…” Grover paused and took a breath. “You held back.”
Flurry reached up a hoof and lowered her head. She tapped her horn. “I can just teleport. I wanted to have fun.” She shrugged her hoof before clomping it down onto the turret. “You won.”
Grover looked up to the retreating patrol. It was clear who they actually recognized first, even with his picture in postcards and placards and newspapers and newsreels. Even with the beak all his ancestors had. The Kaiser took a deep breath atop the tank.
“Are these the tanks from the battle?” Flurry asked. She looked around at the camp. A few patrols had stopped to stare, but they quickly moved on at her sweeping gaze.
“No,” Grover ground out. “Those are in the field. These are from my personal brigade.”
Flurry frowned. Her eyes lit up. “Oh, from Stalliongrad?”
“From Griffenheim,” Grover answered shortly.
Flurry stared down at the tank at her hooves. She did not respond. Her horn glowed, and she looked around as her lips pressed into a line. Grover stared at her as she closed her eyes, seemingly concentrating on something.
Grover waited for the static in the air to signal a teleport, but nothing happened. She flapped her wings, still with her eyes closed and hopped onto another tank. Then another a minute later. Her horn moved in a slow wave, still glowing with a soft light.
Flurry Heart stopped atop the third tank from the left. Her wings jittered, then she opened her eyes. She stared across eight turrets to Grover. It had been several minutes, and the Kaiser’s breathing had slowed.
“I’ve never been inside a tank,” she called out.
“I’ve seen what passed for an Equestrian tank,” Grover responded.
Flurry looked to the side. “Yeah. I heard you test drive your stuff.”
“I do,” Grover stated. He pulled his goggles up and squinted at the blurry alicorn for a moment, then pulled out his glasses case.
“I rode one of these, but Bronzetail never gave me a tour,” Flurry said.
“There’s hardly anything to tour,” Grover squawked. “It’s a machine. A weapon.”
The Princess said something lost to the distance between them, then raised her voice. “You can show me. If you want to.”
Grover paused with his goggles in one claw and his glasses in the other. He looked up across the tanks to the alicorn. She was too far way to make out her expression without his glasses, just like outside Stalliongrad with the massive shield between them. Grover rolled his eyes and stuffed his goggles in the case.
He turned away and hooked his glasses into his feathers, resting them on his beak. “I am sure-”
“Should you fail, your family’s life is forfeit. Do you understand, Frederick?”
He clacked his beak shut.
Grover heaved. He stood in the center of a totally destroyed bedroom. The engraved bedposts had been scoured, the dresser collapsed with drawers shattered into splinters, pillows and curtains and linens clawed apart with down and feathers spilling across the floor.
Grover could not see a single cursed scrap of that damn letter. Benito swallowed in the doorway; his ears folded against his head. “My Kaiser?”
“We proceed,” Grover snarled, “as previously ordered.” His tan head feathers flared out in instinctive aggression. The Reichstone had been launched into the bedside table. The heavy gold hammered through the wood, but the filigrees would need repair. Grover would have to wear one of the cheaper doubles for the time being…but they were lighter anyways.
Benito clasped a paw to his chest. “We…” the dog paused. “The courier is waiting under guard. And his family is still-”
Grover whirled at the dog, beak open in a roar. “Take those fucking traitors-” his voice strangled out as a bare paw slipped on a chunk of blank paper. It was one of the corners. Grover kicked it away and squeezed his eyes shut. He had lost his glasses at some point, and his claws were bruised.
The Kaiser’s wings shook against his sides with suppressed rage. “Get them the fuck out of my empire. They are banished. Drive them to the River Federation’s border and dump them there.”
Benito slowly nodded. “As you command, my Kaiser.” The dog pulled the door shut with a lingering stare, leaving Grover alone in his destroyed bedroom.
Several minutes passed in silence. Grover opened his eyes. “Fine,” he said to himself.
The griffon twisted back around atop the turret. Flurry Heart was looking to the side. “Is there a reason you are standing on that tank?” he called out to her in a strained voice.
The alicorn nodded.
“We mass produce them,” Grover explained in a snarl. “Surely that concept is not beyond you. Equestria was not that far behind. One is like the other.”
Flurry mouthed something, then shook her head. “I’ll tell you inside.”
Grover flapped his wings, leaping between the turrets with outstretched claws. The alicorn moved to the side to make room, stepping off the turret onto the chassis. The griffon landed beside her and reached down, tugging on the hatch.
He twisted the latch counter-clockwise and wrenched it open with both claws. “It locks on the inside to prevent boarders from reaching the crew,” Grover explained in a reverberating growl. “Not that it would stop you.”
Flurry Heart did not respond.
“You first,” Grover said. “Watch the wings. It is not built for a pony.”
Flurry slowly moved to the hatch. She lowered her rear legs into it first, shuffling with her wings pressed tightly against the jumpsuit. Grover held the hatch up. She slid downwards as her hooves slipped and her muzzle nearly brushed against his beak.
Grover glared down at her as she stuffed her forelegs into the interior. Flurry’s horn was angled towards his neck, sharp horn tip only two hooves away from his fur. The alicorn looked down into the tank with icy eyes. She visibly shuffled herself out of the way and disappeared towards the driver’s seat. There was a clang as she bumped up against something.
The Kaiser of the Griffonian Reich looked up and down at the rows of his tanks, then at the patrols circling his army camp. A few mechanics and ground crews wandered among the other rows, but without the alicorn standing next to him, the tan and brown griffon looked like everyone else.
Grover’s blunted claws tightened around the hatch. The shuffling inside had stopped as Flurry apparently found a somewhat comfortable spot. Not that it seems to matter. She’s an alicorn.
Grover von Greifenstein climbed down into the tank and yanked the hatch shut.
Flurry Heart brushed a wing against one wall of the interior. Her other wing easily touched the far side. She shuffled backwards, bumping up against the small seat and closed hatch for the driver.
Grover twisted a bar clockwise above her, barely four hooves from the alicorn. He folded his wings tight against his sides when he reared to the right and grabbed a console, using it to pull himself into a higher seat. A talon pressed a switch with a click.
Several lights flickered on inside the interior, small bulbs running the length of the chassis. It was still very dark and very cramped. Grover wriggled in the seat and his tail slipped out between the seat and back cushion, laying over a few cords. He stared forward.
“The commander sits here,” Grover said in smooth Herzlander. Katerin was less than a day’s flight south from Griffenheim, but Katherine sounded nothing like the Kaiser. He rolled vowels rather than clip them.
“It’s very dark,” Flurry commented in her own Herzlander. She was reminded of the difference between Canterlonian Equestrian compared to the frontier dialect she spent years with. The alicorn bent her wings inward, scuffing her hooves as she fell back onto her flank and used the back of the driver’s seat to hold herself upright.
“This is auxiliary lighting,” Grover replied tonelessly. “There is a battery so the engine does not need to be run for the crew to make repairs.”
“I asked Bronzetail once,” Flurry grumbled, “but how exactly did a species with wings decide it was a good idea to shove themselves into a metal box with a cannon attached to it?” Her right wing flared out and slapped into the wall as she slouched back down against the back of the chair. Her muzzle curled. “This isn’t even a me problem.”
“Our knights carried the day many times in battle,” Grover’s tone took the quality of a detached lecture. “With the advent of vehicles, griffons looked for an equivalent of a hard-hitting armored force capable of quick maneuvers.”
Flurry twisted her horn and glanced over the gray upholstery she leaned against. She was sitting on the cold metal floor, and the air was stale. There was a small hatch directly in front of the seat; she could see the latches where it could be opened with an even smaller porthole available inside the hatch.
A donut hole inside a donut. It was the best comparison she could think of. The alicorn eyed the incredibly narrow space between the pedals and levers, then glanced at the seat. “I can’t fit in there.”
“The seats are not built for a pony,” Grover said, “nor are the pedals or levers. It requires a retrofit.”
Flurry’s mind wandered. “I asked for tanks to be sent to the ELF…” she began.
“We did not retrofit them, and I doubt that your rebellion had the time or resources to do it themselves.” Grover waved a claw. “Bronzetail’s report was damning when he arrived in Manehattan. The Equestrian Liberation Front was a lost cause.”
“Yeah,” Flurry sighed. “Thanks for sending them anyway.”
“They were not our best models,” Grover shrugged a claw. “And they were set to be scrapped for parts. Chrysalis learned nothing from them.”
“How many crewmembers?”
“Count the seats,” Grover scoffed. There was a piece of machinery in-between them, and Flurry shuffled to the side. Her horn flared and an orb of golden light blinked into existence just above her horn point. It drifted up to the ceiling and stuck there, vibrating slightly.
It cast pale light across the interior and framed Grover’s beak in shadow. Deep blue irises studied the orb above him. “It does not emit heat,” he remarked.
“It’s magelight,” Flurry said quietly. “It’s powered by magic.”
“Your spells have heat to them,” Grover stated. “Or cold.”
“Most say it feels electric,” Flurry moved to the side, further folding her wings against her jumpsuit. “Everypony has a unique aura.”
“How often does it change color?” Grover leaned back in the chair. He looked at the golden ball of light rather than her. “Your magic was blue in Aquileia. It matched your eyes.”
“It was gold when I was born, then it shifted. I don’t remember when. It changed back in the Empire.” Flurry could not stand inside the interior without punching her horn through the chassis. Even sitting, she slouched. After a moment, she tucked her hooves against her barrel and partially rolled to her side. A hind hoof clanged into the metal grating, but she had more room to stretch out.
“More pedals and less levers,” Grover said absently. “That is the difference between a tank made for a pony versus a tank made for a griffon. The Changelings copied our designs with minimal adjustments. I suppose having a horn helps.”
Flurry remembered the tank she ripped through and rubbed a few feathers against the driver’s seat behind her. She laid on her side and looked up at Grover. He still studied the orb of light.
“You did not answer the question,” Grover said flatly. “Is it common for magic to change color?”
“No.”
Grover’s beak ground together. “How special.” He glanced at the contraption below him next to another seat. “The gunner sits there.” The griffon waved a claw at it. “You are near the driver and machine gunner.”
“This is a scout tank, right?” Flurry asked.
“It is a light tank,” Grover corrected, “designed for flanking and suppression of unarmored targets and infantry. You rode a Grendel, not a Gunnhildur.”
“Have you driven one of these?”
“Yes.” Grover squinted at the orb of light. “I have commanded a crew for test drives of every model in service in my Reichsarmee.”
“How fast does it go?” Flurry asked. She stared over his head towards a patch of gray paint that did not match the rest of the interior. It was noticeable in her pale magelight, but not with only the interior lights.
“I am not requisitioning a crew to take you for a drive,” Grover said bluntly. “You would not even be able to fit inside the tank with all four griffons in position.”
Flurry pursed her muzzle. “Rude. Are you calling me fat?”
Grover finally looked down at her and made eye contact. “Just teleport it,” he scoffed. “Or lift it. You can lift a heavy panzer; you can surely lift this model.”
Flurry took a deep breath and kneaded her hooves against the sleek fabric of her jumpsuit. She leaned her head back until her horn brushed the top of the seat behind her. “I remember Aquileia.”
“They tried to design tanks for their pony minority,” Grover squawked. “They wasted time iterating and debating in their parliament as their frontline fell. We expected a harder fight.” He crossed his arms; talons tapped against an elbow.
Flurry studied Grover’s arms. They were dark gray, almost black, and contrasted with the rich tan of his fur and head feathers, but blended well with his brown wingtips and matched his beak. Without his coat or dress shirts or sashes, the Kaiser was lean.
Grover stared at her severely behind his glasses. The frames were thin and pinched back into his tan head feathers. His feathers were straight and swept back away from his eyes and beak, giving his face a narrow, hawkish look.
“I remember,” Flurry took a breath, “that griffons could leave if they wished.”
Grover did not respond with words. A rumbling growl reverberated in his beak after a heavy inhale. He stopped drumming talons on his arm. The griffon’s left wing wasn’t flush against his sleeveless shirt; the holster’s outline was visible through clenched feathers.
Flurry Heart worked her jaw. Her ears flicked above the stubble of her mane. “What happened?” she asked once the growl faded.
“No,” Grover answered.
Flurry’s ears pressed back and she looked away.
One of Grover’s bare paws swung against the console and he shuffled out of the chair. He swallowed and his feathers visibly relaxed back against his head as his fur settled. “No,” he repeated in a flat voice.
The Kaiser worked his way back to the hatch next to him and reached up, placing a claw on the bar. He looked down his beak at the alicorn laying below him. “You want to know that badly?” the griffon hissed. “Are you going to kill me? Like you said you would?”
“Is the story still that Kemerskai worked with Chrysalis?” Flurry whickered from the side of her muzzle. “It’s a lie.”
“It is enough for the Reich.”
“Not for me,” Flurry answered.
“That is not my concern.” Grover placed his other claw on the bar above his head. “Are you going to seize me like Benito? Demand it? Threats?” He took a short breath. “I said no. What do you say to that, Princess?” He drew the title out with a growl.
Flurry Heart bit her lip. “Okay.”
Grover twisted the bar clockwise and the hatch unlocked with a dull clunk. His beak twitched as he pushed upwards with both claws; the hinges squeaked. He looked back down at Flurry, glaring at her through the lenses that made his eyes look owlish.
Flurry chewed on the inside of her cheek and looked away. She focused on the loading rack and noticed the stains in the basket that caught the spent casings after the shell had been fired. It looked like the crew needed to scrub it.
The hinges creaked and the hatch abruptly slammed shut.
Grover flumped back down in the commander’s seat. He stared forward, looking somewhere above Flurry. Tannish-brown wings rustled against the upholstery. Grover placed both claws on the center console. He breathed in stale air with a whistle.
Flurry brushed her head back and waited. The golden orb of light pulsed above both of them. Grover continued to stare forward.
“You have lived with griffons,” Grover began in Equestrian. He picked through his words carefully in a received accent, Upper Canterlot from a professional tutor. “If you put two griffons in a room, you get three opinions.”
“If you put three griffons in a room, only two leave,” Flurry provided.
“Do not-” Grover cut himself off mid-snarl. He breathed in. “Do not interrupt me.”
Flurry nodded slowly, not that Grover seemed to notice her horn bob.
“I invited fourteen griffons to the palace,” Grover continued. “All of them the…leaders of the regional protests. All of them were professors and philosophers before they were politicians.”
The griffon suddenly took off his glasses and held them tightly in a clenched claw. “It was planned. For my coronation. Organized. Eros died three days later and they seized their chance. The schools shut down with the universities as students walked out with professors to speak out about the future of my Reich.”
He blinked rapidly. “We expected regional protests. But not in Herzland. Not from students who never tasted war in their lives. The Reichsarmee was caught with clipped wings for a time, and the redeployments were hasty. My advisors urged to crush them.”
Flurry held her tongue.
“I invited them instead. Only a few arrived at first. They expected me to kill them. Others followed. And I gave those idiots what they asked for.” Grover clacked his beak. “Religious reform? They got it, all variants of Trinity worship were accepted. I rolled back nearly everything Eros ever signed into law.”
He closed his eyes. “Eros knew I would. He wanted me to. But he died before he could see it.” The griffon took another deep breath, and his voice hitched. “Gabriela and Erion…” he hesitated for a moment, then continued in a darker voice.
“They both told me what would happen. And I should have known. I gave griffons what they screeched for, and they screeched for more. They raided the Archon’s tomb and killed three guards. I forbid the Reichsarmee from entering the city. Every griffon was watching Griffenheim, waiting to see…” he trailed off.
“I invited them in,” he repeated. “I invited them in and sat down and listened while my empire was breaking apart outside my walls.” He turned down to her. “Do you know what they wanted?”
Flurry was quiet for a moment, then realized Grover wanted an actual answer. “Votes?” she offered in a soft voice. “You said they wanted to vote.”
Grover laughed, descending into a harsh, screeching chuckle. “Yes. Votes. But none of them could agree on how to vote. Or who should vote. Or if the votes should be balanced or weighted or how a parliament should be divided.” He pinched his beak. “They drafted five constitutions,” Grover scoffed. “Do you know what that is?”
“Document summarizing how the government should work,” Flurry answered.
Grover rolled his eyes and glanced down at her. “Does Equestria even have one of those?”
“The Concordat of the Three Tribes,” Flurry said easily. “It’s…vague. Celestia wrote everything afterwards.”
Grover laughed again at the mention of Celestia. “They spent their time arguing with each other instead of arguing with me. While the rioting spread across the Reich and every single one of my advisors begged me to do something. So I did.”
Flurry waited.
Grover snorted and replaced his glasses. “Now you know,” he said shortly.
“What happened with Frederick?” Flurry asked. “With Katherine?”
“No,” Grover shook his head. “You have your answer, alicorn.”
“Please?” Flurry whispered.
Grover glared down at her, then clacked his beak. “We are done.”
Flurry’s horn glowed above her cold eyes.
Grover leaned back in the chair. “I see,” he said slowly. “Shall you pluck out my feathers? Force me to kill myself? Punch your way through the tank?”
“Do you know why I picked this tank?” Flurry asked.
“Because it is from Griffenheim,” Grover waved a claw. “All of them were there. You did not need this farce.”
“The roads to Griffenheim Square are narrow,” Flurry said. “The tanks had to move single file, out from the Temple of Boreas where they cordoned the students away after the Archon’s tomb was attacked.”
“You clearly know what happened. Which of my deserters told you?”
Flurry Heart gave Grover one last look, then closed her eyes. She breathed slowly. “The order came out before dawn, radioed straight from the palace to move towards the square. The crew was tired and out of coffee. The commander…” Flurry paused.
“I don’t know his name; he was a veteran. He served in the Wingbardian front, commanded two tanks before this one. His crew worked well with him. The tanks moved in to assist the standard Reichsarmee around the square, but they had been recalled when the armor arrived.
“The tanks lined up and took hits from bottles and stones. A lot of the protestors were young; they had signs. They waved them in front of the hatches. The commander was making a joke when the radio ordered them to open fire into the crowd.”
Grover snorted above her. Flurry ignored him.
“The commander radioed back to confirm it. Asked if they meant to fire above the crowd and scare them, make them fly. High Command repeated to fire into the 'rebels.' One of the other tanks opened up. Griffons screamed.”
“I do not need to hear your fiction.”
“The machine gunner hesitated; the commander took over, shoved him out of the seat and fired into the crowd. This tank was brand new; it hadn’t seen battle before. It killed thirty-seven. It hasn’t killed anyone here.”
Grover chuckled. “How morbid.”
“After the Reichsarmee moved into the square and the order came to stop, the commander returned to his seat. He didn’t say a thing as they regrouped and moved through the city back to the Temple of Boreas. And he didn’t say a thing when he drew his pistol and shot himself in front of his crew, but he was thinking of his daughter protesting in Yale.”
Flurry opened her eyes and blinked. Her horn snuffed out.
Grover stared down at her. His beak twitched, then he raised his claws up. “Very maudlin,” he commented as he gave her a soft clap. “Truly, tugs on the heartstrings.”
“You don’t care at all,” Flurry snorted. Her muzzle curled in disgust.
“Why should I care for fiction?” Grover remarked. “You should have told me about Katherine’s peasant family in Katerin, and how unjust it was they were mildly inconvenienced for a few weeks.”
“You shoved them in a camp,” she accused.
“Most were released months ago,” Grover squawked. “The Reichsarmee was overzealous, I admit, but I am not Chrysalis. Those that remain work off their labor; they are not sucked dry and discarded to die.”
Flurry inhaled. “The bullet went through his head.”
Grover rolled his eyes.
“It’s in the wall behind you.”
Mid-roll, Grover glanced over a wing. His eyes stopped at the discolored patch of paint on the chassis. His eyes drifted back to her.
“They just painted over it,” Flurry provided. “New crew. They have no idea. The old crew was scattered, I guess, but I’m not sure.”
Grover swallowed thickly. “You saw a patch of paint and invented an entire story?”
“It’s still there,” Flurry said in a soft voice. “It got lodged in the plate.”
Grover twisted his head around in the seat and looked up at the discolored patch of paint. He raised a claw up and poked at it, then pressed his palm flat and felt around.
“More to the left,” Flurry offered.
Grover stopped, then followed her instruction. His palm abruptly stopped and the griffon’s cheeks pulled into a frown. He slowly withdrew his claw to a talon and scratched at the paint.
The tank was quiet except for the scratches of a single talon. Grover continued to pick at the gray paint, scraping down a rough, hasty paintjob done in a rush. Twisted around in the chair, his tail curled around a hind leg.
Something clattered to the floor, falling from his talon. It bounced once.
Grover looked down in the seat, then twisted around back to Flurry. She hadn’t moved from the base of the driver’s seat. Her hooves rubbed against the metal grating and the alicorn looked away with pinched eyes.
Grover chuckled, then the noise faded. He shuffled down from the chair and bumped his head against the console when he tried to turn around. His glasses were knocked askew atop his beak; Grover unhooked them and held the frame in his left claw while he felt around behind the chair with his right.
He looked over a wing several times back to the alicorn, staring above her muzzle at her horn. The pink spiral rested against the back of the chair as Flurry waited. Grover stretched out and talons tapped against the metal, feeling blindly while the golden magelight cast shadows across the interior.
The sound suddenly stopped. He pulled his arm back and scooched on the floor away from the commander’s seat and away from the alicorn, sitting directly under the hatch on the metal grating. Grover did not put his glasses back on. He raised his right claw up to his beak and stared down at his palm.
A flattened bullet rolled around, flecked with gray paint. He rolled it forward and pinched it between two talons, holding it up to the lights above him. Flurry’s magelight made a shadow over his beak.
“I know exactly what happened,” Flurry stated. “I just wanted to hear it from you.”
Grover opened his beak, then closed it. “What in Maar’s Hell is this?” His voice cracked, returning to a higher, reedier pitch. “You planted this? For what? To mock me?”
“You think I shoved a bullet into a random tank and painted over it?”
“You…” Grover paused. “You can teleport. You could have done this.”
“I can do a lot of things,” Flurry admitted. She licked her lips. “With weapons.”
Grover was quiet. He stared at the flattened bullet he held between them. His wings fluttered as the feathers spaced out, and Flurry glimpsed the holstered pistol under his left wing.
“I know that pistol-”
“Enough!” Grover snarled. “What is this meant to prove? Some magic trick? As if you needed more?”
“You sent a terrified student to me,” Flurry growled back, “and you can’t even tell me-”
“They told me I wasn’t good enough!” Grover roared. He flung the bullet at Flurry Heart. It was a perfect throw and bounced off her muzzle mid-sentence.
It did not hurt at all, but Flurry stopped speaking at the roar.
“You fucking horse,” Grover strangled out in Herzlander. “I gave them everything they asked for, and they still said I needed to give them more. I wanted to listen to them, but they wanted to force me to listen to them, to sign away the powers I used to pass their fucking reforms in the first place!
“There wasn’t a single voice in the palace on their side except mine…” Grover stammered and breathed in raggedly, “and they said I had no idea what it was like to live in the Reich. That I had no idea what it was like to have choices made for me.” His left claw still held his glasses and squeezed; a faint cracking sound rippled under his harder exhales.
“Like I hadn’t spent my entire life being told what books to read, being told who to talk to, how to talk to them, how to dress and act and fight and a million other things.” He blinked again, and Flurry saw tears under his eyes. “The only fucking thing I had was those stupid letters, and even you said no.”
Flurry closed her mouth and her ears wilted.
“I wanted to be different,” Grover mumbled. “I had it all drafted on my desk, spent an entire year on a huge list, but I needed time to roll them out. I worked on it so hard.” He exhaled shakily. “It was just a week, not even four days. Eros died. Suddenly, they’re out in the street screeching and I rushed everything through but it was all just ‘weak little Grover giving into them’ or ‘the iron-clawed Kaiser trying to placate us.’ I didn’t…” Grover stopped.
He leaned forward into the magelight and his beak was wet with tears.
“What did I even do?” he asked aloud in a lost voice. "I hadn't even done anything yet."
Flurry Heart did not have an answer. “If…” she started, “if you had told me…”
“How could I explain weakness to you?” Grover sighed. He stared over at her with shimmering blue eyes. “You don’t understand.”
Flurry shook her head. “I’ve felt weak. Ponies are dying right now and-”
“Look at yourself,” Grover said listlessly.
Flurry stared down at her left hoof. The jumpsuit’s sleeve had pulled up slightly, and she could see the bottom of the figure-eight swirl on her foreleg. The fur had grown back white over the scar tissue, a pearl white that matched her father’s coat. She leaned her horn back against the seat. “I’m not smarter or cleverer or better than anypony else.”
“You are better,” Grover mumbled. “Stop lying to yourself.”
Flurry exhaled. “My life isn’t worth theirs.”
Grover stared at the wall of the tank. “I hate you.”
Flurry’s eyes widened.
“I hate that you truly mean that,” Grover continued. “You truly, earnestly, naively believe that. You are better than them. You are stronger, faster, and taller. You are an alicorn. You were born one. You were born to rule them.”
“The ELF disagrees,” Flurry retorted. “Ponies don’t even know my name, or they just remember ‘Cadance’s daughter.’”
“You shelled Canterlot and they welcomed you,” Grover answered. “All of them know exactly what you are the moment they see you, denial or not.” He unclenched his left claw and a crinkle of glass shards fell to the floor. The griffon dropped the bare frames.
Grover looked at her; he squinted slightly. “What kind of griffon blessed by the Gods needs glasses? What kind of noble bloodline is that?”
Flurry did not reply.
“My father was ill his entire life,” Grover said. He scrubbed the back of a claw against his beak and eyes. “It was a miracle I was even born, and the effort killed my mother. If the Gods exist, we are cursed. Cursed to rule over a species of squabbling fools.”
Flurry scrunched her muzzle. “If the Gods exist?”
“Of course Celestia raises the fucking sun,” Grover spat. “You think I am an idiot? ‘The Light of Boreas shines down on Griffonia…’ Griffons could not stomach the truth.”
“The war against the Changelings,” Flurry stumbled over her tongue. “It’s the Second Grand Crusade.”
“And the first was over territory in the Riverlands and control of Griffonia,” Grover dismissed. “The Gods belong to us, not the other way around. I had no reason not to declare it. I was already ruined if I lost.”
“Grover the Great had the Idol of Boreas,” Flurry tried. “It helped unify the griffons.”
“What did it do?” Grover asked her.
Flurry bit her tongue. “It…helped? On the battlefield?”
“You think it shot lasers?” Grover chuckled. “Or was it just charisma? The Reichstone is supposed to be magical, you know. Do you sense any spells on it?”
Flurry grimaced.
Grover emitted another rumbling growl. “My ancestor won his crown on the battlefield, not some magical artifact. War has always been our strength. The earliest tales say Boreas spoke to him through the Idol, but only he could hear the voice.” His eyes shifted away and he shook his beak. “Does that sound like the Gods or madness?”
Flurry thought about the Crystal Heart and her wings fluttered.
“Look at me,” Grover said quietly. “What do you see?”
The alicorn refocused on the griffon slumped across from her. Grover was tan with brown accents in his feathers, with dark gray claws. He had the colors of most griffons. The most striking feature was the wide beak and deep blue eyes set in a narrow face, inherited from his father and his father before him.
Wearing a t-shirt and slacks, he looked like any other griffon. That’s unfair, Flurry thought. I can tell changelings apart. “You look fine,” she said aloud.
“I look like one of the students this tank killed,” Grover responded. “I could have wandered out into that square without them noticing.” He flicked a claw out. “It took a decade to reunify my empire, millions of dead griffons. And on my sixteenth birthday, I walked out onto a balcony to thank them for their sacrifices. Of course I was a disappointment.”
“I am too,” Flurry offered. “The ELF wanted Twilight. Not me. You’ve seen their flag.”
“You proved them wrong yourself,” Grover scoffed. “You could have gone out to that crowd and shouted them down.”
Flurry shook her head and opened her mouth. She remembered the armory in the Crystal City, and closed her jaw with a clack. Her ears flicked against the stubble of her mane.
“If I signed away my power into a parliament, we would have never landed on Equus,” Grover finally said. “Griffons would never have voted for this war, no matter how the votes were tallied.”
Flurry closed her eyes. “Did you do this for me?”
“I did it for me,” Grover admitted. “You know griffons. The nobles still have their wealth, if not their power. Votes would have been bought. And can you imagine an Aquileian helping a Vedinan? Building a coalition for some bill? Aquileia could not build a functioning parliament out of just Aquileians.”
“That’s kind of on brand for Aquileia,” Flurry attempted to quip.
Grover did not laugh. “A parliament would have been a disaster, and I would not have the power to intervene.” He stared up at the hatch above him. “I saw the future of the Griffonian Reich in that room of fourteen griffons,” he said in a tired voice. “We would have scored chunks of flesh off ourselves piece by piece until only a skeleton remained. When my father reigned, the Reich was ‘The Sick Bird of Griffonia.’”
Flurry thought of the old rhyme to remember the Grovers: Grover One used his guns. Grover Two beat you black and blue. Grover Three made fees. Grover Four ate more. Grover Five is alive.
“The Reichsarmee hated the protestors,” Grover shrugged a claw. His eyes wandered back to the discolored patch of paint. “Most of them, I suppose,” he amended. “They bled for the Reich, and a bunch of foppish university students called them thugs. It got out of control beyond Griffenheim.”
“Katherine’s brothers fought for you,” Flurry said. “They were arrested with her family.”
“It got out of control,” Grover repeated bleakly. “My spymaster believed the story about Kemerskai and the Changelings. Or that the River Federation had funded communist sympathizers in the Herzland.” His beak twitched. “I think that one is actually true.”
Flurry looked up, imagining the city hanging above them. “Too soft for war.” My ponies…my soldiers, they hate my civilians. For not fighting.
“I didn’t have anyone else to send,” Grover suddenly said.
Flurry blinked and stared at him. “W-what?”
“Frederick.” Grover said the name slowly. “If I sent it with a spy, it would have never reached you. It was Eros’ government, not mine, and they did not care about an alicorn across an ocean. I had to make sure he would follow through. The war needed to be a surprise.”
“I…” Flurry trailed off.
“Can’t be blank. Please.”
She took a deep breath. “You…you could have said something. Anything.”
Grover hummed to himself. His tail’s bob swished in-between his paws and he batted at it with an errant claw. “He was ordered not to say anything to you.”
“That doesn’t make it okay!” Flurry snorted. “You said you wanted to be different! That you were going to change things! I listened to the radio and made excuses for weeks!”
“I do not have to explain myself to you,” Grover snarled. His voice rumbled.
“I thought we were friends,” Flurry answered quietly.
The snarl cut itself off and Grover’s beak ground together. He stared past her for a minute. “I did not think you would refuse,” he said sullenly, then slowly closed his eyes. “I hoped you would not refuse,” he rephrased. “You wrote about how badly the Nova Griffonians treated you.”
“I wrote about the Aquileians as well,” Flurry replied. “And the Frontier Griffs. Yeah, some of them were jerks, but…” she nibbled on her lower lip. “Would you have pardoned them?”
Grover raised a feathered brow and sniffled. “What?”
“If I asked, would you have pardoned them?”
“Would it have mattered?” Grover questioned tonelessly.
“It would have mattered to me,” Flurry whispered.
“That is not what I meant.” Grover shook his head. “Would it have mattered to them? They are your griffons far more than they are mine. You know them better.”
Flurry took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
Duskcrest and the militias…they fought for me, but they would never fight for Grover. The Aquileians would have rather died; they would never trust him after Griffenheim. The Herzlanders…
“Forgive me, my lord.”
Flurry would have rallied everyone to Evergreen, out in the frontier to plan an assault on the coast to support the Reich’s landings. It would have meant a major fight against Kemerskai and Blackpeak’s forces. They would have been outnumbered on their own; they would have to strike as hard as possible, then whirl around to the border with the Reichsarmee.
Flurry imagined a meeting in the hotel’s ballroom. The Aquileians screeching at the betrayal, Duskcrest shaking his head as his griffons seized weapons. Ponies with no stake in the future of Nova Griffonia whinnying in anger at the best chance to save their home burning away for stupid pride. Katherine and Edvald abandoned out in the frozen wilds, scattering into the tundra with nowhere left to fly.
“We would have drowned the frontier in blood.”
And it was true.
Unless somepony did something to prevent it from ever starting.
In her mind, the hotel vanished with the sound of a soap bubble popping.
Flurry opened her eyes. Grover was staring at her, and nodded at her expression. “It would have been a hard push to link up the frontlines from Manehattan and Fillydelphia,” he summarized. “No time for caution. Or negotiation. I needed your distraction.”
“Was that all?” Flurry felt her heart sink.
“I needed your legitimacy to take Equestria and the Empire,” Grover answered. He licked his beak and rubbed a claw on his knee as he pulled his legs in. “I needed your help to win.”
Flurry breathed in. Her muzzle trembled.
“Did you really refuse for them?” Grover asked her before she could say anything. “Griffons? You had to have known it was the best chance-”
“Yes,” Flurry interrupted.
Grover was quiet for a time, visibly lost in thought. “What made you change your mind?” Cheeks deepened into a frown that creased his beak.
“I…” Flurry hesitated, trying to put months of thoughts into words. She shuffled against the grating and laid her head down, spiraled horn aiming at the side of the tank. “My mother and father made the right choice. They did the right thing even when it was hard, and they carried it.”
“Protecting griffons from the Kaiser of Griffonkind was the right choice?” Grover’s voice was sardonic, but his eyes lacked the heat of true anger.
Flurry nodded from the floor and Grover’s claws balled into fists before unclenching. She waited to swallow before continuing, “Blackpeak cut a deal with Chrysalis.”
“Was that a surprise?” Grover asked incredulously. “Why wouldn’t he if they were both fighting the Reich?”
“He was an asshole but I didn’t think he was that much of an asshole!” Flurry defended with pinned ears. “I…we were all going to die. That’s where that road led. We were all going to die like my mother died or my father died and…” the alicorn stopped.
Grover waited.
Flurry blinked on the floor and felt a tear roll down her muzzle. “I couldn’t do it,” she said harshly. “I’m not dying like they died, and I'm not running. Thorax told me to run. Spike told me to run.” She turned a baleful, cold eye back to Grover. “Ponies see an alicorn, but they don’t know what they’re really looking at." She suddenly rammed her head forward and punched a hole in the side of the chassis with her horn.
“Ponies see whatever they want,” Flurry whickered. “The Miracle of the North saved the Empire. The Princess of Hope can lead them. But hope doesn’t win wars. And the shield that saved my home burns every changeling that ever touched it. My uncle never tried; they tunneled under the shield like our equipment.
“And I have other titles,” she continued. “The communists see the Red Princess, and the ponies that lost everything see the Princess of Rope.” Flurry choked out a laugh. “Chrysalis calls me the Alicorn of Death; she’s the most accurate. How pathetic is that?”
“Maar’s Daughter,” Grover added quietly. His beak twitched and he looked regretful. “Sorry.”
Flurry snorted. “What even is Maar, anyway? A Nightmare?”
“The Trinity gave us wings and claws and spirit, but Maar gave us right and wrong,” Grover answered.
“Doesn’t sound that bad,” Flurry commented. “He’s evil?”
“Orthodoxy says he wished us to choose death while Boreas gave us light and life.” Grover rolled his eyes. “It is more likely Maar was rolled into the old gods before the Archons were established centuries ago. We needed a villain.” His eyes turned sly. “A Nightmare Moon of our own, I suppose.”
Flurry’s muzzle turned downwards. “The God of Death, huh?” The ghost of a grin slipped across her lips. “I guess that’s appropriate. You prayed to him?”
“Words are wind,” Grover dismissed. “Words to a nonexistent god do nothing.”
“Did you ever believe?” Flurry asked. “You sounded sincere in the letters.”
“I am very good at pretending,” Grover chuckled. A claw drummed on the chassis and his eyes wandered. “I believed.”
“What happened?”
“You.”
Flurry’s eyes widened. Grover, even without his glasses, caught the look. He stopped drumming his talons and waved vaguely at her. “Not you, but…” the griffon trailed off.
“None of my family ever met an alicorn, you know?” he picked up after a moment. “Not even Twilight. You stayed on Equus. It is easy to believe in something when you never have to see the alternative. Celestia recognized the Griffonian Reich but she never attended anything herself. Griffons mocked her for it, but my family never invited her either.”
“I’m not a god,” Flurry nickered. “That’s…” she stumbled over her tongue before shaking her head. “That’s dumb.”
“You are the only natural born alicorn in the known history of the world,” Grover responded bluntly. “Celestia and Luna all but confirmed it.”
“That’s dumb,” Flurry snorted. She brushed a sleeve back and exposed the swirling figure-eight of white fur on her pink foreleg. “I scar.” She raised her scarred hoof up to her nose and waved it front of her muzzle. “I get nosebleeds. Half my army has seen me stumble around. You think Celestia was ever seen like that?”
“Why do you think they love you so much?” Grover questioned back. “And they do love you, no matter what you say to yourself.”
Flurry laughed ruefully. “The ELF-”
“Everypony in that city knows it was your command to shell their homes,” Grover interrupted. “Ponies died from it. But they can’t hate you when they see that, not like they could hate Celestia in her crown and carcanet.”
Grover clacked his beak. “I was paraded through Aquileia, Cloudbury, and the Evi Valley. Through Wingbardy at the end and Griffonstone. I saw areas that had been controlled by glorified bandits for thirty years. They cheered for me only because of the guns of the Reichsarmee.”
Flurry shifted her hooves. “I was always jealous of your palace,” she admitted.
“A gilded cage is still a cage,” Grover dismissed.
“I would have liked a cage with hot water,” Flurry retorted, “and a cloud bed.”
“I thought you hated the Crystal Palace.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t be jealous,” Flurry giggled. “Would’ve liked it if the pipes worked more than twice a month in Ponyville. Or the hot water. Weter was awful.”
“I invited you to come,” Grover reminded her.
“I couldn’t leave.” Flurry’s head moved slowly back and forth. “I couldn’t fly away to a gilded palace. And I couldn’t leave when they told me about Blackpeak.”
Silence descended.
“I killed him myself,” Flurry said suddenly.
“If I understood you several days ago,” Grover deadpanned, “you forced him to kill himself.”
“Yeah,” Flurry flailed a wing from the floor in an aborted shrug. “He went for a gun. I knew he would. I knew where it was. I knew if he died as the attacks began, his militias would break once word spread.”
“Clever,” Grover commented.
“That wasn’t the plan,” Flurry stated. “That wasn’t what I told everyone, wasn’t what we agreed to. They agreed to fight for Flurry Heart, the Princess of Soup Kitchens. Not an assassin that crept into someone’s mansion and killed them to stop a fight before it ever started.”
Grover hummed. “Kemerskai?”
“Didn’t tell them that either,” Flurry admitted. “Or about the letter to you. I did it all on my own.” Her eyes shifted around the tank. “Because I could. Because I don’t need an army.”
“You certainly need my army right now,” Grover chuckled.
“Yeah,” Flurry agreed with a small laugh of her own. She brushed her jaw against the floor. “I used to think they were cowards.”
Grover frowned. “Who?”
“Auntie Celestia and Luna,” the alicorn answered in a soft voice. “They’re stronger than me. But I get it now. No one really wants to see an alicorn fight. There’s no going back from it.”
“Twilight Sparkle fought Tirek,” Grover offered.
“Not for very long,” Flurry retorted. “I always wondered about that. I never asked my mother. Tirek never killed anypony. He could have killed the sisters and my mother, but he banished them to Tartarus after they gave up their magic.” She looked at Grover. “Do you think Celestia knew that? That he wouldn’t kill them?”
Grover shrugged a claw. “I can believe that.”
“He was evil enough to be defeated by the Elements of Harmony,” Flurry said angrily, “but he wasn’t a murderer. What does that say about me? Discord never killed anypony.”
“I highly doubt that,” Grover scoffed. “Maybe not himself, but the chaos of his reign nearly destroyed all historical records and left a dark age.”
“Celestia wouldn’t have risked letting him out if he was a killer,” Flurry denied. Grover tapped a claw on his lower beak. There was a low, purring hum as he thought. The alicorn rolled her eyes. “What?”
“It was after your parents' wedding, right?” Grover asked in confirmation. “And the Crystal Empire came back. It was a lot of new land and territory that caused quite a stir in Griffonia. Put borders closer to Nova Griffonia as well. Chrysalis was to the northwest-”
Flurry burst out laughing. She laughed hard enough Grover flinched from the choir of bells reverberating through the interior of the tank. The alicorn pounded a forehoof into the grating and left a severe dent. She blinked back a mix of tears from laughing and at the realization.
“Oh!” Flurry heaved. “No need to budget for the army! We’ll just let that fucker out and ask nicely!” She didn’t have room to roll over, so teleported with a crack and reappeared in the same spot with her legs flailing in the air on her back. “No wonder she kept him around after Tirek! Bet she hoped that was a one-off!”
“What happened to him?” Grover shouted over her whinnies. “We should probably be concerned that basically an incarnate of Maar is-”
“Who fucking cares?” Flurry laughed. She snorted back snot from her muzzle and slowly quieted down. After she gave one last gasping wheeze of laughter, the alicorn stared up at the roof blankly. “Blessed Boreas nerdbird, we were fucked from the start.”
Grover did not offer a response.
“Equestria wouldn’t have been able to take it,” Flurry said in a lower voice. “If they strapped on armor like me and went out there. Ponies couldn’t take it, not then.” She gulped. “Not now, either. They were all terrified after Weter. They’re still afraid.”
“They follow you,” Grover said, “and they love you.”
“But they’re still afraid,” Flurry responded. “I can see it in their eyes. It’s a love born out of fear; it would make my mother sick to her stomach.” She bent her hooves in against her barrel. “What about you?”
Grover blinked. “What about me?”
“How are you right now?” Flurry asked. “You are sitting in a tank with the deadliest single person on the continent. You are alone with her. I could snap your neck with my brain. I’ve done that.”
Grover stared down at her. He squinted. “I would be more intimidated if you still didn’t have snot hanging out of your left nostril.”
Flurry snorted.
“My left, not yours.”
She snorted again and laughed. The alicorn wriggled around and peered up at him, upside down. “You said you have a tally of how many griffons you lost to me,” she prompted.
“Not off the top of my head,” Grover said.
“What about the Duskwood? How many changelings were in there?”
Grover clicked his tongue. He sighed. “It is not as if there are bodies to count.”
“Best guess.”
“237,000 to 312,000,” he offered immediately. “General Elvir’s armored brigade, support units, supply lines…” The Kaiser ticked them down on his talons. “Several motorized divisions in reserve and on-hooves sheltered from our close air support. I had plans to encircle it.”
Flurry’s muzzle scrunched. “Sorry,” she said sincerely.
Grover stared down at her unblinkingly for a long breath. She saw his lean chest pull in, then the griffon deflated and leaned his head back with a clank. “We were winning,” he sighed.
“Didn’t look like it on the ground.”
“You were riding a tank through the thick of the fighting,” Grover dismissed. “It is hardly a full view of the battlefield.” He caught himself. “You turned a narrow victory into a decisive rout that broke the seasoned veterans of the Heer,” the griffon admitted slowly. “Army Group North would have been unable to press the attack against the shield wall if they were spent encircling the Duskwood.”
Flurry closed her eyes.
“I am sorry about your griffons,” Grover said suddenly. Flurry opened her eyes in surprise. The Kaiser was fiddling with his claws. “I know that the Aquileians took heavy losses because of Thundertail’s folly.”
“I lost Eagleheart and Altiert,” Flurry said. Grover shook his head with a wince, not recognizing the names. “Eagleheart wanted a pardon before all this so she could go home.”
“I can arrange that,” Grover offered in a soft voice.
“She was a Discret loyalist and turned tail.”
Grover chuckled mirthlessly. “So are nearly all of my Aquileians. Those that truly love the Reich are a minority. What about the other?”
“Altiert’s on me,” Flurry said. Her muzzle twitched. “She fell back from Flowena during the war and stranded my father. She has a husband and cub back in Nova Griffonia.”
Grover looked down.
Flurry took a breath and pressed her legs tighter against herself. “How did my father die?”
Grover inhaled. “Artillery round. Shrapnel to the back of the head, just under the helmet.”
“It was quick then?”
“Severed the spinal cord,” Grover answered. “I don’t think he knew-” he stopped.
Flurry rubbed her forelegs together.
“I am so sorry,” the griffon whispered.
“You didn’t kill him,” Flurry huffed. “Bad look, apologizing to the pony that’s killed your griffons.”
“Is that why you fought in Nova?”
“Nah,” Flurry denied. “I wanted to fly a plane and they needed the help.”
Grover stretched his hind paws out with a pop. He rolled back onto all fours and slunk to the commander’s seat, leaning against it to look down at her. Flurry peered up at him.
“I ordered my air force to treat you as any other combatant once it was clear you were flying against us,” Grover revealed.
Flurry grimaced. “I don’t think that was smart.”
“In retrospect,” Grover admitted, “it was not. Whose idea was it for you to fly an unpainted, normal plane?”
“Mine.”
Grover clicked his tongue. “Clever. Pilots learned to look for the Element of Loyalty’s horrific rainbow paintjob.”
“I wasn’t always with her.”
“Nouveau Aquila,” Grover agreed. “We did not expect our shore bombardment to be cut off by a single pilot. There is not a page in the flight manual on how to dogfight a pilot that can teleport or shield their plane.”
“The Republicans owned the air force for Nova Griffonia,” Flurry explained. “My commander was an asshole. I’m pretty sure they wanted to get me killed.”
Grover bobbed his head. “I ordered the bombing runs on your shield until the deadline.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to see if it would break,” Grover answered. “May I ask you something?”
“We’ve been asking each other questions the whole time,” Flurry waved a hoof. She squinted up at him, still upside down. “Is it an embarrassing question?”
“Would you have killed me?”
Flurry’s slight smile fell and her lips pressed into a line.
Grover waited above her, leaning against the seat. They were less than a body length apart now in the light tank. The air was stale and stuffy. The griffon gazed down his beak at the alicorn, cheeks neutral and head feathers flat.
“If I did not call off the attack,” Grover prompted her. “How would you have done it? Flown as far as you could towards Griffenheim and…” he raised a claw and clenched it into a fist. “Boom?” He splayed his talons out.
“That would have taken too long,” Flurry mumbled. “I need to charge the shield. Probably just a…fireball or something to the palace, then go along the border.”
“To the Riverlands?” Grover lowered his claw. His eyes visibly lit up. “Ah, to open another front and force a response. Clever. What if I met you?”
“What?”
“What if I met you at the palace?” Grover repeated. “What if I was there? Could you look me in the eye and kill me?”
Flurry shifted her stare away from him for several heartbeats. She nibbled on her lower lip, then looked back. Grover’s eyes were unreadable.
“Yes.”
Grover clacked his beak. “Good.”
Flurry blinked. “W-what?”
“Good,” Grover said again. “Killing me would have plunged the Reich into chaos and relieved pressure off your subjects. I waited until the last possible moment to call off the bombing runs because I was not sure if you were capable of fulfilling your threat.” His beak turned. “I decided you would not have given that threat if you were not prepared to carry it out.”
“That’s why?” Flurry snorted.
“Your offer was also unexpected.”
“We’re alone, nerdbird,” Flurry rolled her eyes.
“What in Maar’s name made you offer marriage?” Grover squawked in a half-laugh. “I read that letter on the dock while Hellcrest foamed over in front of photographers. Do you know how hard that was to censor?” The griffon’s brow furrowed. “You truly did not curse him?”
“No!” Flurry exclaimed. “There’s not a spell like that! I was bluffing!”
“Coroner said he pushed his heart too hard,” Grover mumbled. “Not that my spymaster believed it. Thought it was magic. I had to replace him with Grimwing. She is my third.” He abruptly shook his head. “Seriously? Marriage?”
“What?”
Grover glared at her, flabbergasted. “…why?”
“It worked for Guinevere.”
“Blessed Boreas,” the griffon laughed. “The Aquileians hold her memory up with both wings. Grover II beat her father to death and had the Reichsarmee staged to raze Aquila after they rebelled. Do you truly think he was intimidated by some waif seizing a fire poker and waving it at him?”
“From everything I’ve ever read about him,” Flurry retorted, “he seemed the type to find that charming enough to not destroy everything she held dear.”
Grover stopped laughing and his feathers flushed. He shrunk down. “I would have never asked you to do that.”
“If I accepted from the start,” Flurry guessed. “What about afterwards?”
Grover said nothing.
“I wasn’t getting out of that situation with everything,” Flurry scoffed. “Something had to give.”
“Why-”
“Guess I was thinking of my country matters,” Flurry interrupted with a whicker. “Most valuable thing I own, really. Said it yourself. I’m the only natural-born alicorn.”
“Equestria’s and the Empire’s resources are valuable,” Grover mumbled.
Flurry gave him a hooded glare, but the griffon had shrunk away from the chair and did not meet her eyes. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“A political marriage,” Grover stressed. “Yes, the Princess of Ponies marrying the Kaiser of Griffonkind is a statement, especially if it is a marriage in our tradition. It is also an utter nightmare on succession and inheritance.”
“Marrying me doesn’t make up for it?”
“It does,” Grover conceded, “and it solidifies the relationship between the Reich and Equestria. Everyone can see it will be a puppet state. A marriage softens the blow on both ends and promises long-lasting ties.”
He ran a claw over his head feathers. “That still leaves the religious aspects. Herzlanders are not Aquileians. Marrying a pony is not illegal or immoral by any stretch, even Eros preached that, but…”
“I’m that ugly?” Flurry huffed.
“You make stumbling through a snowdrift graceful,” Grover replied absently. Flurry’s pink muzzle pinkened under her magelight. “That is not the point,” the griffon continued. “Religious hardliners will screech in dismay, especially if I later father a bastard and legitimize him. My grandfather had several, but, well, the revolution and Kemerskai Senior took care of that.”
“How bad enough of a concern is that?”
“If I win this war I can do whatever I wish,” Grover dismissed. “I will have succeeded where my ancestor failed and claimed an entire continent for the Reich.” He made eye contact again. “Through a marriage to the last Princess of Ponies that matters.”
“Seems like it was a good idea,” Flurry commented.
“Surprised you offered it,” Grover answered. “I suppose we did not really know each other.”
“We’ll make a great couple,” Flurry quipped. Her horn glowed and she popped back upright, slowly standing in a slouch.
“We see each other once or twice a year,” Grover shrugged a claw. Leaned against the commander’s chair above, he was eye level with the slouching alicorn. They stared at each other for a long, awkward moment.
Flurry opened her muzzle. “I-”
“I almost killed you,” Grover interrupted in a strained rush.
Flurry blinked. “You said that.”
“After the battle,” he elaborated. “When the changeling came down from Canterlot to try and surrender.”
“Alcippe,” Flurry provided.
“I had her brought to me. You were going to assault the city half-dead.”
“Not my best plan,” Flurry chuckled.
“She told me about Twilight,” Grover said slowly, forcing the words past his beak. "And she was right. With Twilight Sparkle I did not need you. She didn't even realize what she was really saying. You asked for help; I could have...I…” he stopped for a breath. “I thought about it.”
“Oh,” Flurry puffed her cheeks. “She said all that after your knights beat the shit out of her?”
“I did that,” Grover admitted. "After I refused."
Flurry assessed him, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “Why didn’t you go for it?”
“Because I remembered when we were still friends!” Grover snarled. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I just confessed to nearly having you assassinated less than a month ago!”
“What?” Flurry snorted. “Should I be mad?” She pitched her voice high and faux sobbed. “How could you, Grover!? I trusted you!” Rolling her eyes, her voice shifted back. “I’ve been surprised your army hasn’t tried it. I killed thousands of your griffons.”
Grover gaped at her and slid back on his paws.
“Bronzetail shot at me and we’re friends,” Flurry continued. “If I was mad at everyone that thought about killing me I wouldn’t have a war council at all.”
“Ancestors above,” the griffon swore.
Flurry caught his look and wilted. “Guess I should be mad, but…” she tossed her head. “300,000 changelings?” The alicorn paused. “I should care about that too, right? Or all those ships I sank off the coast. I never saw that many griffons make it out to fly back.”
“Many did not,” Grover said quietly.
Flurry glanced at the pistol under his wing. “Have you ever killed anyone? Yourself?”
“No,” the griffon admitted. He shifted his eyes around the tank and sagged against the seat. “Not much difference between giving the order or carrying it out as far as sin goes. Learned that from Eros.”
Flurry bared her teeth at the chassis. “I should care. I know I should. Rainbow pretends killing doesn’t bother her, but she drinks. Dusty has nightmares. Hooves shake or ponies get this far-eyed, glassy look.”
“Shellshock,” Grover explained. “Or Spellshock. Yale is working on a study about it with veterans from the unification wars. I think it is called ‘Post Traumatic Stress Disorder’ now.”
Flurry shuffled to the basket and the loader for the turret. She raised her left foreleg and stared at it for a long moment, then stretched it out atop the basket. It was perfectly still.
“It doesn’t bother me,” Flurry said softly. “It never did. Ponies can tell, and it scares them. I don’t like killing, but I…I just…” she stopped and tried to gather her thoughts.
“My mother couldn’t have done what I can,” she picked up. “Twilight couldn’t. Luna and Celestia…I don’t know.” She gave Grover a side-eye. “I enjoyed tricking those changelings. I lured them through the forest, faked my shield almost collapsing a few times, yelled and screamed so they knew where I was and diverted more of them towards me while I poured magic into it. It smarted like Tartarus…but it was fun.”
“Archon Proteus enjoys combat,” Grover offered.
“He’s a griffon,” Flurry retorted. “I’m a pony. I killed 300,000 people in the blink of an eye. Most didn’t even have the time to realize they were dead. Princesses don’t do that.”
“Equestria lost the war,” Grover answered.
Flurry shook her head. “I’m not a Princess. I said ponies see what they want to see.” Her stare turned rueful. “You’ve seen my cutie mark, right?” When Grover took a moment too long to reply, she unzipped her jumpsuit with a flash of her horn and peeled it back.
“Ancestors above.” Grover averted his eyes. “I’ve seen your mark on the banners.”
“The awful banners,” Flurry added. She shuffled the jumpsuit down to her rear hooves, then leaned against the side of the loader. “It’s a cutie mark. Look at it.”
“I have no desire-”
“Look at my ass, Grover,” the alicorn snorted. “You think you’re never going to see it?”
Grover looked at the ceiling. “You shaved your tail.”
“Do griffons have no self-control?” Flurry nickered. “Just don’t look! Ponies show off their cutie marks all the time with no problem.”
“There’s a theory that Equestrians' penchant for nudity comes from Discord’s reign,” Grover lectured. He finally glanced down for approximately three seconds before looking away. His feathers twitched.
Flurry waited.
Grover did not say anything.
“And?” the alicorn prompted.
“It’s your shield spell,” Grover waved a claw.
Flurry laughed despairingly. “You came to that quick. What gave it away?” She twisted her neck to inspect the bright blue Crystal Heart surrounded by a darker blue shield and wreathed in blue fire. It stuck out on her light pink fur, seeming to pop out and catch the eye. She laughed again and it came out in a squeak.
“It seems rather obvious,” Grover retorted, still looking up at the ceiling. He risked another look at the alicorn and froze.
Flurry felt the tears roll down her muzzle. “My mother’s mark was the Crystal Heart and a golden frame,” she stuttered. “My mark isn’t on the Tree of Harmony. My father had a shield; he used it to protect people. My shield doesn’t protect people. It kills them.”
“There’s a shield over the entire north,” Grover offered.
“It burns them all,” Flurry dismissed. “Every changeling. I got my mark dying in the basement of my home.”
Grover rubbed his beak together. “Is that why you had leg braces?”
“My heart stopped for a couple minutes.”
“Well,” Grover squawked unconvincingly, “I was going to say you looked like shit, but considering those circumstances you looked great.”
Flurry didn’t react to the joke. She looked away from her flank. “Ponies see what they want. I was born an alicorn and all the others earned it. It took me a long time to know why.”
“Your mother was an alicorn,” Grover said with a slow blink.
“My mother,” Flurry stopped to take a breath. “She wouldn’t have made it this far. Twilight wouldn’t have made it either. They were good ponies. They didn’t kill anyone. They…they wouldn’t make the decisions I made.”
Grover waited.
“The changelings enslaved us as they tore across Equestria,” Flurry continued, remembering Thorax’s stories. “They drained our towns, rounded up ponies as labor brigades and disguised themselves as fallen soldiers needing medical attention.”
“They are monsters,” Grover stated in a cold voice. “Gods or not, this is a Crusade.”
“Can you imagine Celestia ordering the shelling of Canterlot?” Flurry asked. “What about luring a griffon and his high command into a trap before killing them all? Do you think she could do that?”
“The story of Nightmare Moon is clearly sanitized,” Grover claimed. Flurry glanced at him. He had apparently gotten over the exposed cutie mark, looking at her muzzle with a sad frown. Beak, Flurry considered. I think he’s frowning.
“Nightmare Moon let six civilians kick her ass,” Flurry denied. “She wasn’t a killer either.” The alicorn swallowed. “You know the story: Luna was jealous of her sister.”
“Just so,” Grover said, “but words are wind.”
“She was jealous,” Flurry repeated. She looked north, sensing the direction even inside the tank. “Trimmel carried a foal out of the Crystal Palace to prevent me from killing him.”
The alicorn heard the griffon rustle his wings against the chassis. “I think he truly believed I wouldn’t do it,” she said in a pained whisper. “That I couldn’t do it.” She ran her tongue over flat teeth and looked back at her flank with wet, round eyes. “But I did it. And I’m still me.”
“What do you think your mark is?” Grover asked.
“What you said it was,” Flurry responded. “It’s not a crown. No laurels. Ponies are desperate to believe I’m a Princess.”
“You are a Princess.”
“I am an alicorn,” Flurry countered. “I was born one. I was born the day after Chrysalis starting building her tower.” Her muzzle stretched into a tight smile under her tears. “I can sense weapons. I can tell how many they’ve killed and the imprints of their wielders. They’re alive. They have souls, or the souls of their wielders live on through them.”
Grover’s deep blue eyes wandered around the tank. His wing pressed against the holstered pistol. “I have never heard about this.”
“I never told anyone,” Flurry revealed. Grover blinked at her in surprise. “It’s just me,” she continued. “Earliest memory is seeing wisps of magic on the rifles in New Mareland as we stepped off the ship. My father didn’t see them.” She looked away. “I never told him.”
Grover sat back down under the hatch and pulled at his undershirt with a talon. “I don’t understand,” he admitted.
“Please don’t tell anyone.”
“I promise,” Grover said immediately, “but I don’t understand. Why keep it a secret?”
“They need to believe I’m a Princess,” Flurry said bleakly. “Not that I’m a weapon pretending to be one.” She gave one last look at her flank. “I was born an alicorn to kill Chrysalis. None of the others could do it. Celestia and Luna are going to wait her out on the far side of the world. My mother and aunt were good ponies.”
Flurry gulped. “But I’m not a good pony. I am a very, very awful pony and everypony can tell. They’re afraid enough.” She scrubbed her muzzle with the loose sleeve of her jumpsuit. “At least you don’t have a mark on your ass telling you what you should be, but you have to be something else.”
Grover fiddled with his claws, squinting over at her while the magelight began to fade above them. Flurry let it burn out. “Weapons?” he said aloud. “Guns and tanks, what else?”
“Planes,” Flurry whickered. “I never tried a battleship or something, too many moving parts. I can get…” she paused, “…lost in the memory. The Crystal Heart is old.”
“It’s a weapon?” Grover assumed.
“You know,” Flurry choked, “I can hear things from it. Maybe Grover the Great wasn’t insane? Or maybe I’m crazy too,” she puffed her cheeks out. "Amore called me a fraud."
"Amore?" Grover's voice was clearly confused.
"Or something acting like her," Flurry admitted. "I saw her, and Sombra, and..." she shook her head. "I was just thinking about fixing the Heart. I wanted it to work and stop the storm. It did, but the shield burns. You've seen it. It didn't do that before."
"Perhaps," Grover acknowledged, "but you said yourself it was old. Can you sense knives?”
“Yeah, and swords,” Flurry said. “Benito’s sword has an aura. It’s a family heirloom, right?”
“Yes,” Grover confirmed. His eyes furrowed. “What about a shovel?”
Flurry scrunched her muzzle. “What?”
“A shovel,” Grover repeated. He shrugged a claw. “Or a rock. Does it just have to have killed someone?”
“A shovel isn’t a weapon,” Flurry protested with a shake of her head.
“It can be,” the griffon retorted with absolute confidence. “Can you tell if it was?”
Flurry gave him a flat stare. “I don’t know!”
“I thought you saw magical wisps or whatever.”
“If I focus,” Flurry huffed. “I’m not wandering around with wide eyes all day, intensely staring at stuff like a weirdo.”
Grover drummed his beak with a talon. “You would make a really good detective.”
Flurry Heart ground her teeth. “I just told you-” she cut herself off when she glared over at him.
Grover stared back with a well-practiced look of absolute calm. “I am just making practical suggestions about alternative careers,” he said neutrally.
“You dick,” Flurry laughed. She laughed harder and stumbled back on the loose sleeves of her jumpsuit, falling onto her flank with a clang. Her wings flared on reflex, but the pratfall made her howl with higher-pitched laughter. She giggle-snorted as she slowed down.
Grover swished his tail. “I am sorry,” he said in Herzlander.
“So am I,” Flurry responded.
The griffon rubbed an elbow. He placed claw down on the floor, then quickly withdrew it at the crunch of glass. He shook his palm with a clack of his beak.
“You broke your glasses,” Flurry stated.
“I brought over a dozen pairs,” Grover replied. “I have my goggles to fly back. I’m not that blind.”
The alicorn’s ears flicked above her head. “Where do we go from here?”
“We need to keep the marriage a secret,” Grover said. “For the time being, at least. The River Federation will panic at a formalized alliance like that.”
“How bad is it over there?” Flurry frowned.
“Griffenheim is only two weeks from the border,” Grover sighed. “If they flung their full standing army at my border, they would overrun us within a few days. Casualties would be high on their side.”
“You think they’ll try it?”
“If we lose here, yes,” Grover answered. “Or if they get desperate. The bigger concern is that the fall of Griffenheim would cause regional revolts to flare back up while my army is trying to make it back. The worst-case scenario is the Reichsarmee is stranded on Equus and left to bleed out.”
Flurry sighed. “They would really do that? They might as well just sign an official deal with Chrysalis.”
“Chrysalis is over here and the Reich is at their border,” Grover pointed out. “Riverlanders think Equestrians are weird nudists. No alicorns over there.”
“Well…” Flurry interrupted.
“By your own metric, Celestia and Luna are Princesses, not alicorns,” Grover said.
Flurry nodded slowly, lost in thought. “Where do we go from here?” she repeated.
Grover furrowed his eyes. “I just said-”
“I mean us,” Flurry waved a hoof between them. “Not the world or the war.”
Grover was quiet for a minute. “I kept your letters.” His voice cracked again and he looked embarrassed before coughing into a claw.
Flurry hissed to herself and winced. “I left them in Weter. I’m sorry.”
Grover accepted the apology with a nod. “We see each other once or twice a year after the war. That’s it.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Do you actually want to marry me?” Grover turned the question around.
Flurry rolled her eyes. “You’re not that ugly.”
Grover sighed. “And I prefer beaks and claws. You will be expected to be friends with my mistress.”
Flurry suppressed a smirk. “Like the Discrets? You going to show her off in court? Have a lucky griffoness in mind, nerdbird?”
“On second thought,” Grover amended, “you two will never meet because you will doubtlessly terrify her.”
“Harsh,” Flurry remarked, but did not dispute it further. “Rude of you to discriminate against hooves.”
“I have seen the travesties necessary to design guns for hooves,” Grover responded. “No trigger guards and giant safety buttons…” he trailed off and his wings shuddered.
“They didn’t catch on for awhile in the Royal Guard because of live-fire accidents,” Flurry partially shrugged a wing. “My father’s shield spell saved a lot of lives; I’m told that every Royal Guard in Canterlot owed him beers for life.”
Grover laughed. His voice cracked into a deeper baritone.
Flurry smiled slightly, then added, “That’s still not what I meant.”
“You are being obtuse,” Grover scoffed good-naturedly.
“Do you want to be friends?” Flurry asked. She tapped her forehooves together, slumped on her flank at the driver’s seat.
Grover blinked in the low battery lights as the magelight finally sputtered out.
“Made a real mess of it,” Flurry continued in a nervous whicker. Her horn glowed, but she didn’t provide another magelight. “We could restart. If you want to.”
“How very Equestrian of you,” Grover said in a short voice. “That’s how you did it, isn’t it? Convinced all those hardheaded, stubborn birds to follow you around? Near suicidal trust masked by absurd violence. No wonder you spared Katherine. And Bronzetail never told me he shot at you.”
Flurry’s ears pinned back. "I broke into his hotel room."
Grover took a deep breath. “You are infuriating.”
“I get that a lot,” Flurry muttered.
There was a long moment where neither said more.
“My name,” Grover began suddenly in Herzlander, “is Grover von Greifenstein. I am named after my father and his father before him, all the way back to Grover of Griffonstone.”
Flurry felt a smile stretch across her muzzle. “My name is Flurry Heart,” she said lightly in Equestrian. “I’m named after the artifact I destroyed as a foal and the resulting storm that nearly consumed my home.”
Grover’s head feathers puffed out, then settled. “One of us was clearly more loved by our family. Are you sure they did not want you to end up as some apocalyptic herald?”
“Never ask about names,” Flurry advised.
“They are oddly prescient.”
“Well, ponies can change their names if they want to.”
“I am sure that makes the census fun.”
Flurry scrunched her muzzle and thickened her frontier accent. “The what?” she trilled. "That some 'guberment' thing?"
Grover gave her a look of absolute disappointment.
“My Kaiser!” a voice howled outside the tank. There was slap on the chassis that rang through the interior. “My Kaiser!”
Benito sounded absolutely out of breath.
Grover rolled his head back and groaned. “Yes?” he shouted in a near-screech. Flurry heard the scrambling up the side of the tank, then thumping on the turret.
“Are you alright!?” Benito barked through the closed hatch.
“We are fine, Benito!” Grover called back.
Flurry watched the lock on the hatch rotate as the dog tested it. Grover unlocked it earlier. The griffon below the hatch raised a brow, realizing it himself. His eyes suddenly rocketed across the tank to Flurry. The alicorn stared back in confusion, then felt the rush of fresh air on her flank as Benito hauled the hatch open.
“My Kaiser,” Benito panted. He stuck his head down through the hatch. The graying dog was absolutely lathered and his collar was soaked. “Your guards told me…”
He stopped and took in the scene.
Grover stared up at him without his glasses, in only his sleeveless undershirt and slacks. Flurry stared at the dog blankly from a few hooves away, sitting on her flank with her jumpsuit loosely pooled around her rear legs, but otherwise completely naked. Both were disheveled and flushed from being in the stale air of the tank and crying.
Benito slowly closed his muzzle, then withdrew his head at a snail’s pace. The dog’s brown eyes were wide, seeing everything and somehow nothing. A paw fumbled at the hatch, then gently shut it above them.
Flurry’s ears pricked at the shuffling atop the turret, then the hard landing as the dog hopped off the top of the tank. There was a faint, muffled conversation, then a chorus of clanking metal and retreating steps.
Flurry and Grover stared at each other in absolute silence.
Grover burst out laughing first.
Flurry followed him.
When they finally recovered, Flurry asked, “He knows, right?”
“Yes,” Grover chortled. “Gods, I should tell him nothing happened.”
“Is he going to freak out?”
“That was him freaking out,” Grover replied. “I am not going to get a word out of him for a week.” The griffon smiled to himself. “I guess this makes us even for him not telling me in Aquileia.”
“Glad that worked out,” Flurry snorted.
Grover nodded and shuffled up to the hatch. He gripped the latch and tested it, then looked back down at Flurry.
“Are we okay?” she asked.
“I do not think either of us can be described as ‘okay’ in any regard,” Grover said dryly.
“Fine.” Flurry rolled her eyes. “Are we okay with each other?”
Grover lowered one of his claws from the hatch. “Yes.”
“Good,” Flurry nodded. She remained sitting.
“Are you coming?” Grover asked.
“I’ll teleport back up to the garden,” Flurry waved a hoof. “I have a meeting,” she winked, “plus it’s funnier if I’m not here.”
Grover flicked his talons at her.
Flurry stuck her tongue out.
“Would you like to come to my birthday party?” Grover offered.
“The feast in my own castle?” Flurry nickered. “The last one I went to wasn’t very fun. Do you have clowns?”
“No. It is unbearable.”
Flurry considered it. “I can bring guests? I got it covered.”
“Please do not bring a clown,” Grover requested, “and dress appropriately.”
“I’ll wear my fancy outfit,” Flurry promised, “and I won’t bring an actual clown, just Rainbow Dash. Will Gilda be there?”
“I can arrange it, but she won’t be seated at the high table.”
“Eh,” Flurry waved a hoof. “I have a backup.”
Grover made a keening noise in the back of his throat.
Flurry’s muzzle scrunched. “I’ll come,” she promised, “and I do actually know table etiquette and what all the forks and spoons are for. Aquileia’s big on that. There’s not much I can do about the accent if I sound like a peasant.”
Grover pushed the hatch open. Sunlight illuminated his beak and made his eyes pop. He placed his claws on the lip and began to climb out, then chuckled to himself. “Just be yourself,” the griffon said in Equestrian.
“You are going to regret that,” Flurry promised in Herzlander. Her horn glowed. “That’s the worst possible option.”
Somehow I do not think I will, Grover thought to himself as he stretched out on the turret. His ear cocked at a zipper from below, then a flash of magic that caused sparks of blue electricity to race across the chassis of the Gunnhildur.
Grover raised a claw to his eyes and squinted as he scanned the camp. Benito and a team of knights were obvious guards, fanned out atop several of the surrounding tanks, but at a surprising distance. The Kaiser spotted the dog’s blurry head begin to turn, then twist back to keeping watch.
Grover ran a claw down his sweaty undershirt. Gods, he felt a smile pull at his cheeks, there is nothing I can say to convince him otherwise. Grover judged the position of the sun with a quick glance upwards.
Wandered off with my secret fiancée and disappeared for several hours. He shook his head. Rumors could fly with wings, but it was too stupid to believe. Flurry gave no indication she was going to chat about it.
Grover moved to shut the hatch, then caught the faint hum of the lighting. He rolled the hatch back. Idiot, cut the lights. He doubted any of the crew would ever know it was their Kaiser that did it, but the Reichsarmee was his army. The griffon dropped back into the hatch and shuffled over to the control panel, flicking through the switches with a quick talon. The lights cut off.
The only light was from the open hatch now, and Grover shuffled back. His bare paw kicked something and it skittered forward into the shaft of exposed sunlight. The griffon frowned and squinted.
The flattened, paint-flecked bullet laid in the sunlight. Grover palmed it before he climbed back out, keeping it in his left claw as he shut the hatch. The griffon sat down atop the tank and held his claw up to his eyes, rolling the bullet back between two talons while his wings flared out and his tail lashed.
It looked like any other spent bullet. There was no brain matter or stain on it, just paint. Grover’s left wing tightened against the holstered pistol. He tossed the bullet up and caught it with a flick of his wrist, then cocked his arm back to fling it into the grass.
He hesitated.
Flurry Heart leaned back in the chair. Her horn flashed as she held the cap to her stubble, stretching her neck out with a pop. She closed her eyes for a moment, then smacked her lips. Her wings stretched out, fully extended and capable of wrapping around the two empty chairs to either side of the alicorn.
Leaning forward, the filly placed her white boots atop the table. Her sash jingled from the movement, bedazzled with bits of emerald and lapiz that drew out the color in her icy eyes. Her uniform had been fully repaired and even upgraded by the Element of Generosity.
Surprisingly, it was also comfortable with sleek navy sleeves under the purple dress coat, flank skirt, and the two pairs of boots. The high white collar of her undershirt had been given golden buttons to match the buttons on the dress uniform. The bill of her ridged cap had a divot to rest against her horn.
Not that I’ll be wearing it while spellcasting, Flurry rolled her eyes to Rarity. The slim unicorn sat in one of her limited fancy blue dresses, sipping from a cup of tea between Limestone and Rainbow Dash. Neither of her neighbors seemed pleased to be seated next to her, and she clearly reciprocated. Rarity avoided Flurry’s eyes, focusing on her teacup.
The alicorn cast her eyes around the round table, then stretched her neck again to see the tables surrounding it. According to the roll sheets, one hundred and thirty-seven people were in the room. Flurry unlaced her foreleg boots slowly and shuffled them under the table, setting them down next to more piles of folders and beside her canteen. She rolled up her sleeves afterwards, exposing the swirling white scar on her left foreleg.
Tlatoani Light Narrative sat with Amoxtli and another Thestral Moonspeaker, the mare that Nightshade had punched at the Conclave. The Moonspeaker’s eyes swept around the room, probably looking for her assailant for the rematch.
Then again, she seemed to have a fresh black eye. The mare wore a clearly stolen Jaeger’s uniform marked up with blue paint in tribal decorations. The Thestral fluffed her braided mane with a wing, then scowled across the table.
An unfamiliar bat pony scowled back in a Nova Griffonian uniform. Flurry did not know him, but Governor Josette had sent him to Canterlot as a representative. Duskcrest, Jacques, Dusty Mark, and Edvald sat on that side.
Directly facing Flurry Heart and across the circular table, the commanders of the ELF waited with coffee. Zecora, Sunset, and Fizzlepop flipped through paperwork. Only Sunset used her horn, scanning over several dozen floating pages before they vanished with a crackle of a teleportation spell. The flash under her chair indicated she was just teleporting them back into the folder below her.
Waste of spellwork. Flurry turned a hoof up and leaned her muzzle atop it. It was hardly the look of a Princess to slump against the table, but the bustle of the rest of the room commanded more attention. Guards checked latecomers and fanned out along the walls, taking familiar positions. Flurry glanced up at the chandeliers above her, this time properly lit up and fully illuminating the ceiling.
If anyone had issues meeting in the dining room where the last of Equestria’s nobility died, no one spoke up. Flurry scanned over the heads towards a far table, spotting a dozen horns poking above the crowd. It wasn’t truly possible for a horn to wilt, but they seemed to try. There was a gale of booming laughter from a side table nearby, distinctly Yona of the Yaks.
Flurry looked over the empty chair to her right towards Jadis. “Do you mind asking Yona to join?” she asked.
Jadis nodded, stood in her purple uniform, and disappeared behind Flurry with her rifle clacking against her side. Amethyst, a crystal mare from Governor Arctic Lily that had been sitting on Jadis’ other side, dipped her head nearly to the tabletop when Flurry caught her eyes. The alicorn waved a wing for the mare to sit up.
Many of the guards in the room were crystal ponies, even though very few traveled to Canterlot. Duty Price had a seat at the round table as well, though he left it empty to sit with the lower officers. Flurry respected the decision; she’d need empty room anyway.
She moved a paper aside to scan her checklist, written in pencil:
Coronation
Governor Update
New Governors
Military Stuff
War Stuff
Economy Stuff (Yay.)
Invite Jacques to Birthday Party
Tell Ponies About Thing
I wish I took after Twilight more, Flurry scolded herself. Checklists just made her annoyed. She pushed more papers over the checklist and reread them, an overview of available factories on the eastern coast.
The Changelings had kept Equestria’s factories intact; they had even built more of them once they began forcibly relocating ponies to major cities for the Love Tax. Infrastructure wasn’t a priority, but the east coast was the most modernized section of Equestria, followed by the heartlands around Canterlot.
Flurry now controlled both. With the Crystal City and Nova Griffonia’s coastal cities, she should have had a foundation. But she didn’t. She had more factories than she had ponies.
Census records were spotty pre-war, and the Love Tax was more of a banditry than an organized, systemic collection across Equestria. Punitive Love Harvests were common in response to the ELF, and the Changelings rarely counted the dead or dying. Flurry had no idea how many ponies she truly ruled over, and she doubted she would know until the war’s end.
There was a mild commotion at the doors to the dining room, but the noise of scattered conversations returned to normal after a moment. Yona joined the table at the same time as Thorax. “Is Yak special today?” Yona laughed as she wedged herself between the ELF and Nova Griffonians, taking Price’s empty seat.
Flurry wrapped her left wing around the empty chair beside her. “Have a seat, uncle.”
Thorax buzzed his wings against a purple uniform. The Imperial Snowflake was prominent on his armband, slightly concave due to sitting over a hole in his foreleg. He gave Flurry a side-eye, mostly by rolling his head considering the lack of pupil. “Is that coming from my niece or the Princess?”
“Sit down,” the Princess ordered.
“Of course,” Thorax acquiesced and took a seat once Flurry removed her wing.
“Is Spike coming?” Flurry whispered once the changeling pulled his own folders free from under his wing.
“I don’t know,” Thorax answered.
Flurry looked to the empty seat on her right. It was reinforced with metal. She frowned, then lit her horn and a roiling ball of golden fire pulsed upwards. It crackled with electricity.
Conversation dimmed, then stopped as the crowd took their places. Flurry’s ears twitched under the cap as the doors clunked shut behind her after a pause. The room was quiet except for the chime of her horn and the crackle of the ball of magic drifting under the chandeliers.
Flurry snuffed it out with the sound of a soap bubble popping. Little blue sparks dissipated before they reached the table. Rainbow Dash and two more pegasi unrolled a large wall map and hung it in front of some of the windows, showing the continent of Equus to the room. It was a professional map, but the demarcation lines were clear late additions.
“Shall we begin?” Flurry asked aloud.
A chorus of three stomps echoed through the room.
I’ll take that as a yes.
“Some of you have traveled very far,” Flurry stated. “I thank you for coming. This meeting is the first of my privy councils, like the Princesses before me. I do not know many in this room, but you know me. I am Flurry Heart, the daughter of Mi Amore Cadenza and Shining Armor, the niece of Twilight Sparkle. And in seven days I will be Princess of Equestria.”
The room was silent.
Flurry moved a paper with a hoof. She stared down at a copy of the pamphlet of her mother and aunt, the four photographs that condemned the Changeling Hegemony more than any word could. Words are wind. It made it easier to say.
“Twilight Sparkle is incapable of assuming her duties as Princess of Equestria. Until she awakens, a regent will serve in her stead as Princess of the Principality of Equestria.” Flurry looked to the empty chair beside her. “Spike Sparkle will be regent, should he accept.”
“I do,” a voice rumbled out from the closed doors.
Flurry blinked and twisted around. Spike was visible over the crowd, his dragon frame standing head and shoulders above the entirely four-legged herd. He walked forward slowly.
The scales under his eyes were discolored, a darker purple than the rest of his face. A line of scales under one eye stood out, slowly growing back from a gashed bullet. The dragon wore a cap like Flurry’s own; it pressed his head fin flat and made the dragon look smaller. He had also put on pants and a full uniform, including a purple dress overcoat with green sequins.
The dragon lumbered up to the table and blinked slowly before placing a claw on the chair next to Flurry. He pulled it out with a screech of chair legs on tile, then sat down, threading a limp tail through the opening the back. He pulled himself forward with another screech.
Spike did not look at Flurry Heart. He opened his coat for a moment, then rebuttoned it after looking at an inner pocket. He was by far the tallest person in the room, yet seemed one of the smallest.
“That…” Rarity paused, “that looks great on you, Spike. Such a gentledrake.”
“Thank you for making it,” Spike said without any particular warmth in his voice. He sounded as haggard as he appeared to be. “I accept the position of Lord Regent for Princess Twilight Sparkle,” he said formally in a dry growl.
“This is new ground,” Thorax picked up from the other side of Flurry. “Celestia had sworn in all previous Princesses, from Cadance to Luna to Twilight Sparkle. Our remaining Princess is unable to coronate her niece.”
“We could write to Princess Celestia,” Sunset started.
Spike snorted a plume of smoke. “We did. Before the battle. No.”
Murmurs went through the crowd at the far tables, but the round table was silent. The ELF shared uncomfortable looks between each other. Sunset held her tongue from further comments, but waited with folded hooves.
“After some consideration,” Thorax continued in a dual-toned deadpan, “the coronation will proceed with those who knew Twilight best stepping in and taking her role. Rainbow?”
“Damn right,” Rainbow huffed.
“Rarity?” the changeling asked.
The unicorn finally looked at Flurry, then to Spike. She did not respond verbally, but sighed and nodded.
“Spike?”
“Yes.” The dragon did not look at the changeling.
“Equestria never required oaths of fealty or loyalty, but a representative of every tribe and species will step forward to confirm Flurry Heart as Princess of Equestria,” Thorax prompted.
Flurry took a deep breath. “Duty Price?”
One of the tables shuffled around until the booney hat wearing earth pony stood up. Price had a cigar in his mouth. He reared up onto the table to see the Princess. “You rang?”
“Do you wish to represent the earth ponies?”
He shifted the cigar around. “Not exactly a good representative, but sure.”
“No smoking at the coronation.”
“And I already regret it, you big-winged wanker.” He dropped back down.
The room tensed.
“Well,” Limestone drawled with a breathy rasp, “he certainly has the balls of an earth pony. We claim him.” She coughed into a hoof and drank a deep gulp of water afterwards. Her gray fur still grew in around the wound in her throat.
Flurry smirked to herself. “Dusty Mark?”
“Unicorns?” Dusty nickered at the table. “Of course, Princess.”
“Tlatoani?” Half the room looked around in confusion at the supposed name.
“Of course, Princess,” Light Narrative tipped his feathered cowboy hat. The Thestral wore a mix of his eyepatch and cowboy hat, but a vest of snakeskin and a sculpted prosthetic foreleg.
“Jadis?”
“Yes.” The crystal pony tapped her bad foreleg on the table. “You’re already our Princess.”
“Rainbow?”
The pegasus snorted. “Duh.”
“Yona?”
“Yaks stand ready!” Yona thumped a hoof into the table, specifically the hoof with the Imperial Snowflake armband.
“Duskcrest?”
The Nova Griffonian coughed into his flask of coffee. His wings twitched before he recovered and looked at Flurry. “Are you sure, Princess? I’m a bandit.”
“Price spent time in jail,” Flurry retorted. She glanced down at the papers. This gets way worse. “You’re fine.”
Duskcrest nodded shallowly. “Uh, okay. Do we step up to a microphone or something?”
“We’ll decide the day before the coronation,” Throax answered.
Flurry looked up and over the heads. “Katherine?”
The red-feathered griffon poked her head up from a distant table. “You already have a griffon, Princess!” she shouted in Herzlander.
“I would like a representative from Herzland and Aquileia,” Flurry replied. “Cerie?”
The Aquileian stuck her head up from the table next to Katherine. The two young griffons shared an uncertain look. “The Kaiser will take that as a slight,” Cerie commented in Aquileian.
“You are my subjects, not his,” Flurry answered, “just as the ponies of Aquileia are his. Grover can bring as many of them as he wishes to slight me if he wants to.”
“Is the Kaiser going to be there?” Tempest asked.
“Yes,” Thorax supplied. “His birthday is tomorrow so the Reichsarmee’s noble officers are present in Canterlot. It’s an insult if they don’t attend the coronation.”
“The Reichsarmee is already in the capital,” Tempest summarized, “if they’re at the coronation as well, it looks like you were crowned by griffons.”
“We’ll talk about that last,” Flurry deflected. “Moving on.”
Sunset leaned forward. “What about the other Princesses?”
Flurry closed her eyes. “I intend to restore the Diarchy. When Twilight Sparkle recovers, she will assume her duties beside me. I will rule as Princess of the Crystal Empire and the Principality of Equestria.”
“That’s not what I asked.” The alicorn could hear the scowl in Sunset’s voice. “What about Princess Celestia?”
“Only her?” Light Narrative nickered. “Don’t care about Luna?”
“Don’t start,” Sunset warned.
“You already started it.”
“There’s more than one Princess-”
“There is one,” Spike snarled. “She’s right here. Wake up.”
Sunset and Light shut their muzzles and wilted in their chairs. Tempest raised a conciliatory hoof. “Many in the ELF fought to restore Celestia and Luna to the throne.”
“Were you one of them?” Spike said with a puff of smoke. “How’d you feel after they left Starlight to die?”
Tempest did not take the challenge.
“There’s one left,” Spike sighed. He finally sat up to his full height and glared around the room. “If you don’t want her, leave the room.”
“If I fall, Twilight Sparkle is my heir,” Flurry said softly, opening her eyes.
“That means a regency council,” Jacques interrupted. “And let me be Discord’s Advocate: Princess Sparkle’s health is frail; there is no timetable towards a coma brought on by Magical Exhaustion. The brain scans-”
“Don’t.” Flurry’s voice caused the chandeliers above her to sway.
Jacques’ yellow eyes softened. “She is a tough mare and she will doubtless surprise me.”
“If for any reason Flurry Heart is incapable of fulfilling her duties as Princess, I will lead the regency,” Spike declared. “I’m a dragon; I can wait a long time.” He flexed his left claw and scanned the room.
No one tried to disagree with him. And no one left the room.
“Once I am coronated, I am Diarch beside Twilight Sparkle. Grover has agreed to recognize Twilight Sparkle as Princess beside me.” Flurry looked to the far wall, where the blue sun and moon with swords of the ELF hung beside a battered old Equestrian flag. “There’s always been two alicorns on the Equestrian flag, and two are still on this continent.”
“Celestia and Luna are not being disowned,” Thorax added. “They will be referred to as the Princesses of the Sun and Moon if you wish to say a title.”
“Yeah,” Limestone snorted, “Luna’s free to park her moons on the Moon again. Celestia can get the hot seat.” Sunset frowned heavily and tried to glare at her, but the earth pony smugly rolled her eyes.
“Next,” Flurry declared. “Amethyst, do you have an update for Governor Arctic Lily?”
“Princess,” Amethyst bowed her head, “the Crystal City is up to 73% of pre-war production; Governor Lily has organized a worker’s council to centralize production efforts. We have a mass influx of griffons and ponies from the Nova Griffonian frontier in addition to the Yaks. Colonel Heartsong has reformed the core of the Imperial Army, and several scout units are keeping an eye on the border of the shield wall.”
“Any attacks?”
“Since the battle of the Celestial Plain, no. The Changeling maintain a loose watch, but neither of us have the numbers to attempt a major raid.”
“Tunneling?”
“No, Princess.”
The alicorn lifted up a sketch depicting at truck with several large rocket tubes. “Do you mind telling me what Gold Muffin has convinced everypony to make?”
“Stalliongrad toyed with rocket artillery during the final days of the war,” Sunset answered with some surprise at the drawing. “It was cheap to produce, and effective enough artillery.”
“The mines of the Empire have enough resources,” Amethyst claimed. “We can tow the Cryusha for now. The oil refineries are only at 23% efficiency.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Flurry dismissed. “The shield bottlenecks everything. Anything else? How’s housing?”
“We still have several available blocks. The outer farmlands have been organized for rotating food production.”
Flurry accepted the report with a nod, then called out, “Governor Caballeron?”
Rainbow snorted and flexed her metal wing.
If the earth pony had cleaned himself up for the meeting, the travel to Canterlot undid any perceived effort. His tan fur was disheveled and the graying beard around his muzzle was even more prominent than it was in Tenochtitlan. He took an empty chair near the ELF.
“Governor-Doctor,” Caballeron smoothly offered with a smile, “should it please the Princess.”
Flurry gave him a stare that indicated it did not please the Princess.
“A joke,” he replied to the look. “Baltimare cooperated with our efforts to relocate the Thestral population, albeit with a clear grudge. Many that left were not allowed to take anything, claimed as communal property.”
Flurry sighed. “Where are they being resettled?”
“Various outposts and villages.” Caballeron shifted his look to Light Narrative. “There is friction between the Tzinacatl and those called bat ponies, always has been. It will take years to mend that bridge.”
Light Narrative nodded his head in agreement. “It will be slow work. If it is any consolation, the Moonspeaker Conclave is the most tolerant it has been in years.”
How much of that is due to poison? Flurry left that unsaid.
“Without Baltimare, the southeast lacks a strong industrial core,” Caballeron returned to the Princess. “Maredia and Stableside are port cities. We can provide raw materials: food, rubber, materials from the Badlands, but we need roads and railways.”
“Right,” Flurry scratched a note down. “I don’t suppose whatever the Reichsarmee cut through the jungle is sufficient?”
“It’s a good start.”
“Once we retake Appleoosa and the south, the Hegemony loses their submarine range.” Flurry glanced at the large map. “We’ll use the shipping lanes to Manehattan, not overland. Borrow some ships from Josette and use Maredia and Stableside.”
Caballeron nodded.
Rainbow snorted again. “Really?”
“He’s not a Daring Do villain,” Flurry said to the pegasus. “Didn’t they want to be partners?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Rainbow waved her wing. “Didn’t see him in Canterlot.”
“With respect, Miss Dash, Daring died in Canterlot,” Caballeron answered.
“And you were a mercenary in Governor Larynx’s employ at the time,” Tempest interrupted. “The southeast was a slog in the best circumstances. If we were going to make a push, it wouldn’t have been south.”
“Or to the Crystal Empire,” Amethyst nickered. “You were awfully grateful to have Arctic Lily distract the bugs and die for you.”
“Enough.” Flurry slapped the table and jarred her papers out of order. She collected them in her magic. “Next topic.” Caballeron stood, bowed, then backed away from the round table.
Flurry looked to the Nova Griffonians. “Since Governor Josette cannot attend, how is the Imperial Coast?”
“Is that the name we’re going with?” Duskcrest frowned.
“Officially,” Thorax answered. “Everyone can still call it Nova Griffonia.”
“Good!” the bat pony huffed. He crossed his forelegs with a pout.
“Please,” Jacques snapped his talons, “give us your riveting report, Gabriel. The world waits.”
“Admiral Josette is a tyrant,” the bat pony began. “Any time an elected official fails to meet her unreasonable demands, she sacks them and appoints some sycophant.”
“I assume you’re referring to the Republican remnants trying to stay out of the war.” Jacques rested his beak on his claw. “The southern coast hopes they can ship enough material that they’ll be left alone; the north with what’s left of Kemerskai’s army is now trapped between the forces of three monarchies and lays low, attempting to pretend they don't exist.”
“What about the frontier?”
“We dance under the shield,” Duskcrest shrugged. “Frontier griffs have no love for the coast. Or democracy, really. You have the loyalty of enough to deter a major uprising. And the rest will never love a pony on a crystal throne.”
“I don’t expect love,” Flurry admitted, “just compliance.”
“We start to lose and they’re going to rebel,” Jacques warned. “Nova Griffonia would be a strong industrial base if they actually liked you.”
“How might I accomplish that?” Flurry deadpanned.
“Be a griffon,” Jacques chortled. “There’s nothing you can do about it.”
“This is a disgrace,” Gabriel shook his head.
“Shove off, Gabe,” Duskcrest squawked. “You grew up in poverty like the rest of us.”
Flurry frowned at the name. “Are you an Equestrian?”
“No!” Gabriel replied with bared fangs and affronted eyes. “I was born in Nova Griffonia as a citizen under Teafeather!”
“You’re a pony, idiot,” Dusty snorted. “It was called Nova Griffonia. You think Weter cared about you beyond a poster pony?”
“My pelt may be that of a pony,” Gabriel allowed, “but my heart is that of a proud Nova Griffonian chick!” The bat pony placed his hooves on the table and flared out his leathery wings. “And that heart bleeds for what has been done to my country!”
The room was silent except for his harsh exhales between two fangs.
Flurry blinked. “Is this the part where you shoot me, or…”
Gabriel bit his lip. “W-what?”
“I mean, I figured you were building up to something.” Flurry waved a hoof. “You know, shout ‘Sic Semper Tyrannis’ and pull the gun under your wing. Something.”
The guards around the meeting table tensed.
“Uh…” Gabriel swallowed. “No, Princess.” He rallied with twitching ears. “But proud Nova Griffonian patriots weep at what has been done to our home! Centuries of democratic tradition trampled under crystal hooves!”
“You forget Blackpeak?” Duskcrest asked sardonically. He drank from his coffee flask with lidded eyes.
Gabriel raised his muzzle and proudly declared, “I voted for Silverwing, and-”
Duskcrest sprayed coffee against Gabriel’s uniform. The griffon descended into a coughing fit that was half-squawks and half-laughter while the bat pony wiped his uniform off with a wing and scrunched muzzle. Dusty Mark and Jacques joined in with howling laughter from the other side of the bat pony.
“Oh, poor Josette must’ve tired of you,” Jacques chuckled, wiping tears from his eyes. “Come, wipe off that proud pelt and sit your ass down, mon ami.”
Gabriel sat with a sour muzzle and folded his forelegs. “It’s still a disgrace.”
“I’ll institute regional elections after the war,” Flurry said. She folded her own forelegs. “Good enough?”
“No,” Gabriel countered. His ears pressed flat. “Just because most griffons don’t care doesn’t mean that centuries of tradition get to be thrown away.”
“Why?” Duskcrest recovered with smiling eyes. “You’d just throw away your vote for a third party.”
“At least I had the option!” Gabriel answered with a flushed muzzle.
“Is this a problem?” Flurry asked and cut the argument short.
Gabriel opened his muzzle.
“Is this a problem that I need to go deal with?” Flurry preempted him. She angled her muzzle down to stare at him with the point of her horn aimed just above his head. The crystals on her sash made her glacial eyes appear intense.
“No,” Gabriel sighed after a moment. “No griffon cares.” He deflated with a flump.
“Well, good,” Flurry snorted and unfolded her forelegs. “That’s sorted. Next topic.” She returned to the wall map, then searched through her papers.
Thorax cleared his throat beside her and passed over the one she wanted.
“Thank you, Royal Advisor,” Flurry declared for the table. She removed her cap and set it before her. “For a millennia, Equestria was ruled by a privy council answering to the Princess and a bureaucracy to support her.”
The alicorn licked her lips. “We don’t have the time or the resources to rebuild Equestria as it was, and the Empire was so forlorn that it was entirely dependent on Equestrian aid to reclaim even a fraction of its territory. My mother simply copied Equestria’s laws.
“For the sake of the war, the Crystal Empire and Principality of Equestria will be governed by one ruling body and economy in a personal union. The official borders are marked by the shield.” Flurry risked looking up at the reaction.
Tempest, Limestone, Zecora, and Sunset twisted to look at the map hanging in front of the windows. “You’re claiming Severyana and northern Equestria for the Crystal Empire,” Tempest commented.
“It’s all under one government,” Flurry replied.
“That’s not what the ELF fought for,” Limestone argued.
“Please,” Duskcrest squawked, “no concern that Nova Griffonia is forfeit?”
“I doubt that the remnants of Stalliongrad believed in whatever you were fighting for,” Dusty added.
“It’s lines on a map,” Flurry said. “They don’t matter. We’re here today because we believed in each other.” The alicorn retrieved her mother’s royal seal from a small box under her chair, a stamp of her cutie mark. It was close enough to her own.
“It matters to us!” Sunset nickered.
“It did not matter to Princess Twilight,” Flurry replied. “She said so herself.”
Sunset’s ears pinned back. “That…” she waved a hoof before deflating. “Fuck.”
Zecora chuckled. “Twilight Sparkle was not the pony we wished her to be.” The zebra bumped into Sunset’s flank. “I warned you, but none of you ever listened to me.”
“Shove it, Zecora,” Limestone puffed her lips. “I’m proud to be an Equestrian.”
“Ponies can call themselves what they wish,” Flurry offered. “Imperial or Equestrian. The flag of the Equestrian Liberation Front will be the flag of Equestria.”
Sunset glanced at the battered flag hanging on the interior wall. The light blue Equestrian flag portrayed two alicorns circling the sun and moon. “I wonder why,” she rolled her eyes.
“Ponies don’t look at flags anyway,” Dusty huffed. “An idiot could’ve figured out the legend of the Royal Pony Sisters tied to Celestia.”
“Did you figure it out?” Duskcrest needled.
“Wasn’t very good for your academic career to ask questions like that,” Dusty answered. “You end up at a dig site in Yakyakistan, finding shards of crystal armor that the School of Gifted Unicorns tells you to ignore.”
“Yaks like history,” Yona protested. “Many tales of smashing or being smashed by shiny ponies.”
“Surprisingly,” Dusty deadpanned, “the oral history of the Yaks was not an accepted source by Chancellor Neighsay or the EEA.”
“On topic,” Thorax hissed to the table.
“If lines on a map are going to be an argument, I’m not going to get anything done,” Flurry picked up. “The Reich is ready to give over control of Manehattan and most of the surrounding area.”
“Most?” Tempest asked.
“Hayston will be held as a prisoner-of-war camp,” Flurry explained. “It remains under Reichsarmee control. I want the Changeling prisoners shipped out to it. We’ll use the old airship dockyards.” Flurry tapped the pencil in her magic. “General Duskcrest, get with Gallus after this; you’re in charge.”
“It would be better to have unicorns,” Duskcrest responded.
“I agree, but I can’t trust any,” Flurry returned. She glanced at the checklist again and sighed. Just do it now.
“The Great War was hampered by too many high commands. Equestria, the Crystal Empire, New Mareland, the expeditionary forces from Puerto Caballo, the Stalliongrad Soviet…” Flurry Heart trailed off. “My father spent more time attempting to organize the front lines than he did countering the blitz.” She looked around the table.
Nearly everypony nodded in agreement. “We can consolidate our command of the ELF here,” Tempest nickered. “We have Canterlot.”
“Colonel Heartsong is reforming the Imperial Army,” Amethyst said from the side.
“If we are to help the Reichsarmee in the field, we can’t do it with the skeleton of one army and disorganized cells of another.” Flurry shook her head. “We need one command structure. I need an army capable of supporting the front line and guard units to reintegrate liberated areas.”
Sunset rapped a hoof on the table while she thought. “The Equestrian Liberation Front-”
“Is disbanded,” Flurry stated. She levitated up her mother’s royal seal and stamped it down with enough force and magic that the crystal heart charred the paper before her. “It will fold into the Imperial Army of the Empire and Equestria. Field Marshal Tempest Shadow is my High Commander.”
Half the table went very still. The other half shuffled. Flurry turned her head to Limestone, Zecora, Tempest, and Sunset. The broken-horned unicorn did not breathe. “Do you accept the position?” Flurry asked her.
“No,” Sunset snarled.
“I wasn’t asking you, Colonel. You’ll remain in command of the Mages-”
Sunset slammed her hoof into the table while her horn sparked. “No.” Limestone mirrored her from the other side of Zecora. The zebra leaned back with a neutral muzzle.
“The ELF fought well, but I am not continuing a war with militias that steal explosives and barely follow orders,” the alicorn snorted. “I don’t deny their spirit or their willpower.”
“We are not marching lockstep behind the banner of the damn snowflake,” Limestone snarled.
“Get over it, Lime,” Rainbow snapped beside her. “You can still wear whatever armband you want.”
“Ah, the generosity of the ELF,” Amethyst huffed. The crystal pony sneered at the far side of the circle. “I do not know why we continue to have hope in the south.”
“We need a functional army,” Flurry pleaded, “not a scattering of militia about to fall apart any day. A small core of an Imperial Army can be complemented by Imperial Guards and-”
“Imperial!?” Sunset nickered.
Spike slammed his claw down hard enough to punch through the wooden table. His wings twitched as he exhaled a small blue flame.
The room grew very, very quiet.
Spike slowly pulled his arm free and shook away a few splinters. “I sat at a table and listened to too many arguments while Twilight suffered,” the dragon said with a low rumble. “I’m not listening to another round of debate. The decision is done.”
“I need an army that’s not going to kill every changeling they come across,” Flurry elaborated. “If I left the prisoners to the ELF, how many would make it to Hayston?”
“Half,” Tempest answered with a wince.
Flurry nodded. “I want changeling civilians evacuated as well. And the Condensed Love stockpiled at the warehouses.”
“That shit is the blood and tears of millions of ponies in Equestria,” Limestone coughed. “We should burn it.”
Thorax looked to the side.
“It won’t bring back the dead,” Flurry rolled her foreleg over and inspected the bottom of her hoof. “Any future prisoners will need it as well. It's a waste that proves nothing.”
“The Reichsarmee is not taking prisoners,” Tempest pointed out.
“Operating procedure is that every changeling may be a disguised VOPS agent,” Jacques added. “They have too few unicorns at the front to verify.”
“It’s a good strategy,” Thorax stated. “It's driving the civilians west and clogging the Heer’s reinforcements.”
“They can’t run far enough or fast enough,” Rainbow grinned.
“I want an army that’s capable of accepting surrenders,” Flurry said, “and one that won’t hang everypony thrown in front of them as a collaborator.” She tugged a folder free. “Revised stipulations on the treatment of collaborators. The Reichsarmee will turn territory over to us as they advance, but that requires an actual army and country, not whatever we can scrape together.”
Flurry blinked, then decided to say the hard truth. “We barely won this mountain. If we want to look less like a puppet, we have to get our shit together here and now.”
“Surrenders won’t be popular,” Tempest offered.
“Many accused collaborators are simply civilians unsympathetic to the ELF,” Thorax stated in reply.
“That is collaboration,” Rainbow snorted.
“No,” Flurry countered, “ponies that profited off the Hegemony’s rule with servants and slaves are collaborators. The Imperial Guard will assist with supply lines, medical aid, and administration of local areas behind the frontline.”
“They’ll be hard to keep in line,” Spike remarked.
“Yep.” Flurry opened the folder and scanned through it. “Stalliongrad used commissars, right?”
“Oh Gods,” Duskcrest laughed.
“The Royal Guard and Equestrian Army did not,” Sunset deadpanned.
“It also attempted integrated units to everypony’s detriment,” Flurry replied. “The Imperial Guard will remain decentralized, but the Imperial Army will be segregated by ability and tribe.”
“You gonna make earth ponies follow hornhead officers like the old days?” Limestone whickered.
“No. Pegasi units were already separated, as were the Mage Units to unicorns. They were our strongest forces in the war. It’s cruel to ask a unicorn to match the pace of an earth pony, or give too few pegasi to a unit to keep the rain down. Thestrals fly differently, and the crystal ponies need heavier uniforms for their coats.”
Flurry leaned back in the chair. “I’ll leave the composition of the army to my high command…if you accept the positions.”
Tempest looked between Sunset, Limestone, and Zecora. “Why me?” she asked.
“You’re the best commander left, and you have experience leading armies.”
The Storm King’s Right Hoof closed her eyes, then opened them and glared at the Princess. “You hate me.” Her voice was soft.
Flurry exhaled. “I don’t like you,” she confessed, “but if I wanted a room of pedigreed, proper ponies, I wouldn’t have destroyed the remaining nobility of Equestria. They were hardly better.”
Jacques snapped his talons. “Let us face facts: everyone in this room is an asshole. We are at least among company.”
“Some of us are worse than others,” Amethyst snorted. She glared across the table at Tempest. “Slaving bitch.” Jadis worried with her lower lip beside the other crystal pony.
“I’ve killed way more than you,” Flurry said dryly across the table with a glare at Amethyst. “I don’t have much room to judge you, Fizzlepop. You can refuse and I’ll appoint Sunset.”
Sunset laughed ironically. “Really? You think you can buy me with a promotion?”
“I’m sorry I’m not Celestia,” Flurry apologized as sincerely as she could.
Sunset’s laughter stopped. Her ears flicked above a scrunched muzzle. “You’re writing her out of the country she built.”
“Like she did with her own sister?” Jacques coughed into a talon. “Equestria existed before her, you know.”
“I do know,” Sunset answered brusquely. She levitated up a page. “This plan for governates is just like the protectorates the Changelings implemented.”
“We don’t have the resources or time to do anything better,” Flurry retorted.
“This is just feudalism with extra steps,” Sunset pointed out. “What’s the difference between these governates and demesnes?”
“That I can fire the governor at will,” Flurry answered. “They’re part of the bureaucracy now.”
“I mean,” Jacques waved a claw to the alicorn, “that didn’t exactly stop you before.”
“Just…” Sunset trailed off. “Just declare yourself Crystal Empress and be done with it.” The unicorn sagged down in her seat. “Stop with the farce.”
Dusty Mark leaned against the table, muzzle neutral. Jadis and Amethyst ceased glaring at Tempest. Rarity reengaged and looked interested for the first time in several minutes.
Flurry did not respond.
“That’s where this is going,” Sunset said forlornly. “One economy, one army, one government…one Princess.” The unicorn turned to the map. “The lines don’t mean anything. You were born an alicorn beside the Crystal Heart. Stop playing around. Disown Celestia and Luna, and just do it.”
“No,” Flurry refused.
“You think that’s going to convince anypony otherwise?” Sunset asked sardonically.
Flurry took a deep breath. “I begged Celestia and Luna to come back before the battle. They know I’m going to be coronated. If they wanted to come, there isn’t a force on this world that could stop them from showing up.”
“The Griffonian Reich has always been Equestria’s greatest rival.”
“You mean Celestia,” Jacques corrected. “She abhorred the violence on Griffonia. Always has.”
“Celestia is Equestria,” Sunset replied. “She’s been it for a thousand years. Old Equestria is myths and legends, even the Pillars of Harmony were mostly unknown until they stumbled out of Limbo.”
“Whose fault is that?” Dusty scoffed.
“I’m not doing it,” Flurry denied.
Rainbow shrugged her metal wing. “Zecora? You’ve been quiet.”
“It is of no concern to me,” the zebra shrugged. “When the war is done, I wish to return to the Everfree.”
“Sure,” Flurry said. “No offense, but are you even an Equestrian citizen?”
Zecora hummed. “I believe the paperwork was lost in the mail; I might have also failed to follow up.”
Rainbow sighed, “Ditzy…”
“You drove a tank in the war,” Tempest commented with a raised brow.
“A recommendation from an Element of Harmony goes far,” Zecora winked at Rainbow. “Sets quite a high bar.”
Flurry bit her lip. We can’t exactly vet anyone now anyways. “Well, you are now an Equestrian citizen.”
“Says the alicorn who isn’t even the Princess of Equestria yet,” Jacques laughed.
“My mother still had say in Equestria,” Flurry huffed. “Where was it written down that I can’t do that?”
Spike opened his mouth, frowned in thought, then shut it with a clack.
“I have no concern how these realms are bound,” Zecora finished, “but if you only intend to wear one crown…”
“We’ll talk about it later,” Flurry deflected. “Coronation proceeds as planned, and the army reform goes through. Governors.” She levitated a large stack of profiles up from under the table. “Equestria and the Empire will be divided like the Imperial Coast and placed under regional control of a governor. Yes,” she said preemptively, “like the protectorates established by the Hegemony. I am not attempting to reinstate civilian governments during wartime.”
“What about after?” Limestone rasped.
Flurry levitated up a large booklet and thumped it down next to the stack of profiles. Jadis’ cup of water rattled from the impact. The booklet was well-creased and there was a coffee stain on the blank front page. “I read Starlight’s manifesto.”
“It’s not a manifesto,” Sunset denied.
“I can tell the parts Starlight wrote by the gratuitous defense of a return to cutie mark employment after the war,” Flurry replied. “Which is also highly impractical by the way, but I’m willing to attempt it in small measures.”
“Flurry?” Thorax whispered, “on topic.”
“These governates are temporary mandates,” Flurry refocused. “They will be divided into subregions post-war with limited local elections. For now, they will be a Pegasus Military Meritocracy like the old Armada, answerable to me. Governors have full authority to appoint their cabinets and tend to their areas.”
“So a Daring Do villain can do whatever he wants in the southeast?” Rainbow nickered.
“Yes!” Caballeron called out from his table. “I am willing to sack Jungle Trek and replace him if you’d like to change careers, Air Marshal!”
Another stallion shouted in annoyance.
“And a communist,” Flurry pointed out. “Arctic Lily is doing fine. In the future, the Crystal Empire will be broken into several territories, but for now the north is largely unsettled.”
Yona spat onto the table. “When do we talk about killing bugs?”
“As soon as we hash out a functional government,” Thorax hissed. “We cannot debate every issue. The Imperial Coast, the Southeast, and the Imperial Center have governors.”
“The Reich is prepared to transfer Manehattan,” Flurry repeated. She plucked a folder out of her stack, marked by a sheet of yellow paper. “Based on Sunset Shimmer’s recommendation, Kingfisher has the credentials and prior experience. Kingfisher, former governor of the state of Celestia?”
A brown, hazel-eyed earth pony approached from one of the other tables. He sat down in a rumpled suit, then bowed his head. “Princess?” Kingfisher was lean, but lacked any scarring; he was a diplomat for the ELF.
“You have a history of going after corporations and wealth redistribution,” Flurry summarized, “so you get the east coast.”
“Where the majority of Equestria’s corporations were based,” Spike puffed.
Flurry slapped the dragon’s side with her wing. “Do you accept the position?” she asked the earth pony.
“I do, Princess.”
“Rise, Governor Kingfisher.”
“Many ponies on the coast remain in dire situations,” Kingfisher said as he stood up. “Famine is a major concern.”
“You set the mandate, Governor,” Flurry deferred, “as long as it does not conflict with mine. I need war time production, and I need ponies not to starve. Do whatever you need to do.”
“As you say, Princess.”
“Do not make me come over there,” Flurry said in her high-pitched, sweet voice.
Kingfisher returned to a far table, slightly smirking.
“You are aware he’s a socialist, right?” Spike whispered.
“Yeah,” Flurry whispered back. “Surprised he was Sunset’s top pick.”
Sunset Shimmer leaned back in her chair with a frown, eyes searching at the alicorn across from her.
“For the Equestrian Heartlands and Canterlot, the area will be directly controlled from Canterlot Castle and the regency staff for Twilight.” Flurry spared a look at Spike. The dragon nodded as if it was foolish to think he’d ever leave Twilight’s side. “Do you have a pick?”
“No. Whoever you pick will work with me.” The statement was made as a concrete fact, but carried itself like a threat to the entire room.
I probably shouldn’t have held this in the dining room Equestria’s nobility died in. Too late now. Flurry retrieved another folder and opened it up. She kept her muzzle from curling.
Much of Equestria’s nobility was dead, either from her ‘party’ or war casualties or the ELF. The ones that still survived and supported the Equestrian Liberation Front had done so through off-shore accounts, mercenaries, equipment, and war material purchased through dubious means.
As high-minded as Starlight tried to be, apparently Trixie had contacts.
“Slush Fund,” Flurry openly sighed.
Nopony stepped forward from the far tables. Ponies looked around with flicking ears. Flurry stretched her neck out and spied the table of low horns. One was lower than the others.
“Slush Fund,” Flurry repeated. “Your offshore accounts were of great value to the Equestrian Liberation Front.”
“We thank you for your efforts,” Tempest added with a clearly rehearsed line.
A small, shaking unicorn was eventually pushed out from under a tablecloth by the other unicorns and tottered over to the round table. She smoothed her dress and bowed to the floor rather than take a seat. “H-how m-may I s-serve the Princess?”
“I’m…” Flurry paused, “…leery of trusting a pony named Slush Fund, but it’s not like I have room to throw stones. You’re not getting your barony back, but you will assist Canterlot, Governor Slush.”
The unicorn practically melted back against the floor. “T-thank you, Princess.”
“No embezzlement,” Flurry added absently as she returned to her stack of papers.
“Of course n-not, Princess.” Slush stood up and began to totter back on shaky legs.
“I must ask,” Duskcrest interrupted and twisted around in his chair to face the back wall. “Did you choose that name or did your parents hate you?”
Slush Fund's tail curled as she retreated to the other former nobles.
“Be nice,” Flurry chided without looking up from the report.
“Griffons choose sensible names.” Duskcrest twisted back.
“Says the mountain bandit named Virgil,” Dusty snorted beside him. She jabbed his wing with her horn. “Big scary bandit too afraid to tell everyone he’s named after some old Griffon poem.”
Duskcrest’s feathers flushed. “Not my fault my parents had a lack of sense.”
Flurry looked up and raised a brow. “Virgil?”
Virgil Duskcrest crossed his arms. “Yes,” he admitted, “some old poem or something. Dad raided some traveling book merchant once. Burned most of them during the winter. Kept some old poem about a Wingbardian going to Maar’s Hell. Don’t remember it.”
“Virgil,” Dusty sang beside the griffon. He swatted her horn away with an irritated wing. It exposed the holstered pistol.
“I shot the last person that called me Virgil,” Duskcrest growled.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Virgil,” Jacques immediately cut in.
“Yeah, Virgil,” Dusty added. “We all have unflattering names. You’re among friends.”
Duskcrest took a deep breath and deflated with a rumbling, sad purr. “Please stop.”
“Do not tease General Duskcrest. Next topic,” Flurry stated. She set the papers down and turned her muzzle up to Spike with a whisper. “I promised those hornheads positions, so pick who you can and work with them.”
“Right,” Spike agreed with a dry rasp. “I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to work with a dragon.”
“Better you than me.”
His lips curled into a small smile for the first time since he appeared. “True.”
“All right, the region of Stalliongrad, formerly known as Severyana…” Flurry shuffled through papers. “Based on Colonel Shimmer’s recommendation, Captain Alesia Snezhnaya will assume control of the region.”
Alesia had a long series of mercenary deployments in Zebrica before returning to fight for the ELF. Sunset’s summary noted she was a harsh leader, but organized. Perfect for the ruins. Flurry raised her head.
A blue earth pony with a perpetual frown stepped forward in a pressed uniform. Flurry didn’t recognize the make; it wasn’t an ELF uniform and vaguely resembled a Reichsarmee officer’s outfit. The mare stamped a tan-booted hoof into the floor three times, but remained silent and did not take a seat.
“Governor Snezhnaya,” Flurry acknowledged, “are you prepared to assume your command?”
“Yes, Princess,” Alesia said with a rumbling Stalliongrad accent.
Flurry smiled. “Congratulations, comrade. Do Stalliongrad proud.”
The mare’s severe frown became more severe. In fact, her sharp blue eyes somehow frowned with the rest of her muzzle. The mare visibly took a deep breath through her nose. “I will try, Princess.”
Sunset coughed into a hoof. “Uh, Princess?”
Flurry looked down at the report. “She’s not a communist, is she?”
“She is not,” Thorax whispered.
Flurry turned to Sunset. “You wrote she fought in Stalliongrad’s revolution.”
“Against it.”
“You could have fucking written that part down too.” Flurry turned a brittle smile back to the mare. Alesia had not moved. Or, seemingly, breathed. “Right, uh, Governor Alesia?”
The mare’s cap atop her head marginally bobbed.
“Sorry about that. I’m the Red Princess, you know?”
“I assumed it referred to the blood of your enemies,” Alesia responded with an utterly flat intonation.
“Probably does,” Flurry shrugged, “but, uh, let’s keep the communist crushing to a minimum. Stalliongrad’s already rubble. I need the supply lines from Nova Griffonia in order.”
“Of course,” Alesia drawled. “I’m sure our…comrades will be happy to work.”
“If they aren’t, you can, uh, motivate them,” Flurry offered. “As you deem necessary.”
Alesia’s frown softened. It was hard to tell, mostly a mild crease line from the edge of her muzzle. “Rations are tight.”
“Just get it done,” Flurry ordered. She turned back to the papers, then snapped her head up. “Last thing.”
Alesia’s cap moved slightly.
“If they rebel again, I’m either going up there and crushing it, or letting them tear you limb from limb. That depends entirely on you.” Flurry nudged her own cap with a flash of her horn. “I am not Celestia.”
Alesia made a hum of what could have been mild approval. “Clearly not. You will have your supply lines, Princess.”
Flurry let out a breath and moved the folders to the side. “Okay. As I said earlier, these governates are temporary and subject to redistricting post-war. If everyone preforms well, I will remember it. If you don’t, I’ll also remember that. Are we clear?”
Jacques raised his claw. “For the record, Arantigos' empire fell to infighting after his death because of a position such as this. The Diadochi carved apart his realm.”
“The same would have been true for the Pax Chrysalia,” Thorax commented. “I would hope that all here have enough belief in Equestria to avoid that fate.”
I doubt that, hence the centralized army. Flurry regarded the ELF’s guiding document. “I have made a decision. I promised I would consider a parliament and prime minister once Canterlot has been taken.”
Tempest and Sunset stared across the table.
“We need to do a census post-war, and we will hold a referendum on the structure of Equestria and the Empire. If ponies desire a parliament, they can vote for one.” Flurry pushed the large, stapled folder to Spike's side.
“And you’ll implement it?” Sunset asked.
“Yes. I promise.”
Rarity snorted, “Promise made by a mare that killed two-hundred ponies in this very-”
“Rarity.” Spike’s voice boomed. “Shut. Up.”
The unicorn puffed her cheeks to glare at Spike, then froze and wilted under his eyes. Flurry looked out of her peripherals. He had the same look as when he slammed her into the wall.
“I told her to run when we found out about Blackpeak,” Spike’s voice broke, but did not lose the heat and anger. He swung his stare around the room. “All of us in this room are only here because of one filly. She’s the one that brought us together and took us this far. Not us. We can sit around and scream at her for what she’s done to drag us forward, or we can do the fucking work we’ve been passing off to a foal.”
“Okay,” Flurry said after a moment of silence. “Next topic.” She rummaged about until she found the checklist.
By the Heart…or should I say Sweet Celestia? Flurry licked her lips. “Coin Purse,” she called out with a cracking voice. “Please, tell me how fucked our economy is.”
An off-white unicorn in a threadbare tweed jacket stepped up to the round table. His horn struggled to levitate two folders beside him. It wasn’t because they were very large. The divot at the base of his horn made his telekinetic field wobble.
“As you so eloquently put it, Princess,” Coin said in a monotone, “we are fucking broke. Queen Chrysalis converted the castle’s vault into an indoor swimming pool, one that she intended to fill with golden bits printed with her face. The project never materialized.”
“Probably would’ve helped if it did,” Jacques mumbled.
“After reviewing the Reich’s economic aid package, we have reached two conclusions.”
Flurry waited.
So did Coin.
“And they are?” Flurry prompted him.
“It will utterly chain Equestria and the Empire’s economy to the Griffonian Reich in ruinous debt for the next century,” Coin stated in a monotone.
“And the second conclusion?” Flurry groaned.
“It is necessary if we want our grandfoals to avoid starvation.”
Flurry blinked and sat up straight. It wasn’t the answer she expected, nor was it the answer most of the table thought was coming. Limestone glared at him.
Coin shuffled through a folder with bloodshot eyes behind thick glasses. “I have several suggested measures that may ease the burden of long-term debt.”
“By all means,” Flurry waved her wing.
“F&F Industries and Rockfeller Oil remain the largest conglomerates remaining in the south. In the west, Hayland and Wolf Shipyards consolidated around Vanhoover.” Coin adjusted his fogged-up glasses with his horn.
“Wait,” Rainbow interrupted, “Flim and Flam? Those assholes are still alive?”
“Based in Las Pegasus,” Tempest answered.
Coin shuffled papers. “Many of the remaining corporations that survived the Pax Chrysalia did so by partnering with the Hegemony. By doing so, they are traitors to the crown and their assets are forfeit.”
“I’m running out of rich ponies to kill and take their stuff.” Flurry slumped in the chair. “Any others?”
The round table shuffled around in their seats. “Technically, that’s called proscription, Princess,” Jacques provided.
“Very ‘griffon’ to have a specific word for that,” Flurry said dryly. “Thanks, Jacques.”
“Coin,” Sunset whickered in exasperation. “Your assessment.”
“Princess, I would recommend nationalizing the remaining corporations to ease the burden of debt,” Coin finally suggested. “Whatever remains can be sold to the Reich.”
Flurry shrugged a wing. “Okay.”
“You were supposed to come up with a plan that avoids us becoming a puppet state,” Limestone rasped. “Nice job, hornhead.”
“We can’t do anything until we retake the rest of Equestria,” Sunset added.
“I will be blunt,” Coin snorted. “We lack ponypower to staff all our factories. The Hegemony has bled us dry for near a decade. We gain nothing by keeping these assets, and selling them to the Griffonian Reich now will allow us to stand back up on our own four hooves earlier.”
“When we do stand up, we aren’t going to have anything!” Limestone rasped.
Coin looked to the map on the windows. “When the war is done, the Princess has two-thirds of Equus, and that isn’t counting Olenia and the Changeling Lands. We may very well have all of it.”
Flurry glanced at Thorax, who licked his left fang in a signal to say nothing.
“Post-war, an aggressive repopulation campaign using the Reich's infrastructure can offset the damage of the Pax Chrysalia in two centuries.” Coin returned to his notes.
“Centuries!?” Limestone coughed. “Hornhead, we don’t have centuries.”
“Forgive me,” Coin apologized in a monotone, “I used to give assessments to Prin…to Celestia.”
“You can call her Princess,” Flurry waved a hoof.
“I’d rather not,” Coin replied. “Apologies, Princess. Force of habit. My wife and son are dead while she’s in the Riverlands.”
Any mirth at the table was sucked out of the room. Coin rubbed a cloth from his jacket at the divot in his horn before continuing. “Princess, in terms of the food situation, the communes are a stopgap measure at best. My team has compiled a three-year plan to be implemented post-war.”
Flurry took a deep breath and nodded. She braced her forelegs on the table.
“This will take but a moment.”
It took six hours.
Flurry Heart did not fall asleep, mostly by reminding herself of stumbling back up Mount Canterhorn with critical Magical Exhaustion. Somehow, listening to Coin Purse was worse. Or when others interrupted to ask questions and get even longer answers. She wasn’t the only one bored; Jacques did fall asleep, but taped googly eyes over his closed eyelids.
No one called him out on it.
Finally, with the afternoon sun filtering in around the map, Coin stopped. “We can prepare a further report at a later date, Princess.”
“Thank you,” Flurry coughed. She drained the last drops from the canteen stowed under her chair. The coffee, not that she liked it, had long run dry. The benefit of the economic summary was that most of the lower command staff had been dismissed from the room. Only the guards, the governors, their aides, and what constituted Flurry’s war council remained.
“I’ll get with you later, Coin,” Spike promised. He scratched out a last set of notes with the nub of a pencil Flurry swore was a full pencil six hours ago. He stuffed the page in a folder. It took the alicorn a moment, but she realized Spike had taken the ELF’s manifesto and torn out the pages to reuse the folder. “We’ll discuss it after the coronation.”
“I have not prepared a report on coronation costs,” Coin seemingly remembered.
Flurry resisted weeping.
“We’re borrowing the Reich’s film equipment and broadcasting it,” Thorax answered. He couldn’t stop a smile at the burst of sheer love from his niece beside him. “It will be in the same location as Twilight’s: west wing.”
“We’ve stripped most of the castle,” Sunset nickered.
“So be it,” Spike shrugged. “Equestria is poor, its Princess is poor. The Reich can make fun of us all they want, but the average Reichsarmee soldier fights for table scraps compared to what their officers make.”
Jacques snorted awake and removed his googly eyes. “His birthday party is a massive affair while his soldiers eat rations,” the yellow griffon added as if he had not been passed out for several hours.
“That reminds me,” Flurry interrupted. “Rainbow?”
Rainbow sluggishly turned her head to Flurry. Over the talk, she had cleaned her metal wing to a pristine shine that was nearly blinding when it caught the light. “Yeah, Princess?” she yawned.
“You’re invited to the party. Element of Loyalty. Gilda’s there.”
“Cool,” she yawned again.
“Rarity?” Flurry asked, even though she knew the answer.
“I’d like to make a few adjustments to your uniform,” Rarity said as an excuse.
Flurry accepted it with a nod. “Alright. Jacques?”
Jacques laughed. “Really?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“Because he’ll cause several international incidents,” Gabriel huffed.
“I will be on my best behavior,” Jacques promised with a raised claw. His other claw snaked under his wing.
“Did you cross two talons?” Flurry asked wryly.
Jacques paused. “No.”
“Fine,” Flurry smiled slightly. “Grover hates the thing anyway.”
“Is that what you talked about?” Thorax said casually. He raised a ridged brow and tapped the checklist with a holed hoof.
Flurry’s smile fell. Right. “Thank you for coming, everypony. I’ll have individual meetings with governors this evening. Lastly, we need to talk about the upcoming battle plans.”
There was a long period of chat as the crowd was herded out by the guards, several of which spoke discreetly with Thorax before they left as well. The changeling made quick notes in a private black book.
“Anything I need to be concerned about?” Flurry asked tiredly.
Thorax shook his head.
Flurry bit her lip, then regarded the round table. She had asked for Katherine, Cerie, Amoxtli, Jadis, and Nightshade to remain, even though they held no rank beyond being her guards and friends. It was all her old council with the Equestrian additions: Sunset, Tempest, Zecora, Limestone, Rarity, Light Narrative, and Yona. Her horn shimmered as she warded the room, then cut the sound off to the outside.
“Did the Kaiser share war plans?” Tempest asked after glancing at the glowing windows.
“They want a push through the south and knock the Appleoosan Protectorate out of the war,” Flurry explained. “I’ll need the Tzinacatl.”
“Of course,” Light Narrative said empathetically. “We’ve been gathering our war bands.”
“That’s not why you’re here,” Flurry dismissed. “I’ve allied with the Griffonian Reich, specifically Grover VI.”
There was a chorus of slow nods.
“I’m marrying him at the end of the war.” Flurry was too tired to be discreet or evasive.
Half the table expected the announcement and did not react. The other half froze. Tempest opened her mouth and shut it with a clack. Sunset blinked rapidly for several heartbeats.
Rarity frowned. “I’m sorry?”
“You always wanted to make a Princess a wedding dress, Rares,” Rainbow nudged her with a hock. “Here’s your chance if you want it.”
“I…” Rarity stopped. She did not restart.
Limestone finally burst out laughing. “What the fuck!?”
“There’s no fucking,” Flurry answered. “It’s a political marriage.”
The earth pony laughed harder.
“You…” Sunset breathed in. “He…what?”
“It was my idea,” Flurry offered.
Tempest looked very lost. “Why?”
“For Nova Griffonia,” Edvald answered. “To end the hostilities and secure the alliance.”
“For us,” Katherine said quietly. Cerie rubbed her beak beside the red griffon.
“It wasn’t just for you,” Flurry said mollifyingly. “Grover made an offer to help when I was fourteen, and I…refused…after refugees started pouring in-”
“So for us,” Cerie sighed.
“You sold out,” Sunset whispered. Her horn glowed.
Spike stood up in warning. His wings flared out. “Don’t, Colonel.”
“You sold out,” Sunset repeated, though she was staring at the ceiling instead of the alicorn. “Grover built an empire across from Celestia purely out of spite. His spawn gets to parade you in front of the Archons at Griffenheim in a sham marriage. Equestria will be a joke.”
“Equestria nearly lost to a foal,” Flurry snapped, “it was already a joke.”
“Of course we’re going to be a puppet,” the unicorn continued, “they’re patriarchal. You call yourself the Princess of Ponies and you’re marrying the Kaiser of Griffonkind his way.” Sunset stood up from her chair and finally turned furious eyes to Flurry. “You sold out everything to save a few birds?”
The griffons at the table spread their wings, but did not stand up. The unicorn’s horn burned at the tip, blackening from the power being poured into a spell. Limestone and Tempest leaned to the side rather than restrain Sunset Shimmer, the former student of Celestia. Flurry remained sitting, but her own horn glowed with golden light as she prepared a shield.
“Yes,” the alicorn answered instead of trying to rationalize it.
Sunset’s horn snuffed out abruptly and she collapsed onto the table with weepy, bitter laughter. The others at the table stayed tense as the unicorn slammed forehooves against the wood and scattered papers. Limestone and Zecora looked away while Tempest thumped her back with a hoof.
“You…damn…” Sunset struggled to breathe in and finally recovered from her fit after a few minutes. “Damn you,” she spat. “You truly are Twilight’s niece. She’s the only other pony stupid enough to make that deal and even think it would work.”
“At this point, we take that as a compliment,” Duskcrest said sardonically. Dusty nodded in solidarity. “Our Princess would make an excellent griffon: stubborn, impulsive, and prone to headbutting.”
“I don’t do that often,” Flurry protested.
“Your broke a centuries old table in my office with your skull,” Light Narrative countered. “And then continued to carve a symbol into your leg.”
Flurry glanced down at the swirling figure eight of white fur over the scar tissue. “I don’t regret it. Tlatoani, I’d like your thoughts.”
“I wish I was still a journalist because this is the story of the century,” Light replied with pinned ears. He removed his hat and flapped it down onto the table. “I take it this is a secret?”
“Did the wards give it away?” Nightshade asked the other bat pony with narrowed eyes.
“You’re either here because you already know, I trust you, or I need your opinion,” Flurry provided. “How will Thestrals take it?”
Light Narrative considered it, then spoke quietly in a tribal language with Amoxtli. The mare flicked her golden eyes to Flurry several times with shrugging wings. Light nodded along and his wings jittered.
“Better than marrying a pony,” Amoxtli finally said as she turned back.
“Shut up!” Limestone snorted.
“Griffons have not mistreated us for a thousand years,” Light Narrative concurred. He turned a wry eye to the ELF members. “Thestrals will not wail in the night.”
“Edvald? Katherine?” Flurry asked before another argument could erupt.
“Where else could we go?” Katherine asked in Herzlander. “We live or die entirely at your decision. We are your subjects and must trust your heart.”
“What happens if Grover pressures you later?” Edvald asked. “Or offers New Mareland?”
“I don’t want it,” Flurry returned. “No offense, Nightshade. I’m not trading land for subjects.” Nightshade waved a dismissive hoof.
“An easy promise,” Edvald rebuked, but without any anger. “You’ve kept your promises so far, but there will be fear.” He drummed a talon on the table. “Let Katherine swear fealty to you at the coronation, in front of the Kaiser. It will be a slight to him, but also confirmation to us.” Katherine’s feathers flushed, but she grinned at slighting Grover.
Flurry nodded, then turned to Cerie.
The Aquileian swallowed. “What can I say?”
“Are you comfortable swearing fealty to me at the coronation?” Flurry asked in Aquileian.
“It is not a question worth asking,” Cerie immediately replied. “We follow little Flurry.”
“I’d like to work on getting you home post-war,” Flurry said quietly.
“This is home.”
“What about an heir?” Tempest interrupted. She was frowning at the table. “Grover’s the last of his line.”
“I’ve agreed to support his legitimized bastard.”
“Does he have one?” Jacques raised a feathered brow.
“No.”
“That’s a war,” Sunset said with a low sigh. “The Grovers have already been challenged once; it’ll happen again. If you’re immortal, does that apply to all his descendants?”
Flurry quirked her muzzle. “We haven’t talked about it.”
“Please,” Jacques drawled, “relying on the strength of a pink horn makes the Grovers look weak. If Little Flurry lives a century crushing uprisings, how long until griffons crow that a pony keeps the Grovers on their throne?”
Tempest’s frown grew thoughtful. “If you fall and we form a regency council, Grover gets all the benefits of this without having an alicorn wife riding his tanks into battle.”
“Some would call that a negative,” Jacques quipped.
“He could kill you,” Tempest replied.
“Or you could kill him after the war,” Limestone suggested.
“We’re in debt for centuries,” Spike answered.
“Right,” Limestone said with utter confidence, “no debt.”
“That’s…” Spike paused, “that’s not how debt works.”
“Even I know that, Lime,” Rainbow snorted.
“Do Yaks get to smash at wedding?” Yona asked after a long slurp of her drink. She brushed her bangs out her eyes, conspicuously displaying the Imperial Snowflake on her foreleg.
“Probably not,” Flurry admitted.
Yona snorted. “Catbird wedding is weak.”
“So I’ll look weak to the Yaks?”
Yona rolled her brown eyes. “You punch changelings, yes? And headbutt like Yak. We don’t care. Birds should be proud to have smashing wife.”
“This might be an easy decision for you,” Sunset mumbled, “but this is subordinating Equestria to a foreign power on the world stage.”
Limestone considered Flurry for a long pause, then grinned at Sunset. “Hornhead, she’s an alicorn. There’s no ‘selling out.’ That nerd is out-winged by a filly; doesn’t matter how many priests they have crowing about griffons being predators.”
“Nopony accused my mother of marrying down to my father,” Flurry said.
Sunset winced from her slump on the table. “Blueblood did.”
Flurry frowned. “He is dead, right?”
“He is indeed, darling,” Rarity snapped back to the table with a quick blink. She licked her lips, but visibly thought about her words and said nothing.
“Zecora?” Flurry asked.
Zecora shrugged her forelegs. “I’m not mad and I have nothing to add.” She shook her head and the hoops earrings jingled. "This is no concern to me; with Chrysalis dead, Equestria is free...enough for me."
“Truly mercenary,” Duskcrest raised his empty flask to her in a salute. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”
“The average Equestrian won’t care,” Dusty added.
“Maybe,” Flurry acknowledged doubtfully. “Jadis?”
Frosty Jadis gave her Princess an insulted look. “Our loyalty is unshakeable.”
“Do you want to marry him?” Rarity finally asked softly.
Flurry pursed her lips. “I wouldn’t have offered it if I wasn’t willing to do it.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“That’s the answer you get,” Flurry returned.
Thorax continued jotting notes down in a black notebook; his eyes scanned the table the entire discussion. “It goes without saying that this is privileged information that does not leave this room.”
“What if it does?” Tempest asked. She folded her forelegs. “I’m not making a threat,” she said smoothly, “just an observation. The Princess and the Kaiser are both young and unmarried.”
“You spent too much time in Zebrica,” Limestone waved a hoof. “Nopony’s going to think that looking at them.”
“Yes,” Edvald agreed in Equestrian. “Be like Kaiser marrying one Bronzehill’s dogs.”
“Are you calling the Princess a dog?” Dusty nickered.
“Some things are not done,” Edvald shrugged a claw. “Though they could be. Why did only Princess Cadance marry?”
“My mother loved my father,” Flurry said softly.
“But in a thousand years, Celestia never loved?” Edvald tapped a talon on the table.
“A marriage weakens the realm,” Sunset tried.
“I disagree,” Jacques cut in, “griffons grift, yes? We will be in debt to our eyeballs.” He widened his eyes. “They will attempt to take everything they can. Grifting a pony out of some hard-earned bits is nothing, but grifting the Kaiserin of the Griffonian Reich is an insult to the Gods and to the throne.”
He clacked his beak at the alicorn. “When they try to cheat you, you can headbutt them. What will they crow to the Kaiser about? That they tried to grift his ordained wife?”
“You think the marriage will offset the debt?” Spike questioned with a frown.
“Not unless we switch to paper currency post-war,” Jacques drawled. “Ration tickets and guaranteed housing only get us so far.”
“You were sleeping for most of that talk,” Flurry accused.
“I never sleep.”
Thorax flipped his notebook shut and tucked the black pen back into a hole in his right leg. “Last business,” he announced. “Army reform. Do you accept?”
“Accept what?” Limestone snorted. “Putting on some shitty snowflake instead of the Elements of Harmony? Cloth don’t stop bullets.”
“I don’t care what ponies wear,” Flurry sighed. “We need an actual army.”
“What about a navy?” Rainbow asked. “Josette’s still up in Nova- I mean, the Imperial Coast or whatever.”
“We support the Reichsarmee,” Flurry decided. “We have to face facts. Equestria’s going to take a century to pull itself out of this. Rainbow, I can’t worry about scraping together an air force or a navy with half of Equestria still occupied.”
“And you want me as your commander?” Tempest asked.
“Yes.”
She breathed in through her nose. “You want your second-in-command to be the Storm King’s Right Hoof?” Her eyes drifted to the table. “You know what that looks like, right?”
“I’m sure Zebrica will be thrilled,” Flurry deadpanned. “Good thing we relied on a magic map to go down there in the first place.” Her voice softened. “You can refuse, Fizzlepop.”
The unicorn’s broken horn sparked with a tiny blue light. It popped and sizzled while she thought, eyes roaming the wooden table. Zecora cleared her throat. “The road to one’s destiny can be long and winding, but perhaps Twilight’s mercy led to this finding?”
“I could never place your accent,” Tempest remarked to her. “Always wondered when you’d poison my coffee.”
Zecora smirked. “I fake it to make it.” Her smile fell. “It is up to you to decide what to do.”
The unicorn closed her eyes and the motion pinched the scar over her eyelid. “I, Tempest Shadow, accept the position. Princess Flurry Heart, the Imperial Army of the Empire and Equestria will be at your command.”
Flurry inhaled. “Sunset Shimmer, I would elevate you to Archmage. If you accept.”
“Neighsay had that position during the war,” Sunset whickered from the table. She had not lifted her head from her hooves. “You know that puts me in charge of magical education as well, right?”
“You were Celestia’s student.”
“I ran away before I finished,” Sunset admitted. “I’m not qualified.”
“Then pick ponies that are to help you,” Flurry offered. “Or refuse.”
Sunset laid her head on the table, not looking at anything or anyone in particular.
Limestone coughed. "Sunny, I never got why you had a grudge against Cadenza, but shove that shit to the side and mare up. We got work to do."
Sunset turned her eyes from scattered papers to the alicorn across from her. Her muzzle twisted. “I accept. Why don’t you declare yourself Crystal Empress?”
Flurry snorted. “I’m not doing it.”
“It will put you on equal ground to Grover.”
The alicorn’s wings fluttered against the back of the chair. “Cool. Still not doing it.”
“She has a point,” Dusty pointed out. “Princess is just a title over in Griffonia; it carries far less weight and meaning.” She twisted back to the map backlit by the afternoon sun. “Yeah, you have two crowns on paper, but-”
“No.”
Limestone waved a hoof. “That’s a mouthful for a pony to swallow. Better this way.”
“For now,” Katherine agreed, “but she can’t claim the title post-war in the lead-up to the marriage. It will look like posturing.”
“It’s posturing now,” Cerie disagreed with her neighbor.
“Chrysalis declared herself Empress of the Crystal Empire, then of all of Equus,” Thorax said neutrally. “Perhaps such comparisons should be avoided?”
Rarity shook her head. “It is still abundantly clear that this is just pretense.”
“It would separate her from the other Princesses,” Light Narrative added while he tugged on a strap on his prosthetic leg. “That’s not a bad thing for the Thestrals.”
“I am not taking away Twilight’s crown.”
The chandeliers swung and the glowing walls crackled with energy as they reacted to the power of the Royal Voice. The papers loosely organized in front of Flurry blew across the table. Her hat fluttered back to the center of the round oak table, spinning on its high bill.
Flurry ground her teeth. “Discussion over.”
“Yes, Princess,” Spike said formally.
Thorax floated the cap back over to Flurry and set it down by her forelegs. She did not put it back on. “I think we’re done here for today,” the changeling said. “We can pick up some stuff tomorrow while the Reichsarmee is having the feast.”
Flurry remained sitting while her command staff stood and bowed to her. Some took longer to do so than others, but everyone at the table bowed and remained down. “Rise,” she called out. “Dismissed except for Jacques, Rainbow, Spike, and Thorax.”
Sunset and Tempest left with the other ELF members, probably for the last time it would be officially the Equestrian Liberation Front. Tempest collected the paper emblazoned with Cadance’s mark from the royal seal, tucking into a folder with her hooves. Her eyes were distant again.
I wonder if the Storm King had meetings like this. Flurry rested her head on an upturned hoof. Or Chrysalis. Does she attend meetings? Do her changelings yell at her?
“No,” Thorax answered.
Flurry blinked.
“You were speaking out loud,” Spike explained. “And your stomach is growling. Did you eat breakfast?”
“A bagel.”
Spike stared at the lean, long-legged alicorn with hooded eyes. “Just one?”
Flurry heard her stomach growl before she responded. “Yeah.”
Spike turned and shouted, “Jadis! Amoxtli! Stay! Escort the Princess to the kitchens after this!” The two ponies broke from the crowd and waited by the doors.
Rainbow shuffled down the chairs to be closer to Flurry. Jacques remained where he was. The pegasus had to lean mostly on the table to see around Spike. “About the party, right? I still got my Wonderbolts dress blues. I’ll wear that.”
“You can sit with Gilda,” Flurry said.
“What? Leave you with the Kaiser and Jacques?” Rainbow snorted. “I’ll behave.”
“I’ll be fine,” Flurry dismissed.
“Really?” Jacques inspected his talons. “The two of you seemed quite ready to throw hooves. What's changed after you two flew off a few days ago? If I was a lesser griffon, I might make a joke.”
“Nothing happened,” Flurry said smoothly.
Thorax, Spike, Jacques, and Rainbow stared at her. The fur on the back of her neck prickled as she sensed Jadis and Amoxtli’s stares as well. Flurry jittered her wings. “Some stuff happened,” she amended. “We’re fine. I think.”
Thorax started, “Don’t eat-”
“I’ll keep to all the rules,” Flurry promised. “And Jacques can be a distraction.”
The yellow griffon placed a claw on his purple uniform and looked hurt. “Is that all I am?”
“Yes,” Flurry deadpanned.
“I’ll have you know I dined with Vivienne Discret once,” Jacques protested. “Well, I was in the room. As a server. Very undercover, only spilled one glass.”
Flurry huffed to hide her smile.
“You did well, Little Flurry,” Jacques assured her. He raised his head to stare at the doors, then dropped his voice. “Quite the monarch. Snipped the ELF’s support across the political spectrum, assessed the loyalty of your high command, and set the groundwork for a centralized state run by the point of your horn.”
Thorax bared his fangs at him.
“Please,” Jacques waved a claw. “Only Sunset came close to figuring it out, probably Celestia’s old lessons roiling around in her burning skull. The only thing that would make her happy is if the ‘Great White Hope’ came roaring back in sunfire.”
“That’s not why I did anything,” Flurry denied. She swallowed. “Twilight will rule beside me in a restored Diarchy. I need ponies that can do it.”
“You play the game well.”
Flurry laughed slightly. “Blackpeak said I play it poorly.”
“Proved him wrong,” Jacques shrugged a claw. “You play with different rules, Little Flurry. Some of us can make the rules up as we go.”
“If that’s all,” Thorax glared at him. “We’re done.”
He stood up and motioned a wing to Rainbow. “I must read up on all the little forks and spoons. Would you like to assist me, Air Marshal?”
“No,” Rainbow nickered. “Lower tables eat with their claws and a big knife.”
“Somehow I doubt that, but we shall see.” They left together. Aside from Jadis and Amoxtli, Flurry was alone in the room with her family. Thorax looked at his little black book. He had it angled away from Flurry Heart. She shifted her head, and he scooched the chair slightly to keep her from seeing it.
“Is something wrong?” Flurry asked.
“No,” Thorax answered confidently.
“You don’t need to worry about it,” Spike said from the other side of Flurry. “Changelings lie. If it’s really important, he’ll keep it from you until it’s too late to do anything about it.”
The room was quiet for a minute. Spike looked into his coat at an inner pocket. “Sometimes I wish I never met you in that cave,” the dragon said aloud. He did not look at the changeling.
“I know,” Thorax replied.
“Like that would have stopped anything that came afterwards.” The dragon’s voice was smoky and bitter. “Must really suck when you can tell if your friend hates you.”
“You get used to it,” Thorax said without looking up. “It comes in waves.”
“Are you sorry?”
“No,” Thorax chittered, “because my friends would have charged up this mountain and died for nothing.” He stuffed the notepad back into a pocket and held one hoof over it. “Starlight Glimmer was not stupid. She knew Twilight and Chrysalis, and knew she would be suffering. She couldn’t decide what was more important: saving her, or saving Equestria. She believed they were the same so she didn’t have to choose.”
“I don’t understand,” Flurry said between them.
“Doesn’t matter,” Spike growled. His eyes unfocused for a moment, then he shook his head. “I’ll be regent for Twilight. I...I can’t go to the front. I'm just going to kill them all.”
“You’ll do a far better job here than I could,” Flurry assured him. She hesitated to put a hoof over his claw, leaving her foreleg hanging in the air. Spike noticed. His eyes drifted down to her neck.
“Bruises heal?” he asked with a raspy voice.
“Obsidian’s got my crown and repairing the gorget.”
Spike swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I.” Flurry paused. She set her hoof down atop his claw. “I’ll stay. I need to learn how to be a Princess.”
“No,” Thorax said from the other side. “You need to fight.”
“Yes,” Spike agreed.
Flurry stared between them, then threw her forelegs out. “Fight, not fight, actually fight!” she whinnied in exasperation. “Stop changing your minds!”
“Ponies have heard enough from a voice on the radio,” Thorax explained with a patient look. “They need to see.”
“See what? I can’t be everywhere.”
“See that you aren’t Celestia,” Spike puffed a plume of smoke. “Sunset was right. Celestia was Equestria. It broke apart once she left. Look at Baltimare, or the Thestrals. Everyone here is here because of you, whether they want to admit it or not.”
“That sounds like an argument to stay,” Flurry retorted.
“And if you do stay, you’re a foreign filly with a weird accent surrounded by the army of Equestria’s rival,” the changeling said without judgement. “If you marry Grover after sitting out the war, you’re a puppet-pony placed upon a throne.”
Flurry glared at the notepad hidden in his jacket pocket. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” Thorax said. “Not yet.”
Flurry looked around the room. “Did anyone at this meeting try to kill me?”
“They’re still alive, so no,” Thorax deadpanned. “You think I’d let them live?”
“Dunno,” Flurry slapped the back of his chair with a wing. “How’s Cozy?”
“She’s a good liar,” Thorax chittered. “As good as you. I can get use out of her.”
“If you have to kill her, tell me.”
Thorax raised a ridged eyebrow. “Before?”
“After,” Flurry nickered. “Don’t tip her off.”
Spike sighed again. He reached into his pocket and placed a large claw down on the table, holding something in his palm. He closed his eyes.
Flurry peered up at him with a wince. “I’m sorry you weren’t involved.”
“I’d have done more than knocked out a tooth,” Spike rumbled. “Better that I wasn’t. Twilight didn’t know what to do with her. She loved that school so much.” His eyes wandered to the map.
“We cleared out Twilight’s old tower before Grover moved in,” Spike said. “Not much left. Changelings took everything she was working on during the war.”
“Chrysalis took everything of value to Vesalipolis,” Thorax said. “To the tower.”
“We’ll get it back,” Flurry stated. Her eyes were fixated on the map, tracing the northwestern peninsula that made up the Changeling Lands.
“Sunset came by with a box of stuff a few days ago,” Spike’s voice wandered. “Looked through it for…for stuff to decorate Twilight’s room. For when she wakes up.”
Flurry nodded. The dragon’s lips trembled around the chipped fang. His claw reflexively clenched, then he lifted his arm up and splayed out his talons.
An amulet dangled on a small chain.
“This is all that’s left.” Spike set the amulet down. “Twilight was working on it, I guess, or maybe one of the others.” He spun the circular device with a lazy claw.
Flurry looked down at it. It looked like a purple timepiece within a metal frame; exposed gears that rotated around a crescent moon within a sun and partial star. It was too big to have been a watch, and the gem in the middle matched Twilight’s color.
“What was it?” Flurry asked quietly. Her horn glowed, but she sensed no enchantment. Whatever it was meant to be, the visible gears and crystal spokes suggested it was unfinished.
“I don’t know,” Spike answered.
Flurry picked it up in her magic and rotated the central gear. The timepiece ticked quietly, rotating the star around the sun and moon. She set it down and watched it with Spike and Thorax.
Nothing happened.
“It’s yours,” Spike whispered, “if you want it.”
Flurry looked down at the amulet. “Thorax, do you…”
The changeling frowned. “No. Changelings must have thought it was junk, some unfinished thing.”
“I’m not putting more machines in her room,” Spike said lowly. “She has enough around her as is. Doctors keep adding more.” He nudged it over towards Flurry with a gentle talon. Flurry looked up at him.
“If she never told me about it, then it’s either one of the last things she ever worked on or a secret.” Spike tried to smile. “Maybe you could figure it out?”
The ticking stopped. Flurry levitated it over her head and let the amulet hang around her neck. Spike pressed her cap on over her mane stubble when she rewound it. She scowled up at him when a talon scrubbed her short mane.
Spike crinkled his eyes and looked away. “So, if you die…” he swallowed. “Lord Regent, huh? You just going to leave me in charge of everyone?”
“I’m sorry,” Flurry apologized.
“It won’t hold together, not if Twilight’s still asleep,” Thorax said from the other side of the alicorn. “Sunset was right. Celestia was Equestria.”
"If I die you can invite her back."
"I don't want-" Spike cut himself off. "I’m not letting it die. Not to these assholes.” He closed his eyes and snorted a plume of smoke. The dragon finally turned and looked over Flurry’s horn to Thorax.
The small changeling sat quietly in his uniform. “I’m sorry, Spike.”
Spike took a deep breath. “I need a contingency plan, Royal Advisor.”
Flurry looked between them.
“Of course, Lord Regent,” Thorax said without a smile. He caught Flurry’s eye. “I’ll talk with Spike. Go get something to eat.”
Flurry hesitated.
“Get out of here,” Spike gently pushed her chair back with a claw. She stood with wilting wings. The amulet ticked quietly around her neck.
“I’m sorry for putting this on you,” Flurry said quietly.
“You didn’t put anything on me,” Spike assured her. “I can do this. For Twilight and for you. I can wait a long time.”
Flurry pressed the ticking amulet looped around her neck with a wing, feeling the gears wind like a heartbeat. She walked to the doors; Jadis and Amoxtli nodded.
The alicorn looked over a wing and asked, “Are you sure?” for a final time. Her stomach growled under her; Flurry’s ears pinned in embarrassment.
“I’m sure,” Thorax smiled. “We’ll be here awhile.”
“There’s much to be done,” Spike agreed. He flexed the sleeves of his purple long coat, then removed his cap and set it down between him and Thorax.
Flurry twisted back and stared down at the amulet around her neck. It rested against her sash, looking like a clockwork mess of gears with a sun, moon, and star. Not quite a Crystal Heart.
She stepped forward out of the room. As Jadis and Amoxtli shut the double doors, Flurry noticed a burn mark in the wood from an errant spell. It blended into the carvings on the double doors. Flurry inspected the amulet a final time, holding it up with a white boot. Her horn glowed, but she sensed nothing. Not a weapon.
“Princess,” Amoxtli requested, “I can hear your stomach.” Her tufted ears flicked above her blue mane. “Some of our fine cooking can alleviate that,” she said with a mild smirk.
“Hayburgers,” Flurry ordered.
“With crickets,” Amoxtli compromised.
“Perhaps a fine crystal carrot dog?” Jadis countered.
“Can your kind eat crystals?” Amoxtli asked in curiosity.
“No, but I would rather attempt crystals than crickets.”
Flurry let the amulet hang from her neck as she trotted away. She did not hear when the ticking stopped, nor did anything happen when it did. That night, she left the amulet in her room beside Whammy and had a late dinner with Spike and Thorax. They did not tell her what they discussed, only that Equestria and the Empire would endure if something happened to her, and the agreements with the Griffonian Reich would be kept.
Flurry Heart was not stupid.
She did not ask who they planned to kill.
A horn blared, and Grover von Greifenstein winced. The song began to repeat with the fervent pounding of drums. The band below the windows still played with energy and resolve, even though it was the seventh time the Griffonian anthem repeated. Grover spotted the conductor rear against his stand and begin waved an aged claw with enthusiasm.
The dogs trumpeted again to build-up to the crescendo. Grover could not hear his own thoughts, much less any conversation beyond the immediate six tablemates surrounding him. He mentally counted the movements in his head. The strings take the third movement, so it will be quieter.
“I hear the anthem again!” Jacques squawked across from Grover. He nudged Princess Flurry Heart beside him. “You owe me five bits.” The Princess extended a wing and swatted the back of the yellow griffon’s head, not breaking her routine.
Jacques laughed, high and reedy, then noticed the Kaiser watching him and twirled his fork between two talons. “Do they truly play it once for every year you were born?”
“Do not address the Kaiser unless spoken to,” Benito growled from Grover’s right.
“Indeed,” Duke Gerlach agreed on Grover’s left. The Feathisian clacked his beak. “Be grateful you sit at the table, Aquileian.”
“May I address you?” Jacques asked him.
Gerlach tilted his beak up and turned his blind eye towards Jacques. “We have nothing to discuss.”
Jacques waved a claw placatingly, not that the duke could see it. “You are using the wrong fork.” He twirled his own fork. “The bigger fork goes with salads. Unless you are making some statement by using the larger one.”
Gerlach glanced down at his own fork, then slightly angled his head to see what fork Elias was using. The other Feathisian surreptitiously held it up with a chunk of sausage impaled before he tore into it. The noble switched forks with an awkward cough into a silk napkin, patting his beak unconvincingly.
The yellow griffon smirked and dark yellow eyes returned to his own plate. Gerlach’s gray feather ruffled in embarrassment, but the Kaiser did not look to him for the mistake. Instead, Grover chewed on a slice of garlic bread as he considered the griffon across from him.
He did not like Jacques. The Aquileian was slightly rude, as were all of the Princess’ griffons, but that was not the crux of the issue. ‘Jacques’ was a code name used by the agents of the Second Aquileian Republic when they planned their revolution. The ‘Jacques’ was usually given a number when reporting in. The yellow griffon across from the Kaiser matched none of the known high-level agents that went into exile, but Grover was certain Jacques wasn’t his real name.
I do not like mysteries I cannot solve. Grover swallowed. Jacques spoke Aquileian with a noble accent from Aquila itself, but with the twang of a Greifwalder on the periphery. Some of the Feathisian pronunciation slipped in, most notable when sitting near Elias and Gerlach. He may have learned the proper pronunciation in his role as a spy, but Grover suspected he was not too important. A light yellow griffon was not that uncommon, but the brown accents in his wings and under his eyes would make him stand out. His eyes were not a common gold either; they were yellow, a sickly yellow a shade that reminded Grover of fool's gold.
Jacques carefully cut apart his sausage with the proper knife and fork. He dipped it into the provided gravy before smoothly leaning it into his beak. The griffon swallowed once, then raised two talons to signal a server. A young griffoness in a white and black frilled skirt stepped forward from the hovering crowd around the high table.
“May I have more mashed potatoes, young miss?” Jacques requested in polite, vexing Aquileian.
“Of course,” the griffoness demurred. She crossed to the openings in the clusters of seats and grabbed the large ladle sitting in the plate of spiced potatoes from the Evi Valley. She set it on a carrying plate and balanced the serving on her wing, leaving the spoon behind.
A chime of magic sounded and a glob of mashed potatoes rose up from the large bowl. It zipped past the griffoness’ head as her eyes widened. The conversation muffled by the band dipped as the floating mass passed by the Reich’s nobility and high command.
The mashed potatoes plopped down on the Princess’ dirty plate, covering what was left of a mix of asparagus, green beans, and red peppers. Flurry rubbed her boots against the gilded tablecloth, and her horn glowed again. Part of the glob rocketed into her muzzle. She chewed with puffed lips.
Countess Raison to the Princess’ left snorted in disgust. Her own horn glowed blue as she poked the remainders of a salad with a fork. She mouthed, “Blessed Boreas,” under the music.
Flurry clearly heard her from the way her ear flicked. She stretched her left wing out and forced the countess to lean to the side to avoid being swatted with the feathers. She pulled her wing back in after feigning a stretch.
The alicorn was slouched in her seat; she appeared to be Grover’s height. Though the cushions had been provided that the alicorn might sit on her haunches, her hind legs dangled below the table at what should have been a torturously bent angle as she sat like a minotaur. If it was uncomfortable, she gave no indication. She left her white boots on, and her cutlery untouched.
Benito had not ceased staring at her the entire dinner. The dog ate only by lifting food up to his stationary muzzle, and Grover suspected he was not blinking very often by the way his brown eyes reddened as the feast dragged on. Flurry stared back placidly sometimes, but mostly busied herself stealing food off the portion plates within the reach of her horn.
Grover glanced down at the untouched salad left in between Jacques and Flurry. “Is the salad not to your liking, Princess?” he asked deferentially in Equestrian.
“It’s fine, Kaiser Grover,” Flurry returned in Equestrian. “But if I wanted salad, I could get one from my own subjects.”
“The strawberries are from the Duchy of Strawberry,” Grover pointed to one with a fork. “It was preserved with magic for the trip.”
Flurry nodded. The salad was picked up and thrust into the claws of the server that just gave Jacques the plate of mashed potatoes. The griffoness recoiled and nearly dropped it. “Must suck standing around all the food and not being able to eat it,” the Princess said around a muzzle full of mashed potatoes. “You can have it.”
“Do not feed the servants,” Benito growled. The dog had unbuttoned the collar of his gray shirt. He gripped a knife tightly in a gloved paw. “Throw it away,” he ordered to the griffoness.
She nodded rapidly and stepped back from the table. The others in the flock of guards and serving griffons parted to let her through, and she flapped her wings to fly over the lower bench tables to one of the side doors. The orange and black banners of the Griffonian Reich hung limply from the rafters; she swept around them, giving the cloth a wide birth.
Grover twisted back to his own black war banner hanging in front of the window behind him. The ponies had plans to tear apart this dining hall like its double on the other wing of the castle, but work had stopped for the birthday celebration. Grover leaned back in the high chair to see around Benito. The end of the table with his officers laughed amongst themselves. Mudbeak seemed to enjoy being pulled from the southern front; the old griffon sipped wine with aplomb.
The song restarted again. This is a farce, Grover snarled in his mind. The advance had all but stalled as officers traveled to Canterlot for the celebration. The castle had been thoroughly gutted, and the look of disappointment in the eyes of some of the Reichsarmee’s leadership made his feathers flush. I would welcome Banquo’s ghost to torment these halls.
“So,” Flurry chewed, “was Jacques right?”
“Were you not taught to use utensils?” Raison d’Etat finally spat in Aquileian. She tossed her blonde mane back. “Does Equestria’s penchant for nudity extend to lack of table manners as well?”
“I have a horn,” Flurry retorted. She spun the purple cap atop her head around with a flick as a reminder for the unicorn. “You want me to pick up a fork in my magic, or just pick up the food itself?”
“You may use your hooves, Princess,” Elias leaned forward in an attempt to defuse the argument. The Field Marshal’s dress uniform was speckled with medals like his fur and feathers beneath it. He poked at his food now, probably winded at the fourth course.
“Our hooves touch the ground all the time,” Flurry dismissed. “Now, I didn’t see many of you washing your claws, but I’d rather use my wings before my hooves.” A large wing curled around and two primary feathers bent and scooped up the knife. Her other wing grabbed a fork.
Slouched in the chair, her wings curved above her horn from the wing joints, making the Princess look like an oversized pink gargoyle looming over the table. She ate through the mashed potatoes with hooded eyes. Jacques and Raison leaned away from the shifting wings before Flurry set the cutlery down atop the plate.
“Quite dexterous,” Elias said, nonplussed.
Flurry refolded her wings. She scanned the table after stretching her neck and levitated over a piece of meat. It dripped with sauce, but she formed a small golden bowl as it floated over the heads. Her muzzle scrunched as she set it down in front of her; two nostrils flared at the smell. “Is this chicken?”
“Yes?” Jacques leaned over. “Looks like a good wing.”
“Katerin is known for it’s farms and harvests,” Grover supplied. “And livestock.”
Flurry looked up and down the table at the griffons. She bit her lip. “And,” she pitched her voice slightly higher, “you eat chickens?”
“Of course,” Duke Gerlach took the bait with a clacking beak, “you think because we are griffons we do not eat other birds? How many of your recipes use eggs?”
Flurry shrugged. “I thought it was just the Nova frontier.” The grilled chicken wing abruptly flew into her muzzle and she clamped down with a horrific crunch.
Grover gestured with a talon to the picked clean wings on a plate before him waiting to be taken away by a servant. “We do not eat the bones, Princess. And some do not like the skin.”
Flurry crunched away, working her jaw side-to-side as flat, herbivorous teeth rent down bone and gristle. “I like the bones,” she said around a mouthful. “Alicorn. Can’t be picky on the frontier.” She spat out shards of bones onto the plate, but most had been grinded down.
Grover took his own chicken wing and tore though the meat with the tip of his beak. He swallowed it back down after rending it into small chunks. Flurry Heart stole a slice of bread and wrapped peppers into it before cramming the makeshift sandwich into her muzzle to the barely hidden disgust of the table.
The Kaiser finished before she did and he set the stripped wing down. “The anthem is played once for every birthday. As I am seventeen, it is played seventeen times.”
Flurry nodded, pink muzzle slightly pinker due to the peppers.
Grover turned to Jacques. “Where are you from?”
“Oh?” Jacques chuckled. He eyed Benito’s snarl and dipped his head, setting his knife and fork down. Compared to Flurry’s debris, her guest’s plates were immaculate, even with the servings properly separated on the plates. “I am Aquiliean.”
“From where?”
“Greifwald, dear Kaiser,” Jacques demurred. “Though far from the Feathisian border. I lived closer to Adelart.”
“Dear Gods,” Elias muttered. "Count Cloudet is a fop and coward. Too afraid to even come here. He rejected the Reich only to crawl before the Kaiser when Aquileia stole his lands."
"Almost makes republicans seem reasonable," Gerlach commented.
“How did you meet the Princess?” Grover continued. “In Aquileia?”
“I’m a mailgriff; I was assigned to her lovely ghetto in Weter,” Jacques said placidly. His eye turned from his Princess to Grover, then rolled in a challenge.
Grover leaned back as the anthem moved into a slightly quieter movement. “Your name is not Jacques.”
“It is now,” Jacques chuckled.
Flurry raised a brow and swallowed. She panted for a moment due to the peppers. “What’s your actual name?”
Jacques offered her his own half-filled glass. She accepted it and chugged the water down, leaving her untouched glass of water and an unfilled wine glass beside her left boot. “Does it matter?” he shrugged a claw. “Nestor Bernier.”
Elias squawked, “You are not the Maar-Mad Bomber.”
“I liked his books,” Jacques replied, head feathers flexing with indignation. “The Prelate of Greifwald lied about the Maar worshipping charges.”
Flurry licked her lips. “Context, please?”
“Your guest is an anarchist, Princess,” Grover answered. “Griefwald was known for a terrorist organization near the Adelart Woods. We've suppressed it now, and Count Cloudet rules...” he paused. "Adequately."
Flurry glanced at her companion. “I thought you were a republican?”
“Same thing,” Jacques shrugged.
“No.”
“It is to griffons!” Jacques retorted with a harsh laugh. He raised two talons again and requested Aquileian pasta from the servant, still chuckling. After she left, he added, “I mailed bombs to griffons. Didn’t kill the prelate, unfortunately.”
Flurry twisted a boot up and rested her muzzle atop it. “You went from bombing mail to delivering it?”
“I enjoyed the irony,” Jacques shrugged. “Anyway, yes, I worked as an agent of the revolution the first time around. Less so the second. They couldn’t turn away help.”
The Kaiser reassessed his age; his yellow feathers had a few streaks of gray around the head, but not many. "How old are you?"
"Old enough to know better." A pink wing swatted the back of his head. "I was born twenty years before the first revolution."
"Rebellion," Duke Gerlach corrected.
"Just so," Jacques said in Herzlander. "I suppose you might say I was radicalized by the fires."
That makes him older than Benito. Grover motioned for his plate to be removed. Servants rushed forward quickly to bring the next course, a gilded porcelain piece with a long, well-seared steak garnished with herbs. The griffon picked up a sharp steak knife after resettling the Reichstone with an elbow. “Would you like a slice, Princess? Hydra tastes of fish. Each head is said to have a different texture.”
“I’ll pass, Kaiser,” Flurry set her hoof down. She perked up as a servant approached, balancing a platter on his outstretched wings. Two fizzlepop colas shifted about, fresh with ice and condensation.
The griffon barely had time to say, “As requested…” before they rocketed off the platter in a golden aura. Flurry set one atop the table and raised the second to her horn, using the tip to snap the bottle cap off. It went sailing back behind her chair.
The soda began to fizz over from the rough treatment; purple bubbles ran down the side of the glass bottle. Flurry gasped and clamped her muzzle atop the bottleneck, cheeks puffed out from the foam. She tilted her head back to chug, pink neck flexing.
“Blessed Boreas,” Benito whispered under his breath. “Nearly pink as a pig and eats like one.”
Grover clasped his claws under his beak, momentarily letting the steak cool. The anthem of his Griffonian Reich ended, and the band switch to a more festive waltz as an interlude. He could hear the riotous squawking and screeching from the long tables in the dining hall; all the lower officers and less-distinguished guests benched together according to rank and accomplishments.
He had already personally thanked a tank commander that destroyed two dozen panzers, plus the sergeant of a squad that took a bridge before it could be blown. According to the list tucked beside his chair, Grover only had another 114 more to address.
Well, they address me, Grover amended. All he had to do was nod the Reichstone and look sufficiently imperious. Serving the Reich was its own reward, and acknowledgement from the Kaiser was the best a common griffon could hope for.
Gallus was absent from the high table, sitting with Gilda and the Element of Loyalty somewhere in the riotous laughter. You would think a blue griffon would be easy to spot in a crowd. From what little he could see around the brackets of servants and guards attending him, his griffons were tan, brown, yellow, orange, and a few speckles of green, blue, and red. Nearly a rainbow.
Flurry Heart belched after setting down the soda. She dabbed the napkin to her muzzle afterwards. “I apologize,” she said with a far too earnest blink. Benito huffed.
The alicorn rolled back her navy sleeve to check a watch, then her horn glowed. Conversation dulled as the magical wave blasted through the hall. Grover felt his feathers prickle at the detection spell. Dialogue gradually resumed as the Princess snagged a bread roll with a small bite taken out of it off Jacques’ side plate.
Grover looked to her untouched glass of water, the unfilled wine glass, and her plate. Flurry stole the sodas before the servants could open them, stole food off the platters before others could touch it, and only took from parts of the platters that others had taken from before her.
She ate nothing that the servants placed before her. It was always conveniently pushed aside after a bout of poor table manners or sometimes ended up closer to Jacques. The griffon sampled some of it as if it was his own plate, then ‘accidentally’ elbowed a large wing several minutes later.
Grover glanced at Benito; the dog hadn’t noticed, too focused on her actions to truly observe. He unhooked his glasses and rubbed the frames with the tablecloth, squinting at Flurry across the table.
She noticed the look and slowed chewing on the roll. A brow raised. What?
Grover flicked a talon at her untouched water, then the soda bottle. He rolled his eyes. Do you think I’m trying to poison you?
Flurry swallowed, shaking her head. No.
Grover rolled his wrist and spun a talon in a circle. Then why?
The alicorn cracked her neck and her eyes drifted to the crowd of servants and guards around the table. Her cold blue eyes lingered on certain griffons before flicking back to Grover. She tilted her head as if inspecting a plate of noodles, but the eyes stayed on the Kaiser. Are you sure they aren’t trying to poison me?
Grover replaced his glasses and leaned back in the chair; he stretched his wings and tried to follow her stare. A few of the servants watched her, but they were supposed to be watching her; she was the most prestigious guest at the table, manners be damned.
His brow furrowed. Two of the servant’s stares weren’t friendly, or even attempting to pretend to be neutral. They could be taking offense at her manners, he considered. They whispered with each other before looking to the Princess. One had a claw stuffed into her apron. She didn’t have a weapon, but she could have been carrying something small, like a vial or…
Grover folded his wings and made eye contact with Flurry. He tapped two talons on the table. Fair. Flurry winked while biting into a pepper. The blink looked like the spice got to her.
Benito shook his head in disgust.
Grover suppressed a smirk. She is very smart at appearing very stupid. He picked up his steak knife with a quick glance at the rafters above the dining hall. The Opinicus order had reported her perfidy in the other dining hall, and the Changelings had not expected a filly to outwit them in the Duskwood.
I suppose we all see what we wish to see, Grover mused as he sliced into a “King” Hydra. It had been supposedly hunted down by the Longsword Order just for his birthday. It was a waste of resources; they could have pounded the damn thing with artillery and been done with it if the beast was a problem.
“New Mareland is being reorganized, Princess,” Grover said after a bite of steak. “We’ve had more success after the victory. Ponies have stepped up.”
Flurry shrugged a wing and began to neck the second fizzlepop soda.
“A pony named Sour Sweet seems promising,” Grover added. “We’ve looked into her. Inherited a company from her father. She has a network of associates ready to help with the integration.”
Flurry’s eyes betrayed no recognition to the name. The bottle was impressively almost empty; the alicorn tilted her head back with the bottle affixed to her muzzle. She continued to chug it while waving a wing for the Kaiser to continue.
“Part of some industrialist society,” Grover finished and returned to cutting the steak. “The Shadowbolts or some-”
He would have continued, if the Princess across him had not sprayed the table with soda. The bottle sailed like a lobbed shell over his head and crown before falling towards the floor. It did not shatter. Sir Geralt caught it with one claw and narrowed yellow eyes. The knights closed in around the table at the commotion.
The Griffonian side of the table began to growl or squawk, but the sight of Princess Flurry hammering her chest with a boot while soda dripped out of her nose checked them. She lost her hat in the violent spit take, landing in Jacques’ pasta. She gasped several times. The plate of mashed potatoes before her was more soda than potato.
“What…” she coughed. “What was that name again?”
Conversation halted at the high table. Benito pushed his chair back to stand, but Grover reached out and grabbed his sleeve. “The Shadowbolt Society, I believe,” he repeated. “Do you know of them, Princess?” The dog sat back down with a huff.
Flurry narrowed her eyes. She mumbled, “Guess that wasn’t in the Friendship Journal,” before turning her head around and inhaling. “Rainbow!”
This time, conversation halted in the entire dining hall. Even the band stopped their rendition of the Griffonian anthem with warbling trumpet. The conductor flinched and dropped his music sheets. There was a heartbeat of intense silence.
“Yeah!?” a voice warbled up from somewhere in the benches.
“Get up here,” Flurry belted. “Your Princess commands it.”
Grover idly noted that the banners hanging from the rafters swung with the chandeliers from the Royal Voice. Must be a magical component more than volume. He snapped his claw above his head, and the knights broke rank around the table.
Not that it was necessary. Rainbow Dash flew over the cordon and landed in her flight jacket. There were sauce stains on the cuffs, but the pegasus was otherwise decently presentable with a Wonderbolts dress uniform on underneath the fake leather.
The pegasus bowed. Her sunglasses were nestled into the front of her rainbow mohawk for safe-keeping. “Princess? And, uh, Kaiser?”
“Rise,” Flurry snorted. “Enjoying the party?”
“Gilda tells me the ice cream is really good,” Rainbow answered. “Haven’t seen it yet.”
Flurry gave Grover a side-eye. “Neither have I.” She cleared her throat. “Shadowbolts.”
Rainbow hesitated. “What about ‘em?”
“There’s a group called the Shadowbolts in New Mareland,” Flurry explained.
“Hay, what the fuck?” the pegasus spat. “Really? Come on!”
“Language,” Flurry chided. “Please, explain to Kaiser Grover.” She twisted back around and dipped her horn in his direction. “If that’s acceptable to you.”
Grover waved his claw. “Element of Loyalty, approach.” Rainbow Dash bit her lip and glanced at Elias Bronzetail a few seats down, then took a deep breath. She trotted forward and squeezed between Jacques and Flurry Heart.
“Uh, Kaiser.” She bowed her head slightly. “Yeah, uh, Nightmare Moon tried to buy my loyalty with Shadowbolts before we kicked her flank back into being Luna.”
Grover hummed and rested his claws under his beak. “I don’t recall reading this in the Friendship Journal. You all faced tests or some sort, yes?”
“I had to fix the bridge to the Castle of the Two Sisters,” Rainbow explained with nervous magenta eyes. She scuffed a rear hoof on the floor. “Flew down there and she appeared all spooky and weird. Said I could be her Shadowbolt and I told her to fuck off.”
Flurry snorted.
“Okay,” Rainbow amended, “I didn’t use that language but that was the gist of it.”
Grover tilted his head. His beak opened and closed for a moment. “Nightmare Moon had you cornered and alone…and just left you?”
“She was pretty stupid,” Rainbow shrugged her metal wing. “I didn’t know the Shadowbolts were an actual thing, though. Thought she just made it up.”
Flurry mirrored the shrug with a hoof. “Nightmare cultists?” she guessed. “Just do whatever you do with Maar worshippers.”
Chiropterra may have influence in New Mareland. Grover nudged Benito with his wing. “Make a note of it. Use a secure channel. Have Grimwing look into Sour Sweet further with the more extreme measures.”
“As you say, my Kaiser,” Benito accepted. The dog reached into his gray jacket and scribbled a reminder into a small brown notebook.
“Thank you, Rainbow,” Flurry said. “You’re dismissed. Tell Gallus and Gilda I said hello.”
The pegasus bowed to the Princess, then hesitated after standing up and awkwardly nodded to Grover. He suppressed rolling his eyes and jerked his head in dismissal. The Element of Loyalty flapped up and above the guards again rather than walk.
Flurry faced Grover and smirked toothily. “First Wind Rider, now Shadowbolts?”
Grover reflexively clenched the grip of the steak knife, then relaxed his claw and pointed the blade at her. “I am attempting to gather all of Equestria’s villains together. Miss Glow rebuffed my offer.”
The alicorn laughed slightly. “Shame. I already stole her and Caballeron.”
“A toast!” Mudbeak trilled from the far end of the table. The old, graying griffon was deep in his cups, and lifted his wine glass for a refill. “A toast to the health of the Kaiser of Griffonkind!”
Grover set his utensils down and straightened himself in the chair, looking sufficiently regal. He wiped his beak as surreptitiously as he could. Griffons, ponies, and dogs stiffened, and an Ironpaw gave a signal to the conductor. The band fell silent with a long violin note hanging in the air.
The other tables continued speaking, but knights pounded on their breastplates along the sides of the hall in a coordinated rhythm. The talk lowered into murmurs as the lesser guests straightened along the benches.
Grover noticed Archon Proteus flap up from one of the bench seats in a simple jumpsuit and frock, having eschewed his vestments in a show of humility. An eye wandered to the photographers along the sides with the knights. No doubt Erion will have to make some show of piety back home to compensate.
Proteus landed with a spread-winged bow before the table, then stood and held out a claw. A servant approached with a fine wine glass, but he quelled her with a look. An Arcturian prelate came forward with a plainer goblet that Proteus accepted. The Archon stopped in one of the gaps before the banquet plates.
Grover gave him a look. He stood before the rice from Brodfeld; one of the bounties traditionally associated with Eyr. Proteus returned the look with smirking eyes, indicating he knew the snub against Archon Erion.
“General Mudbeak,” Proteus intoned with a dip of his head, “you call for a toast.”
“I do, Archon,” Mudbeak accepted. “Please, by all means.”
“Too many have a love of wealth and money,” Proteus began, “and those who place the material above the Gods are doomed to fail. We have won a great victory because of the Gods, and we are led by their chosen vessel.” The Archon lifted his cup to Grover. “Since Grover the Great first flew from Griffonstone, his dynasty is the hope and future of Griffonkind…”
Grover VI tuned him out while he watched the servants fill any empty wine glasses. A griffonness uncorked a new bottle of Strawberry wine and filled the Princess’ empty glass while she sat at attention, staring down the table to Proteus. Jacques accepted a lesser refill of the same Vinovian wine Countess Raison drank.
Flurry’s horn glowed and she shuffled the glass slowly across the linen, over her plates, and left it next to Jacques’ glass. She removed her cap at the same time and smoothed down her short mane. The griffon beside her smoothly switched the glasses with a show of adjusting his cufflink.
If Jacques noticed Grover watching him, he gave no indication. Proteus continued speaking about the need for spiritual guidance in the Griffonian Reich, sneaking in a few barbed insults about the virtuousness of noble blood with tactical glances at Duke Gerlach and Count Ignatius. Grover tolerated Proteus’ speeches the best; they were not overly long.
“The Gods shall guide us to victory in this night, and we shall follow their light in the darkness. To Grover von Greifenstein, sixth of his name, chosen of the Gods!”
Chairs swooped back as the honored guests stood. Grover remained sitting and staring ahead, choosing the spot between Flurry and Jacques without favoring any particular person. Years of practice kept his expression neutral.
Jacques raised his wing glass with a talon, and Flurry raised her own in a sparkling golden aura. Standing, she was the tallest at the table except Benito, Ignatius, and Loudbark. Benito straightened his back with a stiff tail, eyes at one of the banners hanging from the rafters. He lifted the glass to the symbol of Grover II just as much to Grover VI.
“Chosen of the Gods!” the room solemnly declared in Herzlander. Flurry Heart and Jacques mouthed it a second after the rest, not knowing the oath. Grover broke his neutral stare to give her a flat glare. Not your Gods anyway.
Flurry hid a smirk by gulping down the wine. Her eyes widened and wings spasmed. A wing shot out and buffeted Jacques, knocking him to the side with a high squawk. Her other wing clipped Raison’s horn and caused her magic to fumble. The Countess of Vinovia dropped her wine glass into a partially-eaten salad.
The Princess descended into a coughing fit, wine glass sloshing above her head and spilling more wine into the soda already staining the tablecloth in front of her. She trotted in place as all eyes went to her. Jacques recovered from his stumble, and dodged another swipe of her oversized wing.
“That’s…that’s stronger than I thought it’d be,” the alicorn wheezed. “I thought Strawberry wine was sweet?”
Grover watched her wing glass, knowing it was full of Vinovian wine meant for Jacques. And Jacques’ glass was empty from her ‘accidental’ smack before it reached his beak. He didn’t have time to drink it.
Benito growled and the knights tensed around the table. Grover left his claws atop the linen, staring up at the standing alicorn over the rims of his glasses. He frowned deeply.
Flurry’s narrow muzzle frowned in apology. “I’m sorry, Kaiser Grover.” She coughed again and set the glass down.
Grover tipped his beak up. “I believed our Strawberry wine would be sweet enough for an Equestrian’s palate. It appears I was wrong. We don’t mix sugar into everything we eat or drink on Griffonia. Do you drink?”
“This was my first,” Flurry wheezed in a louder voice.
“A good memory,” Grover approved. He raised his voice and enunciated carefully to prevent it from cracking. “The Princess’ first drink was to my health.”
“That explains the cough!” Proteus boomed with a laugh. Tension broken, a few eager-to-please subjects chuckled along. Flurry gave a bashful grin to them before sitting back down.
Grover raised his right claw and the head server approached in a gray tuxedo. The band restarted with the anthem yet again. He whispered out of the side of his beak. “Bring out the ice cream.”
The griffon blinked. “My Kaiser, there are still several courses-” The Kaiser turned to make eye contact. The griffon flushed and backed away with rapid-fire nods.
Flurry stacked her ruined plates high and bit her lip at the stained tablecloth. It was emblazoned with several roaring griffons in gold and silver, brought in from Griffenheim. Her horn flashed and the liquid was sucked out of the fabric into a roiling ball, then dumped into her wine glass.
“An interesting spell,” Elias commented.
“Easy clean up,” Flurry explained. She eyed the mix of soda and wine in her glass with a vaguely disgusted look. “Never really had to learn it in the Empire. Crystal is easy to clean.”
Jacques set his empty wine glass down with a sigh. “I was going to enjoy that. Not as much as my treasured Amontillado. You have cruel wings, Little Flurry.”
“They have a mind of their own,” Flurry returned dryly.
“What flavor of ice cream would you like?” Grover asked. He fiddled with his glasses to give her a subdued glance. I know you know I know.
“Whatever you’d like,” Flurry answered. She blinked coquettishly. Know what?
Benito huffed again beside Grover. He shook his head. “I thought this was supposed to be her best manners,” he muttered out of the side of his muzzle.
Grover opened his beak to say something, then the crescendo of the Griffonian anthem trilled across the hall with blaring horns. He shut his beak with a clack and returned to a dry steak. Some knight probably got eaten in a swamp in Gryphus to kill this thing in my name. He rubbed the slice in gravy before shoving it into his beak.
There were two more toasts to his health before the lower tables were dismissed. Thankfully, the Princess was preoccupied with ice cream so the farce did not need to repeat. The servants cleared the plates before a long line formed running the length of the hall according to rank and accomplishment like it did every year.
Grover remained sitting while every other guest stood at attention. The Reichstone felt heavy again. “Your company and presence has been noted and appreciated,” he announced.
“Now,” Benito continued, “the heroes of the Griffonian Reich may approach to be acknowledged.” He slipped on a small pair of reading glasses out of his jacket and pulled the folder out from under the table. He flicked through it with a paw.
Knight-Captain Wavewing approached Princess Flurry Heart and bowed her head. “Princess, thank you for your company. I shall escort you out.” The burly purple-gray griffoness scuffed a gauntlet on her breastplate while she waited.
Flurry paused. “I can stay, if it pleases the Kaiser.”
Grover suppressed a sigh. “You may leave, Princess. I extend my thanks in the use of your dining hall.”
“It’s a better party than the one I threw,” Flurry offered with a snort.
The Kaiser did not laugh. He waved his wing and looked at the long line of griffons he had only read sterile post-action reports about. There were far more knights than the regular Reichsarmee soldiers, and some noble scions waiting as well. Grover recognized Barnaby, the son of Ignatius, standing near the head of the line.
He could not remember what exactly the dog had done. Something with the engineering teams, most like. Benito will remind me. The Kaiser did not talk to them, after all. Just nod.
How much is a nod from the God’s chosen griffon worth, Proteus? The Archon waited at the side of the room. The other guests from the high table joined him; Mudbeak, Elias, Raison, Ignatius, and Gerlach all stood at attention. The conductor waved his talon to start a ceremonial march, and the band shifted in their chairs after the brief break as the guests filed out.
Grover had a crick in his neck again from wearing the Reichstone for six hours. I should have taken the damn thing off a few times during the feast. But he knew that was unacceptable, especially if someone had been speaking to him.
It was a show of disfavor; his great-grandfather had assassinated a priest by removing the Reichstone with an angry comment. His knights flew forth and killed Beckbeak before his altar the next day. Grover III’s act of penitence by marching on all fours from Griffenheim to the Sacred Tree of Griffonstone had undone the accidental sin, but Grover VI always wondered…
Flurry Heart cleared her throat and awkwardly backed away from the table. She offered a bowed head and touched her horn to the tablecloth before rising again. “Happy birthday, Kaiser Grover.”
I suppose Equestrians have no deeper religion. And I am no crystal pony. “You may leave, Princess. We shall speak later.” He nodded and felt the Reichstone slip, but leaned his head back and gravity centered it again.
Flurry observed the motion with unreadable eyes, then nodded a final time and replaced her cap from its place under a wing. Jacques similarly dipped his head and followed her. Once they had been escorted out and the doors shut, the ceremony began in earnest. The band played louder. Benito took a long sip of water and cleared his throat.
Grover planned to go to bed early like he usually did on his birthdays.
It helped with the headache.
There was a splotch on the large front window that hadn’t been fully wiped away. In the fading sunlight, it was hard to tell it was blood unless one got close and smelled the lingering metal in the air. The rain would wash it away; storm clouds gathered on the northern horizon, and the wind blew stronger now.
It was still too far to see any flashes or lightning or hear thunder, but spring brought wild storms without Cloudsdale’s weather control. With the shield over the north, the weather rolled into large swaths of dark clouds after crashing against the magic. Flurry Heart could feel the microcurrents in her feathers as the door to the bar crashed open.
“I am told there is beer!” Gilda crowed. She dragged Rainbow Dash in beside her. The pegasus’ metal wing hung loosely over her jacket, partially unstrapped. She wore her sunglasses; Flurry guessed it was to hide her already drunken leer.
“It’s shit beer,” Gallus answered. “Knock-off swill.” He had folded his black coat over a chair and waved a claw to the empty chairs across from his table.
Edvald squawked in indignation near the discarded piano. “It is not our beer!” he insisted angrily in Herzlander. “It is Changeling swill!” He continued to shove the piano against the wall.
Katherine helped him, cheeks puffed in effort. “Why…why are we even moving this?”
“I can play the piano,” Edvald answered. “A true blessing to find one in this hooved hell.”
“I meant why isn’t our Princess helping?” Katherine asked louder with a pointed golden eye at the alicorn sitting on a barstool.
Flurry stuck her muzzle in the air. “Am I to perform mundane labor at my own coronation party?” she said in her best attempt at a Griffenheim accent.
“You sound like a pig farmer pretending to be a noble,” Katherine advised with her peasant Katerin. She clucked afterwards when Edvald tried to swat her with his wing. The two burgundy griffons finished shoving the piano against the wall.
The bar was rustic, attempting to look like an old beer house from the Herzland. Wooden paneling covered brick walls with high, wall-mounted lights and thick rafters. Everything was made of wood with accented gray colors.
There was a discoloration on the wall from where Chrysalis’ trident emblem had been taken down; Duty Price used it as an ashtray beside Frosty Jadis. The black flag of the Changeling Hegemony was currently Gallus’ tablecloth. Gilda and Rainbow flumped down across from him.
“You didn’t need to stay for the ass-kissing ceremony?” Gilda asked him.
“I’m a Griffonstone griffon,” Gallus shrugged a blue wing. “Our presence is odious; they can smell us because we don’t bathe. What about you?”
“Yeah,” Rainbow poked her friend. “How many flying aces you kill? You lying, G?”
“Shove off, dweeb,” Gilda growled with a hint of playfulness. “I ain’t standing in line for three hours staring at some stuck-up knight’s tailhole just for the blessed Kaiser to nod at me.”
“You toasted him,” Rainbow continued.
“So did you,” Gilda laughed, “and you couldn’t even say the Herzlander right!”
“Who’s fault is that!?” Rainbow nickered. “You never taught me any!”
“Didn’t need to,” Gallus preened his wing. “The Griffonstone-Equestrian exchange program was very generous. Education and Flight Camp for the most impoverished griffons in Griffonia.”
Nightshade screeched a warbling laugh from the rafters before descending with Murky and Amoxtli. She flapped her leathery wings just off the floor. “Some New Marelander griffs might dispute that!”
“You haven’t been to Griffonstone,” Gilda dismissed. “It’s a shithole.”
“It’s our shithole,” Gallus agreed.
“Damn right.”
The Thestrals landed and claimed another table near the others. Amoxtli spared a glance to a shadowed corner, and Murky followed her slit gaze. He perked up. “Homey enough in here for you bedbugs?”
Arex hissed beside Ocellus, both in full-body cloaks over their purple uniforms. “This is a mockery. No corners or staggered holes in the walls. I don’t know how true changelings could stand it.”
“We agree!” Katherine chirped. She wiped her claws off and sat down across from Ocellus, cheeks pulled into a smile. “It is like if Edvald explained a beer hall in his broken Equestrian and a pony built a bar following his exact words.”
“No,” Edvald disagreed in halting Equestrian, “I would have beat pony when first wood set down.”
“This place was meant for the Queen’s Guard,” Ocellus said quietly. She kept the cloak around herself, tucked into the corner beside the older changeling. Arex was braver and lowered the hood. She rapped a holed hoof onto the table as she waited.
“What’s a Herzlander bar like?” Flurry called over.
Katherine swept her wings in a mock bow. “It is too low for you, Princess. There is no bar seating. And there are no booths, only long tables where griffons sit together.”
“Griffons being social?” Price snorted a puff of smoke. “Don’t pull my tail, little cub.”
“More griffons to sit and more coin to be made,” Katherine shrugged. “And no bar seating where quick claws can swipe free refills.”
Duskcrest emerged from the basement storage on his paws, clutching a cargo of an overfilled brown crate. Bottles clinked together as he used his wings for balance. “In Nova Griffonia, we invested in such things as clubs. Perhaps you’ve heard of them? Large sticks for whacking the unruly?”
Flurry felt the residual waves of magic from spells in the basement. Jacques and Cerie followed Duskcrest with their own haul of chilled bottles. The young griffoness puffed with exertion, but recoiled with a growl when Flurry’s magic tried to seize her crate. “Non!” she spat in Aquileian, then immediately looked horrified.
Jacques swaggered behind the bar and set his crate down, then flipped an empty beer bottle around in a claw. He tried to jam it on the tip of Flurry’s horn, but she jerked her head up and the horn point drifted out of quick reach. She narrowed her eyes. “I can help.”
“You cannot summon Amontillado from that horn of yours,” Jacques answered, “so you cannot help. You must sit and look pretty in your uniform.” He clambered over the countertop and moved to help Cerie. The griffon left the empty bottle spinning on the bar. Flurry batted it between her white-booted forelegs while she waited.
Sunset Shimmer emerged from the stairwell lugging a full wooden keg in her telekinesis. She had unbuttoned most of her gray uniform and it hung loose on her frame with rolled-up sleeves. The fiery-maned unicorn stowed it behind the bar in an empty spot, then twisted the barrel around for the spigot.
There was a series of thuds from the basement. A barrel rolled up the stairs with audible sloshing inside, then Tempest Shadow roughly shoved it behind the bar with brute strength and rammed it upright next to the other. She had fully discarded her uniform and stood nude with froth in her coat.
Duskcrest whistled, only to squawk in pain when Dusty Mark cracked her tail across his back. The former archaeologist appraised the beer with clear experience. “That all that’s salvageable?”
“That’s all that’s good,” Sunset retorted. “Queen’s Guard had shit taste, even considering Griffonian beer.” Cerie, Edvald, Jacques, and Katherine flashed their talons at the unapologetic unicorn. The soon-to-be Archmage took it unflinchingly. “You only hate me because I’m right.”
“We are the only ones that can insult our beer,” Katherine replied. “We do not make fun of your Equestrian tea.”
“Because it’s already a joke,” Gallus ‘whispered’ across the room.
“Just so.”
“Right,” Tempest panted. “Cerie spotted some decent Aquileian swill down there, so we have options.”
“Field Marshal, may we have some refreshment?” Jacques requested. “Little Flurry spilled all my wine earlier.”
“It’s because you were whining too much,” Flurry quipped from the barstool. She looked around the room; her horn glowed. Abruptly, the chairs and tables were enveloped in her magic and rearranged with squawks and neighs of surprise from the captive audience.
Flurry Heart ignored how most of them looked frightened. She set everyone down in a long row, tables pressed together to form bench seating. “Might as well get the full experience.” The alicorn left gaps and empty chairs between each group.
The door to the bar opened with a rough shove. The wood caught, and the Yak shoved it fully open with a grunt of annoyance. Yona puffed hair out of her eyes. “Stupid bug building. Remember when this was guard bar. Much smashing.”
Sandbar followed her in. “Didn’t know you visited Canterlot.”
“Before war for Rutherford, when Jaks tried to break away from Yaks. Ask Celestia for help. Rifles.”
Duskcrest leaned back in his chair to see the approaching Yak. “Considering we sold some shipments of guns to Prince Rutherford in the frontier…”
Rarity entered, “Sending guns to defend Harmony is a bit of an oxymoron, wouldn’t you say?”
“Oh, good!” Rainbow snorted. “More moralizing. At least your fur is as snow white as-”
Zecora cleared her throat and kicked the door shut behind her. It closed with a terrific bang that brought the chatter to an end. “My apologies,” the zebra said, not sounding very contrite. “I’m here to drink, not to listen to you two invent new terminologies.”
Rarity scrunched her muzzle, then regarded Rainbow with a cold look and sat down across from her. “Very well. I can play nice.”
Rainbow stuck her mohawk up and scanned the bar. “Get over here, Tempest. I know you drink. Have one last drink with us before your high horn gets too good to drink with the lower class.”
Tempest lowered her broken horn with half-lidded eyes; it made her scar look extra dangerous. “That’s not exactly a concern for me.”
“Get over there,” Sunset huffed. “I’m on bar duty.” The mare rummaged around with her horn, setting up glasses and dividing the bottles by variant and flavor.
“What, you know how to bartend?”
“Sushi bar,” Sunset muttered. “Same principle. Have a seat, Fizzy.”
Tempest walked over slowly and eyed the chairs. Duskcrest clasped his claws under his beak. “Have no fear. Most at this meeting are assholes. You fit in. I heard you’re called Fizzlepop? Like the soda?”
“I heard you’re called Virgil,” Tempest retorted. “Like the poem.” She sat down close to Duskcrest and across from him, dragging the chair forward.
The griffon offered his claw without prodding from Dusty. “I shall forget your unfortunate name if you forget mine.”
Tempest nodded. “You’ll be General Duskcrest in all the dispatches and paperwork. Since I’m your boss.”
Sunset began filling mugs with wine from the barrels after rinsing out the glasses in the faucet. Beer bottles floated over to the table. Edvald and Katherine sat near the end, by the piano; they had several empty chairs between them and the others.
“You aren’t taking our orders, Archmage?” Rainbow shouted.
“I’m just reading your minds,” Sunset deadpanned. “Yours is always empty, so think extra hard about what you want.”
There was some scattered laughter; hooves and claws swapped drinks. Flurry sat at the bar alone, staring at the two Herzlanders. She set her cap down atop the counter and her wings fluttered.
“You can’t make them sit closer,” Sunset whispered. She set a mug down filled with water and nudged it towards the alicorn. “It’s fine.”
The alicorn scanned the table, spotting Ocellus still hiding in her cloak. She was wedged between Arex and Gallus, sitting across from Sandbar and Yona. The other changeling sipped on a beer after using a hole in her hoof to pop off the bottlecap.
Rarity also noticed and leaned on the table. She had selected the wine with a mild nicker at being served wine in a beer mug. “That’s a rather poor cloak, dear. If you’re trying to blend in, Equestrians prefer brighter colors.”
Ocellus’ wings buzzed beneath the gray, threadbare cloak. “I don’t like being out in the city.”
“You mean undisguised,” Sandbar snorted across from her. He tugged off his eyepatch and let the empty socket glare at her while he drank his own beer.
“We had great fun bidden farewell to all of Chryssi’s little ‘lings,” Arex said with feigned enthusiasm. “Hope they have a bumpy train trip to Hayston.”
“Remember who your enemy is,” Price agreed with a low rumble. The earth pony stamped out his cigar on the trident emblem. “Play nice, corporal.”
Sandbar drank instead of replying.
Flurry scowled at Jadis pushing a bottle down beside Price. The crystal pony refused to meet the Princess’ eyes. “Jadis!” the alicorn belted. “Drink!”
“I’m fine, Princess,” Jadis demurred.
“We got the Crusaders on the door, love,” Price said beside her. “Nopony wants to see those fillies drunk, and we got some of Lime’s regulars.”
“Love?” Jacques chuckled.
“It’s slang in Trottingham,” Price huffed at the griffon. “Maybe you’d learn kinder ones if you weren’t such a wanker.”
“I’ll be fine, Jadis,” Flurry assured her. “I’m not shielding the bar and broadcasting I’m down here.” She glanced at the window to the street. It was twilight and the street lights were off to conserve power. She returned to the crystal pony. “Drink, your Princess commands it.”
Jadis popped off a bottle cap with a hard strike of her hoof, then necked the bottle with a chug. Her blue fur glittered like freckles above her purple uniform, and began to flush purple around her cheeks. She cleared the bottle with a smug belch and tossed her navy-white mane back. “I endeavor to abide by your commands, Princess.”
“Oh shit,” Duskcrest laughed. “I love it when the crystal ponies start talking fancy again.”
“Wastrel.”
“Bandit,” the griffon corrected.
Flurry accepted the mug and sipped the water. “You can join in if you want,” she offered to Sunset. The amber unicorn leaned against the bar beside Flurry and a row of bottles.
“No,” Sunset waved a hoof. “I’m here to make sure you don’t drink.”
Flurry stuck her tongue out. “Already had some wine. Let me have a beer.”
“One,” Sunset compromised. “Which one do you want?”
“You pick.”
The unicorn studied the available bottles. As she did, she commented, “Heard a few of the Reichsarmee regulars gossiping that you made a real ass of yourself at the Kaiser’s birthday party. Little peasant filly pretending to be better than she is.”
“Harsh and accurate,” Flurry assessed.
“Is that smart a few days before the coronation? Already looks like Grover’s propping you up on a throne.”
“Looks bad on him then if I’m a barely literate peasant,” Flurry countered. “They can laugh all they want. I’m sure those nobles were laughing at me before the knives came out.”
“They were,” Sunset confirmed. “Served them too.” She finally chose a bottle and set it down. When Flurry moved for it, she tugged it back with a flick of her horn. “Finish the water first so something’s on your stomach. More water after.”
Flurry rolled her eyes, but drank.
Sunset watched her. Her cyan eyes flickered. “No testing?”
“You got it from the faucet.”
“Could’ve poisoned the mug.”
“You hate me that much?” Flurry laughed slightly. “I trust you. I have to, Archmage.”
Sunset broke eye contact and looked at the table. More bottles floated over with a few cheers. Flurry’s ears turned and picked up melding conversations. Everyone could speak Equestrian at least passably, and this would be the last time many would be in one place. After the coronation, there were administrative duties and battle plans and a war to win.
Flurry did not want to think about who would not be at the table at the war’s end. Cerie and Jacques were the lone Aquileians; the alicorn had not truly counted Sophie and Eagleheart as friends, but with Josette in Nova Griffonia all that remained in the south had to be lonely.
But right now, Cerie tapped a talon on the table in a rhythm while listening to Zecora speak on Zebrica. Jacques was annoying everyone with wine facts, but the group was smiling. Everyone accepted the refills offered by Sunset, or set bottle off to the side for later.
Flurry finished her water, but left the beer on the table and trotted over to the table. She picked an empty chair near Sandbar and Yona and flapped herself forward before folding her wings. She hummed at Arex’s beer; it was mostly full.
“Can changelings get drunk? They can, right?”
“Get buzzed,” Arex jerked her horn to the side. “Pun intended. If it’s spiked with love, yeah, but otherwise it’s not much. I can down two dozen of these and only need to piss.”
“I can never imagine swearing at Grover,” Gallus engaged, breaking off from a competitive discussion on aircraft mechanics between Gilda and Rainbow. “He always has this affronted look on his beak if someone curses in front of him.”
“The Princess swears worse than I do,” Arex shrugged.
“I’ve noticed,” Gallus said dryly.
“Fuck off,” Flurry huffed at him with a smile. “Why weren’t you at the high table?”
“Technically baseborn,” Gallus shrugged a claw. “Never knew my parents. That’s a big hurdle. Grover naming me his royal advisor nearly gave a few of the old-timers heart attacks.”
“Worth it?” Sandbar questioned.
“Oh, yeah,” Gallus squawked. “Don’t like the VOPS-adjacent black, but I make it look good.”
Katherine shuffled down the chairs, hopping from seat-to-seat. “You look like Wingfried von Katerinberg. You know him?”
“I do not look like a Reformisten,” Gallus sputtered. “The uniform is…” he paused and thought about it. “Okay, a little similar but not that bad.”
“No, he’s blue,” Katherine explained. “Almost your shade.”
“I imagine he’s white now because he’s dead,” Gallus replied shortly. His head feathers flushed to Katherine’s visible amusement.
Flurry looked between them. “Context?”
“Griffon supremacists from the borderlands,” Katherine waved a claw. “Their leader was related to Diellza, the Mad Monarch of Katerin.”
“Spent years building forts in the wrong direction,” Gallus mused. “The Reich invaded before whatever idiocy they wanted to attempt in the Riverlands.”
“Grover recruit them like Wind Rider?” Flurry asked mirthlessly.
“No, Eros had them all executed on Maar-worshipping charges,” Gallus laughed. “Fake charges, by the way, but they had it coming.”
“Heard it was because they did some experiments on Riverponies,” Katherine needled with wry eyes.
“No comment,” Gallus answered. “But they really had it coming.”
“Glad to know we’re not the only ones,” Ocellus muttered. Flurry blinked and realized the little changeling had downed three beers in less than twenty minutes. She rocked in her chair like a drunk, no matter what Arex said about changelings.
“That thought fill you with glee, changeling?” Sandbar nickered across from her. “A pity you can’t steal your own emotions. I’ve seen feral changelings lost in the Everfree. Not even animals.”
“I saw a stallion steal hay from a starving mother,” Ocellus responded. “Ripped it away and gnawed on it like a horse, crawling along the ground. We’re all animals deep down.”
Sandbar grimaced and it stretched the burn on his muzzle. “We didn’t start this war.”
“And we did not try to wipe out every scrap of a people,” Yona said beside him with a low huff. “Careful, squishy bug.”
“The world acted like we didn’t even exist.” Ocellus yanked her hoof away when Arex leaned in to whisper to her. “You know, most changelings don’t care that Chrysalis rewrote everything. Our history is cycles of starvation and infighting as the world watched us die.”
Sandbar folded his hooves. “Maybe if you weren’t-”
“Monsters?” Ocellus finished for him. She tugged her hood back and bared her fangs underneath pupilless eyes. “We didn’t choose to be like this. Call us broken, soulless parasites all you want. Sometimes I wish we were. It would make it easier to chug down love and not think about what family it was stolen from.
“We have to think of you as prey,” Ocellus finished and laid her head on the table. “If we think of you as people it gets too hard to stay alive. That’s why every Changeling Queen postured about it.”
“There’s only one Queen of the Changelings now,” Arex sighed. “The others are gone. They followed her into the war and she cleared them out the moment she truly won.”
“Why?” Flurry asked.
“They could challenge her,” Arex hissed. “Same with Trimmel. Her cousin Synovial is too spineless.”
“Lilac could have,” Ocellus muttered.
Sandbar brayed in laughter. “That bitch? Give me a break!” Chatter died around the table as everyone focused on the conversation. “Governor Lilac was a monster!”
Ocellus jerked her head up. “No.”
“Woah, filly,” Rainbow snorted. She hopped up and stalked down the table to Ocellus. “If we had ever found her body in the Crystaller, that bitch would’ve been paraded around Manehattan.”
“She loved Manehattan,” Ocellus retorted. “She tried.”
“Really?” Sandbar insisted. “I remember the reeducation classes and ‘Are You Smarter than a Changeling?’ on the radio.”
“Jachs tried,” Rainbow mocked.
“She went to Vesalipolis and renegotiated the Love Tax to be less demanding,” Ocellus hissed. “That was basically a death sentence and she still risked it. Lilac wasn’t…she wasn’t a good person, but she did believe in making something better.”
“That’s enough,” Arex said soothingly. “Let it go, Occie.”
Price leaned forward to see down the table. “You were picked up in Ironbend because of her idiocy. Lilac was a ponce, prancing about how we could all be friends while sending Jaeger teams into the subways to flush us out.”
“She wanted to make something better,” Ocellus insisted. She wilted down in her chair at the stares and growing hostility. “It wasn’t just talk. I knew her.”
“She knew I was working for Suri before the ELF and kept it quiet,” Rarity added. “I could’ve have been shipped to the Queen as a trophy.”
Rainbow twisted her head back. “Maybe you should have fought, Rares!”
“Lilac wasn’t a monster!” Ocellus hissed. “She hated the Queen’s Guard looking over her horn. She wanted to get rid of them!”
“What?” Rainbow scoffed. “You related to her or something?”
“Yes!” Ocellus snapped.
The table shared an incredulous look. Arex rubbed her muzzle. “That’s…Thorax said…”
“I’m sure he said to keep it quiet,” Flurry remarked after a moment of recovery. She raised an eyebrow at Ocellus. “I suppose that explains why you were an officer at such a young age.”
“Glad to know the Changelings practice nepotism just as much as we did,” Rainbow muttered. “Seriously? You’re Lilac’s…” she uncharacteristically hesitated, “foal?”
“No,” Ocellus whispered. She shrank down in her seat, but stared at Price. “It wasn’t a coincidence that all those ELF members ended up in the one prison. She wanted a breakout.”
“You…” Price shook his head. “You ain’t convincing me she wanted us to win. Sorry, love.”
“She knew the revolt was coming. She sent me away before it started.” Ocellus stared at the table. “Lilac thought she could win it. She had to; it was going to destroy everything if she lost.”
“Don’t you dare blame us for fighting, bug,” Rainbow snarled. She leaned down and tugged a strap across her barrel, and her metal wing went taut. The feathers flexed. "What, we should have listened to all her propaganda, Gone with the Wind garbage and sold away Equestria?"
“I don’t blame you for fighting,” Ocellus sighed. “I blame you for losing. It gave Chrysalis the excuse to crackdown and proved all the hardliners right. Every changeling that ever expressed a moment of support for Lilac’s soft hoof ended up somewhere worse if they survived.”
“Starlight planned on trying Lilac,” Tempest provided quietly.
“She planned on trying Chrysalis,” Rainbow retorted with a disgusted snort.
“Lilac should’ve thrown in her lot with us, then,” Price added. “Sorry, love. Family can disappoint you, speaking from experience. If she cared about ponies more than her own power, she could've worked with us.”
Zecora nodded with the earth pony. “It was brave of you to say these words, truly your soul believed they needed to be heard.” The zebra bit her lip. “And she is right. The ELF should have fought harder.”
“We did fight!” Rainbow growled.
“You know exactly what I mean, Rainbow Dash,” Zecora gave the pegasus a dark look. “My Everfree did not often take prisoners. I was not overly concerned with particulars.”
“We don’t have souls,” Ocellus laughed bitterly. “The griffons are preaching that now. They used to preach that we were allies against Equestrian imperialism. I still remember the pamphlets.”
“You burned my entire family.” Sandbar’s muzzle quivered. “D-don’t you dare try to turn this around on us.”
“You never wonder why we’re fighting for her?” Ocellus asked. “I know what Chrysalis is. Lilac told me, and I didn’t want to see it until I ended up at that camp.” Arex looked away with a wince. “Or is it just because we’re all monsters and like it?”
Flurry exhaled. “Why?”
Ocellus was quiet for a moment. “Please promise you won’t kill me.”
“I promise,” Flurry stated. “No one in this room will hurt you.” She gave Rainbow a stare until the pegasus backed up.
“Chrysalis is a monster,” Ocellus began. “But she’s also a visionary that united the Hives and created an actual Changeling Lands, united under one Great Queen. We used to raid each other over scraps. She put a radio in every home to spread her propaganda, cars on roads, no more smuggled goods through proxies but actual trade relations with another power…”
“The Reich,” Flurry supplied.
“Yes. One country, one army, one will. Her will. She almost took Canterlot without a drop of blood, enough…enough f-food that we’d never go hungry again. We followed her to a war and we won. We never win. There’s no great legends about heroes defeating villains back home. It’s all clever tricks to not starve for a day.”
The Thestrals looked uncomfortable.
Ocellus took a deep breath and made eye contact with Flurry Heart. “Your ponies love you the same way we love her. And even if we don't, you’re going to burn it all to the ground when you reach our home.”
"You have it coming," Sandbar snarled.
Ocellus did not argue it.
Flurry looked down at the table. “Do you have family back home?”
“Yes. If VOPS realizes I’m alive and working with Thorax, they’re already dead.”
“Thorax will be King of the Changelings,” Flurry offered.
“Not like there’s any other candidates,” Arex agreed. “Chrysalis probably planned for all of this. She’s not that stupid. She got rid of Trimmel by shoving him up in the Empire, got rid of the other Changeling Queens. She knew what would happen if the war ever turned against her.”
“Did Lilac know about Twilight?” Flurry looked up again to Ocellus.
“No.”
“If she did, would she have done something?”
“No,” Ocellus responded after a short pause. She frowned, sensing the emotions from the alicorn. “I’m sorry, Princess.”
“Thank you for being honest,” Flurry answered. “Did you ever think about escaping?”
“Ironbend?” Ocellus frowned. “We don’t like the cold, Princess.”
“Me,” Flurry elaborated. “Or were you afraid I’d burn you alive like I said I would?”
“Where would I have run?” the changeling asked in genuine curiosity. “If I made it home by some miracle, and if my family wasn’t already dead, then VOPS would definitely do the job. I’m a deserter. My life is forfeit in the Hegemony.”
Flurry did not have anything to say to that.
Ocellus turned back to Sandbar and Yona. “I am sorry about your family. Both of you.”
Sandbar closed his remaining eye. “It must really suck to be stuck around a bunch of people that hate you and you can always tell.”
“Yak agrees.”
“It comes and goes in waves.”
Flurry left the table. Thorax said the same thing. She flapped her wings and hopped up the bar stool, then snapped the cap of the beer off with her horn. Sunset was watching the long table with a frown, then levitated over four beers. The former students from the School of Friendship gathered around the young changeling, speaking quietly about their families.
Rainbow sat down with a huff near Rarity, then glanced at her and began speaking haltingly in a low voice. The unicorn seemed surprised and speaking responding while looking around the room. She caught Flurry with the beer.
“Princess!” Rarity trilled. “Please don’t spill any on the sash. Alcohol is such a pain to wash out.”
“She’s speaking from personal experience!” Rainbow crowed beside her. The unicorn turned and jabbed the pegasus with her horn. “Ow!”
“Yes, I distinctly recall a drunken Wonderbolt begging me to clean her flight suit. Shall I tell that story?”
“Please do!” Jacques insisted. “Madame Rarity, we must know the secrets of Rainbow Dash.”
“What about your secrets?” Rainbow asked back.
“He’s an anarchist that blew up mailboxes!” Flurry called out.
“I deliver mail as atonement,” Jacques picked up. “The work continues until mailboxkind has been appeased.”
Rainbow puffed her lips. “You know what? Spitfire’s dead. Tell that story, Rares.”
Rarity smirked and took a deep breath, shaking her mane bun out into loose curls with a chime of her horn. She began to launch into a theatrical rendition of a dark and stormy night. Flurry undid her sash and draped it on the stool beside her with a flash of her horn. She held the beer between her forelegs and took a contented sip as Sunset leaned on the counter.
Flurry cringed at the taste and looked back. “Did you poison this?” she coughed.
“Nope,” Sunset smirked. “And it’s the best one we have.”
The alicorn stared at the table with wide eyes. Even Katherine, a year younger than her, drank the swill without complaint. Is it a griffon thing or a Herzlander thing? “What’s wrong with all of you?”
“When you’re an adult, you need to drink,” Sunset advised. “We’re all military, technically speaking. We drink more than most.”
Flurry shook her head and teleported the bottle away with a snap. “I’ll just drink water.”
“Where’d you teleport that?”
“Halfway down Mount Canterhorn.”
Sunset chuckled. “That’s littering, Princess.”
“Not when I do it.”
Sweetie Belle struggled to shove the front door open. Babs checked it with a flank, one hoof on her submachine gun. “Guests, everypony! Liven up!” the earth pony yelled into the interior.
The room impressively sobered and moved for stowed side arms. Duskcrest raised his wings and offered one of his two revolvers to Dusty Mark. She took it and leered at Tempest Shadow across from her with a smirk. Flurry Heart pivoted her forelegs and hopped the bar to take cover with Sunset. Both horns glowed.
It was completely unnecessary.
Benito and Elias Bronzetail shuffled into the doorway. The Field Marshal had his cap under one wing and dress shirt partially unbuttoned. Both officers had a tall, black-cloaked griffon between them, almost Elias’ height. A familiar beak stuck out from the hood, but the cloak was long and obscured everything but dark tan claws.
Grover? Flurry dimmed her horn, then flared it and cast the detection spell at the same time as Sunset Shimmer. The two spells flashed across the room and made static charge in the air. The alicorn felt her fur stick up from the close casting. Sunset shook beside her to settle her own amber fur.
Benito surveyed the room and beer bottles. “We can go elsewhere,” he announced awkwardly. “Good night.”
“We are drinking to the health of the Kaiser,” Rainbow hiccupped.
“Of course,” Elias accepted without a trace of disbelief. Flurry judged it an exceptionally good lie. “We do not wish to disturb you.”
“We have empty chairs!” Flurry called out. “Come in!”
Benito had seemingly missed the tall alicorn slouched behind the bar and performed a double-take. “Princess?” he asked before coughing into a glove. “It is improper.”
“Is Grover old enough to drink?” Flurry asked knowingly while staring at the hooded griffon between them. “Please, come in! We have, uh…” she nudged Sunset.
“Pridean wine, Katerin swill, Feathisian dark brew, some fruity thing from Strawberry that nopony wants…all Changeling imitations, of course.”
Katherine waved a claw from the end of the table. “There’s seats!” She smiled. It was not a kind smile. “Please, take a seat. Friends!” Cerie had joined her and waved coyly. Edvald dragged his chair to the piano and sat next to it.
Benito, surprisingly, walked in with a paw on his sheathed saber. The graying dog glanced around the room with a disgusted muzzle. “They tried to steal everything, did they not?”
Elias nodded to Flurry, then screeched in alarm as Jacques lobbed a beer bottle towards his head. He barely caught it, dropping his hat with raised wings. The Field Marshal spat a stream of expletives at the Aquileian.
Jacques laughed and scooched over, waving a yellow wing with invitation. The Herzlanders instead crossed to the end of the table and sat beside Katherine and Cerie. The cloaked griffon slinked in between them and sat down. Katherine scooched over with a coy look, then her feathers flexed in puzzlement. She sank back into her chair.
Flurry grabbed a random collection of available bottles in her magic and trotted over to the table. She sat down next to Cerie and splayed the bottles out before her. “Used to be a bar for the Royal Guard,” she explained. “It’s near enough to the castle it wasn’t looted.”
“You aren’t planning on destroying it?” Elias asked. He accepted the Feathisian imitation with a grimace at the bottle. “Blessed Boreas, they tried too hard.”
“They’re imitators,” Benito shrugged. He glared at Flurry for a moment, then grabbed two bottles between his paw pads.
The cloaked griffon kept his beak turned to the table. Flurry flexed a wing. “What would you like, uh…is this a thing? Are you pretending to be some random griffon? Maybe don’t travel with Benito.”
Benito growled. “This is Henrik.”
“Sure,” Flurry whickered. “Pleased to meet you, Henrik. I’m the Princess of Ponies.”
“N-nice to meet you,” ‘Henrik’ stuttered in Herlzander. His voice was deeper than Grover’s, but tinged with nervous energy.
Flurry reared her head back. “Wait.”
“He’s not the Kaiser,” Katherine squawked. “For a moment, I thought the Kaiser might be fun, but alas.” She rested her head atop an upturned claw. Benito patted Henrik’s side, and the griffon pulled his hood back, still cringing at the alicorn with a scrunched muzzle studying him.
Flurry cast the detection spell again in puzzlement. Henrik was not Grover; his beak was a shade darker and his eyes were slightly bluer, but he shared the Kaiser’s build and body type close enough that he could easily pass for Grover VI at a glance. He did not have glasses, blinking clearly and averting his eyes.
The alicorn shook her head. “I’m sorry. I thought you were Grover,” she said in a lighter voice. “Do you want something to drink?”
“That’s the point,” Benito huffed. “Henrik is the Kaiser’s body double.”
“He has those?” Flurry asked, then resisted stuffing her muzzle into a boot. Of course he does. Why wouldn’t he?
“The resemblance is uncanny, is it not?” Elias remarked.
“I-I have g-glasses,” Henrik stuttered. “J-just glass in them.”
“Maybe work on the stutter,” Katherine laughed.
Henrik looked down at the table again, and away from Flurry Heart. She twisted and glared at the burgundy griffon to back off. Katherine settled in her chair and waved her beer.
“So,” Flurry slouched in her chair to appear shorter. “It’s nice to meet you, Henrik. I haven’t met you before, have I?”
“N-no, Princess.”
“Flurry is fine.”
“It’s not proper; Henrik is lowborn,” Benito advised.
“I don’t give a shit,” Flurry snorted. “My mother didn’t even know her birth parents.”
“R-really?” Henrik perked up. “I’m from an orphanage in Griffenheim. Archon Eros found me when I was ten. Said I could s-serve the Reich.”
“Soaking up daggers meant for Grover,” Katherine said bluntly. “Do you taste-test his food?”
“We do that,” Benito barked. “Mind your tongue.”
Katherine stuck her tongue out. Flurry grabbed it in her magic and stared at her friend flatly. The griffoness lowered her head and got the message. She rubbed her beak after Flurry released her tongue. “Fine,” she slightly slurred, “what’s it like?”
“The palace is very nice.” Henrik wrung his claws together.
“You live in the palace?”
“Of course,” Benito answered with rolled eyes. “A double that doesn’t spend any time near the Kaiser is a poor double.”
“I sat in on some of the t-tutors.”
Flurry smiled. “Oh, did you read any of Shakespear’s plays?”
Henrik looked to the side. “They were b-boring. S-sorry, Princess.”
“You know he quotes them a lot.”
“We know,” Benito huffed. “The Kaiser is very proud of our cultural history.”
“He u-used to do it way more,” Henrik whispered with a slight smirk. He glanced to Benito, clearly afraid he said too much, but the dog merely raised his beer bottle with an agreeing shrug.
“How do you pretend to be him? Do you say anything or-”
“Travel,” Benito elaborated. “All that’s required is posture and costume. We even have replica Reichstones.”
“All right,” Flurry accepted. “Give me your best Kaiser Grover VI.”
Henrik straightened in his seat and glared across the table at Flurry, looking both disappointed and disdainful. He clacked his beak and waved a wing. “Dismissed, Princess of Ponies,” the griffon said in Equestrian. He pitched his voice slightly higher with the Canterlot affectation.
Flurry hummed in approval. “Oh, that’s good. What do you think, Katherine?”
“The Kaiser of my nightmares,” Katherine said dryly. “You got the ‘I have a stick up my tail’ look down. Very good.”
“My lady,” Bronzetail said to Cerie, “I assume you are Aquileian due to your uniform.”
“I am,” Cerie said in Aquileian. “And you are Feathisian due to your accent.”
Bronzetail nodded.
Edvald plucked at the keys while peering inside the top of the piano. He reached in with is other claw and poked around, tapping the keys awkwardly. Satisfied, he closed the top and sat on his haunches with a flicking tail.
“I don’t understand why the Changelings had a Minotuar-style piano,” Edvald groused in Herzlander. He splayed out his four-taloned claws. “They have hooves.”
“They don’t have to,” Elias commented, “and I suppose magic helps.”
Edvald looked back over a wing. “Do you play, Field Marshal?”
“Blessed Boreas, no!” Elias squawked with laughter. “My tutor nearly tore his wings out.”
“My father caned me when I attempted to quit,” Edvald replied. “Insisted I needed to be cultured.”
“You’re from Katerin,” Katherine said teasingly. “You’ll never be cultured.”
“That did not stop my father from trying.”
Elias reassessed Edvald. “You’re nobility?”
“Only if you count the sixth son of a baron with only swampland to his name,” Edvald said dryly. He tapped on a few keys, shifting his claws around to play the misaligned piano. “Communism sounds like an appealing prospect at that point.”
“More noble blood than I,” Bronzetail answered. “My parents are merchants.”
Katherine and Cerie leaned on the table. “Huh,” Cerie said. “Thought all the Reichsarmee officers are noble.”
“That’s how the first revolution started,” Benito pointed out. “Mudbeak may crow about privilege, but the majority of our officers are made from merit. Including him.”
“Do you count?” Katherine asked the dog.
Benito opened his coat and showed off several medals on the interior. Flurry wasn’t familiar with any of them, but recognized gold and precious jewels in the top row. He closed his jacket with a snort. “I earned my rank; joined the Barkginian Guard at eighteen, like my father.”
“Sounds like nepotism,” Cerie commented.
“The dogs of Bronzehill overwhelmingly serve in the Reichsarmee,” Benito said proudly. “There were times in history the Grovers had to beg us to tend to our lands first. There is no nepotism if we are simply the best.”
Elias tapped a talon on the table in a signal to change the subject.
“So,” Flurry refocused to Henrik, “what’s the Griffenheim Palace like?”
“D-domes, a lot of high ceilings and artwork.” No longer pretending to be Grover, his stutter returned. “It’s b-been built up over the centuries. Kitchen is below ground; guest quarters have their own spire to s-see the city. I h-have a cloud bed.”
It was only through practice that Flurry suppressed her gasp of utter jealousy.
“Going to the military academy was overwhelming,” Edvald said from the piano. “Spent my youth flying about a glorified swamp, no offense to Katerin.”
“We like it that way,” Katherine pouted. She looked to Henrik with a friendlier expression. “You don’t mind being Grover’s lackey?”
“Could say the same about you and the Princess,” Elias said down to her.
“I’m her friend and her lackey,” Katherine scoffed. “I love it.”
“If a griffon isn’t adopted, they usually end up in the Reichsarmee,” Henrik shrugged. Flurry noted he did not stutter when speaking to Katherine. “I’m celebrating my birthday today.”
“You have the same birthday as Grover? You could be twins.”
“No,” Henrik laughed. “I don’t know my birthday and it’s easier to celebrate it on the same day.” The alicorn stood up and backed away from the table, seeing Edvald and Elias talking with Cerie. She returned to the bar and Sunset replaced her water.
“Making sure no fights break out, Princess?” Sunset asked.
“I just want everyone to get along for one night,” Flurry returned.
Yona eventually challenged Ocellus to take her form and have a smashing contest. Sandbar, Gallus, Arex, and the two yaks descended into the basement, most slightly stumbling. Flurry observed them, but Ocellus was finally smiling and Arex nodded to the alicorn at the bar. Sound of crashed barrels and broken glass echoed up from the basement.
Sunset let dirty mugs gather on the floor. “I take it we’re trashing this place, Princess.”
“I command it,” Flurry ordered. She ventured back to the table, recognizing Jacques’ waving wings and wide smirk as a sign of trouble. She levitated a chair over and shoved herself between Duskcrest and the Aquileian.
“First!” Jacques slurred. “Come on, all of us have a story!”
“I’m not talking about it,” Dusty nickered. “Princess, make him stop.”
Flurry’s horn glowed and she fired a small bolt of lightning into Jacques’ side. He twitched, but shook his claw at her. “I am too drunk now. It is too late for that. Firsts!”
“First what?” Flurry asked regretfully.
“First kill,” Duskcrest explained. “Trade war stories.”
“Yes!” Jacques slapped the table.
“You first, then,” Flurry challenged. “Or are you too drunk to remember?”
“One of my mail bombs, I assume,” Jacques waved his wings. “Didn’t always check where I sent them, or if they were even bombs. Some griffon may have gotten a box of nails.”
“You don’t care at all that you killed innocent people for some worthless cause?” Benito scoffed. Elias shifted his chair around to listen.
“What gives a cause worth?” Jacques slurred with a philosophical talon wiggle. “Yours then?”
Bentio tapped the hilt of his saber, then rolled his eyes. “Some young cub during the revolution.”
“You are being modest.”
“It was an easy shift in the palace,” Benito elaborated with a resigned growl. “Side hall to the Kaiser’s chambers. The rioting outside turned into a rebellion, but the idiots forgot to tell the dogs. Reichsarmee burst in shooting at us. Ended up holding a corner until I ran out of ammo, then Eros shouted for help and I went to the chambers and led the Archon down through the escape tunnels while he carried young Grover.”
“You helped Grover V escape?” Tempest asked incredulously. “That’s the worst version I’ve ever heard.”
“Have you heard a lot of them?” Benito huffed. “Dogs do not boast. Your turn, Storm King’s Right Hoof.”
“Kludgetown,” Tempest answered easily. “Some boastful griffon idiot tried to sell me cheap. Didn’t think a gangly filly with a broken horn was much of a threat until the lightning bolt caught him in the balls.”
“So,” Jadis snorted, “nearly got sold into slavery then turned tail to a slaver?”
“I was stupid and desperate and I don’t deserve to be here,” Tempest snapped to her. “Is that what you want to hear?”
“You’re among assholes,” Duskcrest tapped his beer to the unicorn’s on the table. “Bodyguard for a merchant. Dad took me along on a raid. It was a good headshot.”
“You regret it?”
“Nope,” Duskcrest quipped. “I don’t regret any of them.”
Rainbow nudged Gilda. “How about you? Got a fun one?”
“I wish.” Gilda clacked her beak. “Some Wingbardian sergeant leaning out of a hatch in his tank. Didn’t expect a Griffonstone rifle to shoot straight, I guess.”
“At least it was defending your home?” Jadis suggested. “Same story. Northern front and a long rifle during the Great War.”
“What about you, Z?” Rainbow asked Zecora. The zebra took a long sip of her mug of wine in response. The table shifted to look at her.
Zecora rolled her eyes and tapped a bangled hoof on the table after setting the mug down. “Zebrica.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Okay,” Rainbow drawled the word out. “Where in Zebrica?”
“When one only gives the continent, that’s usually a sign to stop asking,” Rarity advised drolly.
“My family set me on a path I chose to hate,” Zecora sang in a lilt. “And so I decided to choose my fate. I set down a dark path, made a choice in wrath, then fled to avoid the aftermath.”
“Where’d you learn armored maneuvers?” Tempest asked. She shook her head. “Never mind, I’m sure you won’t tell us. I can’t even place your accent.”
“The rhyming helps,” Zecora winked. “I do not regret my first kill; that is all I shall say with my own will.”
“Good enough,” Duskcrest shrugged.
“Sounds like you were an evil enchantress,” Rainbow hiccupped.
Zecora hid her grin behind her mug, but waggled her pierced ears.
“Before the war in a life I left behind,” Duty Price puffed a smoke ring. “If Zecora can be vague, so can I.”
“This is grisly,” Rarity coughed into a hoof.
“How about you, fair Field Marshal?” Jacques suggested in Aquileian.
Elias Bronzetail flapped his cap down onto the table and smoothed his speckled head feathers back with a claw. “Very well,” he returned in Equestrian. “Strawberry front during Duchess Gabriela’s war. Ordered a shot into a rebel tank hiding in an overgrown vineyard. Blasted right though it.”
Benito frowned. “You weren’t on the Feathisian front?”
“No,” Elias said with clear relief, “and thank the Gods for that. Gerlach chased Gabriela’s tail into that war. I hope he realizes how little that slattern is worth one day.”
“Couldn’t take fighting your countrygriffs?” Duskcrest chuckled.
“Not while they fought for Gabriela,” Elias answered sullenly.
“Bronzehill surrendered quickly,” Benito said with a lopsided smirk. “Dogs fought dogs, but we had the Kaiser at our backs and Ignatius was a traitor to our Reich."
“I cannot imagine a crystal pony fighting against the heir to Amore,” Jadis added. “What madness possessed you to raise your paws against the descendant of the one that liberated you?”
“I did no such thing,” Benito growled. “Ignatius is old and grieved Grover V’s passing deeply, as did all dogs. Gabriela whispered poison into his ears. They are lucky they did not all hang.” He looked up at the ceiling with a sigh, then tilted his head in confusion.
Flurry followed his stare to the rafters. Murky, Amoxtli, and Nightshade stared down at them with empty bottles stacked along the wooden beams. The older sister waved a wing in lazy greeting.
“I suppose you have a story?” Benito questioned.
“New Mareland Expeditionary!” Nightshade and Murky slapped their wings together from opposite rafters, speaking in unison. “First into the fray, and last to leave!”
“Slit the throat of the overseer of the plantation,” Amoxtli added quietly. “She took a long time to die.” Her fangs glittered from the wall lamps in her cold smile.
Jacques craned his neck to the bar. “Sunset Shimmer! Who was your first?”
“I don’t remember!” the unicorn whipped back.
“Bah!” the Aquileian scoffed. “This old dog remembers!”
“One of the Kaiser’s soldiers,” Sunset reluctantly admitted while grabbing a few bottles in her magic. “It’s not that interesting.” The bottle she was levitating over to the table froze and she clamped her muzzle shut. Flurry recognized her glassy-eyed stare. Looks like she’s been sneaking a few as well.
“Where did you fight the Griffonian Reich?” Dusty asked. “You join up with some mercenary company?”
Sunset licked her lips. “International volunteers,” she explained slowly.
“You fought with the Riverlanders in Wingbardy?” Benito barked in laughter. “How droll.”
“Nah,” Rainbow waved her wing. “She was with us.” The pegasus raised a drunken eyebrow. “You kill one of the Kaiser’s birds? Where?”
Sunset shrugged and vanished behind the bar. Her fiery tail bobbed above the countertop while she rummaged for something. She did not resurface.
Rainbow shook her head. “Nah, you don’t get to be all mysterious about this one, Shimmy.”
Jacques snapped his talons and burst out laughing. “Skynavia! Oh, Little Sunset was a revolutionary!”
Elias shook his head in embarrassment. “Those International Brigades were a joke. They spent more time freezing in the north than shooting at us.”
“Fireballs were popular,” Sunset defended in a muffled voice. She stuck her head up from behind the bar with narrowed eyes. “I was young and stupid.”
“Wasn’t that long ago,” Elias answered with smirking eyes. Sunset puffed her cheeks and lobbed an empty bottle at the Field Marshal. He ducked easily and it shattered against the wall.
“Glad to know you were too busy being a dirty commie to fight for Equestria,” Dusty chortled.
Flurry opened her mouth. “I don’t-”
“We know,” half the table said to her. She closed her muzzle and her pink fur flushed a touch pinker. Guess I need to stop saying that.
“Princess,” Rainbow rasped. She flailed her metal wing vaguely in the alicorn’s direction. “What about your story? You got a great one.”
“Because you’re in it?” Flurry guessed.
“Of course!”
“Then you can tell it.”
“Again?” Rarity sighed.
The pegasus twisted back to the unicorn. “You wanna talk about the time you were possessed by a book?” Rainbow nickered. “That definitely counts as a first.”
Rarity downed her wine with a unladylike chug. She turned a flat muzzle to Rainbow. “Sure. Then you talk about the time you faked a wing injury to read Daring Do.”
“Oh,” Rainbow snorted, “it’s on.”
Flurry pressed her wings tight against her uniform and slid out from the table. Piano keys sounded more regularly as Edvald practiced. Katherine and Henrik chatted at the end of the table behind him, apparently swapping ‘peasant stories’ about nudity and growing up poor in the Griffonian Reich.
Cerie sat with the others, not telling her story but absorbing ‘happier’ ones. Rainbow, as prideful as she was, spared no expense at embellishing her failed heist of a book from a hospital. Rarity laid blame heavily on Spike for her possession, but acknowledged it was because he wasn't here to defend himself. She jabbed Rainbow when the mare claimed not to be able to tell she had been possessed by a spell during the incident.
Edvald finally broke into a proper waltz, and the smashing from the basement stopped. The students and the changelings returned, smelling of spilled alcohol but laughing. “I take it the basement’s trashed, Corporal Sandbar?” Sunset shouted to him.
Sandbar blushed; his fetlocks were sopping wet with old wine. “Sorry, Colonel!”
“It’ll be Archmage in a few days!” Sunset retorted with a mild smile.
The bar quieted as Edvald began playing faster. Flurry did not recognize the song, but it had several distinct movements. He missed a few notes as he sped up, claws skipping over a piano meant for a minotaur or magic. But it was hard to tell and he finished with a wild flourish moving from major to minor keys. The griffon’s wings flared in celebration.
“Well done!” Jacques approved. Ponies pounded on the table and made the deluge of empty bottles and mugs rattle. Griffons clapped. Katherine stood up with only a slight swaying. She leaned a wing on Henrik more for show than stability.
“Do you know the Harvest Ball?” Katherine asked her fellow Katerin griffon. Edvald clacked his beak in a dismissive gesture. “No fancy dancing!” Henrik braced an arm and Katherine locked her elbow to his, side-by-side.
“Wait!” Duscrest crowed. “Clear the table. As a Nova Griffonian, I am obligated to show you how to dance, Herzlander!”
“As an Aquileian,” Cerie countered, “I am obligated to dance better than all of you!”
“You wish!” Gilda scoffed.
Flurry’s horn glowed, then she snuffed it out as the mostly drunk crowd shoved the tables and chairs to the front window, haphazardly stacking everything in a large pile that screamed ‘fire hazard’ if anyone cared about regulations. Spilled alcohol soaked the wooden floor.
We’re all gonna die in here and it won’t even be a conspiracy, Flurry mused from the bar. Sunset leaned her forelegs atop the counter and watched beside the Princess.
Gilda and Gallus paired, or rather, they teamed up to compete with Katherine and Henrik. Duskcrest spun a drunken Dusty Mark to the floor with a whinny, then caught her with an outstretched wing. The unicorn balanced herself on her hind legs and offered a forehoof. “You know how to tango?”
“I’m full of surprises,” Virgil answered huskily. “Can you do the Nova Griffonian tango, my little archaeologist?” Dusty blushed and her tail twisted around a hind leg, but she adjusted her stance.
Murky and Amoxtli paired up, facing each other with outstretched wings. “You know some awesome tribal dance?”
“Of course,” Amoxtli deadpanned, “but we need a dozen drums and a sacrifice. I can waltz, moth brain.” Their leathery wingtips touched.
“Good!” Murky declared, “because I can’t. Sis was the dancer.”
Amoxtli glanced at Nightshade, then realized Murky was referring to his other sister Echo. Her ears pinned and she began stepping slowly, whispering to Murky the movements.
Jadis and Price sidled together as earth ponies. Her coat was glittering around her cheeks in a drunken blush, but Price’s thick brown mustache hid his own blush if he had one. He slapped his booney hat back on before taking to the floor and stepping in time with the crystal pony, favoring her bad leg.
Elias approached Cerie. He bowed with extended wings. “Lady Cerie, do you require a partner?”
“Yes,” Cerie blushed. “I’m just a cadet, Field Marshal.”
“As a proud Feathisian, I am obligated to express regional pride by allying with Aquileia to prove these Herzlanders inferior,” Bronzetail declared seriously. “My wife is absent on another continent, and I suspect she will not begrudge me a dance.”
Cerie processed the statement then held out her claw. Elias took it gently and stood across from her. Flurry watched her friend smile sadly as the older griffon walked her through a few steps. Wonder if her father ever had the time to teach her.
Nightshade flapped up to the rafters, but Jacques snagged her tail mid-air. She twisted back with a screech. “I know the New Marelander Stomp,” he offered apologetically.
“You can’t do it without hooves,” Nightshade rolled her eyes.
“Well, you can laugh at my attempt if you wish.”
The bat pony landed on her hind legs and balanced with her wings. Jacques assisted her to the floor. Edvald began a slow tapping of keys, watching the dancers form up behind him.
Ocellus and Arex retreated to a table they had shoved back to the corner with a few beers. No one approached them, until Sandbar and Yona came over and spoke quietly. Flurry couldn’t hear over the patter of hooves, boots, claws, and paws, but Arex stood and shrugged off her purple uniform. She disappeared in green fire and a male yak appeared in her place. Yona studied him critically before nodding and beginning a sophisticated stomp that Arex copied flawlessly. She smiled and moved to the dance floor.
And finally, Ocellus followed Sandbar with nervously buzzing wings. The earth pony turned around in an empty space, having to twist his head to see her with his one eye. The changeling held out her hoof; even from the bar, Flurry could see it was shaking. Sandbar inhaled, then touched his hoof to Ocellus’ and began to guide her in a short jig.
Flurry exhaled and closed her eyes as the song began properly. Piano notes rang into the rafters. Muffles whispers of instructions blended with squawks and whickers of derision at missed steps. The alicorn opened her eyes to see Gallus chastising Gilda for missing steps, clearly enjoying teasing the taller griffoness for once.
Rarity and Rainbow stumbled against each other more than actually dance. Rarity was attempting a waltz while Rainbow was trying a jig, but it seemed they were too drunk to realize it or coordinate. The two Elements of Harmony weren’t in harmony, but they were still together and not bickering for once.
“You have her look,” Sunset said beside Flurry. The alicorn shifted her peripherals to see the amber unicorn against the bar.
“Twilight’s?”
“Your mother,” Sunset clarified with a lower voice. “She got that look whenever she matchmade a couple.” She rolled an empty bottle across the bar, then stopped it with her horn. “She liked doing that more than anything Celestia taught her.” Her voice slurred again.
She’s drunk. Flurry might have been the last sober person in the bar, though Jacques was most likely faking how drunk he was and Benito was checking the door and window. The lone dog had not looked for a dance partner, more preoccupied with any activity outside.
Henrik laughed, a deeper peal of laughter than Grover’s. Katherine laughed with him, high and energetic as they slapped their claws together and spun as the piano gained speed. Tempest Shadow and Zecora tapped their hooves to the beat along the edges of the makeshift ballroom, both still drinking. The broken-horned unicorn finally seemed comfortable.
“It’s not fair,” Sunset whispered again. “I worked so hard, then your mother just waltzed into Canterlot and got everything. And she didn’t even want it.”
“I’m sorry,” Flurry apologized.
“She said the same thing,” Sunset said listlessly. “I couldn’t even hate her properly.” The unicorn’s eyes stared past Flurry through the window, lost in some memory. “I tried calling her ‘auntie’ once. She said it was too personal. But she barely knew…” the unicorn trailed off.
It took Flurry a moment to follow the conversation. Auntie Celestia. “My mom told me she was happier in the village.”
“She told me that too and I yelled at her to go crawl back there,” Sunset laughed hollowly. “She met your father here, so I don’t think she would have made a different choice if she could. If there ever was love at first sight, it was your father and the Princess of Love. She wouldn’t have traded that for anything.”
Love is the death of duty, Flurry.
“I don’t know about that,” Flurry Heart sighed.
Before Sunset could respond, Benito sagged against the bar on the end. He grabbed a lukewarm beer, then set it down with a grimace. Flurry’s horn glowed and a layer of ice formed around the glass. He tugged his glove on with a long look at the alicorn, then took the beer again and popped the cap off.
“You’re welcome,” Flurry said for the dog.
“You know many spells, Princess,” Benito observed. “Your mother knew spells as well.”
“She was born a pegasus,” Flurry answered. “She wasn’t that skilled.”
“Spells that make ponies fall in love…” Benito left hanging.
Flurry rolled her eyes and hopped barstools until she was next to the dog. “Where’s Grover anyway? Back at the castle?”
“Why?”
“Well,” Flurry shrugged a boot, “it is my castle, and he’s a guest. It’s his birthday.”
“Indeed.” Benito raised the beer to his muzzle. “He prefers to be alone.”
“On his birthday?”
“Just so.”
Flurry chewed on the inside of her cheek. He offered to celebrate our birthdays together. But that was a long time ago. She shook her head and fumbled behind the bar for her cap. It only smelled a little bit like a brewery, so she stuffed it atop her mane without complaint.
“Would you like to dance?” Sunset offered the dog. “I can do bipedal. Even drunk.” She stood on her hind legs with her forelegs braced on her cutie marks under her pants.
“Impressive,” Benito remarked with surprise. “But no. Maya will kill me if she finds out I danced with another female.” He tugged a glove off his paw a quick bite of the leather, revealing a golden wedding ring and a long, pale scar.
“She give you that?” Sunset snorted.
“War wound,” Benito deflected. “No fancy magic healing.”
“We still get scars,” Sunset countered. “I’m drunk enough to argue the old magic versus technology debate, dog.”
Benito regarded his beer. “I believe I am as well. Shall we?”
Flurry nodded to them, spared one last look at mismatched dancing, then teleported out to the street. Apple Bloom and Babs tossed away beer bottles into an alley, shuffling to attention. The ponies guarding the street stomped three times at Flurry’s abrupt entrance. The piano and muffled shouts of laughter were audible in the street.
The alicorn brushed her sleeve back and checked her watch. “Break up the party at midnight.”
“General Limestone’s already on it,” Babs stated. “She’s coming down with some regulars to uh, confiscate all the remaining alcohol at midnight.”
“I don’t want a drunken brawl.”
“Nopony picks a fight with a Pie,” Apple Bloom laughed. “No matter how drunk. That’s like picking a fight with an Apple.”
“Never seen General Limestone drunk,” Babs added. “Think she likes breaking up fun.”
Flurry Heart nodded. “As you were, everypony. Try to sober up in the next few days.”
“As the Princesh commands,” Babs stamped her hoof.
Flurry looked up the road to Canterlot Castle, still lit up despite the energy conservation. Many of the windows were dark, boarded up as the castle was gutted, and several of the rooftops were bare marble as the obsidian was chipped away from Chrysalis’ remodeling. It was ugly and misshapen now, no longer reflecting Celestia’s reign or Chrysalis’ tyranny.
Twilight’s old tower still stuck out on the east wing. Lights shone around it, highlighting flying patrols. It was too far away to make out, but Flurry was certain light still shone through the balcony window on the tallest part of the spire. Twilight’s suite resembled the flame atop a candle from the outside, meant to reflect the spark of knowledge or status as Celestia’s student. The bulb had been defaced with black obsidian instead of the previous gold, but the shape remained.
First Luna’s tower and now Twilight’s. I’ve never even been up there before. Flurry Heart hummed and vanished with a crack of magic.
Grover signed the official ceding of occupied Manehattan to Governor Kingfisher with his looping, swirled signature. The quill ran out of ink after the V, so the I was a faded, scraggly line. Grover stared at the signature and debated if anyone would even notice.
Might as well be signed by my departed father. Grover V, the Sick Bird of Griffonia. He tapped the quill into the inkpot and retraced the line, finishing his signature. By the will of the Kaiser of the Griffonian Reich and Kaiser of Griffonkind, Grover VI.
He tucked the quill back into its inkpot and switched to a ballpoint pen, leaving the page out to dry atop the imported desk from Griffenheim. It matched the carved, plush velvet chair dragged from the Castle of the Two Sisters and hauled up the tower. Behind it, the room consisted of a matching, elegant bed, drawers and an armoire. The special stand for the Reichstone, a gilded pillar, had also arrived.
Grover left it in the corner near the interior door. The golden crown sat upon its cushion, awaiting polishing from the servants in the morning. For now, he had blessed silence except for the patter of guards outside as they walked the hallway and balcony.
One of the flying guards landed on the roof. Grover angled his head at the muted thump echoing through the bulbus roof, then the ceiling creaked as they took off again. The shelves around the upper level were empty, but clean.
When Twilight Sparkle was just the faithful student of Princess Celestia, she lived in this tower. The Changeling Commissariat had cleared everything of value years ago and reused the tower as a Queen’s Guard office. The fighting through the castle had not damaged it; when the city rose up at their Princess’ words, the Queen’s Guard left through the spiraled staircase to fulfill their Queen’s final orders in case the city fell.
Kill Twilight Sparkle. Grover stretched his wings and leaned back in the chair. Bare shelves. Knowledge replaced with nothing, false trophies and effigies to a Queen whose very foundation is lies. It was pure luck that Princess Twilight Sparkle survived, that the former Generalmajor had a desperate change of heart and her former Royal Guards still cared enough to throw themselves into a meatgrinder to save their Princess.
Who would do the same for me? Grover picked up his glass and took a sip of water. He had to tilt his beak back too far, belatedly realizing there was only dregs left. The Kaiser sighed and rose from his chair, padding across the wide room to a jug sitting in a bowl of enchanted ice.
He poured his own water. A servant could have and should have done that for him, or one of his ever-present dog guards, but they were outside the tower. Grover looked up to the crystals glowing on the balcony ringing the room, and the wide window opposite the balcony. The curtains were drawn mostly across it. No wall outlets, only magic. Truly a unicorn’s tower.
Canterlot Castle was one of the wonders of the world; the entire city was an engineering marvel rivalling the work of the best griffon architects on Griffonia. The supports and magical buttresses keeping the city hanging off the mountain had supported years of academic study. The Griffonian Reich had tolerated the snub of Equestrian aid to Griffonstone to have an informal chance at seeing Equestria.
And the entire city’s architecture and infrastructure was dated, even the castle. Especially the castle, Grover snarked in his head. The Changeling Hegemony had been too busy tearing it down and building monuments in Chrysalis’ image to actually pave the roads or install a robust electrical grid in the castle beyond charging crystals that required a unicorn’s horn.
Celestia always preferred to take a chariot. Grover sat back down and ran a claw over his head feathers. I wonder if she preferred the simplicity. He pushed it out of his mind. Canterlot is the Princess’ business, regardless.
He picked up his quill, ignoring the lingering headache and tense neck from the long, droll ceremony where the Kaiser nodded at his subjects in thanks for their services over his past year of life. It was always connected griffons, the scions of nobility, or the knightly orders; not everyone was permitted to see the Kaiser. Thank Boreas for that. I would scream in rage halfway through holding a Day Court.
Grover signed another authorization for a new round of drafts in the Evi Valley. The Reichsarmee would need to bolster its garrison outside the prison camps, and he would not spare seasoned soldiers for the task. It was risky to trust green griffons with guarding the shapeshifters, but it might be safer for Chrysalis’ “good little ‘lings.” Let’s see how much sympathy they get after they steal a guard’s face and try to escape.
Grover was seventeen years old, and it was the first time he had not celebrated his birthday in his royal palace at Griffenheim. He tapped the quill on the table, spattering ink over an old casualty report; he purred as his mind wandered. The Princess celebrated somewhere different every year. I should have done that, insisted after Eros said it was too dangerous. We needed unity. Could have driven somewhere.
His eyes narrowed at a sudden thought. Can the Princess even drive?
The door to the balcony burst open at a gust of wind. Grover felt it blow through his feathers and he whirled around from the chair. Rain was coming; his feathers twitched at the microscopic dew and moisture charging the current. Although a pegasus was better at weather management, griffons could sense the pressure fluxes in the clouds. He breathed in through his nostrils as he glared at the balcony.
“My apologies, my Kaiser!” the knights standing guard crowed in unison. They struggled with the double doors and pulled them shut, assault rifles swinging under their wings. The wind howled around the tower with another gust, then silence resumed with a sharp clang of metal. Grover stared out the windows in the balcony doors for a second, then clacked his beak and sat back down in the chair.
The lights were dimmer; the crystals glowing by the empty bookshelves hummed and flickered slightly. Grover rolled his head towards the large hourglass, the last remaining item truly belonging to Twilight Sparkle. The sand had emptied into the bottom. After midnight.
There was something macabre about the Changelings keeping that on display and nothing else, especially knowing that she had been stuffed into a cave and later ensconced with utter secrecy in the guest rooms. She was meant to be a battery of love extraction lasting for a thousand years. But nothing lasts forever. He gave a wry glance to the crystal batteries fading on the upper level, then stood with grunt.
Grover crossed to the hourglass and flipped it over in its framework. It swung around, hinges creaking as the sand shifted to begin counting down again. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes with the back of a claw before hooking the ends back into his feathers.
There was a rustling sound on the second floor and one of the crystals finally died. Grover turned back around. That section of the bookshelves was shrouded in darkness. Wonderful. He walked back to his chair and settled down.
A zephyr rolled across his bare head and down his nightshirt. Grover’s wings twitched as air was displaced somewhere above him. He did not look up, remaining focused on a report.
He was not alone in the room.
Grover shifted his head to the side, listening. A wing lifted in a feigned stretch, and he unholstered his pistol with his right claw, flicking the safety off with a talon. He always kept it loaded. The griffon kept that claw against his chest while he shuffled papers and folders around his desk in a show.
Supposedly, all the Changelings had been shipped east; he had certainly used enough armored supply trains to remove them from the city, including civilians. But that was not a deterrent to VOPS. Chrysalis’ spies were the best in the world. Even if they serve a narcissistic idiot.
There was no sound, but another slight draft of displaced air came from Grover’s right, behind him and near the hourglass. He clenched his beak. Shout for guards? No, that gives up the game. He shifted in the chair. Heavy wood. Might stop a few bullets. Turn, fire, knock the chair over and crouch. Guards will come at the gunshots.
The fur on his neck prickled where his head feathers stopped. Something was close and watching him. He unhooked his glasses and set them on the table, blinking as if he was tired. He took a deep breath and exhaled; his heartbeat slowed.
Grover twisted in the chair, knocking it down with a crash and landed hard behind it on all fours. He laid low, crouched over the narrow back with the pistol braced atop the wood. It swept the room and stopped by the hourglass. A shape stood in the fading light.
It was a black pair of sweatpants; a few old stains were visible in the glow from the crystals. Grover frowned and his tail curled. The pistol did not lower.
It was just sweatpants.
Standing sweatpants, filled out and angled as if covering someone’s hind legs. Somepony, Grover squinted and corrected himself. The angle and bend of the legs favored hooves.
Grover recognized the sweatpants and closed his eyes. “Oh, what the fuck!” he snarled in reflex. “Do you want to get fucking shot!?”
“Well, you didn’t actually fire so that’s an improvement on Bronzetail,” a voice called out in Equestrian. The sweatpants trotted forward silently. “Lower your voice unless you want the guards to hear.”
“Is this some alicorn bullshit?” Grover hissed.
“Happy birthday,” the sweatpants deadpanned. They stopped in front of him. Wind hit his beak from a silent wing flap. “Saw the lights on.”
Grover lowered the pistol. “Reckless and insane.” He glared at the pants. “Did you get past the guards like that?”
Flurry Heart faded into being, starting with a golden glow in the shape of a long horn. “Yep,” she smacked her lips. “Black on black at midnight blends in well.” She was only wearing sweatpants over her flank, pink fur unkempt with bags under her eyes. “Invisibility and muffling spell. Can’t cast without breaking the illusion.”
Grover gestured to her with the side of the pistol. “Do you think you could shield yourself in time if I fired?”
“Nah,” Flurry waved a bare forehoof. “Just catch the trigger.”
He openly rolled his eyes. “Really?”
Flurry stepped to the side. “Well, go ahead and test your reflexes,” she offered with a mild smirk. “I’m tired. Maybe you’ll get lucky, griff.”
Grover gave her a hard look, then raised the pistol at the hourglass. He squinted, aiming at the top half as the sand slowly counted down. The griffon adjusted his grip to be two-clawed, standing on his paws with wings extended for balance. The alicorn watched him placidly.
He stood in place for several seconds, eyes down the old iron sight of the pistol. The broomhandle grip on the Changeling pistol was well-worn and slightly awkward to hold with claws, but Grover had practice. He exhaled with a low growl that rumbled in his chest.
He broke his stare to flick deep blue eyes to the alicorn. “What if the guards hear it? Are you trying to be clandestine?” he asked in Herzlander.
Flurry rolled her eyes. “I can ward the room if-”
Grover pulled the trigger.
Or at least, he tried to, but the talon stopped short after the slightest depression. He shook the pistol and angled it to the side. The trigger was suffused in a golden aura, halfway to firing. He hummed and gave the alicorn a side-eye.
Flurry puffed her lips at him. “You dick!” she whispered. “You were trying to distract me.”
“And it almost worked,” Grover remarked. He flicked the safety back on and stuffed the pistol back into its wing holster. “Is that part of your weapon sense? That you know when someone will shoot at you?”
Flurry blinked, surprised. “No. I just practiced a lot on quick telekinesis. I can fire a bolt-action rifle like an automatic.”
“Wouldn’t other spells be more efficient while firing?”
Flurry raised a chipped forehoof and wiggled it. “You wanna try to work a bolt with hooves?” Grover noted the white, swirling scar just above her hock. The fur had grown back in a perfect pattern, albeit white.
“We’ve switched to carbines,” Grover responded. “Some snipers still use bolt-action for stopping power, but most of the regular Reichsarmee has semi-automatic rifles now.”
“Well, damn,” Flurry approved. “Can I buy some?”
“You’re broke,” Grover responded without thinking. He suppressed a flush at the insult.
Flurry Heart laughed like a crystal windchime. She raised a wing to stifle the giggle with a glance at the balcony. “Oh, you’re funny now. Is seventeen when you develop a sense of humor?”
“No, only on my birthdays,” Grover quipped back. He shoved the chair upright, then scowled at the door with a lashing tail. Did my guards not hear that? “Did you land on the roof earlier?”
“Just for a second.”
“My guards should have heard that,” Grover stated. “How close did you get to any patrols without them noticing?”
Flurry raised a brow. “There’s a little bit of a gap every ten minutes when the circling knights overlap and break apart again.”
Grover used his pen to note it on a folder.
“Have the Changelings tried to kill you?” Flurry questioned.
“Nothing that Benito will confess to,” Grover answered. “One agent was caught as a rat in Manehattan. She hid in the walls for days. Loudbark was…too enthusiastic in his questioning.”
“Should’ve given her to Thorax,” Flurry noted.
“I did not trust you at the time.” Grover set the paper down atop the stack for the morning. Close the gap first thing tomorrow. I’m sure Benito bark a storm.
Wings fluttered behind him. “Yeah, you know changelings can be small, right? Thorax’s runners used to disguise themselves as rats in Ponyville.”
“That wasn’t dangerous in the forest?” Grover clacked his beak in belated realization. “Ah, you mean the ghetto.”
“We had a lot of rats to blend in,” Flurry whickered. “It was always a little awkward to see a rat in the hallway and have it wave so I wouldn’t teleport it to the garbage dump.”
“You didn’t kill them?”
“Teleported Falx to the garbage dump once.”
Grover did not recognize the name, but let the matter drop. “My Reichsarmee is currently hacking or shooting every scrap of wildlife that crosses the front. And if I had a Reichsmark for every time one of my knights or dogs shot at an oddly-placed rock…”
Flurry smiled. “Waste of ammunition?”
“Experienced soldiers are more precious than bullets,” Grover retorted. He looked to the papers. “The Changelings leave infiltrators within drained communities, disguised as ponies for a quick ambush. I have denied an order to disregard their health for the safety of my soldiers.”
Flurry’s smile collapsed. “I’m working on getting ponies to the front. We can do garrisons and aid, run supplies.”
Grover took a deep breath. “I need more unicorns,” he admitted slowly. “Embedded with the forward parties. They’ve begun to destroy the roads and rails to stall us. It is disorganized now, but their cohesion is returning. Synovial survived the battle.”
“The one with the fez? From Aquileia? He seemed like a smug prick.”
“Yes,” Grover said shortly. “How much time do you need?”
“Sunset and Tempest are onboard,” Flurry grimaced. “They aren’t exactly eager to lead the Imperial Army, but they’re doing it.”
“So, the Equestrian Liberation Front fades with a whimper,” Grover commented. He stood from the chair again, self-conscious that he was sitting while the alicorn was standing. “Is there anything else, Princess?”
Flurry blinked. “Happy birthday?” she said in a confused tone.
“Thank you,” Grover accepted, “but it is after midnight and no longer my birthday.” Another of the crystals dimmed above them, and the open study darkened. “Foolish of you to come here so recklessly just for that.” He offered her a slight smile with one cheek. “But I suppose in character.”
Flurry Heart bit her lip and rubbed her wings against the top of her sweatpants. “I should probably just go invisible again and sneak out?”
“I can open the balcony for a breath of fresh air,” Grover offered. “Sneak out behind me.”
Flurry’s horn glowed and she faded from sight with a flash. The sweatpants remained. Grover avoided looking into them, even though he couldn’t see anything. “Interesting spell. Is that common?”
“It’s, uh, seven of eight on the scale,” the pants answered. “Pretty difficult and took me awhile to learn. Far Sight insisted on it.”
“He teaches you magic?”
“He’s dead. In the battle.”
Grover paused halfway to the door. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” The pants laughed. “When I first learned it, I used to wander around with my bedsheet over me for Nightmare Night in Ponyville. Foals always loved it when they tugged it away to see the Princess, but nopony was there.”
“We have a harvest festival near that time. No candy.”
“We didn’t have candy either,” the pants nickered. “And I slept on the bedsheet I trotted around in.”
Grover reached the balcony door and turned back around. “You never wrote about that. And the Nova Griffonian papers made no mention of their poverty.”
“Are your papers honest?”
“No,” Grover said flatly, “but I make no claim of living in a democracy.”
There was a short silence.
“Thank you for inviting me to your party, Grover,” the pants said quietly. “Seemed pretty miserable, but the ice cream was good.”
“No one was trying to kill you,” Grover responded with lidded eyes. “We did profile the servants.”
“Are you sure?”
“No,” Grover clacked his beak. “I did not say I disapprove of your paranoia.”
“It’s not paranoia if they’re actually out to get you.”
“Just so,” Grover agreed. He did not turn back around to the door. “Did…” he searched for a topic. “Did you have fun?”
“Did you?”
“Your birthdays were not about you,” the griffon said. “Mine are the same.”
There was a gust of air from refolded wings above the sweatpants. “You invited me to celebrate our birthdays together.”
“I’m surprised you remember that,” Grover tilted his head.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Grover did not have an answer to her question, so continued, “Eros would never have approved it.”
“Even if I just showed up?”
He felt himself smile. “That would have been quite the sight. Or perhaps not. Would it just have been a pair of sweatpants at the gates?”
“Maybe,” the pants said teasingly. “Would Eros have thrown Henrik at me?”
Grover stepped away from the door, walking back around the pants and hidden alicorn. “You met him? I asked Benito to take him out for his birthday; I believe Elias joined him.”
“They raided our bar, probably still dancing.” The sweatpants followed him silently, then shifted in place, moving in a circle around the room. Flurry snapped back into sight, eyes up on the empty shelves. “Didn’t know you had a double.”
Grover looked down at himself in his nightshirt and silk pants: tan feathers, brown fur, and darker gray claws. “Sometimes looking so generic has upsides.”
“Thorax always told me it took a lot of magic to change into an alicorn,” Flurry mused. Her eyes still wandered the shelves. “Something about how only Queens could really do it, or an overcharged drone. They could do my voice, but not much else.”
“Did they get the accent right?”
Flurry scrunched her muzzle and glared at him. “Some of us didn’t listen to our professional tutors,” she said in blended Equestrian. Grover had yet to hear another pony that combined the harder Nova Griffonian dialect with the archaic Imperial lilt. There was the barest hint of received Canterlot as well, probably taken from her family subconsciously.
“I take it that is a denial,” Grover deadpanned.
“No.” Flurry probably blushed, thought it was difficult to tell for sure in the low lightning. Her pink fur hid it well if she did. “Henrik was dancing with Katherine when I left.”
“I might make a joke about love and hate,” Grover remarked. “I checked on her village, by the way. Her family was released months ago.”
Flurry bit her lip. “I don’t think she’ll be grateful.”
“Some things cannot be undone.” Grover glanced to the side and flicked his tail. Wise advice, old bird. “I suspect not. Words are wind. Regardless, she is free to write them.”
“Will it even make it to Katerin?” Flurry asked sardonically. “Katherine’s told me stories about the forests and how most of the knights started out as monster hunters.”
“There has always been legends about witches in the Scheißwald, sneaking about in the night to steal young griffons away into the woods.”
“Really?” Flurry perked up. “Any with large wings?” She flexed and curled her pair of oversized wings above her head, touching feather to feather with more than enough room to spare.
“No,” Grover clacked his beak. “And none were ponies. I suppose you could invent your own.”
“Give me your foals,” Flurry pitched her voice low and raspy. It still sounded like a kitten swallowing windchimes. She hunched down and bent her legs, shuffling like a crab from side to side.
“Cubs,” Grover corrected expressionlessly.
“Give me your cubs!” She lightly hopped in place, all four legs in unison. “Sell me your cubs! I wish to buy them! I need feathers for my wings!” The alicorn waved said wings above her horn. “My wings must be larger!”
Grover chuckled. “Don’t do that in public. They might believe it. And sell you their cubs.”
“I will have the largest wings!” Flurry vowed. “The largest wings in the Reich! In the world!” Her high-pitched voice was a breathy hiss as she tried to limit her shouting to glorified whispers.
“You are already a set of wings attached to legs.” Grover watched the alicorn straighten to stare down at him. She was tall and lean, barely resembling the oversized filly with hints of baby fat he met in a broom closet. The years had worn down any curves into muscle and a narrow muzzle. If he had not watched her devour nearly her bodyweight earlier that day, Grover would suspect she underate.
“My wings are the secret to my powers,” Flurry said teasingly. “My evil alicorn magic.”
“You have the makings of Elizabeak Bathory reborn.” Grover folded his arms.
“I heard the Archonate framed her for her land,” Flurry claimed. Her wings returned to her sides, feathers shifting and curling. "Should I be flattered?"
Grover squawked in laughter. “Did Aquileia teach you that? The Republicans mangled history in their need to make everything my family accomplished unjust. We found bones beneath her castle. She was guilty, regardless of the political motive.”
“Will griffons think I’m whispering in your ear?” Flurry flicked her own ears atop her short, ragged mane. “Or is that too much to contemplate? Benito asked about love spells.”
“You did not inherit your mother’s abilities,” Grover assumed.
“It didn’t work that like that,” Flurry groaned. “She could sense someone’s heart, like their desires and conflict. It was mostly talking. You can’t ‘magic’ someone into loving someone else genuinely. They act like lunatics.”
“Like putting up with you?”
Flurry guffawed and shoved a hoof into her muzzle to stifle the bell of laughter. She flashed Grover a wink. “You’re funnier when you’re sleep deprived.”
“I usually work late,” Grover dismissed. He waved a claw to the table. “The Reich does not run itself while I am absent from Griffenheim.” He eyed his dresser and crossed to it.
“I’m not a very good Princess,” Flurry nickered, “but I’ve heard of this thing called delegation…”
“My father’s regency was undone by corruption,” Grover stated. His brow furrowed. “I do delegate, and I verify. The Reich is the largest empire in the world, and half my court is staffed by opportunists that once opposed it.”
Flurry winced. “Sorry.”
“You,” Grover started. He cut himself off with a purr. “You’re fine, Flurry. I suppose you are in a similar situation.” The griffon regarded the old gramophone atop the dresser, simply set dressing and rarely used. He looked over a shoulder to the alicorn behind him. “There are records beside the table, in the gray box.”
Flurry twisted her head around and took the entire box in her magic. It floated over with a chime and she flipped through them quickly. “I don’t recognize any of these,” she shook her head. “Which one do you want?”
“Half are Aquileian.” Grover bobbed his tail. “What did the Republicans even listen to?”
“Anthems about how they were going to kick your ass,” Flurry replied. “I think there was a contest.”
Grover rolled his eyes. He reached into the hovering box, feeling the static rush of the golden magic envelop his claw. Cold this time. “Why does your magic change temperature?”
“It does?” Flurry questioned. “I never noticed.”
“What does it feel like to you?” Grover asked back.
“Magic.”
Of course. Ask a stupid question. Grover pulled a record free and slid it out, leaving the sleeve atop the dresser. The piano began mournfully, then gained volume. It was a singular waltz; the sound echoed on the empty bookcases above.
“Now we can talk,” Grover raised his voice. “It is a collection of Clawpin’s waltzes. It will go on for some time.”
Flurry Heart set the box down. Her ears twisted as she listened. “I don’t recognize it.”
“Most would not. He died young, from Gryphus in the Evi Valley.”
“I could just ward the room,” Flurry reminded him.
“My guards may have let a pair of sweatpants past them, but they will notice magic covering the windows.” Grover pointed at the large bay window behind the hourglass. “I would prefer not to answer why you are in my room on my birthday.”
“It’s my castle,” Flurry snorted. “Or it will be in two days.” She waved a wing at her bare head. “Obsidian’s adding some jewels to the crown.”
“You mean that cheap crystal band?”
“Yep. We’re broke. If Hayburger still existed I’d get a paper crown.” Flurry scrunched her muzzle. “Has Benito talked to you about the tank?”
“No.” Grover twisted his tail against his pajamas. “I suspect he pretends it never happened.”
“He glared at me the entire party.”
“You eat like a pig.”
“I’m pink like one,” Flurry winked. “These wings don’t grow on their own.” She backed up and began to step with the waltz.
“I wish to buy your foals,” she hissed again. Her wings flexed above her.
“Cubs,” Grover corrected for the second time.
“I need feathers for my wings,” Flurry trailed off with a raspy hiss, pitching her voice to follow the minor keys of the music.
“Do not do that in front of my dogs,” Grover warned. “The dogs of Bronzehill are averse to magic.” He scanned her half-shuffle. “And your dancing is awful.”
Flurry gasped. “How dare you! My dancing is at least twice as good as Aunt Twilight’s! I had a tutor!”
Grover cocked his head. “Really? In Aquileia?” He switched languages to Aquileian. “Which sets were you taught?”
Flurry shuffled a few steps with wings parallel to her barrel, then again with wings folded tight to her side. The alicorn moved gracelessly with her eyes pinched, clearly trying to remember something she had only done once. “They gave up pretty quick with the wings,” she volunteered.
Grover stepped up and studied her stiff, tottering hooves. He made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. Hooves. Flurry stepped to the side with hind and foreleg in unison on the left. A wing extended as she trotted back, parallel to her barrel with the feathers twitching.
The griffon scoffed as he finally realized the dance she was attempting to do. “That requires a partner, you realize?” He shooed her back further to his desk, then stood beside her. “Blessed Boreas, you will have to dance in Griffenheim. It is bad enough that you sound like a peasant.”
“I can dance fine,” Flurry pouted. She broke the shuffling steps to a series of rapid stomps, alternating legs. She did not flex her wings. Hooves clacked on the floor, muffled by the piano.
Grover watched the bouncing dispassionately. “That is not dancing. Equestrian dancing is even worse than I imagined.”
“Fine. How do you do it?” Flurry challenged. She abruptly stopped and lowered a rear leg with a clack. “My dad took me to a military ball once. None of the colts or cubs wanted to dance with the Last Princess. Guess they were afraid my monarchism was contagious.”
“Were your wings concealed?” Grover questioned.
Flurry stopped to think. “No, it was a backless dress.”
“That was why.”
She sputtered. “Seriously? Wing envy?”
“The dominant partner in the dance leads with a wing atop the other,” Grover lectured. “Traditionally the male.” He extended his wings, exposing the holstered pistol under the left.
Flurry Heart raised her own. If she was standing beside him, she could wrap a wing across his back. Her legs already made her taller, although Grover suspected he might outweigh her due to her narrow barrel and flank. The sweatpants were too short at the hooves, but they were loose.
“Yeah,” she grimaced. “Other styles? Or can I get away with my stomps?”
Grover moved from her side to face her. He had to look up over the rims of his glasses on all fours. “Guidance with front and back legs in unison. Griffon clasp claws instead and use wings for balance.”
“I’ve seen that in Nova Griffonia,” Flurry dismissed. “It’s just a griffon looming over a pony.”
“I doubt that will be a concern,” Grover quipped. He rolled a claw. “May I?”
Flurry shrugged a wing. “Whatever you want to do, birthday-”
Grover reared onto his paws and flared his wings for balance. He was just above eye level with the alicorn, but it was a near thing. She remained still with cold blue eyes staring slightly up at him. Her muzzle closed with a clack.
The griffon placed his claws on her bare shoulders. Talons felt the muscle under the fur flex as her legs twitched. He leaned his head far to the side. Too close to her muzzle. But if he stretched his neck and if the alicorn hunched… No, the horn will be in the way. The alicorn’s pink horn was wickedly sharp at the point, not blunt like some unicorns.
“That will not work either,” Grover thought aloud. He stepped back and returned to all fours. “I am afraid you are too tall and your wings are too big.” Celestia must have had the same problem.
Flurry Heart took a deep breath. “Right,” she said in a chipper voice. “Just so.” Her wings fluttered.
Grover frowned at the large pink feathers with an internal sigh. Maar’s Hell, so be it. “We can try the other way. Watch my movements.”
Flurry extended her right wing.
“Your left wing and my right,” Grover said. He paced back to her left side. After he raised his wing, the Kaiser felt the weight of the holster and snapped brown feathers back to his side. Grover returned to his desk and undid the straps, leaving the pistol in a drawer before coming back. Flurry remained where she was, watching the sand trail down through the hourglass.
“Everything else was given to your ponies,” Grover said to her. “There was very little in the storage shelves. Lord Commander Lacin used a few of the bookshelves for wine bottles.”
“Sounds about right,” Flurry sighed. “There was a timepiece thing. I don’t know what it does. It’s unfinished I guess.”
“Must not have been important,” Grover agreed. "They took everything worth a trophy case away." He flared out his right wing.
Flurry bit her lip, then extended her left wing. The wing joint flexed outwards, spacing out a vast expanse of pink feathers. Grover noted that the alicorn’s feathers would have been naturally soft if she took better care of them; several of the primary feathers were ragged, and the tips of her outermost primaries were speckled with dirt from touching the ground too often.
“I have to ask where you inherited that wingspan,” Grover said flatly.
“Dark magic?” Flurry guessed. “Residual magic lingering from Sombra’s takeover? I was born in the Crystal Palace.”
“Be serious.”
“I don’t know,” Flurry whickered. “Mom called me Little Wings as a joke after they started growing with me.”
Grover twisted and aligned his wing under hers. He stopped farther apart than most dancing pairs. Any further, and her wing would go over his back and limit their steps. The griffon took a deep breath; their wings were a hoof apart.
“Lower yours. You are taller.”
Flurry bit her lip. “If this is going to be a problem, we don’t have to dance.”
“Ever?” Grover chuckled. “How would that look if I take my mistress to the ball and dance with her, but refuse my anointed wife?”
“Maybe don’t?” Flurry suggested.
“It is one of the things we are expected to do,” Grover scoffed. “It would be best to practice now.” He cocked his head to listen to Clawpin’s waltzes. “We have a moment before a slower piece. This is number seven.”
The alicorn lowered her wing. Brown primary feathers touched pink secondaries, then weaved together with a combined flex. Her larger primaries easily reached the base of the griffon’s wing joint and brushed against bare fur in the hole in the back of Grover’s nightshirt. The feathers shifted again. Grover and Flurry stared at the hourglass as they waited.
“Practice,” Flurry said as the piano continued.
“Yes.”
“Most would be ecstatic to dance with an alicorn,” said alicorn remarked.
“I can feel the dirt slough off your primaries into my fur.”
“I am sorry my large wings touch the ground too often. Consider it a birthday gift.”
“You are taking the phrase ‘dirt poor’ to new heights.”
“The gift of my company is priceless. Practice,” Flurry snorted.
“What else would you call this?” Grover asked back.
“A date?” the alicorn said casually. The pink feathers shifted around the brown, buffeting them down.
Grover glanced at her with a withering side-eye. “You broke into my room to torment me. Is this how alicorns date?”
“My mother and father were not a typical couple,” Flurry shrugged, as if that was all the explanation needed.
“Just so,” Grover deadpanned. He cocked his head as the piano faded, then began again, slower. He lowered his voice. “Step in time with me.”
He moved slowly, placing his left claw forward. The alicorn had quick reflexes and copied him. They moved side-to-side around the room; the two wings were stiff, but kept them connected.
“Do you know how to pirouette?” Grover asked.
“Not on all fours,” Flurry returned. “I can spin on a back hoof.”
“We are speaking of different things. Lower your horn and fold your wing.”
Flurry did so, and Grover flared both his wings while bending his legs. He leapt with a strong flap, spinning across the alicorn’s back and landing on the opposite side. It was not as smooth a landing as he wished and the griffon suppressed a growl, shaking out his claw.
Maar damn it. He extended his left wing. Flurry raised a brow, lifting her head back up. Grover waggled the primary feathers with a grunt of annoyance. “Do not miss your cue.”
Flurry Heart rolled her eyes and extended her right wing, laying it atop Grover’s. They resumed stepping, sweeping around the hourglass and returning to the gramophone. The waltz ended just before they reached it, and Grover tapped a talon against the floor.
“That was the most boring dancing I’ve ever seen,” Flurry commented.
“It is a slow dance designed not to ruffle the Aquileian dress,” Grover explained with the cadence of lecturing to a foal. “You have seen their truffles. Movement is not a priority.” He rubbed his wrist and popped the ligament. “You are too tall.”
“You call that a pirouette?”
“It is intended to be an eye-catching move.”
“I can do that.” The alicorn bent her legs.
“The pegasi that perform it do not have horns,” Grover stated. His eyes wandered to the spike protruding from the alicorn’s skull. “If memory serves, your horn can pierce flesh.”
“It’s sharper now,” Flurry said teasingly. She straightened back up. “That’s a good point.”
Grover stared flatly at her.
“What?”
The griffon sighed. “Can you do hind legs with wings for balance?” He reared up and extended his wings, stepping around on his paws. The feathers flexed and compensated along with his tail. He could not stand completely straight, and his silk pajamas pooled just around his paw pads.
Flurry copied him and her sweatpants slid down to her cutie marks, nearly falling off her hind legs. Grover spun around with a tsk, clicking his tongue to his beak. Tan head feathers flushed.
There was a chime of magic behind him as Flurry adjusted her pants. “Stupid cheap griffons,” she muttered. “These are supposed to stretch.”
Grover stated the obvious. “They are too short.”
“They were like that when we bought them. You know how hard it is to buy something in my size? It’s not like Nova Griffonia catered to the ‘tall and leggy’ herd.”
“You mean the Imperial Coast?” Grover chuckled. “May I rename New Mareland?”
“Sure,” Flurry huffed. “Alright, modesty preserved.”
Grover turned back around. It appeared that Flurry Heart had cinched the drawstrings of her sweatpants tight and double-knotted them. Her wingspan was too impractical for traditional styles, and reared up she was absurdly tall. The tip of her horn exceeded a minotaur’s height, including the horns.
She placed her forehooves just above her flank, bending her forelegs awkwardly. “Now what?” The alicorn teetered and rebalanced herself. Hooves clacked on the floor.
Grover flapped his wings downward, in this case reaching them toward Flurry. She did the same and a gust of wind hit his beak. Their wings overlapped, so Grover stepped back until just the wingtips touched.
“You follow my steps,” Grover announced and began waltzing along with the song. The alicorn’s eyes narrowed and she began copying his movements. She stuck her tongue out as she concentrated.
“Some mares invest in weighted dresses for this dancing style,” Grover lectured. Every wing flap led to their feathers touching on both sides as they faced each other. “Spin.” The griffon spun around in a whirl of feathers.
Flurry Heart spun on a back hoof in a rush of pink. She nearly overcorrected and fell forward, but threw her head back. Only one wing connected to Grover’s. “This is like some hoedown shit.”
“This is ballroom dancing,” Grover corrected. “It looks better with a full group. We switch dancing partners.” The pair moved faster around the room, mostly due to falling forward as they stepped in time to the waltz.
“Spin.” This time, both wings made contact on a graceful pirouette. The alicorn’s wing flaps slowed as she matched Grover’s rhythm. Their wingbeats synchronized. The waltz ended and another, faster tempo began.
The alicorn began to stomp her rear hooves to keep up with Grover. They stepped more to the side and shifted around each other. Flurry Heart batted her forelegs in the air more often to balance.
Grover raised his claws up. He grimaced. Nearly above my head. “Step forward.”
She did so and their wings overlapped on the forward stroke. “Hooves.”
The Princess hesitated, then bent her legs forward. Grover caught her hooves against the flat of his palms, talons splayed out. He squinted at her behind his glasses, feeling the bumps and chips along her frogs. “You should take better care of your hooves.”
“I file and lacquer them like any other filly,” Flurry nickered. She glared down at him, then leaned forward until Grover’s arms tensed from her weight.
“You cannot swing your hooves around like some sort of ‘hoedown,’” Grover laughed. They kept their wings together, letting the feathers weave on both sides. “This is hardly proper form, but any dance with you will be improper.”
The griffon turned his beak to inspect both wings. Flurry Heart’s large wingspan made it difficult to see over her pink feathers. Dancing with other groups will be impossible like this, Grover decided. “Try a pirouette.”
They spun and Grover caught her hooves. Feathers interlaced again. “Pivot.”
The alicorn and the griffon switched positions smoothly enough, leaning on each other for better balance. She was taller than him, but that would be true in any position. With the right dress and a rehearsal, it would not be the end of the Reich. Flurry Heart technically had the lead position by her wings overlapping his, but as long as he visually stepped before her…
Yes. Grover smiled. This might work. He looked up. The alicorn no longer stuck her tongue out. She waggled her eyebrows and smiled toothily. Grover pushed his claws off her hooves and she spun alone, folding her wings tight as her body twisted, then snapping them open before extending her forelegs.
Grover caught her hooves on his palms with a deep chuckle. “Better.”
Flurry opened her mouth to say something, then her eyes widened and she stumbled back with a choked neigh. Grover froze as she crashed onto her back, one hind hoof caught in the leg of her sweatpants. The cutie mark on her right flank was partially exposed.
“Shitty fucking pants!” Flurry whinnied. She kicked all four legs in the air, tugging the pant leg back with her horn.
Grover lowered his claws, still on his hind legs. I should have grabbed her. He shook his head to himself, blinking to focus. Idiot, you would have been pulled down with her. The griffon placed his dark claws on the floor. “Are you all right?”
He paused, remembering watching her stumble through a snowdrift and mud to shake his claw outside Stalliongrad. Cold metal was against her hoof when his claw wrapped around it, and he had suppressed disbelief at realizing she wore leg braces. Her ice blue eyes had red veins at the edges of the pupils, and there were patches on her muzzle of shorter, whiter fur as it grew back. She did not look like a pony capable of killing a housefly.
“I’m fine,” Flurry waved a hoof from the floor. She laid on her back for a moment with splayed out wings. “I sleep on a crystal bedframe back home.”
“My Kaiser!” a voice barked from below. The hallway door opened.
Grover twisted around as two dogs burst into the room; he registered a flash of golden light out of his peripheral vision, halfway blocked by the frame of his glasses. The dogs’ rifles swept over the interior and scanned the upper bookshelves. One dog saluted with a raised paw. “Are you all right, my Kaiser!?”
The Kaiser unhooked his glasses and rubbed them on his nightshirt. “I am fine,” he said casually. “Why are you disturbing me?”
“We…we heard a bang, my Kaiser,” the other dog added. Tails lowered with rifles.
“I dropped a file,” Grover said dismissively. He turned around and glanced at his desk. Clawpin’s piano played energetically from the gramophone from the other side of the room. “I was listening to music before you interrupted me.”
“We apologize,” the left dog whined. “Please, allow us to search the room.”
“We…we heard you speaking,” the right dog continued.
Grover crossed to his chair, but before he sat down he noticed the black pair of sweatpants laying very still under his desk. A leg twitched. The griffon moved away with a low, theatrical sigh, walking towards the gramophone.
“I was practicing the speech I will be expected to give for the Princess’ coronation,” he explained with exasperation. “I have precious little time to prepare it.” He shut the gramophone off with a cold look to the intruding dogs. “Dismissed.”
The dogs’ ears pinned back under their hats and they slung their rifles, but they stayed at the door. Damn, Benito must have given them explicit instructions. “May we search the room, my Kaiser?”
“Search the bedroom,” Grover ordered instead. “I will be down shortly.” The two dogs nodded and rushed out to ‘secure’ the sleeping quarters a level below him. Several moments after the door closed, he looked over a wing back to the pants. “I suppose that is the end of that.”
“Did you have fun?” the pants whispered. They slinked out from under the desk.
“That was not the point.”
The black sweatpants radiated exasperation, then collapsed into cloth on the floor. Another one of the crystals on the bookshelves faded, casting the room with a low glow. Hooves clacked along the floor from somewhere.
“So help me Maar,” a creaky, high-pitched voice vowed, “you will have fun on your fucking birthday, nerdbird.” The sound of hooves faded.
“It is no longer my birthday,” Grover pointed out.
“Really?” a voice said just next to his head.
Grover swung his wing at it in reflex, and was rewarded with a rush of air from a wing flap, then a light giggle from deeper in the gloom. “Nice try,” Flurry quipped with a whisper. “What do you want to say at my coronation?”
“That was a lie,” Grover hissed back. He crossed to his desk quickly, then opened a drawer. It slammed shut before he could take out the flashlight. Grover swung his wing again and another blast of air hit his beak.
“Do you not want to come?” Flurry said from somewhere above him.
“If I say this is fun, will you stop?” Grover sighed.
“No,” Flurry said from the other side of the circular shelves. Grover tried to guess her progress from echoing hooves, but she clearly anticipated it from the gusts of wind from her wingbeats.
Get her to talk. “I will formally acknowledge you as Princess and Diarch of Equestria.”
“Thank you.” Flurry sounded sincere. “Katherine and Cerie are taking oaths of fealty to me.”
Grover scoffed. “Just so. I assume they stand for all the others?”
“Yes. Duskcrest will as well.”
“It is a minor insult,” Grover waved his claw. “The fact that I am present at all at your coronation suggests influence regardless.”
“Should I say something about the Reich? I was going to say we are formally allies.”
“Whatever you wish to say.”
“I was going to wing it,” Flurry said from just in front of him.
Grover opened his beak, then tilted his head to the side. “One does not ‘wing’ their coronation speech,” he explained slowly.
“Twilight winged hers,” Flurry said with a hint of stubbornness. “My mother didn’t even give one.”
“Celestia was there to say it for them,” Grover countered. “She made them Princesses.”
“She didn’t make me one.” She was farther away now, near the hourglass. “I was born one.”
“Which is why whatever you tell your subjects will be remembered,” Grover pointed out. “They are your subjects, and yours alone.”
She did not say something for several heartbeats.
“Twilight Sparkle will recover.” There was a fire in her voice, but it wasn’t an inferno. It sounded like a sputtering ember struggling to catch alight in a storm.
Words are wind. Grover did not say it this time. He nodded to the room. “I will acknowledge her as well.”
“Good.”
The sand in the hourglass stopped.
“The hour is now so late it is technically early,” Grover remarked.
“I’m naked.”
“And I am ignoring that,” the griffon said placidly. “You appeared before Field Marshal Bronzetail in such a state, so I do not feel particularly special.”
The sweatpants lifted up, then filled out as long legs were stuffed inside them. Flurry Heart reappeared with a golden flash, frowning and sullen. “Yeah,” she said listlessly, “this was dumb. Sorry.”
Grover paused. “I had fun,” he admitted. “I did not get to dance very often beyond instructors.”
“You learned every language of the Reich and every dance style, but don’t use it?” Flurry shook her head. “What was the point?”
I ask that myself sometimes. “To know my subjects,” Grover answered, but his voice lacked conviction. “I am the Kaiser of Griffonkind.”
Flurry glanced to the side. “What do you do when you’re not the Kaiser of Griffonkind?”
Grover looked to his desk and the scattered papers. “Think about being the Kaiser,” he sighed. “What do you do when you’re not the Princess of Ponies?”
“Think about being the Princess of Ponies,” Flurry echoed. She smiled tiredly. “Happy birthday.”
“To you as well,” Grover answered. “I should have said something a month ago for yours.”
“We were a little busy,” Flurry smirked. “You showed up. That’s a good enough gift.”
Grover regarded the balcony door. “I can distract the guards if you need a way out.”
“I can teleport out,” Flurry dismissed. “Your Aquileian mages aren’t warding this tower worth shit, by the way.”
“I do not expect them to stop an alicorn,” Grover retorted. “Why could you not teleport in?”
“I’ve never been here before,” Flurry answered simply. “It’s harder to do.”
Grover looked around the mostly empty, wide room. Another of the crystals along the bookshelves dimmed, and the light faded further. “Twilight Sparkle’s true home was Ponyville.”
“That’s gone, too,” Flurry said neutrally. “I came to see you, not the tower. There’s nothing here for me.”
Grover tried to think of something reassuring. He failed. “Goodbye, Princess.”
“Kaiser.” Flurry nodded, then snapped away in a flash.
Before he left, Grover made a note to shift another team to warding his personal quarters. Then, he made another reminder to have Prince Shining Armor’s body exhumed from the vault and prepared for transport. He tucked the paperwork into a spare folder.
Halfway to the door, Grover stopped and doubled back to the desk. He grabbed the holstered pistol and looped it back under his left wing for the walk to his bedroom. He tapped a talon on the broomhandle grip for a moment, then shook his head with a hum and left the room just as another crystal dimmed.
Thunder rattled the window frame. Flurry Heart watched large droplets of rain splatter against the glass. There were only a few at first, but more fell after each heavy blink of her cold eyes. Eventually, she left her eyes closed and listened, feathers swaying by her sides. Her wings drifted across the floor.
“P-princess?” Pyrite said aloud. The colt’s voice stuttered. “We are ready to depart.” Her left wing lifted and acknowledged the words, but she did not turn around.
Now will be the time to rebuild, Flurry rehearsed in her head. It is now a time to heal what the Hegemony has done. But the war is not over…I know I will never live up to my aunt’s example-
The radio crackled. Flurry opened her eyes with a snort. She twisted her neck to look to the dresser. The alicorn stood in Celestia’s bedroom, cleared out by the Changelings to function as Chrysalis’ guest quarters.
Most of the sheets, furniture, and decorations had been appropriated elsewhere. Flurry was left with a mattress that rested on the floor. The specially carved bedframe had holes and the trident crown embossed upon burnished-black wood; it had been used as firewood somewhere in the city. There was a single dresser with empty drawers, a bathroom with one bar of soap and one towel, and a folding table stacked with papers beside a lonely stool.
Flurry Heart had been encouraged to move out of her office, in the sense that the Lord Regent moved all her things out of her appropriated closet while she was elsewhere. After she teleported them back, Spike had moved them again the next day. He waited for her in Celestia’s room.
The alicorn slept there that night, more uncomfortable on a padded mattress than she had been on her cot. Her ears had flicked as the guards changed shifts on the balcony and beyond the door, listening to whispered reports and feeling the intent in their holstered pistols and slung rifles. All of them were willing to kill for their Princess.
The rain grew heavier; the wind blew it against the balcony. Dark clouds drifted around Mount Canterhorn, disgorging a deluge into the valleys below. The roads in the Everfree would turn to mud, and the supply lines would slow to a crawl. It was already happening.
As predicted, the shield over the north disrupted the weather patterns. Equus’ spring would be stormy over the heart of Equestria. There were enough pegasi to keep Canterlot clear, but Flurry forbid them via Rainbow Dash. The rain was meant to keep the crowds inside.
Besides, I was named after a storm. The alicorn took a deep breath and stared out through the balcony windows. Whinnies still echoed from the streets beyond the castle. Canterlot Castle had been blockaded by trucks and half-tracks to prevent a herd from forming, and a knight patrol sluggishly flew by in the rainstorm, searching for uninvited pegasi.
Standing orders were to shoot on sight, and mage unicorns patrolled the outer grounds with standard Reichsarmee soldiers; a gesture of cooperation and test for future efforts. Herds were gathered around radios all across Equus and Griffonia.
“The Principality of Equestria stands as one of the oldest nations in the world.”
Spike’s voice rang out from the radio atop the dresser. There had been an introduction that Flurry Heart had tuned out, a summation of the state of Equestria to the millions listening. In Griffonia, there was doubtlessly some canned announcement for the Griffonian Reich.
Pyrite shuffled his crystal hooves. The crystal mare beside him had more restraint. Neither were willing to tell the Princess she was going to be late to her own coronation.
Flurry stood naked, staring at the pressed uniform affixed to the wooden stand across from the balcony. Her purple jacket and pants were smooth, made of the best cuts of Rarity’s material. The pleated flank skirt sat high, and her boots ran up to the knee. It was an improvement over her old uniform by every measure. Gold thread and buttons ran up the high white collar, and the purple cap embossed with the Imperial Snowflake sat proudly behind her horn.
“For a thousand years, an alicorn has always sat upon the throne of Equestria, a guiding light in the darkness. For the first time in a millennium, the throne is empty.”
The dragon’s voice sounded even more powerful over the radio, reverberating with a deep bass that echoed like the thunder swirling in the sky. Flurry Heart stared at the uniform. It was very pretty, promising authority and power with a hint of protective kindness underneath. Rarity might hate me, but she poured her heart into this.
The alicorn scuffed a chipped hoof on the floor while she thought.
“Twilight Sparkle, the Princess of Friendship and Princess of Equestria, lies abed. Until she recovers and awakens, it falls to us, those that know her best, to judge her will. We stand in the hall she was crowned in, gathered here today to crown another.”
It was very pretty.
And Flurry Heart was many things. Beautiful was not one of them. She was long legs and large wings on a lean barrel attached to a narrow muzzle. If not for her coloring and eyes, her parentage would be in doubt. She turned to the armor laying in its crate in the corner of the bedroom. Obsidian and his team had repaired and cleaned away the ash and blood, filling in the chips large enough to be true damage to the crystal.
“Go to the hall,” Flurry ordered over her shoulder to the guards. “I’ll arrive on my own.”
“P-princess,” Pyrite stuttered.
“As you command,” the mare knelt. She gave the younger stallion a cold look, and the colt quailed and followed her out. The hallway fell silent as the guards departed without her. Flurry Heart’s horn glowed, and she levitated her black jumpsuit over to her, sliding long, gangly legs into the padding and zipping it up with a flash.
“Flurry Heart is the daughter of Mi Amore Cadenza, the Princess of the Crystal Empire, who was named in this hall as the Princess of Love decades ago. She is the daughter of Prince Shining Armor and niece to Princess Twilight Sparkle. She is the only acknowledged born alicorn in the history of the world.”
The pieces of her crystal armor swirled around her, encased in her golden aura. She worked smoothly now, stamping the metal plates and adjusting them without truly thinking about it. She raised one hoof at a time for the heavy greaves.
“The shield over the north is a monument to her dedication, magic, and willpower. It is my belief that Twilight Sparkle would see her niece rule beside her. I, Spike Sparkle, brother of the Element of Magic, name Flurry Heart as the rightful heir to the Principality of Equestria.”
Other voices stepped up to microphones.
“I, the Element of Loyalty, name Flurry Heart heir to Equestria.”
The alicorn slid the barrel plate down and snapped the flank armor into position. It was quick, practiced work now, and crystal that an earth pony would struggle to wear sat high on her lean body.
“I, the Element of Generosity, name Flurry Heart heir to Equestria.”
The metal plates and overlaid purple crystal had been polished, but the chips and long divots from shrapnel and bullets remained. She clipped the gorget into place under her neck, forcing her head up and forward. The armor and crystals for her wings went last, clicking into place as she weaved her feathers around the shards.
“I, sister to the Element of Laughter, name Flurry Heart heir to Equestria.”
The alicorn left her helmet upon the bed, but otherwise stood battle-ready in her scarred armor. Purple crystal and metal plates caught the glow from the wall lights; the crystal drank in the illumination. Fire-like patterns twisted over the chips and ran along the edges where crystal met metal joints.
“I, sister to the Element of Honesty, name Flurry Heart heir to Equestria.”
Flurry Heart exhaled, and vanished in a crack of lightning.
She reappeared in a flash at the base of a long purple rug. The chandeliers above her hummed and surged with more light from the static charge in the air. The alicorn kept her wings folded, muzzle carved from stone beneath cold, icy eyes.
The ponies to her right and the griffons to her left turned at the flash. The closest griffon, some Reichsarmee officer in a tall cap, raised a wing over his beak in a surprised flinch. Ponies blinked stars from their eyes.
The hall did not know how to react. Banners of her fiery Crystal Heart swung in a magical wind while rain lashed the windows. The alicorn stood for a heartbeat, eyes sweeping the room. They moved downward at the scorch mark left on the edge of the rug.
Flurry Heart had teleported to the end of the hall, where she was supposed to enter with an escort of guards. The hall was divided into two by the long rug. On one side, her subjects stood in long rows awaiting her entrance. On the other, the nobility and knights of the Griffonian Reich stood in attendance to watch.
She did not look up to the camera crews on raised platforms in the corners of the hall, nor the photographers beside them. She registered the flashes in her peripheral vision, but more griffons and ponies attempted to change burned-out flash bulbs from her unexpected teleport.
The crystal ponies at the double doors recovered first. They had been awaiting her arrival to march her down the room. A stallion stomped a hoof and his voice sang out over the crowd.
“Behold! The born Princess! Born beneath the Crystal Heart in the Empire, scion of the Amore dynasty and the last family of Twilight Sparkle!”
The other crystal ponies lining the rug took up the fervor.
“Behold! The born Princess!”
They turned on their tails to march forward with her, purple uniforms a shade lighter than the crystal armor. Several trotted ahead of her, eyes sweeping the rows of watchers for any trouble. All of them were armed.
Flurry Heart stepped forward, long strides making up the distance quickly. Ahead of her, Spike stood before two hanging flags and a stand with a dozen microphones. Those without crystals had cords running off to the sides, sound equipment and cables running up the walls to the rafters, then out to the broadcasting tower. The swords of the ELF and the Imperial Snowflake swung before wide, tall windows.
The storm outside ran the whole horizon; lightning flashed far off to the west, and the shallow, glittering glass crater of the Duskwood sparkled with each lightning strike. Rainwater filled it and finally washed away the ash.
“The Miracle of the North!”
Flurry Heart passed her lower officers and advisors, those who had met her only once or twice. They stood at attention nonetheless. There was not a fluffy dress or fine suit in sight; everypony had a uniform.
“The Princess of Hope!”
Her governors and their aides were in the center, the command staff and bureaucracy that would scatter to the winds once the coronation was done. Flurry kept her eyes forward, but noted Alesia, Caballeron, Kingfisher, and a herd of others around them that she did not know personally. Ponies and griffons that would carry her voice and will to the corners of her domain.
“The Princess of Ponies!”
They did not say her other names.
And at the front of the hall before several standing microphones, Flurry Heart passed her war council, those that had followed her from Aquileia and Nova Griffonia. Those that watched her wander around with a bedsheet on Nightmare Night or attend meetings in sweatpants. Or those that she had come to herself to beg for their help.
Her wings, half-extended by the armored wing joints, took the width of the rug. Even with the padding, her hoof steps pounded. The crystal ponies led her the length of the rug, then halted and swung around just before the steps to Spike. They faced her with stiff muzzles.
Flurry paused for a moment to stare down at them. She was taller than all of them, tall enough to look over their heads easily in her armor. Her mane had been shaved down to stubble again for the coronation. If they were disappointed that the heir to Amore looked nothing like her, it was not obvious on their muzzles. They looked at her in awe.
Spike waited up four steps. The dragon wore his full uniform, long purple overcoat and pressed navy pants. His cap was tucked under an arm, green head fin upright. Slit eyes did not seem surprised to see the alicorn in her armor. He smiled down at her, a tired, fanged-filled smile for the cameras.
Flurry Heart took the steps two at a time. Her greaves rang through the hall. At the top, she faced the dragon, keeping her head straight but looking up into his eyes. Spike held out a claw to the side.
Crystal Hoof trotted forward with a box atop a cushion on his back. The slim, gray, and nondescript crystal pony wore an ill-fitting purple uniform with the sleeves rolled up. He smiled at Flurry as he approached from the side, then knelt with the box balanced on his withers. One eye turned bright blue for a moment before fading back to a dull gray, the side of his muzzle that faced away from the cameras.
Flurry smiled with closed lips. There were no changelings at the coronation…but there were a few muzzles and beaks near the front row that Flurry Heart had recognized around the ghetto in Weter. And a few near the doors, waiting for an infiltration attempt.
Spike accepted the wooden box and opened it with a heavy claw. He stepped to the side again, tail swinging against the overcoat. Crystal Hoof stepped down to the other crystal ponies, vanishing into the line. Flurry Heart took a deep breath and turned around, head and horn held high.
The cameras flashed from the back of the room. Many of the windows had been blocked or boarded, all except the windows directly behind her, and the marble columns had been stripped of their black accents. There were no flowers, no candles along the wall, no silk and linen hanging from the chandeliers.
Flurry stood before a sea of uniforms, steel, and guns. Her crystal armor swirled from the flashes, patterns of flames skipping around the visible nicks and chips from the battle. She glanced to the side to see Spike lift up her crown.
Obsidian had pressed six gems into the purple crystal band, evenly spaced. They were cut, just overlapping the purple frame and sticking out from above and below. Flurry knew the colors: pink, light blue, emerald, ruby, orange, and a bright purple. The purple matched her uniform, but it did not match the dark armor she now wore.
Flurry Heart lowered her horn, eyes forward. The cameras stopped for a moment. With her head dipped, muzzle against the stiff metal gorget around her neck, she saw Rarity in the second row. The mare was one of the few in a dress, a bright, hopeful blue with curled mane and tail.
She gazed up at the armored alicorn with complete devastation in her bright blue eyes. Flurry mouthed, “I’m sorry,” to the mare, but Rarity did not look away. It’s not about the uniform. Rainbow Dash stood a row ahead of Rarity with a grin. Her Wonderbolt dress uniform was smooth, as was the Imperial Snowflake clamped around her foreleg.
Flurry Heart had not been born when Twilight Sparkle was made a Princess. There were few photographs. No recordings of her speech, only a reprint in newspapers. There had been a stained-glass window of it in the castle, but it had been long destroyed.
Her mother had been declared a Princess in this hall even earlier, named before a herd of Equestria’s nobility. Flurry Heart had seen a grand total of one photograph of her mother's coronation, and several paintings. She smiled wider in the paintings than the actual photograph.
Lavender Lace said she attended it, Flurry recalled. The mare’s neck had snapped cleanly. I wonder if the Duchess of Vanhoover knew the name of mom’s village. Probably not.
Spike lowered the crown; he was the only one in the hall that could reach up and over the long point of her horn without flapping his wings or using magic. Flurry felt the cold crystal rest under her shaved mane; the extra crystals made it heavier, but not by much. One crystal touched the base of her horn, and Flurry knew Spike had put the purple crystal first and centermost.
Spike breathed in and turned around, facing the crowd. His wings folded tight against the overcoat. “Flurry Heart!” he roared, “Princess of Equestria, the Princess of the Crystal Empire, and the Princess of Ponies!” Microphones and crystals hummed from the feedback, even though he stood several hooves away from the stand.
The crowd stomped once, sounding like the thunder beyond the hall. Griffons pounded a fist to their chest or breastplate. Flurry noted the Reich side of the hall did not stomp. Grover VI stood in the front row beside several knights and Archon Proteus. Benito and his dogs lined the edges of the group, spaced out with sidearms in easy paw reach. They scanned the hall more than looked at her.
Spike moved back, wings sweeping. Flurry Heart stepped forward; hooves suddenly heavy. She reached the stand slower than she thought she would. She did not need to lower her head to the microphones; they had been placed for Spike’s height. Cameras flashed again from the back.
Flurry Heart opened her mouth, and every word of the practiced speech left her. She froze, icy eyes wide and staring across the hall, standing where her aunt and mother stood decades ago, trying to remember what they said or what they would say in this moment.
Her eyes flicked to Grover, then back to the banner of her cutie mark hanging above the rug. The burning Crystal Heart hung before her, and two more behind her, beside the flags. It was not the mark of an Equestrian Princess. She had been born in the Empire, raised and reared in foreign territory; her mark was not on the Tree of Harmony.
I do not belong here.
Neither did I, Cadance whispered. Love is the death of duty, Flurry.
“I wish I had words of comfort,” Flurry Heart began in her foreign accent, unlike anything an Equestrian should sound like. There was no comfort of softness in her voice beyond her natural high-pitch. “I wish I could tell you that things will be alright.”
The microphones hummed, spreading her word and voice across two continents.
“I claim this crown out of my duty to you, my subjects. A duty I was born with, and a duty I carry proudly upon my withers. My family accepted it, and so shall I.” Flurry swallowed.
“The Diarchy of Equestria is restored. Until my aunt Twilight Sparkle recovers, her brother, Spike Sparkle, will serve as her regent and rule in her name. I can think of no better person to do so.”
Spike did not react, standing to the edge of the platform.
“I wish I could tell you that things will get easier now,” Flurry repeated, “but you have heard enough lies over the radio. I speak to you now from Canterlot, and there has been enough falsities from this city. The Changeling Hegemony has raped and plundered Equestria for years, beaten and battered us down in the name of their Queen Chrysalis.
“But they have never broken Equestria. We are winning; we have driven them from the east. The Hegemony will fight for every scrap of land. They know what is coming. To those of you in the west, wherever or however you may be listening, fight with everything you have.
"Chrysalis tortured my aunt because she could. She thinks she can be cruel enough to break our will. But she did not break Equestria. No matter how hard she tried, there were always ponies willing to continue the fight.”
She paused for a moment. “If I fall before this war ends, I die knowing that Equestria will continue to fight until it wins. To those of you in the east and in the Empire, every strike of a hammer, every shell, every bullet made goes to freeing our home. The road ahead will be difficult, but it is a road I will walk with you."
Flurry lifted her wings with a song of crystal. The blades between the feathers flexed with the sound of windchimes. “This is my only vow I shall make in this castle: I will fulfill my aunt’s final command. We will fight the Hegemony, and we will kill Chrysalis.”
She looked over to Grover VI in the front row. “I stand here in this castle due to the bravery and sacrifice of my subjects, and to the Reichsarmee of the Griffonian Reich. Equestria and the Reich have been rivals long enough. We fight the Hegemony together.”
The Griffonian side of the hall did not respond.
“I claim this crown because it is my duty,” Flurry repeated. “I am your Princess. My life is yours, in victory and defeat. My ponies, and my ponies-in-all-but-name, do you accept my oath?”
The front row before her stepped up to their microphones one at a time.
“I, Frosty Jadis of the Crystal City, accept and affirm Flurry Heart as our Princess.”
The crystal pony stepped back with a limp, glittering blue cheeks above a purple jacket.
“I, Duty Price of Trottingham, accept and affirm Flurry Heart as our Princess.”
The earth pony stepped back, hatless and his brown mane brushed into his mustache.
“I, Rainbow Dash of Cloudsdale, accept and affirm Flurry Heart as our Princess.”
The pegasus flexed her metal wing, raspy voice clearer than ever before.
“I, Dusty Mark of Whinnypeg, accept and affirm Flurry Heart as our Princess.”
The proud unicorn held her horn high, once an archaeologist, wife, and mother. Now a general.
“I, Light Narrative of Baltimare, Tlatoani of the Tzinacatl, accept and affirm Flurry Heart as our Princess.”
The Thestral wore his gem in the eye socket, and his feathered, colorful outfit of the Tlatoani. He stood out in the crowd, as did all the bat ponies in attendance, almost all wearing their tribal regalia. Flurry flexed her leg, swirling scar hidden by armor.
“I, Yona of Yakistown, accept and affirm Flurry Heart as our Princess.”
Yona had to lean down to the microphone, and spoke clearly and carefully. The Yak’s white and purple uniform was snug against her thick fur. The few other Yaks in attendance nodded enthusiastically from the middle.
“I, Virgil Duskcrest of Frosthill, accept and affirm Flurry Heart as our Princess.”
Dusckrest wore his silver-plated revolvers under a suit that the alicorn assumed was stolen from someone, but he wore it well and proudly. The griffon had even combed his head feathers. For once, he looked like an officer before a bandit.
“I, Cerie D’Artagnan of Pridea, accept and affirm Flurry Heart as our Princess.”
The young Aquileian did not stutter, blue cadet uniform buttoned to the neck and Imperial Snowflake proud on her elbow.
“I, Katherine of Katerin, accept and affirm Flurry Heart as our Princess.”
The Herzlander ignored the other side of the room, staring up at Flurry and speaking slowly despite the heavy accent in Equestrian. The red griffoness’ fur and feathers clashed terribly with the bright purple uniform, but she liked it that way.
Flurry Heart registered a flash of lightning behind her, and the rain hit the windows at an angle from a gust of wind. The sound faded after a moment. She exhaled, keeping her muzzle still.
There was another microphone in front of Kaiser Grover VI. A cord ran up the wall to join the others. The griffon stepped up to it, sash jingling under a black, embroidered coat. He braced gloved claws against the stand casually, but his right wing bent and made a gesture. The alicorn resisted blinking as the other Griffonian nobles formed a small line behind their Kaiser.
“I, Grover von Greifenstein, sixth of my name and Kaiser of the Griffonian Reich, acknowledge Flurry Heart as Diarch of Equestria beside Twilight Sparkle, and as the Princess of the Crystal Empire.”
He spoke clear Equestrian in received pronunciation, sounding far more like a Canterlot noble than the alicorn speaking before him. He stepped back, stiff-winged and professional. He did not meet Flurry’s eyes.
“I, Gerlach Weijermars, Grand Duke of Feathisia, acknowledge Flurry Heart as Diarch of Equestria, and as the Princess of the Crystal Empire.”
The Grand Duke spoke with a heavy Feathisian droll, far worse than Bronzetail ever sounded. The Field Marshal was two rows back with his cap pressed under a wing.
“I, Ignatius Bronzefur, Count of Bronzehill, acknowledge Flurry Heart as Diarch of Equestria, and as the Princess of the Crystal Empire.”
The dog bent to the microphone, speaking halting, practiced Equestrian. He wrung his paws as he returned to the row, eyes looking to Grover. The Kaiser did not look to him.
“I, Raison D’Etat, Countess of Vinovia, acknowledge Flurry Heart as Diarch of Equestria, and as the Princess of the Crystal Empire.”
The unicorn shared a glance to the other side of the hall, then returned to her place in a flowing green dress. Flurry Heart saw less than a dozen ponies in the hundreds of Reich attendees, compared to at least two hundred of her griffons speckled through the other side.
Sunset Shimmer trotted forward from the front row, uniform marred by the purple armband of the Imperial Snowflake on her leg. The Archmage held her horn high as she crossed to the center of the long rug. Flurry spotted her breathing rapidly, trying to hide it in her steps.
The unicorn pitched her voice high and projected it through the hall. “I, Sunset Shimmer, former student of…” she steeled herself, “of Celestia, accept and affirm Flurry Heart as our Princess.” The unicorn bowed before the standing alicorn, and the herd behind her followed in a wave. Griffons knelt while ponies bowed with forelegs outstretched.
The other side waited until Kaiser Grover VI inclined his head; the Reichstone's jewels caught the light and glittered. The griffons and dogs behind him copied their Kaiser’s gesture. Steel helmets clanked from the knights at the peripheries.
Flurry unfolded her wings with a chime of crystals that reverberated through the hall.
“Rise.”
They obeyed.
Sunset Shimmer rose in a purple, high-necked uniform with gray accents, the ELF and Empire merged. “With these oaths, three peoples and five tribes are bound to you, as they were once bound by the Concordat of the Three Tribes and your predecessors. Wherever you lead us,” Sunset dipped her horn, “you lead us as our Princess of Ponies.”
Flurry Heart inhaled. “I lead Equestria to war.”
The hall stomped once. Griffonian knights beat a gauntlet against their armor.
“Long may she reign.”
Then again. A roll of thunder echoed beyond the walls, and rain lashed the windows.
“Long may she reign.”
The last alicorn stood with raised wings as cameras flashed like lightning.
“Long may she reign.”
The projector switched to a more focused view of the Equestrian South, with the oil fields and rail lines marked across the peninsula. A red dot hovered along the line just below Army Group Center. The dot danced to Army Group South behind another line in the Southeast.
“We have nearly cut-off southern Equestria,” Field Marshal Bronzetail announced. He held the red crystal in one claw, tapping the end to make the small dot bounce across the projected map. “With the push across the heartlands, we’ve backed the bulk of the Heer away from their supply lines.”
The dot paused on a gap above Rockville, just at the edge of the enlarged map. “According to our scouts, the Changelings are attempting to mass a relief force to hold their final remaining railway up the coast to the rest of Equestria. We will strike hard and sever that, and once we do we’ve boxed in the Changeling Heer on land.”
“At sea,” High Admiral Raincrest continued, “the Changeling Kriegsmarine is left with Las Pegasus as their final major port in the south. Their submarines continue to harass our convoys. Once the south is cut-off on land, they will attempt an evacuation to the Olenian Peninsula.”
The projector switched back to the continent of Equus as a whole. There was a wide circle across the top of the landmass that every griffon tried to ignore. The frontlines began below it. Raincrest took the crystal from Bronzetail and the dot zagged between Las Pegasus, Vanhoover in northwestern Equestria, and Hjortland on the Olenian Peninsula.
“With Las Pegasus taken, we can expand operations to the Changeling Lands coast and contain their submarines,” Raincrest stated. He removed his blue cap and wiped his head feathers. “Fuel remains a concern.”
“Nearly half of Equestria’s oil is in the south,” Grover said dismissively. He had his claws clasped under his beak, propping up his head and the Reichstone atop it. The Kaiser of the Griffonian Reich lounged in a high-backed chair before the projector. His tail swung lazily, batting at one of the chair legs. “Once we have their oil fields, we force them to rely on the Olenian Protectorate.”
“My oil fields,” Princess Flurry Heart corrected from several chairs away. The alicorn had folded her white boots atop the table, high purple cap tipped back to show the jeweled crystal band beneath. “Under occupation.”
“I expect the Heer shall try to ignite your oil fields as they retreat,” Grover said languidly. He did not look to the Princess, remaining focused on the map.
“Just so,” Flurry agreed in Herzlander. “Speed is of the essence. How fast can your Reichsarmee fly?” She also stared at the projection. The alicorn was in full uniform for this meeting, and had brought a dozen of her high command with a large escort of guards.
The griffons and ponies in the room looked between the two royals sitting together, but several empty chairs apart.
“General Mudbeak?” Grover asked aloud. “The offensive is planned to start in two weeks. You are not burdened by storms in the south. I want Army Group Center under Field Marshal Bronzetail to mass brigades beyond Rockville to stall any breakout.”
The elderly Reichsarmee general nodded, wispy white mustache quivering atop his beak. “My Kaiser. It will be done.” He coughed into a cloth. “Your Reichsarmee is eager to move beyond the jungles. The roads are terrible, barely dirt. Those savages are our only recourse. They strip the Changeling dead for trophies and leave heads upon sticks.”
“The Tzinacatl are awesome, aren’t they?” Flurry chuckled. She tugged off a white boot with a flash of magic and rolled up her sleeve. She showed off the swirling, figure-eight scar just above her hoof. “Thestrals are the best nighttime fighters in the world.”
“Savages for a savage Princess,” Grover remarked. “I want to use them for a night assault.”
“Tlatoani Light Narrative has called the warbands. Does your little Reichsarmee need a helping hoof in the scary night?”
“They cannot fly faster than we can drive,” Grover dismissed. “Can your bat ponies even drive, or was that too much freedom pre-war?”
“Not much use of a car in a cave,” Flurry deadpanned. “How many of your soldiers know Equestrian? I sure as shit guarantee my Thestrals don’t know much Herzlander.”
“We have a contingent from New Mareland. They joined my army willingly, something your predecessors failed to achieve.”
“Oh?” Flurry whickered. “They clucked like chickens about fighting in a pony’s war until Beakolini came knocking. Glad they grew a spine.”
The griffons and ponies slowly shifted their heads between the two monarchs. The tension in the room had faded from simmering into a malaise of confusion. Sunset Shimmer shared a side-eye with Tempest Shadow from behind the alicorn.
“General Mudbeak,” Grover announced again. “Shift the New Marelander divisions against the frontline. Pair them with whatever tribal warbands the Tinacats scrounge together. They will spearhead the assault with light vehicles. Take the supply hubs in advance of the regular assault.”
“Tzinacatl,” Flurry corrected. Grover flashed a talon at her. The alicorn stuck her tongue out. Benito and Loudbark shared a look with pinned ears.
Grover waved a wing at one of the servants. The griffoness switched the projection back to the enlarge map of the south, then switched again to the supply hubs and major rail networks. Field Marshal Bronzetail took the crystal back from the admiral with a long look between the Princess and the Kaiser.
“We will…” Bronzetail hesitated, then rallied. “We will leave a corridor open to Las Pegasus to drive the Hegemony’s retreating forces into an opening. Once the south is completely cut-off, we encircle Las Pegasus. It is the next major city after Appleloosa.” The red dot danced on one railway from Appleloosa to Las Pegasus, then a road network.
“Why?” Flurry asked aloud.
“It is my design,” Grover answered. “We leave them an opening, and they have hope of escape across the sea. Civilians will flee and slow the retreat. Once we have taken Appleoosa and closed the pocket around Rockville, we can crush them at our leisure.”
“Do you have operational sea range to stop an evacuation?” Flurry asked dubiously. Baltimare was marked over on the map. “Tempest, Sunset, what do we know about Las Pegasus?”
“It’s the most important city of the Appleloosian Protectorate,” Sunset answered. “Major port for the Kriegsmarine with Admiral Mimic in the city. Governor Plexippus ruled from Appleloosa, probably evacuated by now.”
“Rockfeller’s the real power in the south,” Tempest added. “Rockfeller Oil owned all the major pumps during the war. Talked Chrysalis into keeping his share and expanding into Buffalo territory.”
“And the Buffalo?” Flurry asked mirthlessly.
Nopony answered.
“He hangs,” the Princess ordered absently.
“Whatever you do with your subjects is not my concern,” Grover refocused. “We will rely on air power to stop any sea evacuation. I need the oil fields and airfields intact. We have to move quickly while the rains stall the north.”
On cue, another clap of thunder rattled the boarded-up windows. Rain hit the slanted roof above the large meeting room with renewed vigor. The room paused for the noise to fade.
“Everyone leaves Canterlot by dawn,” the Kaiser ordered with a sweeping glance along the room. “We have dallied enough.” The Reichsarmee officers nodded.
“I need mages and the Imperial Guard,” Flurry stated in Equestrian. “We take up garrison duty and reintegrate territory as soon as possible. Archmage, I want ponies that can work with the Griffonian knight charters to clear the front. High Commander, focus on the mixed Imperial Guard before the Imperial Army. We’ll speak more on this before I leave.”
“As you say, Princess,” Tempest said softly.
“You intend to go to the front?” Grover asked idly.
“Yeah,” Flurry nickered. “Someone has to win this war for you. Not planning on disappointing my Thestrals.” She laced her boot and tapped it on the table.
“Do not die.”
“Could say the same to you,” Flurry quipped. “Maybe I’m immortal. Wouldn’t that be funny one day?” The alicorn raised a hoof before her muzzle. Her eyes turned serious, focusing on her hoof with intensity.
“Alas, poor Grover,” Flurry said in an awful approximation of a Griffenheim accent. “I knew him, Benito,” she winked over at the dog standing with crossed paws along the wall. Her muzzle suddenly scrunched and she frowned at her hoof.
Grover finally shifted in the chair to look at her blankly.
A pink wing fluttered. “Eh,” the alicorn snorted, “I’ll wing the rest. I forget how it goes. That one was boring anyway.” Her Herzlander returned to its ‘normal’ peasant-tinged, heavy Katerin accent.
“I am sure it will be a tale told by an idiot,” Grover rolled his eyes. “Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”
Two feathers pointed at him. “I know that’s from one; I don’t remember which.”
Grover laughed, voice cracking deeper. “Dismissed.”
The ponies and griffons in the room shared a long, awkward look between themselves. The knights shifted their wings along the walls opposite the purple-clad crystal ponies. Jadis squinted across from Sir Geralt. He shrugged a wing.
“I said I’ll meet up with you later,” Flurry called out in Equestrian. “Get the fuck out, everypony. We got shit to do. We’re not figuring it out here.” The alicorn pushed herself free from the table, cracking her neck.
My Reichsarmee moves slowly today, Grover noted. “Dismissed!” he crowed out louder. Bronzetail and Mudbeak saluted at the front of the room, and the servant unplugged the projector with a wary glance at the alicorn stretching her large wings.
“Expect a courier with copies of the battleplans,” the Kaiser said over to her. Flurry Heart flapped the wing in acknowledgement before refolding it. “There will be more details once the frontline is organized from Stableside.”
“I’ll get moving down there tomorrow,” Flurry Heart planned aloud. “Meet up with the governors before they scatter and confirm quotas.”
“The Reconstruction Bureau will land in Manehattan once the frontline has advanced further.”
Flurry Heart groaned. “The Lord Regent will meet them here if I’m at the front.”
“We will speak further before you leave.” With Grover slouched in his chair with a folder of claw-written notes, the pony loomed over him several chairs away. He set the Reichstone on the table before craning his beak to look up at her muzzle.
“What?” the alicorn asked. Her horn glowed and she tugged her chair over.
“I meant later,” Grover rolled his eyes. “Not right now.”
She kicked the chair back against the table with a hind leg. “Oh, good. I’m hungry. The canned carrots in my room call to me.”
Grover made a disgusted croon in the back of his throat.
Flurry Heart flashed her flat, herbivorous teeth in something that could be charitably called a grin. Teeth that I watched grind down chicken wings. They were not sharp, and a duller white than her high collar. “Sorry you don’t have teeth,” the Princess said mockingly.
Grover splayed his talons out. “The Gods made a fair trade, I suspect.”
The alicorn followed her high command out. They had lingered to watch the exchange. Her crystal pony limped behind her with a long, cold look at Grover. Jadis, I think. I am certain they all know of the arrangement. Ancestors above, how many does she tell?
Grover looked to Benito. He stared back unblinkingly, though Loudbark had already left with the other Ironpaws. The room was quickly emptied, with the Equestrian and Imperial staff following their Princess to the other side of the castle. Rain echoed on the ceiling.
The Kaiser flipped open his folder of notes and reread them. It is a good plan, leaving a pocket encourages a retreat. Some will choose to run rather than try to fight to the death. Planes had already dropped the pamphlets of Princess Cadance and Twilight Sparkle weeks ago; the bombing runs had halted for the most part. The south needed to be intact.
Benito coughed into a gloved paw. He had advanced to the far side of the table. Grover looked up to see an Aquileian unicorn shuffling nervously beside the dog. The mare wore a black sash across her barrel, marking her as a trained mage from Aquila’s magic academy. “Yes?”
“We would like to scan the room for Changeling agents, my Kaiser,” the unicorn requested nervously.
“The Princess blasted magic through the room seven times,” Grover answered with a raised brow. “Aside from her Royal Advisor, there were none present.”
The unicorn bit her lip.
Grover waved a wing. “Go ahead.”
A half-dozen unicorns slowly circled the room while Grover reread his notes, making additional comments or scratching out something that was no longer relevant. A wing jittered as magic ran through his feathers, but he ignored it.
He ignored it the second time as well.
And the third.
The prodding of his tan head feathers tried his patience too far.
“Out.”
The six unicorns surrounding his table froze, eyes wide and tails swinging under their hind legs. Grover set his pen down and stared over the rims of his glasses. Benito looked away with another cough.
“Sir Geralt, please escort everyone out. I shall speak to Benito privately.”
“My Kaiser.” The remaining knights practically dragged the mages from the room, then departed themselves through the double doors. The meeting hall was silent now, except for the rain lashing the windows and roof. Another rumble of thunder echoed from the sky around the mountain.
Grover was alone with Benito. “Whenever you approach like this, it is always a poor conversation,” he repeated.
“As you say, my Kaiser.” The dog shifted his boots.
“Am I under some spell?” Grover asked sardonically.
“Not one we know of.”
“The Princess is not subtle,” Grover denied.
“She is an alicorn. There are magics beyond most that she may have-”
“For fuck’s sake,” Grover scoffed. “She took off her pants to show her cutie mark. That was it.”
Benito’s whiskers on the end of his muzzle curled, and his graying fur flushed in embarrassment. Still, the dog folded his arms and stared down at his sitting Kaiser. “You disappeared for some time.”
“I absconded from my guards to sit inside a tank,” Grover deadpanned. “That is a full accounting of my time. You answer to me, not the other way around.”
“What else was discussed beyond her mark?”
“Words.” Grover waved a claw. “Words are wind.”
Benito took a breath. “You…she insulted you.”
“And I insulted her.”
“You laughed.”
“Blessed Boreas,” Grover sighed in exasperation. “Am I incapable of laughter? Is that the Kaiser you want?”
“You understand how it looks?”
“I do not care how it looks.”
Benito reached into his coat and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. He smoothed it out before setting it on the table. Grover closed his folder and stared flatly at it.
It was a copy of the picture chosen for the front pages of several of the Reich’s largest newspapers. Flurry Heart stood with raised wings and a jeweled crown, clad in scarred, heavy crystal armor that put any of his knights to shame. It had been taken at the very end of the coronation, and the photographer managed to capture a bolt of lightning in the far distance from the window behind the alicorn. The banner of her fiery Crystal Heart was in the top left corner.
It was a perfect photograph of a conqueror. The last picture widely disseminated across the Reich was of her shaking hooves with President Blackpeak years ago, a tall gangly filly in a bright sunflower dress and swirly mane and tail. The alicorn had not grown that much, but her wings were certainly larger. Perhaps that is just because they are unfolded.
“What am I supposed to look for?” Grover asked aloud.
“My Kaiser,” Benito pleaded deferentially, “she is heading to fight with your Reichsarmee. You are not. Your griffons are simple.”
Grover laughed at the unintended insult. “And my dogs are not? You pride yourselves on your ‘simple’ loyalty to my family.”
“They see a warrior.”
Grover rolled wrist, inspecting the fine golden cufflinks of his shirt, then the sash of jingling medals, all of which he was awarded for simply existing. “I learned every language of my Reich,” he said in Wingbardian, “all to be told I should swing a sword harder. At the very least, Equestrians have a similar ignorance of history. Their Princess is from an empire lost to time.”
“Yes,” Benito acknowledged in Wingbardian. His eyes turned wry. “I have at least heard of The Taming of the Shrew…”
“Maar’s Daughter cannot be tamed,” Grover returned. He looked down at the photograph again. True, I could ask her not to fight. Perhaps she would even listen. The Crystal Heart was wreathed in flames upon the banner, and again upon her flank.
“It’s not a crown. No laurels. Ponies are desperate to believe I’m a Princess.”
A Princess did not stand before them, but she said she was one and they chose to believe she was. She was not smiling in the photograph, nor did she smile at any point in the coronation. She smiled in Aquileia. And in the tank. Grover tapped a talon on the wooden table, studying the picture. Her eyes are still the same.
“You have seen her mark,” Grover said aloud.
“Yes, my Kaiser. Not as clearly as you.”
He ignored the jab. “The Equestrian gods are not our Trinity, nor even the spirits of the borderlands that my ponies might believe in. Harmony? Whatever watches over Equus, it wants her to fight. It gave her the mark to do so.”
The Kaiser turned deep blue eyes up to Benito. “It is a force that banished a mare to the moon for a thousand years and defeated an incarnation of Maar in Discord. Shall I raise my wings and oppose that?”
“You are blessed by Boreas,” Benito tried.
Grover removed his glasses. The dog was close enough it was not an issue. “Boreas did not save my ancestor outside Azincork. He slaughtered his prisoners to win the day. I will not pick a fight I cannot win out of pride.” He glanced to the side. “I have armor back home, you know.”
Benito whined. “My Kaiser…”
“I am not going to the front,” Grover clacked his beak. “I am not a fool. Grover II took a spear to the face in a time of muskets and gunpowder. I can manage the war from the rear.”
The dog sighed in relief. “Just so, my Kaiser. You could do so from Griffenheim.”
“You complain the Princess is closer than I, then suggest I retreat further?” Grover questioned. He smoothed his head feathers down and popped his neck. A claw settled on the Reichstone.
“It is disconcerting to see you get along,” Benito finally admitted. “The ponies feel the same. The alicorns have always spit upon the Reich.”
“I struggle to imagine Celestia spitting on anyone,” Grover deadpanned.
“They recognized the fraudulent Griffonian Republic. They never approved of your ancestors, and only begrudgingly recognized them due to the Reich’s power.” The dog tapped a paw on the hilt of his sword. “I led your father and Eros from the mob when they stormed the Palace, watching the Archon scoop a frail griffon into his claws as we ran through the tunnels. The alicorns would have watched us hang from beyond the sea.”
Grover’s eyes darkened. “You stood beside Eros while Chrysalis came to drag a foal away. You intervened only because I commanded it. Do not lecture me on the moral failings of the past.”
Benito bit his lip and shifted his eyes to the wall. “As you say, my Kaiser.”
Grover returned to the photograph. Perhaps he should be insulted. Perhaps his ancestors would be insulted that the alicorn held her high horn above them and waved her larger wings, that she brought hundreds of griffons into the hall to proclaim her as their Princess of Ponies.
“I do not care,” Grover VI said aloud, and was surprised to find the statement true. “She will fight the army of the witch that killed her family, and I will marry a shieldmaiden of northern legends before the Trinity in Griffenheim. Let griffons crow about that.”
“If she survives,” Benito countered. “She is quite proud of that scar.”
“It’s self-inflicted,” Grover chuckled.
The dog shook his head. “Were all the alicorns mad?”
So were all the Grovers. The Kaiser set the Reichstone back on his head. Another peal of thunder rattled the windows. “I will need to meet with Mudbeak and encourage his departure south.”
“He intends to leave with all due haste, my Kaiser. His words.”
“His words are especially wind. Perhaps the Princess can teleport him.”
There was once a sun on the door. Grover knew that intellectually. He also assumed that the sun had been removed and replaced with Chrysalis’ trident crown.
The door now had no emblem; it had been scorched clean with a wide, black burn mark in the center, with long gouges from scraping tools that ruined the engravings carved into the ancient wood. The door was probably old enough to have been built with the first iteration of Canterlot Castle. Petrified, fossilized wood thrice the age of his Reich had been carved apart without mercy or remorse.
A magical glow enveloped the wood, humming faintly with power that made his feathers twitch even several wingspans away. The jewels in the Reichstone atop his head rattled. Wards, Grover recognized; he knew them well enough from his own mages, but these seemed to have enough charge in them to blow a chunk of the castle off the mountain.
He turned back to regard the dragon standing beside the door. The dragon, in turn, regarded him, staring down a scaled muzzle with overlapping fangs. The Lord Regent of Equestria dressed in a long purple overcoat emblazoned with a six-pointed star, but left his feet and claws bare. The talons on both looked wickedly sharp and capable of cleaving through skulls.
Benito shifted behind Grover. Spike Sparkle towered over the dog, easily the tallest being in the palace. His cap nearly touched the ceiling. The dragon’s intense green eyes flicked to Benito at the sudden movement, then back to Grover VI. The other guards, all ponies in purple uniforms and armed, took cues from the dragon. Hooves shifted against the stocks of rifles and submachine guns.
The Lord Regent puffed out a short plume of gray smoke. “Kaiser Grover,” he said with the barest hint of politeness. The dragon’s voice was smoky and his bass reverberated in his throat.
“Lord Regent,” Grover acknowledged with a bob of his tail. It slapped against his pressed slacks. He looked forward at the dragon’s chest rather than his head; the griffon would have to crane his neck too far up on all fours to make direct eye contact. “I have business with the Princess, but yours takes priority. Benito and I will wait.”
“How charitable of you,” the Lord Regent said dubiously. He had one claw stuffed into a pocket of his overcoat. The dragon had been pacing outside the door when Grover turned the corner of the hallway, and the Kaiser had left his additional knights behind at the intersection. They clearly did not like it from the jittering wings.
Knights and dragons never mix. “It is not overly important,” Grover said vaguely. “I wish to discuss minor matters before she departs for the battlefield.”
“Those can be discussed with me,” the Lord Regent rumbled.
Grover cocked his head and rubbed his beak together. “I assume you know which matters I speak of.”
Spike snorted another plume of smoke. “Guards, dismissed. Wait at the end of the hall. Sensitive information.” The ponies backed away slowly, eyes on Benito and Grover.
Grover watched them leave. “She made the offer, you know.”
“I know,” the Lord Regent answered. “I tried to stop her from flying out to test it.”
“I ordered my navy and air force not to fire under any circumstances.”
“Your dog know?” the Lord Regent snarled.
“I do,” Benito growled lowly. His gloved paw gripped at his sheathed sword.
The Lord Regent smiled over at him, fangs gleaming. “Is your blade enchanted to cut dragon scale?”
“It is enchanted.” Benito bared his teeth back. “Perhaps we could find out.”
“Please relay that I would like to speak with her before she leaves,” Grover deescalated. He held out a claw. “This can be discussed at another time.”
“The Princess is leaving immediately,” Spike retorted. The arm within the jacket shifted, clutching something tighter in his pocket. He lifted his other arm, but raised it higher than the offered claw.
The dragon hammered on the door, six knocks then four then five; golden magic sparked around the impacts and danced off the scales of his claw. He shook his talons afterward with a muted grimace.
“Spike!?” a voice called out through the door, projected with force through the wood and magic. “What’s up!?”
“Visitor. Kaiser Grover VI.”
The glow on the door faded. The Lord Regent stepped to the side and jerked his head to the inert wood. “Go in. Wards afterwards.”
Benito advanced to open the door.
“Not you,” the Lord Regent rumbled. “You stay.”
Benito growled and the hackles of his fur raised around his popped collar. “I am no pup, dragon.”
“You a general?” the dragon asked languidly.
“I am Lord Commander of the Barkginian Guard.”
“Like Lord Commander Lacin and the Queen’s Guard?” A ridged eyebrow raised in mock admonishment. “Call yourself a general instead.”
“Remain, Benito,” Grover ordered in Herzlander. He raised his left wing and eyed the holstered pistol. He tugged it free and checked the safety, then held it out broomhandle first to the taller dragon. “I wish to have it back.”
The Lord Regent smiled again. A lower fang was chipped slightly. “Keep it. It won’t do you any good.”
True enough. Grover holstered the pistol with a nod. “As you wish.” He placed a claw on the door and pushed it open after twisting the handle. The door caught slightly; the doorframe had also been gouged down and stripped of its fine filigree, and the fit was rough.
Grover entered the Princess’ room, claws and boots clicking on the floor. He turned around to shut the door, but the dragon reached a massive claw in and pulled it shut effortlessly with a thud. The griffon had enough time to see Benito’s forlorn muzzle before it vanished.
He suppressed a laugh. I am sorry, friend; I have made you go gray too early. The dog’s fur had been a chocolate brown when he was young. Every year, the gray marched across Benito’s muzzle more and more.
Grover turned back to the room, then blinked. It was empty.
Well, that was not quite true. There was a mattress on the floor with a set of sheets and a pillow, but no bedframe. A dresser with open, empty drawers sat across from it. A saddlebag laid strewn on the floor with a half-folded jumpsuit sticking out of one of the bags.
Two guards looked in from the balcony, peering through the glass windows. The pegasi watched Grover warily, even slightly soggy from the constant rain. He shuffled his claws and avoided looking at the open bathroom door; steam wafted around the ceiling.
Flurry Heart’s purple uniform was half-folded atop the dresser with her Imperial Snowflake cap atop it. A pair of white boots and a pair of black boots sat beside the open bathroom door. There was a flash and chime from inside the bathroom, but Grover did not advance to look inside. He coughed loudly.
“I’m decent!” Flurry called out. “What’s up? You wanted to talk?”
Another flash and the door glowed behind Grover. The windows on the balcony door abruptly became opaque and blocked the guards from view. They must not be able to see in as well. The golden magic crackled around the windowpanes.
Grover crossed to the small nightstand beside the mattress, avoiding the bathroom. He tilted his head at a lumpy stuffed snail wearing her old tiara. It was too large for the snail and rested closer to the shell than its head. Beside it, something that the griffon could only assume was an unfinished timepiece laid with open gears facing the ceiling.
“Behold: Whammy, second of his name,” a voice said behind him.
Grover risked looking over a wing. The Princess was in her black, padded jumpsuit and jeweled crystal crown. Her pink fur was pristine for once, feathers freshly preened and bare hooves filed and lacquered.
“I did not know you had two jumpsuits,” Grover offered. He looked to her saddlebags.
“Need ‘em,” Flurry shrugged a wing. “They’re comfortable and quick.”
“I offered to wait.”
“I was done in there anyway,” Flurry deflected. “Not gonna be able to shower down south, unless I borrow a raincloud every few weeks.”
Grover sniffed. His nose was hardly even half as good as a pony’s, but the Princess did not smell of any scented soap. She still smelled like gunpowder and ash; it seemed etched into her light pink fur. “Are you bringing your armor?”
“Shipping it overland,” Flurry responded. “Train already left. I’m teleporting to catch it. Gonna hop off the balcony in a couple minutes.”
“Is that wise?” Grover asked with a frown. “It is overly reckless to fly without an escort.”
“And marching in a procession to the train station isn’t?” Flurry snorted. “This way’s unpredictable. Trust me, you want unpredictable to throw VOPS.” A wing jabbed at the bathroom. “I leave the shower and bathroom door open and take my meals whenever I decide to. Random stuff every day, all cans or open sources.”
“I have taste-testers.”
Flurry raised a brow. “Same time and same stuff every day?”
Grover flushed. His head feathers flexed under the Reichstone. “My dogs are thorough.”
“Start eating canned food,” Flurry advised. “Prepare it yourself.” She considered her wording. “Actually, don’t do that because they can poison the lids or utensils. Have your dogs do it.”
“We are taking adequate precautions.”
“I’m going to tell my Royal Advisor to sneak a scrap of paper saying ‘Gotcha!’ into your food.” Flurry rolled her eyes. “We’ll find out.”
“Just so,” Grover agreed. He turned back to the snail. “Where is Whammy the First and the Great?”
“Left behind in the Crystal City when we evacuated,” Flurry answered. “I think mom had it when she died.”
Grover paused. “I am sorry.”
Hooves clopped against a bare tile floor behind him. “It’s fine,” the Princess said far too lightly to be genuine. “What did you want to talk about earlier?”
“Are the wards blocking sound?”
“Yep.”
“The River Federation has offered no response or comment to your coronation,” Grover began. “That does not mean there will not be one. My spy network is hampered by Arclight and the Office of Harmonic Services.”
Flurry Heart pressed her lips together and looked around the barren room. Muzzles were far more expressive than beaks, and ponies tended to wear their emotions on their muzzles like cutie marks. “Celestia hasn’t said anything?”
“Not for some time.”
She hummed noncommittally. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Celestia was Diarch before you. Many would say she still is. Luna was only Princess because her sister proclaimed her as such.”
“Is the River Federation capable of fighting across the entire Griffonian Reich then crossing the ocean to install her?” the alicorn nickered with a roll of her icy eyes. "That is quite a war to wage for one pony."
“They do not have to do that. All they have to do is put out an interview.”
“She’s there and I’m here.” The alicorn paced back to the bathroom door. There was a puddle of water on the floor from the bathtub and showerheads. True to what she claimed, she had apparently left the curtains and door open the entire time.
“She lived in a fine gold castle with fine white marble while ponies bled and died in mud,” Flurry continued in a cooler voice. “She can whinny on a radio all she wants. Ponies won’t listen.”
Grover sighed. “Some will.”
“I’ll deal with them. I had to deal with the ELF trying to blow up the Castle of the Two Sisters before letting you have it.”
Grover cocked his head. “It’s a ruin.”
“You are a filthy, diseased, savage griffon,” the Princess claimed with a raised muzzle. She flared her wings out, touching the wingtips to the high ceiling. “This is Equestria, the land of ponies. Begone to your hovels and stab each other over gold.”
“Go back to your fields and frolic,” Grover retorted. “Sing merry songs and see if that stops the panzers racing across your flowers.”
The alicorn’s laugh caught in her throat and she sneezed. She brushed a wing across her muzzle. “What do griffons say about Riverlanders?”
“They live on the wrong continent,” Grover shrugged a claw. “Far more interesting what Riverlanders say about Equestrians. You are all strange, absurd nudists sheltering under the wings of alicorns. No alicorn ever emerged from the Riverlands. The River Empire from Lake City collapsed after two centuries.”
“My mother was the first alicorn to rule the Crystal Empire,” Flurry shrugged. “It lasted from the Windigos to Sombra. Ponies don’t need alicorns.”
“That sounds concerningly like a plan to abdicate.”
Flurry raised a hoof to her eye then jabbed it in his direction. “Funny. An Equestrian Parliament would collapse quicker than a Griffonian one. Can you imagine the opposing parties singing their policies?”
Grover rolled his eyes. “There are Aquileian musicals of that nature.”
“Ponies,” Flurry waved a wing. “The ponies corrupted Aquileia.”
“They were the staunchest monarchist supporters the Discrets had.”
“Did that translate to support for the Reich?”
“No.” Grover lashed the bob of his tail. “The Discrets had a tendency to blame every unpopular decision on my ancestors to galvanize regional support. And Grover the Great’s conquest was bloody, as was Grover II’s retaliation to the rebellion. The ponies of the borderlands are the descendants of the knightly campaigns of the Great Crusade. They have no great love for me either.” His stare turned wry. “Unlike your griffons, the ponies-in-all-but-name.”
Flurry grimaced. “Sorry.” Her ears pressed flat. “Thank you for confirming me as Diarch. And Twilight.”
“Of course. But words are wind. Grover the Great claimed the Idol of Boreas charged him to unite all griffons, but it was not until his armies marched from Griffonstone and conquered the Herzland that his claims were taken seriously.”
Flurry exhaled. “South, then west.”
“North,” Grover corrected. “That was one of my concerns. Are you capable of lowering the shield?”
The alicorn hesitated. “It’s blocking supply lines, sure, but don’t you want a narrower front line?”
“Not after we take the south,” Grover answered. “I can leave the northern front to your Imperials if they are capable of it. My mountaineer divisions are at the border to Wittenland.”
“My yaks and crystal ponies can deal with it,” Flurry dismissed. She bit her lip and looked to the side. “I can try it.”
“If it is not an absolute certainty do not attempt it. I would prefer you alive.”
“Aw, thanks.” The alicorn raised a hoof to her muzzle and blinked rapidly. “That level of complement warms my heart.”
Grover clacked his beak and twisted back to the timepiece on the nightstand. He unhooked his glasses to squint at it closer. The gears had crystals shaped like the sun and moon, surrounded by a larger star. It hung on a chain. Too unwieldy to be a clock. “Was this the device you spoke of when you haunted me?”
“That is a strange way to say I wished you happy birthday. Yes.”
Grover raised a claw. “May I?”
“Sure. You wind it counter-clockwise.” Hooves clopped on tile as she approached behind him, and a horned shadow eclipsed his on the wall. Grover picked up the purple case and wound the gears with a single talon. He only did it once before releasing the springs.
The gears clicked, barely audible. The sun and moon rotated around the purple star. Grover turned it over in his claw. “It is not enchanted. Nothing known to griffons at the very least.”
“I’ve seen wind-up toy soldiers,” Flurry said over his right wing. “And pocket watches.”
Grover set it back on the table. “I would assume it was meant for your aunt. Or her project.”
“It would be like Aunt Twilight to make a giant, useless pocket watch,” Flurry laughed. “Maybe she wanted a mobile version of that hourglass?”
“Perhaps,” Grover offered. “Why do you have it?”
“Spike gave it to me. He’s waiting around outside?”
“Yes. Apologies if you had something important to discuss.”
“If it was important he would have made you wait,” Flurry dismissed. “Probably just a final check before I leave. He’s staying in Canterlot. He’ll be a far better administrator than me.”
“You could stay.” Why did I say that? Of course she won’t stay. Grover’s voice cracked and he looked askance. The Reichstone shifted.
“I’ll never be the Princess of Paperwork,” Flurry snorted. “And I’m not one to sit in a castle. My Crystal Heart is on fire, and fire spreads.”
“Just so,” Grover agreed. “I am remaining here to manage the front. The Changeling Heer is stalling.”
Thunder rumbled outside, muffled by the wards. The alicorn’s ears flicked above her muzzle, light pink triangles that stuck out tall above her buzzed mane. “Archmage Shimmer and Tempest will work on getting support units up to the front.”
“The Storm King’s Right Hoof?” Grover said mirthlessly.
“My aunt gave her a chance,” Flurry replied. “It had to be for a reason.”
“Your aunt saw the best in everyone, even if they did not deserve it.”
“If everyone got what they deserved this world would be far emptier.” Flurry looked at the covered balcony. “How're the prison camps in Hayston?”
“Wet, I suspect,” Grover deadpanned. “My engineers are expanding them and warehouses are stocked with condensed love potions. They will live, but they will never be comfortable. I need Las Pegasus intact, airfields and dockyards. If we can cut-off their overland escape and across the sea to Olenia, they’ll surrender or starve.”
“They can drain the ponies of the city,” Flurry whickered. “They tried that in Rainbow Falls and I shelled the city to the ground.”
Grover hummed. “You are no longer a foreign, teenage filly. There is a crater lake to the west. How many truly love Queen Chrysalis enough to die for her, soldier and civilian alike?”
“You think it would be easier if I wasn’t down there?”
I could tell her yes. Grover's cheeks pulled into a frown. “No,” the griffon said aloud. “Your presence might incentivize them to accept my offer of surrender.”
“I’ll look sufficiently like Maar’s Daughter,” Flurry promised sardonically. “Get some dirt in my wings again and maybe a nosebleed.”
“Your bloodshot eyes are harrowing,” Grover provided. “The veins clash with the blue of your pupils.”
Flurry widened her eyes. She still had bags under them, but the light, glacial pupils were surrounded by pure white. “I’ll work on that. Am I supposed to take orders from General Mudbeak?”
“He declined your offer of teleporting down to the front. He has already departed.”
Flurry scrunched her muzzle. “I don’t recall offering that.”
“I made the offer in your stead,” Grover quipped. He rolled his eyes. “Mudbeak is a veteran of the Griffonian Revolution and experienced, but old. He is addicted to morphine.”
“You really brought your best to Equus,” Flurry snorted.
“Field Marshal Othmar is holding the River Federation’s border with the newer commanders under him. I chose experience for Equus over untested griffons.” Grover clacked his beak. “As Princess, you are technically in command of all your armed forces.”
“The savages for a savage Princess?” Flurry echoed. Her horn flashed and she rolled up the sleeve of her jumpsuit. Grover glanced down at the swirling scar. “I’ll get them to play nice.”
“I apologize if that remark was too-”
Flurry stuck her tongue out. “Fuck off, nerdbird. I grew up in the Nova Griffonian frontier. You gotta work way harder to offend me. Did you see everyone looking at each other?” The alicorn’s eyes shifted around with wide, exaggerated sweeps. “All my ponies in that room knew about the deal and they still locked their knees like little fillies at their first dance.”
“Yes,” Grover admitted. Perhaps distance between us would be preferable for a time. “We can announce the marriage at the war’s conclusion.”
“Sounds good,” Flurry agreed casually. She raised a hoof and posed with wings extended. “We’ll declare it atop Chrysalis’ corpse. The Empire and the Reich bound in holy matrimony.”
“Perhaps not immediately,” Grover rolled his eyes. “I would like to get my army back to the River Federation before an announcement of that caliber. I doubt they will attack after we defeat the Hegemony, but the further my army moves west, the more tempting a target we must appear.”
“Thestrals fight dirty,” Flurry offered. “This’ll be quick.” Her horn glowed and her mostly empty saddlebags flumped on the mattress. “I have to leave. Was there anything else?”
“Good luck,” Grover said after a pause.
“Don’t wish Maar’s Daughter good luck, Kaiser ‘Blessed by Boreas,’” Flurry nickered. “I don’t even believe in that stuff and I still wouldn’t risk it.”
“You don’t believe in Harmony?”
“Harmony is a tree in an old cave as the world burns,” Flurry retorted. She rammed the jumpsuit deeper into one of the bags. “It’s useless jewels affixed to cheap purple crystal.” Her crown went into the bag as well. The six multi-colored jewels caught the light, but did not shine or sparkle before disappearing into the satchel.
“I’ll be Kind and Generous and Loyal and Honest and Laugh all I can, but I am not clinging to that as we march towards a cliff. Half my ponies cannot fly away with me when we reach the edge.” A comb levitated over from the bathroom, but Flurry looked over a wing back to her lack of tail and jumpsuit before discarding it onto the mattress.
“I have heard rumors you agreed to enact a vote post-war,” Grover revealed. He leaned against the wall and removed the Reichstone, cracking his neck. An eye rolled to Whammy and the oversized tiara. I understand your pain.
“I'm sure Thorax has a list of gossipers from my meetings. If ponies want a parliament, I’ll give them a parliament,” Flurry snorted. “And when that parliament fails, I’ll march in and disband it at the point of my horn.” The saddlebags levitated above her horn and landed on her back. She cinched them tight to her lean barrel.
“I do not have that luxury,” Grover stated bluntly. A wing fluttered.
Flurry bit her lip and her head lowered. “I get why you did it,” she said in a softer voice. “Maybe if you signed everything over things would have worked out…or maybe every griffon tears each other apart.”
“Feathisia has a constitution for their Grand Duke,” the Kaiser rolled his eyes. “Or it did. The government collapsed just before the civil war and no amount of paper stopped Gerlach from siding with Gabriela.”
“Am I going to meet her?” Flurry asked. “She’s part of your regency council?”
“You are nearly the same shade of pink,” Grover clarified. “I am certain she will despise you. Gabriela Eagleclaw has always believed in the duty and poise of the noble bloodlines.”
“I agree with half that statement,” the alicorn said. “I’d like to meet your aunt. You passed by Princess Twilight’s room on the way here. I’ll tell Spike to let you in if you’d like.”
Grover did not respond immediately and cleared his throat. “I will be sure to-”
“Never mind,” Flurry cut him off. Her eyes pinched. “Not like she’d have anything to say. Thank you for confirming her as Princess.” Her horn glowed again and the puddle in the bathroom turned to steam with a zap.
Grover held the Reichstone in his claws and pushed himself off the wall with a wing. “Princess, I would be honored to meet your aunt.” Should I say I would pray for her? Words are wind.
“Thank you,” Flurry smiled. It was subdued and creased lines at the corners of her muzzle. It wasn’t the beaming, forced smile or rictus grin she gave when teasing, but a smile in defiance of the world dragging her towards a frown.
“Good luck, Flurry.”
“Have fun in my castle,” she returned. “Don’t burn it down while I’m gone. That’s my job.” Her horn glowed and the wards faded. Grover put the Reichstone back on and fixed a cufflink.
With a flash of her horn, the Princess opened the door for Grover. He nodded a final time before turning back to the hallway. Benito and Spike faced each other, leaning against opposite walls with their arms crossed over their coats.
“The dogs of Equus aren’t much to speak of,” the Lord Regent rumbled.
“We do not claim those Diamond Dogs,” Benito countered. “They are barbarians that have forgotten everything, cast out from Kiri’s Halls long ago.”
“Well,” the dragon drawled, “you are a credit to your race here on Equus. Some of the Princesses’ courtiers used to tell me that when Twilight wasn’t around.”
“Whatever griffon may crow about us, they dare not say it to our muzzles. Was your leash so tight they did not fear the fire?”
“I was barely past their knees until I had a growth spurt.”
Benito scoffed. “What do they say now?”
“Nothing,” the Lord Regent answered grimly. “Most are long dead.”
Grover exited the room.
“What’s up, Spike?” Flurry called out behind him.
The dragon turned an eye down to Grover, then back to Benito. “It’s not important,” he said, twisting his muzzle over a folded wing. “It can wait until you return. Stay safe. Win and come back to us, Princess.”
“Thank you, Spike.” The door shut with a flash of magic, and the ancient wood glowed again as she replaced the wards.
“You are not afraid of leaving her unguarded?” Benito asked. “Her magic muffles sound.”
“Thorax trained her well,” the dragon said dismissively. A claw drifted back into his coat pocket. He pinched his eyelids. “She’s more careful than she seems to be.”
“Have a good day, Lord Regent,” the Kaiser stated. “We should speak more over the coming weeks and coordinate the reconstruction of Equestria.” The griffon shifted. A large purple claw grabbed his shoulder. Benito pushed himself off the wall with a raised tail.
“You should have dinner with us sometime, Kaiser,” the Lord Regent offered. “She’s family, after all. My last family. That’s important to a dragon.”
Grover felt the claw tighten through his coat. His shoulder popped.
“The old stereotype is that dragons hoard gold like griffons, but there’s a lot of other things we might find more important,” the Lord Regent continued casually. “We should talk since you are remaining in Canterlot.”
“Just so,” Grover agreed in Herzlander. He gave Benito a severe glare when the dog moved to unsheathe his sword. He left his paw at his hip. “The Princess made a similar suggestion in Nova Griffonia. It was her idea.”
“She did,” the Lord Regent nodded. “She has more of her aunt and mother in her than she will ever accept, no matter how much we tell her. I watched her hold onto the Crystal Heart as…” the dragon trailed off. Grover felt the claw release his shoulder.
“She hurts herself enough. Don’t hurt her,” the dragon said softly. “Or I will kill you.”
Benito growled. His paw gripped the sword’s hilt tighter.
“I will ram that toy sword through your head while my other claw tears out your stomach,” the dragon said to the dog just as softly.
Grover took a deep breath. “I understand,” the griffon said lightly in Equestrian. “Fare thee well, Lord Regent. Come, Benito.” He caught his wording. “Let us depart,” he restated.
Benito sighed and backed away from the dragon, paw on his sword instead of at his holster. The sword would be a better option. The blade’s enchantment could pierce dragon scale.
“Wait.” Spike pushed himself off the wall with flared wings. A claw slowly withdrew from his coat pocket, holding something inside. Grover pushed his glasses up his beak.
The dragon held up a surprisingly small scroll bound by a single gold string. His eyes searched it, gripping it tightly in a large palm and crinkling the parchment. “Kaiser Grover?”
“Lord Regent?” Grover responded after a deep breath through his nostrils.
Green slit eyes did not look up from the scroll. "Is she happy?"
Grover thought about it. She smiled as he left. “Yes.”
The dragon exhaled a small blast of flame over his claw, blackening the cuff of his purple sleeve. The golden string wrapped around a talon, popping and sparking with magic as it burned last. It crumbled into ash as he cut off the small stream of red and yellow flames by pursing his lips. Otherwise, his expression had not changed.
“Good.” The dragon brushed his ashen claw against his overcoat and turned around in the hallway. A purple spade flicked under the coattails. “She deserves to be happy,” he said over a folded wing. He stalked away in the opposite direction, and the pony guards advanced down the hall to resume their posts.
Grover registered his knights waiting at the other intersection. He paused at another ancient door in the hallway as he walked towards them. The Princess of the Moon’s bedroom had been gutted by the Changelings and used as a radio room. It remained that way now. He tilted his head to inspect the wood. Newer. Celestia must have renovated the castle before her sister returned. How did none of them put it together?
The Kaiser shook his head. Not as if we did. No griffon cared…or at least we pretended not to. His ancestors were supposed to be watching from the afterlife above, but Grover never heard a voice like Grover the Great. What did you think of Equestria and its sole Princess when you flew from Griffonstone?
“He is right about the dogs of Equus,” the Kaiser commented.
“I hate this continent,” Benito growled.
“I suspect it hates us back,” Grover retorted. “So be it.” The rain started again and hit the boarded-up windows of the hallway at a slant. None leaked. The stained-glass of Chrysalis' horde had been broken or shattered over the past weeks, and ponies worked in factories or trained rather than move to replace glass.
“If the dogs of Zebrica wish to be called Hyenas, then let the dogs of Equus be called Mongrels. We do not claim them, nor do we wish to.”
“What do the dogs of Diamond Mountain have to say about Celestia and Luna?” Grover asked aloud. “King Diamondshield?”
“Bronzehill dogs do not concern themselves with the whining of our cousins,” Benito scoffed. “They are pony princesses, not ours. They have never cared for us.”
“I have named her the rightful Princess of Equestria,” Grover whispered. “It may mean a war.”
Benito bared his teeth. “King Diamondshield will never fight to place a pony upon a throne. The Riverlands is not Equestria.”
“Chancellor River Swirl wants an Equestria of the East.”
“Equestria never practiced slavery. Half the Wittenlanders at our border still bear caste marks on their muzzles, and dogs still flee King Diamonshield’s generous mines. Nimbusia neighs about democracy from clouds while half their population sits under their shadow.”
“The Princess’ bat ponies might dispute your first statement.”
Bentio clamped his muzzle shut to suppress a bark of laughter. “Just so.” His muzzle furrowed. “The south will be bloody. Our legends still speak of our escape from Diamond Mountain, hounded across the swamps and fields to the battlefields of the Grand Crusade. I suspect the Princess’ bats are flying to a similar war.”
“Good,” Grover answered. “This is the Second Great Crusade. Let it eclipse the first.”
“If that is the case, then the Princess is Grover II and you are Guinevere waiting in Griffenheim.”
Grover made a crooning sound in the back of his beak. “Poor bait, Benito. Grover died.”
“Guinevere died first, my Kaiser,” Benito corrected.
“Of illness and age,” Grover said dismissively. He paused again. “I want a copy of my scheduled meals. I will make amendments tonight.”
“My Kaiser?”
“I am not dying of poison while an alicorn that bathes once a moon and charges into battle survives every brush with death.” He walked faster towards his knights. “I am certainly not dying while she fights with my army. My ancestors will screech at me for eternity.”
"Loudbark has drafted some precautions in case something occurs-"
"The Princess will not die," Grover interrupted. "Not out there. She is too stubborn."
"Many said the same about your ancestor."
Grover did not argue that point. Another clap of thunder rattled the boards. My ancestor was not an alicorn.
The jeep went airborne.
“I said left ya fuckin’ bludger!”
“Get stuffed mozzie!”
Flurry Heart held onto the rolls bars, resisting the urge to flare out her wings from the sudden lift. Her rear hooves left the bed; a momentary sensation of flight came over the alicorn.
Then, she crashed back down on all four wheels with the rest of the vehicle. Dirt kicked up into her muzzle, and the jeep tilted precariously as the driver wrenched the wheel in the opposite direction. The engine revved as the four-wheel drive tested the suspension.
“I can drive better with hooves, wanker!” Nightshade screeched at the driver.
“I’d like to see you try, fuckin’ wombat!” the orange griffon retorted. He flashed a talon at his front seat passenger. “Ya still clingin’ back there, Princess?”
“You’ll know when you lose me,” Flurry spat out. Her jaw rattled. She risked unhooking a foreleg from the bars to wipe dirt off her muzzle. The jeep gained speed again, and the driver shifted the stick in the center console to a new gear.
The driver was named “Chips,” a nickname from New Mareland that he refused to elaborate on, and Nightshade refused to explain. The griffon had grown up with the sizable minority in Equestria’s colony, part of the country enough to get the accent but separate enough from ponies to feel no obligation during the Great War.
Flurry had hoped Nightshade and Chips would find some common ground. She had brought as many of her New Mareland exiles as she possibly could to the south. And Nightshade was a minority of a minority. The bat ponies had little luck in New Mareland; it seemed sensible that they would get along.
“Slagger,” Nightshade spat. “Ya gonna damage the Princess’ fanny.” Her golden eyes peered at the map the bat pony had spread out on the dashboard, then flicked up. “Trail to the left.”
“Yer a crass little screechy fuckwit,” Chips answered. He turned a hard left. It was a cloudy night. Storm clouds to the north blocked the moonlight, and the mostly flat plains into the southwest were pitch-black. Flurry’s eyes glowed with the night vision spell for a moment, seeing shrubs, dunes, and dirt beyond the mountains behind her to the east.
She could also see the other dots racing ahead of her, jeeps and motorcycles with the headlights off. Her ears flicked above her short mane at the echoing roar of hundreds of engines. The alicorn turned her eyes up. Shapes flitted under the clouds, some large, some small, but both in arrowhead formations. The Thestrals flew slower naturally, but the Reichsarmee scouts were more bogged down by equipment.
Chips roared past a Griffonian motorcycle following the same dirt trail. The griffon was hunched down over the bars, goggles pressed tight to his beak and wings pressed to his side. One of the Tzinacatl straddled his back, dressed in a mix of a Changeling Heer uniform and salvaged ELF gear. She nudged his head left or right rather than shriek directions.
The light armor took the major roads out of the southeast, all two of them, and that left them open to ambushes. After the Reich defeated Wingbardy, the griffons of New Mareland were given a ‘generous’ offer of service for citizenship. The New Marelanders were trailblazers on Equus; they knew the language and locale better than the majority of the Reichsarmee.
“Ya still had a better pozzy than we did,” Nightshade muttered.
“That ain’t dinkum,” Chips replied.
No more. Flurry leaned her head on the rail. Her teeth rattled from the uneven trail. “Please,” she pleaded, “stop arguing.”
“Sorry for earbashin’,” Nightshade probably apologized. “No harm.”
“We ain’t whinging, Princess,” Chips probably agreed. “High horns were the real tall poppies.”
“Reckon!” Nightshade laughed.
Flurry was aware that her accent was unique. She was also aware that her New Marelanders toned down their accents when on Equus in general. She could understand several dialects of Aquileian, Herzlander, and had begun to learn some Yak.
This was nearly beyond her.
Another motorcycle roared past with a Tzinacatl stallion hanging on. His high-pitched, keening war shriek was barely audible over the engine. The griffoness driving did not appear to notice her passenger was having the time of his life.
The heavy, cumbersome battery sitting in the back of the bed jostled against Flurry's rear hooves. She stomped it back into place behind the netting and scowled down at the oversized goggles. The Reichsarmee had night-vision goggles that had been generously shipped over from Griffonia.
The goggles were trash, both by Flurry's estimation and the Thestrals. It made everything green and fuzzy, useless for spotting changelings, let alone attempting to drive. General Mudbeak had not argued the point, nor her idea to help spearhead the assault. He seemed eager to keep her as far away from him as physically possible.
“Daft plan chargin’ right at ‘em,” Chips commented. He adjusted the clutch again, then batted Nightshade’s wing aside when she pointed to the right. He turned the wheel one-clawed and the jeep spun on two tires for a moment before crashing down again. Flurry Heart cut the night vision spell.
“We don’t even have a proper pistol,” Chips continued.
“I am the weapon,” Flurry said above them. She was reared onto her hind legs, black jumpsuit blending into the night. Grease had been smeared across her pink wings and up her neck, blackening her fur. It required two cans of concealer to cover her feathers, and they felt disgusting.
“Does she just say shit like that all the time?” Chips whispered to Nightshade. It was a poor whisper; the engine was too loud in the open jeep, and Flurry's ears were too sensitive.
“Yes,” Nightshade keened. “Straight ahead. They haven’t mined this strip yet.”
The Changeling Heer knew they were being encircled in the south. They had fallen back totally disorganized from Appleloosa at first, but some armor and rear guards were left behind. Grover had assumed they would ignite the oil wells and tear up the roads.
And they had. Black smoke clouds dotted the western horizon, even at night. But there weren’t many of them. The Appleloosan Protectorate was overstretched; the garrison pulled to reinforce the Battle of the Celestial Plain, and whatever remained was ordered to do too much with too little. Most were running towards Las Pegasus, or to Rockville to escape and breakout.
The jeep raced across a nearly barren, rough plain. It was one of hundreds moving tonight. Thestrals sat in every one of them, guiding an attack across terrain that most could only slowly navigate during the day. They were behind Hegemony lines now, sliding through an overstretched frontline that was rapidly collapsing by the day.
“Yeah, I spot it. Dead ahead.” Nightshade squinted. Flurry copied her squint, but without the spell she could see nothing but a dark horizon. “They’ll hear us before they see us,” the bat pony continued.
A flare shot up, bright and white, and suddenly the alicorn could see the guard towers and parked trucks shadowed under the arcing ball of fire. It was distant, far too distant, and sandbags with piled guns sat long before it. Another flare joined the first, fired high by a mortar. This one was blood red.
Nightshade screeched, high and loud. Chips winced. Flurry winced as well as the call was taken up and down the line of advancing vehicles, then echoed across the sky from the airborne soldiers. A wailing alarm answered on the westward horizon, and spotlights erupted on the four towers.
“Don’t lose speed!” Flurry belted out. Her horn glowed and her golden bubble surrounded the jeep. It was the only ‘headlight’ in the advance. The motorcycles that had been following broke off, griffons leaning hard away from the obvious target.
Chips, after a moment of hesitation, shifted the clutch again and hammered the accelerator. Nightshade scrunched the map to her chest and leaned back in the seat. Under the light of the shield, Flurry could see Chips’ claws were slick with sweat. He mumbled increasingly vulgar swears from the side of his beak, only a fraction Flurry understood.
Machine guns opened up, spraying tracers across the advance. Bullets sparked off the front of the shield. Flurry tensed her forelegs, waiting for the mortars or artillery, but none came. It’s all facing the roads; they aren’t prepared for this.
Fuel and shells needed to come from somewhere. Shining Armor taught her that. An army couldn’t fight with sharp sticks anymore; it needed food. It was a beast, always ravenous. Rations, bullets, shells, spare parts, fuel…Flurry Heart wasn’t her father and couldn’t organize all of it.
But she knew the round tankers ahead of her fueled a lot more than jeeps and motorcycles. And the ammo dump further west had spare shells. It would be nice to take it, but it would be nicer still to cut off an entire counterattack. Thestrals fought dirty; they drugged their enemies and slit their throats. The plan was mechanized, but still the same: cut the throat of the force waiting along the roads.
The gunfire striking the shield intensified as multiple machinegun nests opened up. Nightshade looked over her wing, bouncing in the leather seat. “Ya good!?”
Flurry yawned. Should’ve forced some coffee earlier.
“She’s good!” the bat pony said to the driver. “Hammer it in!”
Chips clenched his beak and drove straight at one of the forward machine gun nests. A rocket spun off the side of the bubble and careened into the dirt. He twisted right at the last moment and hopped one of the trenches leading to the guns.
Flurry heard a bullet spark metal below her. “Watch the trenches!” she screamed.
Chips squawked and gripped the wheel, spinning left around another pair of heavy machine guns. The alicorn did not have the time to catch a glimpse of the changelings crewing it, but they turned back to the rest of the charging forces and opened fire again.
Flack began to boom around the steel guard towers, firing too high up and ranged for proper bombers, not a light assault from airborne divisions. Even if it was ranged, there was only one vehicle actually charging the fuel dump. The airborne troops banked off to take other supply points.
A half-track pulled out onto the road, black paint shining red and blocking the gate. Flurry eyed the chain-link fence surrounding the entire enclosure. It barely qualified as protection. They rely on their emotion-sense too much. “Go through the fence!”
A changeling racked the machine gun in the half-track’s turret and poured fire onto the advancing jeep. Another rocket slammed across the front of the bubble from a guard tower, exploding into shrapnel and causing an electric wave of blue sparks to flicker across it. Flurry grunted.
Chips drove straight at the half-track down the widened road, then pivoted at the last moment to crash through the fence on the left. The griffon had to rely entirely on instinct; golden and blue sparks from gunfire filled the entire front of the bubble. The shots ricocheted back at the Changelings or spun off into the night. Another flare went up.
The cheap metal fence exploded upon contact with the shield, blasting out into fragments trailing small blue flames. A changeling shrieked high and loud, carrying a recoilless rifle strapped to his barrel and running towards the gate. He bounced off in a ball of blue fire with a crunch. The scream cut off.
The gunfire stopped inside the perimeter; none of the heavy guns were facing the right way. Flurry glanced up at one of the guard towers trying to redirect a spotlight after the jeep. The shield is the spotlight, dumbass. “Go to the center!” she shouted down to Chips. “You can slow down!”
The driver did not technically slow down, but he shifted the clutch again and drove around a line of a dozen round tanker trucks, all black and gray with Chrysalis’ trident crown on the side. The trucks apparently belonged to Das Königin und Kaiserin Chrysalis Erforschung und Extraktion Konzern. The name took up the entire side of the long tube tank.
“Can ya read that gobblesmack?” Chips screamed to Nightshade.
“Gonna be dust in a minute!” Nightshade screeched back.
A group of Changeling soldiers had gathered in the center of the camp, uniforms half-on and hastily loading weapons. A changeling mare was screaming at them, pointing a hoof one direction and a wing in another. Flurry couldn’t hear her commands over the alarm or gunfire.
It seems like her soldiers couldn’t either. One broke formation and ran after seeing the jeep round the trucks. Chips drove straight for the gathered changelings. They dodged, wings buzzing as changelings flung themselves out of the way with shrieks of panic. The guns they left behind hit the edge of the shield and the ammunition inside them cooked, spraying bullets in every direction.
Flurry Heart straightened, using the rail for balance on the bed of the jeep. Her wings fluffed as best they could with the camouflage tar sticking to them. “Cut the engine.”
Chips shifted the jeep into park and flicked the key off. He glanced around at the shield, watching blue electric sparks begin to dance. Flurry exhaled and her horn glowed brighter.
The mare stood up, brushing dry dirt off her uniform. Her eyes widened at the alicorn. “Shoot!” she screamed in Herzlander. “Shoot! Get the trucks out! Shoot! Open fire!”
A few of the soldiers obeyed, half only wearing pants or unbuttoned jackets. A bullet pinged off high from a guard tower after one of the spotlights centered on the jeep. Another joined it with more bullets. But two guard towers remained pointed in the wrong direction, and a falling flare revealed they were empty. A heavy machine gun with a full ammo belt dangled on its stand.
The shield flexed. Flurry looked down, eyeing the surrounding soldiers. There were less of them now. A young stallion with short fangs flung his submachine gun down and fled, kicking off unbuttoned pants. A green flare surrounded him and a pegasus hopped the fence, trying to fly west. Flurry guessed maybe two hundred total were in range.
“Close your eyes,” Flurry stated over the roar of gunfire. Another flare went up over the base. One of the tanker trucks started, headlights illuminating the golden bubble, but the half-track had backed up through the gate and tried to turn around. The machine gunner and driver screamed insults at each other.
Scattered gunfire pinged off the bubble, ricocheting back into trucks or tents. One of the fuel trucks was leaking near the first row. There were larger stationary towers behind the living quarters. One large, rectangular tent was clearly a mess hall. A changeling fired at Flurry from the opening, just with a rifle.
Why? She was half-tempted to just drop the shield and ask.
“Princess!” Nightshade shouted. “Are we safe under this?”
“I tested it earlier,” Flurry answered. “Keep your head down. It might cook the engine.”
General Mudbeak had not been happy to lose his command jeep, but the griffon had offered whatever his was hers. He’s not even close to the front; he doesn’t need one. Flurry had lost direct radio communication two hours ago.
A bullet struck the shield just in front of Chips. He patted the wheel before lowering his beak and tucking his claws over his head feathers. “Easy, girl. Ya can take the alicorn.”
The shield flexed a final time.
“Wait!” a voice cried in Equestrian.
Flurry looked down to her right.
The mare approached, black uniform partially unbuttoned. She knocked her hat off with her horn. “Wait!” she repeated. “We surrender!”
Another bullet from a guard tower pinged off the shield. It nearly struck the mare. She closed to less than a hoof away from rolling magic. The static in the air bubbled and burned at her precious black uniform. “Wait!”
Behind her, another changeling vanished into green fire and tried to make a run for it across the plains. I’ll need to cast the detection spell all night. Push Caballeron’s former mercenaries up to sweep through after the advance.
“S-stop shooting!” the changeling ordered, but her voice was lost under the alarm and machine gun nests outside. The half-track opened up again, shooting at something in the wrong direction. The changeling in the open flap to the mess hall shoved another clip into an outdated bolt-action rifle, then aimed at the shield again.
Flurry looked back to the mare just as the bullet pinged off the bubble. The shot would have hit her head. Her muzzle scrunched.
The mare swallowed, fangs gleaming in the flare light. “Wait…”
She reminded the alicorn of the mother hiding in the floorboards of her grandparent’s house. Just a mare that drove the fuel trucks. One tanker backed up over the fence, but tires caught in the barbed wire atop it. Wheels spun as it tried to go around the half-track.
The mare looked up at her, blue eyes wide. Do you have a family, too?
“Fuck you,” Nightshade spat at the changeling. “For Echo. Burn.”
The shield popped with the sound of a soap bubble.
It was not a powerful blast, just enough to clear the area. The truck attempting to escape was lifted into the sky by the force, burning blue and bright before exploding in a hail of metal. The other trucks exploded as they were atomized by the shockwave in the time it took to blink. The alarm and all gunfire stopped abruptly as everything simply disappeared.
Flurry blinked and looked down to Nightshade. The bat pony gazed up at her, then nodded resolutely. She pulled a pencil from a pocket and scratched off the supply point on her map. Four more were circled, roughly in a line.
Chips lifted his head. A fleck of ash landed on his beak. “One big barbie.”
“You weren’t at the Duskwood,” Nightshade whickered.
A single machine gun nest escaped the blast. The sandbag fort was covered in blue flames from scattered oil. One of the jeeps stopped, and the gunner in the turret sprayed bullets in liberally. She checked with the bat pony in the passenger seat, who lifted a hoof and pumped it with a victory yell.
The vehicle revved and went around the slightly depressed crater. One motorcycle hit the crater directly with a loud scree of approval from the Tzinacatl hanging on. The tribal flapped her painted wings as they went airborne. It landed with a skid and set off again; the mare still cackling in her stolen Queen's Guard helmet.
The night was quiet again, but there were flashes of light on the westward horizon. We’re losing the element of surprise. “Let’s go,” Flurry rapped her hoof on the roll bar.
“Northwest,” Nightshade mumbled. “Ammo dump. There’s a trail.”
The engine turned over once before seizing back to life. Chips grimaced. “What happens if the old girl gives up the ghost?”
“I get another. Lucky you.”
“I’d rather have a shield than not have it, Princess,” Chips deferred. “Let’s cook some bugs.” He flicked on the windshield wiper and switched gears. The jeep’s tires squealed on the compacted dirt before edging out of the crater and turning northwest.
“Nightshade,” Flurry said absently. The bat pony twisted around in the seat, one hoof on the dashboard as the jeep bounced. “Is my nose bleeding?”
“No, Princess.”
“Good. Let me know when it starts to bleed.” The alicorn gazed down at the map, tracing the marked points to Appleloosa. Ash stuck to the jeweled crown atop her head as the jeep rejoined the assault. Few vehicles followed it northwest as the last flares snuffed out.
Chips rolled the jeep to a sputtering stop. The engine faded with a quiet whine of gears and motors. The griffon wiped sweat off his head with the back of a claw. He had shucked off his gray Reichsarmee jacket for a sleeveless white undershirt. Nightshade called it a ‘singlet’ while Chips had groused that Herzlanders called it a ‘wife-beater.’
The bat pony bumped her sunglasses back against her eyes. Leathery wings twitched against the hot wind blowing across the plain. Inky black smoke clouds stretched across the horizon below the noonday sun. Chips and Nightshade slumped against the dashboard, too exhausted to be terrified at the sight ahead of them.
Flurry Heart took a swig from her canteen and poured the rest on her head, grease paint smearing off and mixing with the nosebleed. She climbed off the back of the jeep with fluttering wings, hopping to the scorched ground. Her hooves crunched on burnt brush grass.
The alicorn stalked ahead, ears forward at the roar of fire coming from the burning oil well. She trotted around the mangled remains of a half-track; three great gouges rent the metal along the side, tearing through thick steel before slamming the entire vehicle into a glorified pancake.
Tzinacatl scouts dragged the dead from other crushed and burnt vehicles, stripping them of anything useful. The Changelings were thrown into disorganized heaps afterwards. One mare replaced her overcoat with less-damaged one as Flurry passed, sheltering her wings from the sun. She clicked her tongue and screeched high, and the rest of her warband stopped looting the dead long enough to bow.
Flurry raised her wings up in a quick gesture. Paint flew from her feathers, running in the heat. The Thestrals resumed their scavenging while Reichsarmee squads stayed back, guns raised and facing ahead. The griffons were nervous; Flurry deviated towards a griffoness with a radio pack and her small squad. They sheltered behind an upside down fuel truck. The tanker was ripped open, but it had been empty. The alicorn stopped to inspect the smashed-in cab, then walked around to the griffoness.
“Do we have radio range with command?” Flurry asked in Herzlander.
The griffoness jumped at being addressed. Her helmet fell off, unbalanced by the headset she pressed a claw against. The male griffon peaking around the back of the tube turned around; his beak mixed further terror and relief at seeing the alicorn present.
“S-signal is s-spotty, Princess,” the griffoness stuttered. “W-we need to hold-”
“Tell Mudbeak I’m talking with them,” Flurry dismissed. “Get everyone moving.”
The griffoness opened her mouth, but a distant roar silenced her. She pulled the straps of the backpack over and made a show of looking busy. Flurry rounded the griffon crouching behind the end of the truck. His carbine was pointed far too high.
Flurry continued forward towards the flaming oil well. The fire burned high and bright, and the smoke almost obscured the massive shapes behind it. To the north, several buildings and pipelines funneled out from other derricks, but this was the only one aflame. Smaller shapes waited around the buildings, lined up and watching.
She stepped around a dead changeling; her muzzle scrunched at the smell of fried chitin. She moved around another that had crawled from a destroyed truck before being crushed flat into the ground. The fire roaring from the oil well was almost deafening. The alicorn marched towards it. Her horn glowed.
A shape descended from the black smoke cloud, unbothered by the choking, poisonous fumes. It walked forward, backlit by the burning well. After a moment, the figure paused and awaited the approaching alicorn.
Dragon Lord Ember slammed her staff into the ground, wings flared behind her burnished steel armor. The blue dragon was twice the height of a pony, but slim. Her horned helmet shadowed red pupils. She pulled the helmet off and tucked it under an arm, leaving the Bloodstone Scepter embedded in the charred ground. The gem flashed and pulsed under the pillar of fire.
“Princess,” the Dragon Lord declared. She puffed her chest out and extended her wings. The dragoness exhaled a cloud of gray smoke.
Flurry Heart, clad in jumpsuit and melting greasepaint, trotted past her to the burning oil well. The glow around her horn intensified. She scowled as a golden shield formed around the column of fire and contracted. The shield turned opaque as the magic hardened, and the oil well snuffed out like a candle as the flames withered.
The alicorn snorted blood into the dirt, then gracelessly wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve. Eyes wandered up to the elder dragon laying ahead of her. A pair of massive wings flapped and dispersed the lingering smoke. The dragon stared down a brown-scaled snout at the alicorn.
Flurry twisted her head back over a wing. “You’re late, Lord Ember.”
The Dragon Lord had turned around, reclaiming her Bloodstone Scepter. Her eyes narrowed, but her tail curled inwards to one of her armored legs. The elder dragon ahead of Flurry snorted, kicking up a plume of smoke and dust.
“But,” Flurry continued, “better late than never, I suppose.” The alicorn trotted away from the smoldering well, following a broken pipeline to the wooden buildings. The Equestrian south still used brick and mortar, and whatever infrastructure the Appleloosan Protectorate built after the war remained in that style.
The alicorn inspected the destroyed pipeline. Shit, we’ll need to fix this quick. As far as she knew, the armored core was pushing down the north road without difficulty now. Unexpected dragons will do that.
More dragons, smaller ones, stood on the flat wooden rooftops of the squat buildings ahead. All of them wore a mix of steel armor banded across their scales, but none had weapons. As Flurry closed the distance, it was obvious the plates were nearly as pockmarked as her own armor had been after the battle.
The alicorn looked back over her withers. The Dragon Lord had followed her; Ember’s armor was dented and covered in ash. She wore full plate, including tail protection and bracers just below her feet and claws. The Bloodstone Scepter had been slung between her wings; one wing had a bullet hole through the membrane and a faded smear of blood trailing to the edge.
“You fought?” Flurry asked.
“Yes,” Ember replied after a pause. “We saw the flashes last night.”
“From the Dragon Isles?” Flurry raised a brow. “Quite the distance.”
“I had fliers watching the buildup,” Ember answered. “And the bugs weren’t watching the coast. We’ve been striking-”
“We needed some of the supply points intact,” Flurry interrupted. She stopped and fully turned around, using the metal pipeline to block the eyes of nearby dragons. The two royals were halfway to the buildings. “Where have you been attacking?”
The Dragon Lord’s lips curled and her fangs gleamed. “Enough, whelp. You made your little point.”
Flurry tossed her head and shook her pointed horn. “I’m not the one that only decided to join once a winner was obvious…nor did I decide to try and make a flashy entrance, Dragon Lord.”
Ember growled, a deep, rumbling soprano despite her scratchy voice. “My father died because of Celestia’s stupidity. We lost dozens of dragons to anti-air trying to hold back. Spike asked me to send more dragons to a doomed war.”
A dusty pamphlet was stuck to the pipeline by the wind blowing across the flat grass and dry brush. Flurry could make out Twilight Sparkle’s prone form in her bed. Would the ELF have used dragons in Canterlot?
She did not need to think long. The alicorn looked to Ember’s bloody gauntlets. She had clearly fought in close combat, soaking small arms fire through the sheer protection of dragon scale under thick armor.
Flurry sighed. “I’m sorry, it’s been a long night. We have strategic targets we need to take, and this is delaying the advance.”
Ember snorted a plume of smoke from a blue snout. “Don’t bother. We just carved through everything between here and Appleloosa in one night. The bugs are pulling everything back.”
Flurry grimaced at the smoke clouds to the west. “I’m hesitant to ask dragons to help firefighting, but I need those oil wells operational.”
Ember flicked a claw, discolored with blood and black oil. She scraped it along the pipe and her talons ignited. The dragoness shook her claw out after a few seconds. She rolled her eyes. “We got it. Some of the elders can plug them. Starve the fire of breath.”
“Oxygen,” Flurry corrected.
Ember’s red eyes gave her a dark look. “Right.”
Flurry waved her wing ahead and let the Dragon Lord lead the rest of the way to the buildings. Her armored tail flicked and Ember recovered some of her earlier swagger. “Bugs didn’t know what hit them,” she said loudly as they approached. “Hit a few convoys trying to race back to Appleloosa, cut some off.”
A black pair of pants was covered in dust underneath the pipeline. Flurry turned her head to inspect the discarded uniform. She hummed. “Tzinacatl!”
Ember flinched from the volume. A few keening war cries answered the Princess. “Move up! Check the oil field!” Flurry continued. She lowered her voice. “You take prisoners?”
“Pony workers,” Ember answered. “Rockfeller’s employees, I guess. This is all Rockfeller’s land. I guess Chrysalis’ land, but he merged his company into ‘Und Kaiserin Chrysalis’ or whatever the tankers say on the side.”
“It’s my land,” Flurry countered.
“I heard the speech,” Ember said dismissively. “The Isles have enough mountains to get radio reception…if we had radios.”
“You want some?” Flurry offered. “Brute strength only gets you so far.”
“Funny coming from you, alicorn,” the Dragon Lord chuckled. “Dad always said ponies and dragons believed in the same thing. Ponies were just smug about pretending otherwise.” She stopped. “I’m here because you’re here.”
“You made that obvious when you waited to meet me on a scorched battlefield,” Flurry deadpanned. “I’m sure you figured out by the flashes where I was heading.”
“Celestia told me how sorry she was about my father. Called him a good friend.” The dragoness’ tail swished. “Said a lot of things on her plush golden throne.”
“I am not Celestia.”
“That’s why we’re talking,” Ember rumbled. “You are not.”
The pair reached the first building. It was a simple, one-story wooden barracks. One of the walls was knocked out and the cots were overturned inside. It looked like something burst through the wall.
“Smolder!” Ember roared.
Another slightly shorter dragoness leapt off a nearby roof and landed before the Dragon Lord. She knelt, white horns speckled with blood beside a dented steel helmet. Her armor was scorched and battered.
“Up. Meet the Princess.”
The orange dragon stood and shouldered a heavy machine gun, having wrapped the ammo belt around her arm. Bullets dangled near her elbow. Her other claw pulled her helmet free. A purple frill sprung up while she tucked her helmet against her side.
“Princess,” Smolder nodded. “We never met. I attended Twilight’s school.”
“Gallus has talked about you,” Flurry replied. She eyed the heavy gun. The dragoness held it casually, deceptively strong. The two were about eye level. “He said you could shoot.”
“When I have ammo and I’m not cooking it off with my fire breath,” Smolder chuckled. “How is he?”
“He’s in Canterlot, an advisor for Kaiser Grover VI. Yona and Sandbar are probably still there.”
Smolder scuffed a foot in the dirt, eyes pensive. “Yona’s alive? I mean, of course she is, but, uh…”
“Take the Princess to her ponies,” Ember ordered. “Reminisce about that stupid school later.”
Flurry worked her jaw. Dragons were watching from the other rooftops, several carrying pillaged Changeling weapons. The Tzinacatl flapped to the buildings with more stolen equipment. This entire war is going to be fueled by the Hegemony’s scraps until we get our industry back.
Her eyes tracked the pipeline to where it joined several others in a network leading to a distant refinery. Tall stacks stuck out above the smaller buildings. We do this now. Enough scavenging.
Around a hundred ponies sat around in a clearing between a few of the buildings, gathered into a small herd under the watchful eyes of two dozen dragons. The dragons were young; Flurry wasn’t an expert on how dragons aged but few were taller than Spike. Smolder waved to a red one on a nearby roof that was using a shotgun like a pistol in his large claw. He waved back and she joined him.
Flurry stepped on a black cap half-buried in the dust. She kicked it over and inspected the emblem of Chrysalis’ trident crown, then looked up to the ponies. They were predominantly earth ponies. The Equestrian south was heavily settled by agricultural families in the first place, so it made sense. The few unicorns and pegasi intermixed.
Their coats were dull. Not as dull as Canterlot or Manehattan, but hooves were chipped and scarred with patchy fetlocks. Most appeared well-fed, or at least not as malnourished as her home in the north. Flurry turned her head to one of the wooden walls. A poster for a cannery was slapped onto it.
It was in Herzlander. Sweet Appleloosa! Every can made with love!
Applejack’s orange muzzle was plastered onto the bottom of the poster. Her tall, wide-brimmed hat above sparkling green eyes had Chrysalis’ trident prominent and centered. A can of sliced apples hovered above her head with little hearts coming from the partially opened top.
Flurry took a deep breath and turned back to the ponies. Some appeared far healthier than others, and those did not meet her eyes. All of the others stared back in shock or disbelief. A few wore jumpsuits or overalls.
“This belonged to Rockfeller?” Flurry asked without preamble. “Who’s in charge here?”
Nopony answered at first. A mare eventually said, “Princess?” in clear disbelief.
“Who’s in charge?” Flurry repeated, directly addressing the cream-colored earth pony.
“H-he left,” the mare stuttered. “T-they all l-left weeks ago. The C-changelings t-tried t-to-”
“They all ran with their tails between their legs,” a stallion spat. “Heard you were comin’ to kill ‘em, and they bolted with the damn bugs.” His twang was heavy and voice rough. It reminded Flurry of the Nova Griffonian frontier.
“Who’re you?”
“Forepony,” the stallion grunted. “Worked fer Rockfeller before the war on a derrick out west. Apple Fritter.”
“Part of the Apples?”
The stallion spat towards the poster. “Most of these ponies work for Rockfeller,” he said with a glance through the crowd. “Bastard jumped at the chance to stop paying us. Claimed us all as property, kept us from the Love Tax but worked our hooves to the bone. Anypony that complained got volunteered to the factories.”
Flurry clicked her tongue. Most? “Can you run the field?”
“Princess?” Fritter asked in surprise. His ears flicked. “I can run a team, but I can’t get oil processed where it needs to be all by my lonesome if that’s what you’re asking.”
Fuck. Flurry rolled her eyes to the pipelines sprawling off in the distance. I can’t ask the griffons to take over, it’s one of the last things we have. That means pardons. It made her stomach twist. In her mind’s eye, she saw mares and stallions nodding along in some distant boardroom as the Buffalo-
Her horn sparked involuntarily. She closed her eyes and pushed a breath from her barrel before reopening them. “Can you get the pipes repaired?”
Fritter nodded as the alicorn’s horn dimmed. His eyes flicked to a healthy-looking pony in the crowd. The mare was looking at the ground, eyes tracing something in the dirt.
The Tzinacatl warriors moved between the buildings, eyeing the dragons but otherwise focused on the ponies. A Thestral mare with a bandolier of darts approached Flurry Heart and bowed. Flurry shook her head. “I need them functional, not knocked out for days.”
“Low dosage,” the mare snorted. “We will make it quick.” Her eyes scanned the crowd. “Start with the obvious ones like before.”
“What’s going on?” Ember squinted at the Thestrals surrounding the workers. The bat ponies moved in pairs, one clenching a dart in their teeth and poking an offered hoof while the other stood to the side with an extended hoofblade at the ready.
Apple Fritter looked to the cold-eyed alicorn before offering his hoof. He whickered from the shallow jab and his eyes unfocused, but the Tzinacatl moved on. The solid earth pony stumbled to the others that had been cleared.
“We’re checking for changelings,” Flurry responded. Her ears perked at the sound of engines resuming out in the plain. Griffons must be moving again. She flapped her wings and ascended above the buildings for a moment, spying the vehicles moving forwards and edging around the destroyed Changeling vehicles. Chips flashed his headlights.
Flurry Heart landed beside Ember. The Bloodstone Scepter hummed with magic on the dragoness’ back, carried in a sling like a sword. Idly, the alicorn lit her horn and focused. Not a weapon. Huh, figured it would be. She turned back to the crowd.
The mare looking down at the ground had a knife in her jumpsuit, but the herd was otherwise disarmed. The mare shuffled closer to a younger stallion beside her, dodging the bat ponies thinning out the crowd. Flurry watched her beside the Dragon Lord. “Changelings can turn into dragons, right?”
“They aren’t nearly as fireproof,” Ember remarked. “We have an easy check.” The Dragon Lord folded her arms. “Don’t you have a fancy spell? Twilight told me about it during the war.”
Flurry licked her upper lip. Dried blood crusted under her nostrils. “I’m conserving my strength.”
“For what?”
As two bat ponies approached the armed mare, she pulled out the knife with two hooves and held it up to the nearby stallion’s throat. “B-back up!” The younger stallion whinnied as the mare wrapped a hoof around his neck. “Get back!”
The mare’s head abruptly twisted around in a golden aura. Her body sagged against the stallion while the knife fell from his neck. He cried out again and shuffled away, kicking the corpse off him. After a heartbeat, the body erupted into green fire.
Ember flinched and gaped at the alicorn’s dimming horn. “For stuff like that,” Flurry said dryly. “Did they ever try to infiltrate the Dragon Isles?”
“I…” the Dragon Lord blinked. “No, it’s just rocks, crystals, and lava. Not like we have any industry.”
“You want some?” Flurry asked mirthlessly. “I’m sure Grover can work you into the economic program.”
“Are you that close to the Kaiser, Princess?” the Dragon Lord frowned. “Thought you were fighting him earlier.”
“We worked it out.”
The young stallion laid against a wooden wall just below a window, breathing heavily. He rubbed his throat with a hoof. Flurry narrowed her eyes at the dirty, but unscarred keratin when he lowered it. She raised a wing and signaled to a pair of Tzinacatl warriors that just finished with their section of the workers. The alicorn pointed a feather at the stallion.
The Dragon Lord and the Princess watched as the two tribals stalked over. The stallion stared up at the bat ponies, then began to cry and held out a shaking hoof. A stallion in a pilfered Queen’s Guard helmet poked him.
His hoof flared green and the other Thestral drove a hoofblade into his throat. The changeling’s corpse flopped to the ground. Apple Fritter had recovered enough to snort in derision, then share a smirk with a few of his workers. Flurry took a deep breath and folded her wings.
The Dragon Lord flinched again. A few of the dragons on the rooftops stared down at the alicorn and dragoness. Flurry caught Smolder’s eyes as she cradled her machine gun. The dragon looked away first with an awkward cough.
“I’m not wasting time with prisoners right now,” Flurry said up to the Dragon Lord. “They’ve been killing us for years. We need to get moving. Let’s get on radio so we can coordinate some of the assaults.”
“How’s Spike?” Ember asked, eyes on the corpse. She flexed a blue claw and inspected the blood on her talons that hadn’t burned away.
Flurry paused. One of the pamphlets was in a nearby window, either put there by a rebellious worker or driven there by the wind. Her mother and aunt smiled at her on the top half. They laid on the bottom. “How do you think?”
“I’d like to see him. I said some things.” Ember scuffed her claw on her dented armor. “Last time we talked.” Her teeth ground in her maw before she forced out, “I’m sorry about your family.”
“You couldn’t have saved my mother,” Flurry dismissed, “and I doubt Starlight would’ve allowed dragons to torch Canterlot.”
“And you will?”
“As you said, I am not Celestia.” Flurry looked west to the rising smoke clouds. “We’ll make a formal alliance later.” She stuck out her hoof. “Dragon Lord Ember. As Princess of the Crystal Empire and Equestria, welcome to the war.”
The Dragon Lord looked over the wrecked vehicles and smoldering corpses in the distance. Her tongue flicked out for a moment, tasting the smoke in the air. “You sure you want to do it this way, Princess?”
“I’ve done worse on my own,” Flurry retorted. One of the dragons on the rooftop huffed in a muffled laugh. Flurry wasn’t sure if it was mocking her or the dragoness.
Ember’s rose-red eyes darkened and she grabbed the hoof hard enough to pop the bones in the alicorn’s fetlock. Her other claw reached back and retrieved her staff. She slammed it into the ground and the gem darkened, swirling like blood. Flurry felt magic pulse across the air.
A great roar echoed from the west, farther ahead. Another smoke cloud began to rise a few minutes later as the push to Appleloosa resumed. Flurry listened along to a radio in the back of Chip’s jeep as the Griffonian RADAR picked up massive targets heading for the Equestrian south from the Dragon Isles. The air support pulled back.
By the time Flurry Heart arrived at the first orchard on former Buffalo territory, the Changeling Hegemony had completely abandoned Appleloosa against orders, falling back in a mad panic to rush through Grover’s corridor to Las Pegasus. The Tzinacatl and New Marelander contingent entered the former frontier town unopposed. Flurry waited in an orchard in former Buffalo land as her ponies checked for infiltrators or stragglers trying to hide.
Flurry Heart had never met a Buffalo. And the Dragon Lord’s scouting dragons reported nothing but orchards and oil wells along with the griffons and ponies below them. It seemed like she never would.
But the ponies of the south had been left behind by the retreating forces. Unlike the main front, they were not beaten or drained to slow the advance; the few that were had been attacked by desperate squads as the Changelings fell back without supplies. And without the Changelings around, ponies began to settle decades long grievances.
Two weeks after meeting Dragon Lord Ember, Flurry Heart stood under a gate on the outskirts of Appleloosa. A paved road stretched out to a grand plantation house before her, with apple trees as far as the eye could see. The sign above the wrought-iron gate was nearly like the posters.
Applejack posed with two of Bridleway’s changeling actors from Gone with the Wind, wrapping her hooves around them with a smile. The sign proclaimed, The Sweetest Fruit in the Hegemony! Each Apple Picked with Love! She still wore her hat with Chrysalis’ trident embossed on the front.
Bodies swung from the apple trees beyond the sign.
“The Tzinacatl never interacted with the west,” Amoxtli muttered. The Thestral squinted under her sunglasses, following Nightshade and Flurry Heart down the long drive. “They aren’t happy, but they’re listening.”
“They?” Flurry Heart asked.
“The Three Tribes,” Nightshade supplied. “It’s been a proper nightmare getting everypony to play nice. We stopped the hangings and lynchings in Appleloosa, but the city is boiling.”
“Most of the ponies worth killing already left,” Amoxtli snorted.
Flurry glanced at the closest corpse swinging from a tree. It was an earth pony stallion, beaten and stabbed in a gray uniform with Applejack’s three apples stitched onto the flank. “Overseers?” she guessed.
Amoxtli clicked her tongue. “Like the plantations. Some ponies punched down to get a better deal. We know what we’re doing with this, at least.”
Flurry hummed. “Are you safe?”
The young Thestral flitted her wings. “We’re keeping watch.”
“I meant with your tribe. Have you been…reinstated? I’m sorry; I don’t know the word.”
Amoxtli said something in her tribal dialect, then pinned her ears back. “I am fine.”
“Good.”
The next two trees had naked changelings dangling by the neck, deserters that abandoned their positions but failed to make it to the gap. Most tried to blend in or hide. Flurry had not entered Appleloosa, nor did she plan to. Caballeron’s mercenaries were still sweeping the city.
“Princess?” Amoxtli asked quietly.
Flurry shifted her head to peer down at the Thestral. Amoxtli was wearing a black Hegemony coat with blue swirls stitched into the back. Her webbed wings rustled against the leather.
“Did you kill my Moonspeaker?”
“I did not kill your Moonspeaker,” Flurry said casually. “I only met her once at the Conclave. I met a few of the warbands before we started moving.” The alicorn had rolled her sleeve up and exposed the swirling scar on her foreleg. She left it like that most days.
The Thestral shared a look with Nightshade, then nodded shallowly. “I understand.”
A gunshot rang out ahead. Flurry sneered and trotted faster.
It was a three-story plantation house with wide bay windows and white wood. There were a couple others like it nearby, and most of the orchards had already been swept through and looted. Trees had been picked clean. It was spring, and the apples were a bright red like the color of blood.
A herd of ponies gathered before the double doors to the mansion, split into two by a trio of dragons and bat ponies. Smolder let out a burst of fire that scorched the grass between the two groups, then roared, “Next pony fries like bacon!”
Flurry summoned her bubble shield around herself, Nightshade, and Amoxtli. Her sneer deepened at the crowd, namely the rainbow mohawk and out-of-place griffoness on one side. She deviated towards them.
The Air Marshal noticed the Princess and swatted her metal wing through the crowd beside her, pushing stallions and mares back. “Bow, ingrates! The Princess approaches!” Ponies dropped guns and farming tools and knelt in the road. The opposing herd was smaller, backing up towards the steps. Flurry swept her eyes toward them and registered the gray uniforms. ELF?
Apple Bloom stepped out of the crowd and backed onto the steps with a hoof on the stock of her submachine gun. Smolder snarled behind her, picking a flattened bullet out of her palm. “Step back.”
The earth pony did not listen, light orange eyes on the alicorn. Her muzzle pressed into a thin line. She was the only one from her side that did not lay down their weapons and bow.
“Give it up, Bloom!” a Manehattan accent whinnied from behind Rainbow Dash. Flurry snapped her head back and caught Babs Seed. Her frown deepened. Cold eyes flicked to Rainbow and Gilda.
The griffoness caught the look and dipped her head. “Princess.”
“Air Marshal,” Flurry addressed Rainbow. The pegasus wore a flight suit and jacket, but no other adornments. “I would think you had business with my air force in Canterlot.”
“We don’t got much of an air force,” Rainbow shrugged her false wing. “And Tempest and Sunny are prioritizing ground pounders.” The pegasus bent her knees to stand.
“I did not say you could rise.”
Rainbow froze with legs half-bent. She lowered herself to the ground, but glared up at Flurry. Goggles hung around her neck, and her fur was flushed around the mare’s muzzle. She had clearly been flying herself for most of a day. “I can fly back when this is done.”
Flurry bared her teeth, then shifted her stare to Gilda. “You have a pass this time?”
“Yep,” the griffoness reached into her jacket and flipped out a folded paper. “We’re flying in this sector. Grounded due to, uh…” Golden eyes shifted to Smolder.
The orange dragoness flexed her claw and inspected the scales of her palm. “Whichever one of you delicious sacks of meat shot at me, you’re lucky I caught it.” The two bat ponies on the porch behind her swept rifles over the gathered crowd, but nodded at the Princess.
Flurry Heart dispelled her shield and raised her wings. “Rise. Babs and Apple Bloom, step forward.”
Babs stepped out from behind Rainbow Dash with a lazy grin, but lost her expression and kept her hoof away from her submachine gun at Flurry’s scowl. “Princesh? Princess?” Her crowd of earth ponies were half in jumpsuits or overalls and half in scavenged uniforms.
Apple Bloom took one step off the porch but kept her hoof on the stock of her gun. Her eyes didn’t waver. Her soldiers stood slowly, hooves off their weapons and refusing to look up. All were wearing ELF uniforms and the two dozen were entirely earth ponies.
Flurry stated the obvious. “Neither of you are supposed to be here. I doubt Tempest is forgiving with desertion. How did you get here?”
“Bloom and her little band stole a supply truck up north and tore down through the advance,” Babs answered. “We chased ‘em.”
“I doubt you had orders to do so.” Flurry turned to Amoxtli. “Radio for Chip’s squad to get here.” The bat pony nodded and flapped her wings, twisting around and soaring through the orchard.
Nightshade bared her fangs. She rolled a hoof up her carbine. “Put that damn gun down, earth pony,” she hissed up to Apple Bloom.
Smolder pulled a pistol free from her armor and racked it. “Step back from the guns. Last warning.”
Babs waved a hoof. “Do as she says, everypony. No weapons. We just need rope.”
Apple Bloom swallowed. “Put your weapons away, everypony.” She kept her hoof on the stock and returned to the first step of the porch. The two Thestrals behind her at the top aimed at the back of her head.
“That includes you,” Rainbow said up to Apple Bloom. “Come on, Bloom.” She kept her wings up and her side shuffled away from their equipment, back to the trees lining the road. Apple Bloom’s rogue soldiers did the same on their side.
Flurry was taller than Apple Bloom, but the earth pony was stocky and stood on the first step leading up to the porch. They were at eye level. The alicorn’s horn flickered as she prepped a spell. “Put the gun down.”
Apple Bloom swallowed and shook her head. “You talked to Rarity.”
“That’s a direct order from the Princess!” Nightshade hissed. Flurry flicked her wing back at the Thestral, bending three primary feathers. Nightshade spat, but lowered her carbine at the signal.
“I did,” Flurry agreed. “Is your sister alive?”
“She’s in there,” Smolder interrupted. “We cleared the house. It’s damn empty.”
One of the ground floor windows was broken; the white wooden frame shattered around the edges. This close, Flurry noticed the paint wasn’t as pristine white as she thought. It was faded and chipped at the edges, and the wooden paneling near the ground looked rotten.
Flurry looked to the nearly hundred ponies gathered behind Rainbow Dash and Gilda. “Are these all the workers left here?”
Chips had driven Flurry through the surrounding orchards over the past week. Barracks and bunks were in every one of them as the localized workforces shipped bushels to the factories in Appleloosa. Sweet Apple Acres employed thousands of ponies across twenty-seven orchards. None of them were very happy about it, working long shifts in heat and sun under a mix of ponies and changeling overseers. Most of the land was in Buffalo territory, and what wasn’t orchards was owned by Rockfeller.
The Appleloosan Protectorate carved the Equestrian south into mining companies, oil fields, and orchards. Unlike the Crystal Empire, the Hegemony had enough population to outsource their extraction efforts. Flurry Heart had not ordered a single hanging yet, but her moniker proceeded her in every town and outpost.
Ponies and deserting changelings swung from everything tall enough to support a rope as the Hegemony abandoned the frontline. The Tzinacatl put a stop to it, and ponies weren’t inclined to argue with dragons, but the south was always self-managed, frontier justice. If it wasn’t for the griffons, bat ponies, and dragons imposing shaky order in the area, the entire Appleloosan Protectorate would be burning like the oil wells.
“We didn’t even think that bitch was still here!” a stallion shouted from Rainbow Dash’s herd. “Coward’s been hiding for months!” A few more whinnied in agreement.
“They’ve been busy trying to reunite with family and run down overseers,” Babs claimed. She turned an eye to the porch. “If Braeburn were alive, he’d be standing right with me, Bloom. Get off that porch.”
Apple Bloom shook her head again. “I’m sorry, Princess.” The mare had her mane in a ponytail like her older sister. It draped heavily across her neck, slick with sweat. “It was my decision, and my ponies were only following orders.”
Babs snorted. “Doesn’t excuse desertion.”
“You aren’t supposed to be here,” Flurry retorted to Babs. “You open your mouth again, and I’m stripping my snowflake off your leg and stringing you up in a tree.”
Babs opened her muzzle with a snap, registered she was shouting at a Princess that would definitely keep that threat, then wilted and scuffed a hoof on the ground. Flurry switched to Apple Bloom. “Set the gun on the porch and step back.”
Apple Bloom did not move. The two Thestrals behind her tensed. Smolder aimed the gun down as well. “I’m going to count to three,” the dragoness warned. “Please, don’t make me kill my Professor’s sister.”
“Promise me you’ll just talk to her,” Apple Bloom pleaded with Flurry.
The alicorn sighed and lowered her head. Her horn glowed brighter.
“Apple Bloom!” a raspy voice belted from the doors. Flurry snapped her head up. One of the white double doors opened and an orange earth pony stuck her head out. Faded green eyes on a weathered muzzle glared down the porch.
Applejack’s mane had streaks of gray in the straw-blonde hairs, too much gray for her age. The bags under her eyes made her muzzle sag. She looked two decades older than she was.
The earth pony stepped out onto the porch. She was naked except for a neckerchief, no longer wearing her hat or uniform. Applejack wasn’t fat, but her barrel and legs looked like she had lost all her muscle from doing the farm work herself. Flurry blinked. She looks smaller than the pictures.
Her younger sister stared back over her withers. “Sis, please-”
“Granny would tan that cutie mark right off your hide!” Applejack spat down at her. “Princess gave you an order! Follow it!” Her muzzle scrunched. “We raised you right.”
Apple Bloom let the strap of her submachine gun fall from her shoulder. The gun slid off the step and landed on the nice paved road leading up to the manor. She closed her eyes and looked away.
Applejack snorted. “Sweet Celestia sweetpea, you got taller but you didn’t get any smarter.” The faded green eyes looked over her sister’s lowered head to Flurry, then to Rainbow Dash without pausing. “Welcome to Sweet Apple Acres, Princess. Kept the name from Ponyville.”
“Applejack,” Flurry said flatly. She waved both wings at the two Thestrals beside the earth pony. They stepped back and lowered her weapons. Smolder holstered her pistol.
Babs Seed stepped forward with bared teeth.
“She just threatened to hang your ass,” Applejack preempted her relative. “Whatever you’re about to say, you best believe it’s worth it.”
Babs growled and stepped back, muzzle twitching. The other ponies in her herd shifted around in the trees, staring up at the porch. Tails flicked and twisted against jumpsuits with Applejack’s mark stamped on them.
“Heard on the radio you’re the new Princess of Equestria,” Applejack continued down to Flurry. Her voice was raspy with feigned gaiety. “Want the two-bit tour? You’re invited too, RD.”
“Don’t you dare-” Rainbow cut her snarl off with a burst of willpower. She glanced to Flurry with narrowed magenta eyes.
The alicorn took a deep breath and cast the detection spell. It washed over the front of the house and through the crowd. Applejack smiled slightly. “Yep, it’s me. Unfortunately. My co-owner in Las Pegasus didn’t send a truck.”
“Rockfeller?” Flurry guessed.
“Heh!” Applejack snorted. “Oh, he loves our fritters, but nah. Flim. Or Flam. Forget which one signed the deal to open the canneries. They turned tail to Las Pegasus awhile back. Reckon they’re hoping for a boat to dodge the Princess of Rope.”
Flurry stood on the road, wings extended. Her muzzle pressed into a line. She shifted her eyes to the Bab’s group. A mare had a coil of rope wrapped around her jumpsuit; she leaned against a tree below a swinging changeling.
Applejack’s eyes flicked to her sister, then back to the alicorn. Her stare turned slightly pleading, but she kept the small grin. “Want the tour? It’s your land now.”
“Remain outside,” Flurry ordered Nightshade. “Rainbow, with me. Gilda, since you’re here, grab a gun and shoot anypony that tries to get in.”
“Well, shit,” Gilda scoffed. “Princess.” She tugged her pistol free from its wing holster and sat down on the first step of the porch. The griffoness turned sharp eyes through the crowd. “Catch up when you’re done, RD. Drinks on me.”
Rainbow took the steps slowly, legs twitching up the stairs. Her eyes were locked on Applejack. The earth pony glanced at her casually, then backed into the house. She opened both doors with a quick buck.
Flurry stared into an empty parlor. The manor was barren in the interior, and dusty. The wallpaper was bare, but depicted varying kinds of apples. It looked like nopony ever lived in it. The alicorn stopped in the doorway and her horn glowed.
Applejack trotted up a central staircase to the second floor. “Ain’t boobytrapped or something, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she nickered. “You mind talking on the second floor? More privacy. And chairs. I got a few chairs up here.”
Flurry peered into an empty study. Not even bookshelves. The entire room was empty. “Where is everything?”
“Huh?” Applejack snorted. “Never bought much. Didn’t need it. Made the housecleaning easier on the staff.”
“Where are they?”
“Sent ‘em away months ago,” Applejack shrugged a hoof at the top of the staircase.
“You made money.”
“Sure did,” the earth pony boasted. “All of it in some Hegemony bank back in the Changeling Lands. Got a little bit laying around here.”
Rainbow Dash walked up the staircase, even though the parlor was tall enough for her to fly. Her metal wing scraped the banister, peeling the paint off the wood with a razor-sharp feather. The pegasus breathed shallowly.
Applejack did not react and trotted to a side room.
Flurry Heart followed Rainbow Dash up. The two Thestrals took positions at the doors with Smolder. The alicorn cast the detection spell a final time, feeling it pulse through an empty, hollowed-out shell of a manor. Aside from the creak of floorboards from Applejack’s hooves, there was no surprise.
The alicorn stopped to peer into an empty drawing room before following the prismatic tail ahead of her. Rainbow moved stiffly, her legs as mechanical as her fake wing. Her feathers screeched as they scraped a slightly ajar door. Flurry Heart followed her Air Marshal into the only furnished room in the building.
There was a single bed in the corner, facing the doors to a wide balcony. The lilac curtains had been drawn across the bay windows. Lamps mounted on the walls hummed; Flurry belatedly realized that they were the only lights in the manor aside from the chandelier above the grand staircase.
Applejack sat down at a plain wooden table. There were three other available chairs, one on each side of the rectangle. The other chairs were dusty. The chair’s legs creaked as she leaned back; there was no padding, and it looked uncomfortable.
She reached out her forelegs and grabbed the bottle of bourbon sitting on the tabletop. The earth pony bit down on the top and spat the cork out across the room. It sailed into a wastebasket with practiced aim. Flurry followed its flight to a well-stocked shelf of other liquors, and several drawers underneath a row of shot glasses.
There was also a closet door. It had been left open, and a gray uniform with black accents hung on a rack. Above it, a wide-brimmed hat sat on a shelf with Chrysalis’ trident front and center.
“Named me a colonel in the reserves,” Applejack offered, “for all the good work I did. Ceremonial. Governor Plexippus pinned a medal to my barrel in Appleloosa.”
“What good work?” Flurry exhaled.
“Met the quotas.” Applejack gulped down a hefty amount of bourbon without flinching. “See that pouch beside the whiskey?”
Flurry glanced over at it. Rainbow trotted to the back and grabbed it with her metal wing. Coins jingled inside. The pegasus grimaced and flung it onto the table. Her feathers sliced the back open and shiny metal coins with Chrysalis’ smiling muzzle rolled across the floor as the bag deflated.
“Couple years ago, one of my workers came up real-quiet like to the manor,” Applejack began. “Wasn’t part of the serving staff. Said I could still serve Equestria.” The earth pony grinned at the bottle in her hooves. “Let her talk all night, then turned her into VOPS the next morning.”
Rainbow’s muzzle twitched. “You fucking traitor.”
Applejack gulped down another pull of the bourbon.
Flurry ground her teeth, wings twitching. “Why?”
“Heh,” Applejack smirked. “Why what? That’s a big question, Princess.”
“You’re the Element of Honesty.”
Applejack looked over to the shelves of liquor. Her eyes stopped on a rolled-up sheet of paper in an empty bottle. Flurry’s horn glowed and she unfolded it, letting the bottle fall to its side.
Her mother and Twilight stared back.
“For starters, I kept everypony from the Love Tax,” the earth pony added in a dry rasp. “Got the orchards marked as essential, so the bugs didn’t steal no workers for their factories. Some died of heatstroke or exhaustion hitting the quotas anyway.”
“Fuck you,” Rainbow gasped.
“You still drink, RD?” Applejack asked her. “Got your favorite up there somewhere.”
“Don’t…” Rainbow inhaled, “Don’t you talk to me like we’re fucking friends.”
Flurry slapped the pamphlet down atop a coin on the table, then pulled a chair back. She sat down heavily, wings fluttering against the wooden back of the chair. Rainbow remained standing, pacing before the liquor shelves. Her hooves danced on the floorboards.
“Why?” Applejack repeated. “Chair comfortable?”
“No, but I sit on crystal,” Flurry answered. She laid her hooves on the table.
Applejack regarded her bottle with dull eyes. She turned it over in her hooves. “Honesty.” She glanced up at the alicorn sitting across from her. “They tell you about the war?”
“I know why the ELF lost.”
“I’m not talking about Starlight,” Applejack snorted. “I turned that mare in because it was a doomed cause. The war. The Great War. You were just a little sprout when it started. How much do you remember?”
“You don’t get to make excuses,” Rainbow snarled. Applejack ignored her.
Flurry Heart leaned back and frowned. “I remember bouncing along in a truck while fighters strafed fleeing ponies. And I remember my mother staying to fight. I remember sitting at a table while servants turned down the radio so I couldn’t hear dad getting pushed back.”
“You remember the end,” Applejack hiccupped. “I was there at the beginning. You want honesty? All of your ponies following you around, and none of ‘em are gonna tell you the truth, Princess.”
She took a sip. “We were always gonna lose.”
“Fuck you,” Rainbow spat.
“It’s true, RD.”
The metal wing sliced the air. “Don’t!”
“You and the featherbrains tore up the sky real good,” Applejack said with mild approval, “but it didn’t make a difference. You were there, too.” The earth pony switched to Flurry. “She tell you about Vanhoover?”
Flurry frowned. “No.”
“Right at the border,” Applejack spun the bottle around in her hooves. “Had some advance notice, saw the tanks lining up with deer conscripts. Caught a few infiltrators eying our defenses. They were gonna hit that city hard. Had no chance of defending it.
“We told ‘em to evacuate, and you know what some old mare said to me?” Applejack grinned with a rictus. “‘Well, you’re here, so this’ll be over in a jiffy.’” She thumped the table and the coins rattled. “General Applejack! Farmer to teacher to general. What a career. Whole army was a joke.”
Rainbow inhaled, still pacing.
“Know you encountered ponies like that,” Applejack said to her. “Field Marshal Luna slapped a hat on me lickety-split. Same with Pinkie.” Her grin collapsed and the earth pony abruptly looked melancholy. “Me and Maud fell back hard. Snipers shot me seven times. Killed Maud with a shovel one night.”
Flurry’s muzzle scrunched. “What?”
“VOPS,” Applejack waved a hoof. “Got tired of it and told everypony to shoot me on sight if I was wearing my hat.” She brushed a hoof over her graying ponytail. “That was Tartarus the first couple weeks. Even the damn regulars could barely shoot straight. Mares with flower marks crying in the trenches. Never drank too hard before the war, started the night Vanhoover fell.”
“It fell because the army wouldn’t fight,” Rainbow argued.
“Course it wouldn’t,” Applejack snorted. “Nopony wanted to fucking die in a muddy hole. Ponies cheered every time Luna fell back from an engagement…until we were leaving their homes behind. Civilians panicked and clogged the supply lines, panzers overran the northern front. Finally stalled them at Tall Tale.”
“Blueblood,” Rainbow huffed.
“That high-horned prick,” Applejack agreed. “Blew the bridges without orders.” She turned back to Flurry and held out a hoof. “You know Tall Tale? Has a river a little like a horseshoe. They had to come right to us after Vanhoover.”
Flurry waited.
“Caused a ruckus between him and Luna. Civvies were still on the other side trying to fall back. Blue said they were too compromised by infiltrator teams. That was true enough. Didn’t matter because the bugs slammed home.”
Applejack heaved a great sigh and leaned back. She grimaced as her spine popped. “Seven days. Longest battle so far. RD did good work keeping the skies clear.” Rainbow did not respond to the nickname, still pacing through the room. She was breathing heavily.
“Maud and I held that river for seven days. Tall Tale was a lot of earth ponies. Blue yanked everypony he could to build up the trenches and keep supplies moving. Celestia hadn’t signed any conscription laws yet, so that was probably illegal. Ponies finally cared, though. News trickled out of Vanhoover about the ‘Love Squads’ sucking the populace dry.”
“You were a good general,” Flurry offered.
Applejack drank another pull of bourbon. “Really? So was Blue, and ponies called him an asshole. Bugs finally exhausted themselves on the seventh night and stopped attacking. Kept an eye out for infiltration teams, but it was quiet. My aide woke me up.”
The earth pony shut her eyes as if trying to remember the exact moment. “Said Princess Luna was looking over the trenches. I hadn’t seen her since Vanhoover, barely heard her over the radio. You wanna know my first thought?”
Flurry paused. “Sure.”
“She was gonna get her damn horn blown off by a sniper.” The earth pony chuckled with a ragged gasp, then finished the bottle. She set it down atop a coin blindly, still with her eyes closed. “Went up to the trenches all polite-like. She wasn’t in a uniform or nothing, still just crown and carcanet. The silver caught the light worse than her mane. Asked her to get down. She didn’t.”
Applejack opened her eyes. “She was staring through a bunch of papers, holding ‘em with her horn and flitting through them. Didn’t say nothing to me, but I started talking. Wanted to know the plan. We were rebuilding the defenses, brought up more anti-tank guns. We could hold that river forever with more ponies. Air force was keeping their dive bombers off us. We could do it…”
Applejack sighed. “Luna turned to look at me with the most pathetic eyes I ever saw on a pony, then melted into a shadow. Left her papers.”
Flurry Heart shuffled in her seat.
“Casualty reports,” Applejack snorted. “All she was looking at. Next morning, heard her voice on the radio ordering a fallback to ‘a better position.’ Weren’t no better position. But ponies heard that and cried in joy cause they weren’t gonna die in a hole.”
Applejack folded her hooves. “That’s when I knew we were gonna lose.” She sighed. “And we did.”
“That doesn’t excuse what happened afterwards,” Flurry said softly. “My father fought. Ponies fought all across Equestria.”
“You ain’t listening, filly,” Applejack sighed. “Your father never lost a single battle, but kept falling back because we couldn’t hold it. Every time it got bloody, we fell back with pinned ears and tucked tails. By the time we lost Bales…” the earth pony trailed off.
Rainbow growled from her position at the window.
“Met a few crystal ponies in Bales,” Applejack continued. “Your father fought better with ponies born a thousand years ago and half their memories missing. Weren’t about luck or skill. Willpower. They knew exactly what was gonna happen to them if they lost.”
“Most ponies think they’re crazy,” Flurry deadpanned.
“Yep,” Applejack chuckled. “You know, I heard a few ponies talking about how it might not be that bad if the bugs won. They needed us alive, right? Wasn’t even a VOPS agent, just some stallion that liked to sculpt clay pots and was afraid he was gonna die.
“Luna and Blue went to Canterlot for a war council during the Battle of Bales. Blue said he was gonna make it right or die trying. Dunno what happened, but Blue was assigned to the southeast and the Sisters announced their evacuation to Manehattan since Canterlot was endangered.”
“Celestia canned him,” Rainbow provided. “He never told us the full story, just that he didn’t expect them to come back for the ELF. Starlight didn’t wanna hear it.”
“Once we lost Twilight and Canterlot we lost the war. Laid down my weapons before we got encircled halfway to Manehattan, and the bugs let me go home. Had to take a few pictures. Negotiated for the rest of my brigades not to be treated as POWs. You've seen the chipped horns and horseshoes, I assume.”
“You’re a fucking coward,” Rainbow repeated from behind Applejack.
“Cause I didn’t see the point in dying?” Applejack asked. “You flew around in that plane like a true sky-high featherbrain while ponies galloped through the mud and blood. You got no idea what that scrape from Canterlot was like.”
Applejack regarded Flurry. “You ever feel like a herd creature?” Her eyes went to her horn and wings.
“No,” Flurry answered.
“Once Canterlot fell and Chrysalis crowed about it, it was like everypony’s brains flipped a switch. Suddenly, it was real. We were gonna lose. Ponies started screaming about holding every hoof of ground, got called a coward, whole works.”
She snorted. “Remember everypony partying after the wedding. We should’ve gone after her then. But we didn’t because Celestia and Luna didn’t seem worried.”
“You’re wrong,” Rainbow accused. “Ponies fought. We fought the whole time while you cozied up to those bastards.”
“The ELF was always a joke, wasn’t it?” Applejack asked behind her. Her straw tail slapped a chair leg. “Bringing back the light of Equestria one bombed garrison at a time? Years of that before rising up to fight the good fight.”
Applejack turned back to Flurry. Her eyes were glassy from the alcohol. “Starlight and Trixie never really thought about the consequences, and they never pushed. Their families died in the war.”
“Apple Bloom said you did all this to protect your family,” Flurry provided. “You haven’t given me a single reason.”
“Bugs said Big Mac was passing secrets to the ELF. Said the same about Scootaloo’s parents. And Rarity’s. Crusaders were never subtle about their battles.” Her gaze sharpened suddenly. “And as far as that filly’s concerned, that was true. She had nothing to do with it. You understand?”
“You asking us to lie for you?” Rainbow scoffed.
“For her,” Applejack corrected. “Don’t you put that weight on her. Apples are the largest earth pony clan in Equestria. I ran off with a whinny to go fight and they would just run down a list.”
Flurry levitated up a coin. Chrysalis’ fanged, smirking muzzle stared back at her. “You didn’t even try.”
“I did try,” Applejack snarled suddenly. “I tried at my home. In Ponyville. I was the picture-perfect, dumb fucking earth pony for those bugs. Generalmajor Jachs even came by. I kept ponies safe, kept them housed, kept them alive. Kept my damn family alive by whoring myself out. You know what happened?”
Flurry Heart thought back to the overrun, overgrown forest. The Apples helped found Ponyville. Applejack saw something in her eyes and nodded viciously.
“That fucking zebra wrecked everything. The bugs didn’t even bomb Ponyville during the war; they didn’t care until those plants and monsters tore through their garrisons. Planes firebombed everything to shit trying to stop the forest. Most of the ponies I kept alive ran off to join Zecora’s resistance. How many have you met?”
Flurry grimaced and looked to Rainbow. The pegasus refused to meet her eyes abruptly.
“Yeah,” Applejack chuckled. “Real worth it, wasn’t it? Granny’s heart broke at seeing everything get torn apart by vines. That killed her more than age.” She waved a hoof at the bar. “You mind getting another one?”
“You’ve had enough,” Flurry stated.
Applejack rolled faded, glassy eyes. “ELF lied to itself the whole time. Said they were taking the high road while bombing garrisons. And every time they killed some important bug, Love Squads rolled through the towns they were trying to liberate. Idiots thought it would make ponies side with them, I’m sure.” She peered back at Rainbow. “Or did you even think about that at all?”
The pegasus was breathing raggedly. Her metal wing cut the curtains, and sunlight spilled through the hole. The shaft of sunlight hit a coin on the floor. Chrysalis’ muzzle glittered.
Applejack noticed. The premature jowls on her muzzle pulled into a deep frown. “Mare that came to talk to me was a cousin. Apple Fritter. Joined those smiling spooks during the war. She sat right where you’re sitting, Princess, and she made a bunch of promises worth exactly shit. Wanted to use our shipments to run guns.”
“They tortured her after you turned her in,” Rainbow hissed.
“Yep,” Applejack agreed. “She was gonna get the whole family killed out of pride. We can be just as prideful as the hornheads and featherbrains when we wanna be.” She batted her neckerchief with a hoof. “Y’all weren’t gonna win it. Same problem as the war.”
“We’re winning,” Rainbow countered. “Right now.”
“After making everything worse!” Applejack slammed a hoof onto the table. “Zecora, Starlight, you,” the earth pony glared at the pegasus. “Couldn’t see past your own muzzles. Call everypony that refused to help a collaborator. Least y’all got honest after you lost.”
“You are a collaborator,” Flurry nickered. “Don’t make excuses.”
“I am,” Applejack snorted. “No offense, but I didn’t expect a bird army to fling itself across the ocean. Ain’t no one gave a damn when we fell. Not my point. Starlight Glimmer started a cult and tore through time over her friend not sending her a fucking letter often enough. Where was that pony? Too much a coward to look at her own shadow. Just like Luna.”
“You’re part of the problem,” Flurry accused. “You gave up, too. You wanna argue willpower?”
“I’m not arguing anything or making an excuse,” Applejack denied. “I know how this ends, Princess.”
The room went quiet. Rainbow exhaled with a snort. Applejack’s chair stopped creaking. Flurry Heart kept her hooves folded on the table. She took a deep breath.
“I’m holding you in Canterlot. You’ll be tried after the war.”
Rainbow snapped her head over to the alicorn. “No.”
Applejack chuckled with a breathy rasp. “Hypocrite. You hanged better ponies for lesser crimes.”
“No no no no no.” Rainbow shook her head each time. “She doesn’t get to walk.”
“She’s not walking anywhere,” Flurry stated. “I’m not hanging an Element of Harmony.”
“She doesn’t deserve that fucking Element!” Rainbow screamed. Her wings flexed.
“Don’t I?” Applejack questioned. “Still honest, RD.” Her muzzle quirked. “You want some honesty?”
“Shut up!” Rainbow whinnied at her. Her wing cut down with a clank of metal, then primed again. The feathers curled inward, but they were a fraction of a second behind her real wing.
“You really gonna stand there and say it was worth it?” Applejack asked. She leaned back in the chair, propping up her hind legs on the table with her forelegs behind her head. It looked amazingly uncomfortable. “You dug a hole so fucking deep you have to believe it was. Look at you.”
The pegasus’ scar pinched over her magenta eye. She breathed through her teeth.
“Most of my family’s still alive to hate me,” Applejack snorted. “What do you got left? Mother’s dead, father’s dead, Wonderbolts gone, one wing and barely a pegasus-”
Rainbow leapt forward and sliced her wing across Applejack’s neck.
Or she would have, had the earth pony not jerked her head back. The metal feathers sliced across her cheek instead and blood sprayed onto the table. Applejack tumbled back in the chair with a crash, but did not cry out. She laid on the floor for a moment.
Rainbow stood over her. Her wing twitched again. One metal feather dripped with blood. The pegasus looked over to Flurry Heart, eyes challenging her to stop it.
The alicorn looked at a blood-spattered coin atop the pamphlet of her family.
“Heh,” Applejack chuckled. She tugged on her neckerchief and held it to the slice across her cheek. “You were faster once. I wouldn’t have been able to dodge that back in the day.”
Rainbow’s breath let out in a long, low hiss between her teeth. “I’m not doing it for you. You are a fucking coward.” The wing retracted and folded against her side. “Pinkie had every problem you did and she carried it. She never gave up.”
Applejack did not respond. The cloth masked her muzzle, blotting red with blood. When the pegasus backed up, the earth pony staggered upright and righted her chair. Rainbow backed up farther, all the way to the bottles.
“You can have as many as you want.” Applejack’s rasp was muffled by the cloth.
Rainbow Dash snagged a cider with her good wing and flung it against the wall. When she turned to the door, Flurry caught the tears in her pinched eyes. The pegasus practically fled the room and slammed the door shut behind her. Flurry’s alicorn hearing picked up a single sob before it was choked down in rage.
Applejack lowered the cloth and stared at the pamphlet on the table. “Always wondered if Jachs knew when he came down to talk. Was a queer talk, but I was a little drunk at the time. Made it easier to lie.”
“He probably did.” Flurry stared at her aunt in the hospital bed. “Would you have done something?”
“Nope,” Applejack quipped.
Flurry shook her head. “I’m not killing you that easily.”
“You’re cruel, Princess,” the earth pony said mockingly. "Heard rumors you're Chrysalis' daughter. Or, uh Mare's Daughter?"
"Maar's Daughter," Flurry corrected. “The ELF could’ve won,” she tried after a heartbeat.
“With what?” Applejack asked. “Stolen guns and equipment against the largest army on Equus? Run by a team of mares all running from their pasts? Celestia and Luna didn’t come because they knew it wasn’t gonna make it.”
Flurry was quiet.
“You know that, too,” Applejack added. Her voice turned kind. “Sorry, filly. Rebellions begin with hope, but they’re run by rope. Seems like you learned that lesson.”
“Twilight will judge you after the war.”
Applejack stared at the pamphlet. “Don’t put that on her. If she ever wakes up-”
“She will.”
“If she ever wakes up,” Applejack said again, “you’re gonna make her judge me? She lost enough. Don’t put her through that. She's got you and Spike, and she loved you both. No matter what you've done. Don't let anypony ever tell you otherwise.”
“I’m not going to tell her that I hanged her friend from an apple tree,” Flurry countered.
“It’ll be kinder in the long run.”
Flurry shook her head. The slice across Applejack’s muzzle oozed down into her fur. The earth pony batted a bloody coin around the table. “Guess it’s the Princess’ prerogative to play favorites, huh?” She jabbed her hoof down atop the coin. “You know how this is gonna look.”
“I have Tempest Shadow as my High Commander of the Imperial Army and Cozy Glow in a spy network,” Flurry deadpanned. “I don’t give a shit how it looks.”
“Knew her as Fizzlepop,” Applejack grinned. It stretched the slice on her cheek. “Knew you as a little Tartarus spawn that blew holes through crystal. Seems like that hasn’t changed.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“So do you,” Applejack returned. “What were you expecting? Some grand excuse? Maybe I squirrelled away some little orphans like Rares? Heard that sob story from a few workers.”
“The Buffalo,” Flurry stated without inflection. “You built this place on their land.”
“Weren’t using it no more,” Applejack shrugged. “Queen gave me and Rockfeller the land after a bunch of bug settlers cleared the way.” She rolled an eye to the window. “Appleloosa would’ve loved to clear them out before the war. If they’re telling you otherwise, at least half of them are lying.”
“Did you help?”
“They were already gone by the time I relocated,” Applejack said dourly. “I got my sins; that ain’t one of them. I got the manor and the plantations and room to grow. Family business is the best it ever was under the Hegemony. Had a right monopoly. Best of a bad situation.”
Flurry was silent.
“You usually talk to the ponies you hang this much?” Applejack asked.
“Sunburst,” Flurry answered. “He called me a monster and I pitched him off my balcony.”
“Got a balcony right through those doors.”
“No.”
Applejack clicked her tongue. Her eyes focused for a moment. “Don’t let her find Pinkie.”
“What?”
“RD ain’t gonna like what she finds,” Applejack continued. “Please.”
Flurry mentally traced Appleloosa to Rockville. The Hegemony is going to try and breakout around there. Bronzetail’s leading a counter-push. It was above the highway corridor to Las Pegasus, but a far shorter flight. “What happened?”
“She never gave up,” the earth pony sighed. She lifted her hoof and the coin stuck to her frog. She flexed her hoof and flicked it back onto the table. Chrysalis’ fangs spun around.
“Was it worth it?” Flurry asked.
Applejack guffawed. “With you sitting across from me? Tartarus, no.” She squinted. “How’d you get that bird across the ocean to help? Weren’t you fighting him?”
“I made a lot of deals. Ponies don’t like any of them.”
“It’s gonna get a lot worse,” the earth pony promised with a rasp. “All of it. The bugs knew the war they were fighting from the first day. Hay, from the wedding. We didn’t open our eyes until it was too late.”
Flurry Heart stood up from the chair. “I can bear it.”
Applejack furrowed her brow and studied the tall teenager. Flurry’s horn glowed softly as she looked around the room. “Reckon you can,” she assessed after several heartbeats. "Didn't mean that as an insult earlier. About blowing holes in crystal. You're different."
“Why?” Flurry asked.
“You got cold eyes.” Applejack’s faded, dull green eyes looked up from the table. She pressed the cloth into her cheek again. “You were a cute filly. I’m sorry we lost.”
Flurry huffed. “You know, I think that’s the first time anypony’s ever apologized to me for that.”
“Reckon it hurts to do it,” Applejack answered. “You ain’t a Princess, and you ain’t Equestrian.” This time, her voice sounded slightly approving. "Didn't know your mother that well. Was surprised she stayed behind."
“I am from the Crystal Empire,” Flurry said. Her wings rustled against her jumpsuit. "My mother knew her duty."
Applejack nodded. “I’ll wait. Better be one Tartarus of an escort to get me to Canterlot.” An eye rolled to the shelves. “Might have another drink while I wait.”
Flurry Heart opened one of the drawers with a chime from her horn. She floated out an old revolver and inspected the wooden grip. There was no trigger guard so it could be fired by hoof, and the large safety pin was unhooked. Flurry popped the cylinder open.
There was one bullet inside.
“Was never my lucky day,” Applejack explained from the other side of the table. "Doubt it would be today as well."
Flurry Heart snapped the cylinder into place and tucked the safety pin back behind the trigger. The alicorn tucked the revolver against her right wing, carrying it with her feathers. Applejack watched her with a bloody muzzle. Flurry stopped in the doorway and lingered for a moment. Rainbow had vanished, but there was a long slice in the wallpaper leading to the grand staircase.
“Got one last question,” Applejack requested. “Heard you slaughtered an entire army. Radio’s been crowing about the Alicorn of Death for months. Watched all those ponies outside tuck their tails when you ordered them down, even Apple Bloom. They’re always gonna fear you.”
“They’ve looked at me like that my entire life.”
“You ever wish they looked at you otherwise?”
Flurry did not answer immediately. “Pointless question,” she finally said. She tossed her horn back. “I am what I am. The world isn’t going to pretend otherwise just because I want it to.”
“No,” Applejack agreed. “It won’t.”
Flurry left her. As she approached the stairs, her ears swiveled back at a soft song coming from the only furnished room in the house. Applejack’s voice was sour.
“Equestria, the land I love…”
“A land of Harmony…”
“Our flag does wave from high above…”
“For ponykind to see…”
She exited out the front doors. Amoxtli, Nightshade, and two dozen New Marelanders had bracketed the two groups of ponies. More Tzinacatl had arrived. The two bat ponies at the doors shuffled to the side, ears half-twisted inwards from the muffled singing.
The two herds had been disarmed as they waited. Flurry looked around. Oh, shit. She caught Gilda’s eyes from where the griffoness was fiddling with a radio. “Where’s Rainbow?”
“She took off faster than I could catch her,” Gilda admitted. “North. She kill the bitch like she said she would?”
Flurry gave her a look.
“Aw, Maar’s Hell,” Gilda swore. “Knew she was puffing hot air. I’ll fly her down, but the radio’s lit up. The ‘lings are moving to breakout and Army Group Center is swinging down to counter. I got to fly.”
The alicorn twisted back to Smolder. “Get Ember on the radio, too. They’ll make quick work and keep it contained. I gotta get to Rockville.”
“Princess?” Nightshade pointed a wing at the two groups.
Flurry groaned. “Babs, Apple Bloom, you are arrested for desertion. Appeal to Duty Price back in…wherever the fuck he’s at right now. Get your ponies off the front.”
Babs snorted. “Once we’re done here-”
The earth pony was seized in a golden aura and flung into the bark of an apple tree. She whinnied in pain from the hit, and was held there upside down. Flurry turned her burning horn to Amoxtli; the glow illuminated her eyes.
“Applejack is charged with treason and under arrest.” Her voice echoed across the orchard. “She is to be brought to Canterlot and held for trial post-war. If anypony makes an attempt on her life, they are to be shot.”
The echo faded and Flurry released the choking earth pony. She slid down from the tree and laid on the grass, hacking for breath. Apple Bloom stepped up with clear relief and tears in her eyes, but Flurry gave her a vicious snarl of bared teeth and the younger sister quailed.
Amoxtli nickered something in a tribal language and the Tzinacatl rushed the manor. She kneeled before the alicorn’s swirling mark on her leg. “As you command, Princess.”
“I do command it, and it will be obeyed.” Flurry raised her wings and horn, standing tall over the crowd. “This is my decree as Princess and Diarch of Equestria: Twilight Sparkle will judge the Element of Honesty for her crimes. She is the Princess of Friendship.”
In one moment, the anger or relief was replaced by fear. Flurry scanned over the muzzles. She locked eyes with Apple Bloom until the mare knelt, then looked to the next pony.
Her ponies knelt in the road and among the hanging bodies in the trees.
“Rise,” Flurry snarled. She jabbed a wing at Gilda. “Tell Mudbeak I have to hunt down my damn Air Marshal.” The feathers swiveled to Nightshade. “Tell Caballeron I’m shifting north. Have Light Narrative find somepony in Appleloosa to get order restored. Whatever is necessary.”
Nightshade nodded rapidly.
Flurry finally turned to Chips. “You ever been in a teleporting jeep?”
Chips swallowed and his head feathers puffed out. “No.”
“You’re about to be.”
Grover bobbed his head in acknowledgement. He kept his eyes on the projected map, and his claws clasped under his beak. The Reichstone shifted from the movement. He let it settle slightly right-leaning.
“Overlord copies all,” the radiogriffon said at the equipment desk. “Field Marshal Bronzetail has officially transferred command of the southern counterattack to General Loudbark.” He fiddled with the line of dials and buttons along the wall, swiveling around in a rolling chair. Wires ran up and through the rafters to the tower atop the roof.
“Wyvern-One’s forces jumped the gap,” another griffon called out. “Five-and-Seven.” One of the attendants at the projected map rushed to push small tokens across the gray zone heading to Las Pegasus from Appleloosa. It was one of the few major highways across the south that merged with two railways, and the Changelings had taken the obvious retreat opportunity.
“Do we know where they are headed?” Gallus asked. He shifted over several reports, yellow claws flipping through estimates. He crumpled one into a ball with a clack of his beak and tossed it to an overflowing wastebasket.
“Rockville.” The griffon removed his headset for a moment. “Wyvern-One is in the field.”
“They remain classified as rogue elements until Dragon Lord Ember links her forces to mine,” Grover ordered. He frowned heavily at the map, cheeks pulling down at the stalled airfields along the north. We’re losing airpower keeping the skies clear for them. “Has the Dragon Lord seen fit to acquire a radio yet?”
“General Mudbeak has relayed the request,” a griffon answered.
Grover resisted rolling his eyes.
One of the servants pushed up a metal alicorn across the gray zone and up to Rockville. It joined several wooden ponies with poorly carved bat wings and the draconic tokens. The griffoness checked her notes and stepped back from the map, disappearing into the flurry of activity along the walls.
Grover VI sat in the eye of a storm of griffons relaying, authorizing, countermanding, and commanding his orders as Army Group North launched several probing attacks through flooding fields to stall any attempted overland breakout. The storms had grounded most of his air force and the Hegemony’s Luftwaffe, and the Hegemony’s air force had been steadily bleeding since landfall. Both navies had disengaged; the Hegemony’s High Sea Fleet had been smashed outside Haukland in the initial landings, but the Reich’s fleet had been gradually mauled by submarines.
The Kaiser of Griffonkind rolled an eye to the metal alicorn. Well, and her. “Demon-One jumped the gap as well?” he asked aloud. The figurine was well-detailed, but the wings were not proportional to the actual alicorn.
“Her irregulars and a squad of the New Marelander contingent,” Gallus answered.
“Just so,” Grover rolled a sleeve back and checked his watch on a wrist. His tail swished. “Gallus, remain and send a courier if there is a significant development. I will be attending dinner in the west wing.”
“Of course.” The blue griffon cracked his talons and leaned back in his chair. Grover noted the smug look of a Griffonstone griffon lording over dozens of his ‘betters,’ but allowed it. The Kaiser stood and smoothly grabbed his overcoat, sliding his wings through the slits in a well-practiced, singular motion. He adjusted the cufflinks and put on a pair of gloves before placing his claws back on the floor.
Grover’s Ironpaws briefly halted the activity and made a corridor for the Kaiser to walk to the doors. Benito waited beyond in the hallway. The sounds of flapping wings and shuffling papers faded as the doors closed behind the griffon.
“How is our guest?” Grover asked.
“She will be attending,” Benito waved a paw and began escorting his Kaiser down the hallway. “Her own guards wish to be present.”
“No more than four,” Grover replied. “This business is best conducted with a modicum of privacy.”
Benito raised a fist to one of the Ironpaws and the dog raced ahead. “As you command, my Kaiser.” They continued down the corridors. Rain thumped on the barricaded, stained-glassed windows, and Grover felt the pressure differences even inside the castle. Reichsarmee soldiers on guard along the rooms flexed their wings subconsciously.
Canterlot was subjected to nearly unending rain as storm cells roiled outside the pink shield. The main frontline had essentially halted for the Reichsarmee and the Hegemony; trucks and cargo planes struggled to meet demand. Equestria lacked the regional infrastructure of Griffonia. Major highways and roadways were a rarity. Many earth pony villages and townships simply hauled their goods on carts along dirt roads to larger towns for shipment at trainyards.
Hardly a surprise the Changelings relocated so much of the outlying populations. Equestria’s commitment to simple, rural pacifism made it the breadbasket of the world, but the Hegemony prioritized factories over food. Grover lashed his tail and stopped in the hallway, opening his coat. He fished out a ballpoint pen and notepad, flipping through the pages.
The Ironpaws halted and looked around. Benito took an extra step forward, but his ears twitched at the click of the pen and the dog looked back. He cleared his throat and tapped a paw on a wristwatch.
“This’ll be quick,” Grover said absently. He scribbled down Population Growth w/out Equestrian Exports — Check Census w/ Yale. The griffon flipped the page over, then scribbled out Find Out Why Wings So Maar-Damned Big.
“If it’s important…” Benito began.
“It is not,” Grover clacked his beak. He replaced the pen and notebook and closed the inner pocket. “Proceed.”
As the procession exited the east wing to move to the west wing, Grover stopped again and frowned at the Reichsarmee checkpoint to ‘his’ side of the castle. Canterlot Castle had not been built to be very defensible; there was a lack of chokepoints and hard turns. Engineers had dragged sandbags into strategic hallways and blocked several of the servants’ doors.
The main checkpoint dominated the entrance to the east wing; sandbags and a heavy machine gun sat facing the interior with a constant staff. One of Grover’s Aquileian mages was present at all times. Currently, three knights had surrounded a purple-uniformed griffoness, searching a very quaint-looking picnic basket as if it had a bomb. The Kaiser raised a wing and bent several primary feathers for the Ironpaws to advance.
Grover walked up to the burgundy griffon with Benito’s barely audible whine of disapproval following him. “Katherine of Katerin.” The griffoness tilted her head to the side at Grover's approached. Her tail bobbed with feigned delight.
“What’s up, Kaiser Grover?” Katherine leaned her claws atop a sandbag, flashing her talons at a knight sneering down at her beak. He had half-drawn his sword at the movement, but the griffoness kept her arms bent and in plain sight. The Imperial Snowflake was slightly askew on her right arm.
Grover did take some satisfaction that even with her leaning on two sandbags, she was only eye-level with him. He had gotten used to the Princess' height. Her friend was a year younger than him, and slim. Her rich red feathers clashed terribly with the splotchy purple of her jacket. “Did you make that uniform yourself?”
“Yep,” Katherine rolled her eyes. “I got a better one, but I like my peasant wear. Your guards won’t let me in naked, but they search me every time I dress up. Hardly fair, but nothing in the Reich is fair, is it?”
Grover did not respond to the taunt. He raised a brow at the bottles of soda and sandwiches being unwrapped by one of the knights. “Is there a reason you are trying to access my area of the castle?”
“Dinner,” Katherine deadpanned. “Figured Henrik would enjoy something other than your table scraps.”
Grover paused. “Who?” he asked, tone flat and neutral.
It is good that her feathers are red. Makes her flush of anger harder to see. Katherine’s head feathers puffed involuntarily, but she glared through his glasses and slammed her beak shut when she registered the smirk in his eyes.
“Funny,” Katherine said lightly. “Does it bother you that his voice is deeper than yours? Sounds like a real griffon.”
“He’s a year older, so no,” Grover quipped. He squinted at the bread knife one of the knights was critically studying in a gauntlet. The Kaiser waved both wings. “Her claws are probably sharper than that knife. Let her through. Escort her to Henrik’s chambers.”
“My…” the knight nodded reluctantly. “As you command, my Kaiser.”
Grover looked back to Katherine. “Enjoy your date with my double.”
“He’s double the griffon,” the peasant retorted in her Katerin accent.
The Kaiser of Griffonkind laughed, voice cracking deeper. He took a breath, only to laugh harder at the griffoness’ dumbfounded blink. “I see why the Princess likes you,” he eventually managed. “Words are wind. Try harder. Thou art unfit for any place but Maar’s Hell, for example.”
Katherine’s wings fluttered. “Thou dost infect my eyes,” she tried.
Grover hummed. “Same play, but somewhat ruined by your upcoming date.” He turned away. “Henrik likes mustard, by the way,” the griffon added over a wing.
Katherine collected her sandwiches and sodas from the knights, stuffing them back into her basket with off-balance movements. She followed the knight waiting to escort her more meekly than Grover expected, but she was out of sight quickly as they crossed the great hall.
The obsidian throne remained in the room, but the windows had all been dismantled and boarded-up. The throne was draped over with Twilight Sparkle’s pointed star, and the burning Crystal Heart swung from the rafters above it, reminding ponies of the restored Diarchy. More importantly, who is actually ruling it. A pair of each tribe guarded the steps to the throne: unicorn, pegasus, earth pony, crystal pony, and bat pony. All of them were wearing purple dress uniforms with rifles and eyes that tracked the Kaiser as he crossed the room.
“Has there been news from the River Federation?” Grover said to Benito. The dog was still ahead of him.
“No, my Kaiser,” Benito responded. “We have heard nothing.”
Grover rubbed his beak together. Damn. Their silence is more worrisome than their neighing. Or barking. He half-expected a condemnation of Flurry Heart’s elevation and the Royal Sisters stepping forward. Twilight Sparkle had been discovered tortured, Mi Amore Cadenza confirmed slain and mutilated, a new blood-soaked alicorn claimed the oldest throne in the world…
And the world watched with a shrug. Then, what else to expect? The world shrugged when Chrysalis claimed the continent. It shrugged when the Revolution destroyed the Reich. He laughed to himself. It shrugged when Celestia declared she had a long-lost sister.
“My Kaiser?”
“History, Benito,” Grover waved a wing.
“Try to restrain your bouts of laughter,” Benito advised. “There were always rumors with those letters.”
“Would you prefer I flew into a rage like Grover II?” the griffon asked mirthlessly.
Benito coughed into a gloved paw and looked back ahead. The guards changed from griffons and dogs in Reichsarmee gray to ponies in gray uniforms with purple accents around the cuffs and collars. Appears practicality has won the day, Grover mused. Occasionally, a crystal pony wore a full dark purple uniform, but the Imperial Army of the Crystal Empire and Equestria merely adjusted their armbands and collars as a whole. This will be a war of black and gray.
The crystal ponies outside the dining halls stared through Grover’s entourage, glittering eyes blank. Benito kept his paws at his hips, but the other Ironpaws shuffled awkwardly behind their Kaiser. The Princess proclaimed no favorites of her subjects, but the few crystal ponies in Canterlot were zealous in their devotion to Flurry Heart.
“Kaiser Grover VI and Lord Commander Benito,” a crystal mare intoned without inflection. Her muzzle was almost ultramarine, shifting between a deep blue and a brighter color from the shadows in the doorframe. She swept her unblinking stare through the entourage. “You may enter. The rest remain. The Lord Regent and Royal Advisor await.”
Grover stared down his beak at the mare. “Frosty Jadis.”
The mare bent her foreleg to her chest with some difficulty, then placed it back upon the floor. “Kaiser Grover.” She snapped her tail in a signal to open the doors. The other crystal ponies shouldered them open, slung shotguns clinking at their sides. Jadis turned around and led Benito and the Kaiser into the room.
Jadis cleared her throat. “Sir Spike the Brave and Glorious, Lord Regent of Equestria and Knight of the Crystal Empire, and Thorax, Royal Advisor to the Princess, your guests have arrived.” She managed their titles in one breath.
The large dragon and slim changeling leaned on two of the dining chairs in an otherwise empty hall, chatting with each other in a low voice. Thorax tucked some paperwork into a folder and set it upon the table. Benito raised a paw and made several quick gestures; the Ironpaws broke formation and took up positions opposite the crystal ponies in the hallway.
“Kaiser Grover,” the Lord Regent nodded from the table. The dragon had not taken a seat, but one of the chairs was far larger and more reinforced than the other four. He leaned against the top of it. “When I gave the invitation, I did not expect you to accept so soon.”
“Circumstances change,” Grover answered formally. “My guest should arrive shortly. She is allowed four guards.”
“So your dog informed us,” Thorax picked up. “It makes no difference. For your own safety and comfort, you may choose to have your Ironpaws to inside the hall.”
Grover eyed Jadis’ tail ahead of him. It swished with a flick of nervous energy. “They will remain outside,” the griffon said dismissively with an upturned beak. “Trust is a valuable commodity, and we are allies.”
A unicorn server approached and bowed to Spike. He beckoned the stallion upright with a claw. “Bring the food and drink out.”
Jadis stepped aside and resumed her blank stare as Grover and Benito passed her. The crystal pony returned to her post, but the doors remained open for the final dinner guest. The dining hall had been cleared, long tables moved to the sides either by magic or strength. One modest wooden table had been set with a fine gilded tablecloth with five cushioned, low-backed chairs surrounding it.
Grover and Benito stood opposite Spike and Thorax. All were wearing formal outfits. The Kaiser removed his gloves and stuffed them into his coat pockets. He had left the sash of medals behind in his room, but wore an elegant buttoned-up shirt with his emblem of a roaring griffon on the breast pocket. He unhooked his glasses and cleaned them with a cloth while he waited.
The dragon gestured to a basin with a bar of soap and towel on the table. An earth pony stood ready with a cart. “If you wish to wash your claws before dinner…” the dragon offered.
“I wore gloves,” Grover retorted. Benito stuffed his own gloves in his jacket, then draped it against the back of his chair. The dog rolled his sleeves up. Grover caught the white scar running the back of his paw and looked away to the basin. Why not?
Grover peeled a line of soap of the bar with a talon, then scrubbed his claws in the water. His talons raked the fluffy towel afterwards and tore the fibers. He still refolded it and left it by the basin. Benito eyed him with a scrunched muzzle.
The table was silent. Grover stared back. After a heartbeat, he rolled his eyes and said what he was thinking aloud. “They did not poison a fucking soap bar, Benito.”
“VOPS would be fond of something like that,” Thorax said dryly. “Vaspier is fond of ironic deaths.”
“I am aware of the capabilities of the Vesalipolis Office of Public Safety,” Grover answered. “I assume you have no reason to want me dead and are capable of checking for poisons.”
“Your chefs are in the kitchen too,” Thorax answered. “We checked them as best we could.”
Grover clacked his beak at the insinuation that his own griffons would attempt to assassinate him. “The teams work separately. I have found that even Aquileian ponies cannot stand the preparation of red meat. It offends their senses.”
“For most,” Spike agreed. “Nova Griffonians swallow it down, and the Princess became fond of chicken in the frontier.”
“So I’ve seen,” Benito interrupted. “How did that occur?” The dog crossed to the basin and scrubbed his paws.
“Bet,” Spike shrugged a wing.
“Barbecue sauce,” Thorax elaborated without elaborating. He seemed to have a smirk judging from how his lips curled away from the prominent fangs.
Other severs began to bring out plates of bread and mashed potatoes, setting them up on one of the side tables with plates. It was not an excessive amount of food, and carefully proportioned for the table. Grover cocked his head at the clatter of additional hooves in the hallway. He turned to the doorway just as Benito finished and resumed his place beside him.
A stag entered the doorway, brown eyes sweeping the room. The deer wore an old, faded blue uniform under and equally haggard sash, but his eyes were proud. He inhaled and raised his antlers to the ceiling. “Velvet Jelzek, Queen of Olenia!”
The next pair to enter reminded Grover of the word ‘hubris’ in his mind. Truthfully, he had not considered the Olenian royal family at all during his war plans. It was an extraction protectorate of the Hegemony, invaded a year before the Great War and capitulated in less than two months. There had been no grand rebellion of deer during the Great War.
Deer conscripts were sent into battle against Equestria in the early days, promised to be exempt from the Love Tax for loyal service. They had all but disappeared as the war dragged on, and there was no news from Olenia beyond what the Hegemony wanted to distribute. Apparently, deerkind was prospering under the guiding hooves of Chrysalis.
I must give her credit: She is the Queen of Lies. I should have her named as a Maarspawn after I kill her. Grover inclined his head to Queen Velvet, far enough to show respect without letting the Reichstone fall to the floor.
Velvet nodded back. Her eyes were a fierce blue a shade darker than the Princess, and her blue antlers flashed in the light, polished to a shine. She had an elegant shawl draped across her frame that exposed her voluminous light tan chest fluff, clearly brushed and maintained. Her muzzle was pressed into a thin line, appearing collected and in control.
None of her presentation could make up for the fact a brown stag carried her in. The shawl hid most of her atrophied rear legs, and her forelegs were still lean and strong, but the Queen of Olenia could not walk unaided. She was carried to the final chair at the end of the table, and the stag carefully knelt. Velvet made the shuffle off his back look as dignified as she could, pivoting her hooves against the table and leaning down into the chair.
“I hope you do not mind if I take a seat first,” the Queen demurred in received Equestrian. She clearly had a professional tutor in the language.
“Of course not,” Spike said deferentially. “You are the guest of the hour, Queen Velvet.”
The doe smiled brightly at the tacit confirmation of her title. “The honor is mine, Lord Regent, but first I must thank Kaiser Grover.” She shifted her stare to Grover VI and bowed her head. Her horns flashed. “Your knights were able escort.”
“The Rosewood Order has many accolades,” Grover answered. “But you did all the hard work of reaching the frontline in the first place.”
“My deer will debrief you on all we know,” Velvet promised again.
Thorax levitated the bowl of water and soap down to the deer. Velvet cocked her head at the changeling, but smiled disarmingly. “Very kind. Royal Advisor?”
“Thorax,” the changeling supplied. “We never met.”
“Ah, you were exiled like I was. I remember the story.” Velvet scrubbed her forehooves as if she wasn’t carried into the room. Benito discreetly muffled a sneeze. Grover’s nose was not as good, but she smelled of fine perfume. The griffon nudged Benito with a wing to change places. The dog did so reluctantly, but Grover sat closer to her now.
Spike raised a claw and snapped his talons. The washing bowl was withdrawn and the servants advanced to the table with the modest dinner. Grover was not particularly that hungry after several hours of observing the war room, but his chefs prepared spaghetti and meatballs with a deluge of spices from Aquileia.
A griffon, a dog, a dragon, a changeling, and a doe took their seats at a pony’s dining hall. This is a setup to a terrible joke. Velvet’s attendant stood beside his Queen, but she waved him away with a hoof.
“Wait with the twins, Rudolph.” She unfolded the napkin, taking the utensils into the clefts of her hooves while tucking the napkin against her puffy fur. “I thank you for your generosity, Kaiser Grover VI.”
“Of course,” Grover answered with practiced ease. He looked over his shoulder to the four deer standing inside the room in faded uniforms. They reminded him of the Princess’ ragged army. All were armed with Changeling equipment. “Your journey must have been difficult.”
“The Changeling line is disorganized.” Velvet rolled her neck. “Leaving Olenia and crossing the strait was the most difficult trek. Their garrisons are diminished, and many of the fishing towns south of Vanhoover are long abandoned. Their western settlements are in disarray in Equestria. There are gaps along the overgrown roads.”
“You noted no contact with the ELF,” Spike said.
“Beyond errant bullets fired from tree lines?” Velvet nickered. “I imagine they have not seen a deer in some years, or at all. Olenia and Equestria never saw eye-to-eye.”
“Centuries of raiding will do that,” Spike replied dryly.
“Equestria was weakened by the loss of its Moon,” Velvet answered with a shrug. “We are traders and seafarers. I reached out to Equestria to restore me to my rightful throne and gain an ally, and the Sun declined.”
“The Sun had no interest sparking a civil war,” Spike answered. “You should have come earlier.”
“Would that have made a difference?” Velvet laughed.
“No,” Thorax answered. “But I have to wonder what made you risk such a difficult journey now.”
“That should be very obvious,” Velvet answered, tone cold.
Drinks floated down to the table, followed by dishes. Grover had water with a wedge of lemon. Benito accepted a chilled beer, muzzle curling at the imitation changeling label. He still popped the cap off. Thorax accepted a glass of seemingly plain water and a plate of buttered bread.
The Lord Regent’s dish was a meaty lasagna flecked with crystals. He cut into it carefully, listening for where the knife clinked against the shards. Both the dragon and the deer had wine glasses. “Leave the bottles,” the Lord Regent glanced up at the servers. “This will be a long dinner.”
Queen Velvet accepted a salad. She smiled again at the leafy greens and diced carrots. “It has been far too long since I’ve had anything fresh,” she mused. “The Princess is in the field?”
“She extends her apologies for not attending,” Spike answered.
“Please,” Velvet scoffed. “The Princess extends fire and blood across the south. Floki and Loki dream of it.” She snapped her horns towards two identical deer standing at the far table. The doe and stag, both snow white, drank sodas in unison with bright red eyes.
“Most dismiss the magic of Seers,” Grover answered. “Precognition is not well understood.”
“Unicorns wish to catalog magic,” Velvet laughed daintily. “They imagine they can bound it and spiral it around their horns. We understand it is a wild, feral thing: It is a sword without a hilt. The spirits can guide us to glory or guide us to pitfalls.”
She looked towards the plain bread before Thorax. “Why do you eat?”
“We have to eat,” Thorax said casually. "Emotions are only part of it."
“The Alsherjargoði once decreed that your kind was without souls,” Velvet continued. “That is why you need to steal ours. Killing you could only do a service to the Gods. Our borders always lived in fear of your pathetic raids.”
Thorax bit into a slice of bread without responding.
“I suspect Celestia never wanted us to meet.” Velvet crunched through another bite. She waited until she swallowed. “Good of you to stay in the north with the Crystal Princess.”
“I am not your enemy,” Thorax said calmly.
“Ah,” Velvet whickered. “But what about the Terror of Vaverfront? Hive Marshal Trimmel’s favorite blitzkrieg commander? He made quick work of our defenses.”
“My brother is long dead.” The changeling’s voice was neutral.
“Unfortunately,” Velvet said in an airy voice, “mine still lives. Johan sits upon my throne in Hjortland, surrounded by deer that could not stomach a doe upon the throne to the point of elevating a bastard.”
“You intend to kill him?” Grover asked. “What do your gods say of kinslaying?”
“He is a literal bastard as well as a figurative one,” Velvet demurred. “My father’s great sin. He wished for me to be heir, but raised Johan beside me. Of course small-minded deer looked to a three-horned stag to lead them before a doe.”
The Queen blushed. “I apologize.” She glanced to the empty wine glass. “We have not had wine in some time.”
Grover saw through the ploy. She must have been the Queen of Equestrian foppery…but I grew up in Griffenheim. He smiled indulgently. “Just so, Queen Velvet.”
“My brother must die for his crimes,” Velvet confirmed. She poured herself more wine, nearly to the brim of the glass. “The Princess has demonstrated the proper punishment for collaboration. Oligarchs have grown fat off the suffering of the common deer for over a decade. No longer.”
Spike nodded. “Equestria should’ve backed your restoration. We could’ve stalled Chrysalis early.”
Alternatively, sparking a civil war could have accelerated Chrysalis’ plans and caught both of you unprepared, Grover mused. Perhaps a victory in the end, but not as easy as one would wish. His aunt flashed in his eye.
The Kaiser sliced open one of the meatballs and his cheeks pulled into a frown. There was a wedge of paper stuffed into the meat. He glanced over the rims of his glasses to the changeling, then pulled it out and unfolded the small slip of paper.
Gotcha.
Grover set it down next to the bowl. “This hardly counts,” he said across the table.
Thorax swallowed a sip of water. “There’s five. You find the other four and we’ll talk.”
Grover suppressed a growl. “How bad is my security in your estimation?”
“If VOPS was actually trying to kill you they would’ve done it,” the changeling answered. “Vaspier must be stretched thin trying to keep internal suppression down.”
“The other Changeling Queens are dead,” Velvet claimed. “After Chrysalis’ coronation in Canterlot, they fell silent in their Hives. We encountered a few near feral changelings in the mountains for years afterwards. They had fled purges behind shadowed doors and knives in the night.”
“You didn’t show any mercy to them, I suppose,” Thorax assumed.
“Your brother showed no mercy to Vaverfront. He enjoyed it.”
“My brother is dead,” Thorax repeated with a mild hiss. “He was hanged by the Queen he loved to serve. I’m sure you enjoy that.”
“I do,” Velvet confirmed. She took the stem of the wine glass the cleft of her left hoof and sipped. “I enjoy knowing Trimmel is dead as well.”
“He died a coward,” Spike rumbled.
“Good.”
The table was silent for several minutes.
“We lost track of you during the war,” Spike eventually stated to the doe. “The ELF assumed you had been killed.”
“It was obvious you had lost this war long before Canterlot fell,” Velvet said softly. Grover sensed it was false kindness. “I could not speak on a radio forever; I risked the journey to Olenia across the bay to lead whoever I could.”
“Olenia’s prewar borders will be restored,” Grover promised.
The deer’s antlers flashed. “We have suffered greatly.”
“You do not want any changeling land,” Grover retorted. “Trust me on that. The rebuilding process of Olenia will be arduous enough.”
“What is your intention?” Velvet mused. “I have heard of this Grand Crusade. Do you claim the territory, or does the Princess?”
Spike and Thorax shared a look, but neither responded. Grover folded his claws on the table. “We have not discussed it in-depth.”
“Olenian runestones dot the southern Changeling Lands,” Velvet laughed. “Our lands extended well into their borders centuries ago.” Her eyes turned sly. “Much like the Crystal Empire.”
You overreach. “We will take that into consideration,” Grover demurred. “I do wish to hear of your resistance and their gathered information.”
“Of course, Kaiser Grover,” Velvet promised again. “Olenia will not be another footnote in another war.”
“Once the southern campaign is finished, Princess Flurry Heart and Dragon Lord Ember will return to Canterlot,” Spike added. He carefully bit around his fork, crunching through the crystals and the lasagna.
Benito’s whiskers twitched at the exaggerated motion. “How many forks do you bite through?”
“Haven’t done it in years,” Spike quipped. “When do dogs stop chasing their tails?”
“Unless they are exceptionally stupid, four,” Benito retorted. “When did you outgrow the basket?”
“I scarcely recognize you, Lord Regent,” Velvet faux-apologized. “My last memory was of a pudgy dragon taking notes while Princess Twilight apologized for the lack of deer enrolled in her school.”
“I remember that meeting.” Spike set the fork down. “You twisted words well enough there, too.”
Grover clasped his claws under his beak to hide the smile.
“I beg your pardon?” Velvet frowned.
“It was your decision,” Spike pointed out. “You didn’t want deer enrolled because it made you look like a puppet, but you twisted it around on Twilight with honeyed words. Made it seem like it was her fault her school wasn’t welcoming enough.”
“Well, considering that debacle with that foal…” Velvet left the thought hanging for a heartbeat. “I was vindicated.”
“You’re just as proud as you were all those years ago,” Spike snorted. “I admit it; I’m impressed. Most would take a bullet to the spine as a wake-up call.”
Velvet’s muzzle curled in anger. “I risked more than your Princesses ever did. Celestia threw dinners. The Grand Galloping Gala continued during the first year of the war even as her sister lost every engagement. Unicorns gathered around to tell me how tragic Olenia’s fate was, blind to what was happening beyond their mountain.”
“They’re all dead,” Spike countered. “You arrived too late to see the hangings.”
“Our fate could have been avoided had Celestia found her spine. She told me with a smile that she sent a note of protest to Chrysalis when the tanks rolled across our borders. She called it unjust on the radio, but no more.”
“Equestria was not prepared for a war.”
“And you paid for it as dearly as we did.” Velvet shook her head. “I don’t understand. How could you look at our home burn and shrug?”
Spike opened his mouth.
“You should’ve killed your brother,” Thorax interrupted. “Why didn’t you kill him then?”
Spike gaped at the changeling beside him.
“How was I to do that?” Velvet nickered.
“You had loyal deer in Olenia,” the changeling buzzed his wings. “I’m sure some were close to Johan, close enough to poison him. You ask us why we didn’t do more. Why didn’t you?”
Velvet flushed and drank her wine glass dry.
“Your brother surrendered Olenia before the fighting turned truly ugly,” Thorax explained. “Had it been a bitter, vicious fight to the death…perhaps Equestria would have woken up. But it was over in less than a season, and many ponies had never met a deer. What did it matter to them?”
“Enough, changeling.”
“My brother was an asshole,” Thorax said with finality. “I’m sorry for his role in Olenia’s fall. He was still my brother, and I still loved him.”
“Keep whatever sense you have to yourself,” Velvet nickered. Her antlers glowed in the light.
Thorax drank his water.
The table was quiet again. Grover did not find another note in the pasta and assumed the others were probably stuffed into his socks and scattered through his room. Pull another mage to run wards. The Kaiser cleaned his beak with the napkin.
“There’s no dessert,” the Lord Regent said after finishing his plate.
“I doubt any of us wish to stay for further discussion,” the Lord Commander replied.
“I shall speak with the Lord Regent and Royal Advisor privately,” Grover announced. “You are dismissed, Benito.”
Queen Velvet regarded the wine bottle. “May I keep it?”
“We’ll have another delivered to the guest quarters,” Spike promised. “When the Princess returns to Canterlot, we will officiate the alliance between everyone.”
“We shall speak more in private, Queen Velvet,” Grover said to the doe.
The Queen of Olenia was helped out of her chair by her assistant and the two twins. Another stag stood at the door with a hoof on his stolen submachine gun. One of the albino twins, the doe, stared at Grover unblinkingly.
Grover stared back. Far too much like a crystal pony.
Benito and the deer exited the room. Servants collected the plates and departed through the side entrances. Grover was certain Benito was waiting outside with a twisting tail, but the remaining guards were far along the walls.
“I feel obligated to apologize for my guest,” Grover began. “I was unaware General Pharynx played such a role in the fall of Olenia.”
“Most of his achievements were credited to Trimmel after his death,” Thorax said dismissively.
“What did you want to discuss?” Spike asked. He folded his arms.
“The Princess remains committed to avoiding the mistakes of the Great War. We may present a unified front, but it will be under my command. My war plan and my army are advancing across your continent.”
Spike puffed a plume of smoke. “Fine.”
Grover blinked. “Just like that?” he asked incredulously.
“Princess Flurry has committed to that course already,” Thorax rolled his eyes. “Archmage Shimmer is working on getting Mage Units ready to integrate into the frontlines. We’ll talk about all of this once the southern campaign is concluded.”
“What else?” Spike asked flatly.
Grover drummed his talons on the table. “I wish to be on good terms with you.”
Spike laughed; it was a single, rumbling chuckle.
“We’re not her parents,” the changeling added with smirking fangs.
“She calls you family, and so you are,” Grover replied. He ran a claw through his head feathers around the Reichstone. “Ancestors above, she threatened to blow up my palace.”
“You really expect me to believe you were quaking in your crown over that?” Spike said sardonically. “You bombed the shit out of her bubble shield up until the deadline.”
“I had to make preparations,” Grover countered. “I could not shift my entire war plan based on the whims of one alicorn. I had to reshuffle my air command.” Most were probably grateful to avoid facing Maar's Daughter.
The changeling across the table tilted his horn to the side and breathed deeply. He licked his fangs. “We’re fine. It was her decision.”
Spike frowned, fangs pulling his muzzle down. “Why’d that even work?”
“What do you mean?” Grover asked.
“The Griffonian Reich’s whole thing was that it did not care about Equestria,” Spike shrugged. “You papers barely acknowledged Luna, even when they did they called her Nightmare Moon. No alicorns in the Riverlands. Did you even know about her mother?”
No. “How many Equestrians knew about Princess Cadance before the wedding?”
“Fair,” Thorax laughed. “She liked to keep a low profile for a long time. She was never that magically talented.”
“Why’d it work?” Spike asked again.
Grover took a breath. “I was going to lose the war. We stalemated in Equestria. I needed to relieve pressure elsewhere.”
“So she didn’t even have to offer it,” Spike chuckled ruefully.
“It helps,” Grover answered. “Griffons need tangible results. I can’t wave my claws at an economic table and screech about how Equus will make us rich. The average griffon is not going to see a drastic improvement in their quality of life from winning this war.”
“A trophy,” Thorax shrugged a hoof. “Something shiny to point to.”
“Not in those terms.”
“She knew the nature of the deal,” Thorax sighed. “Improve your security. If you die, your griffons are going to blame her.”
“I will speak with Benito,” Grover deadpanned. He stood up and placed his coat back on, followed by his gloves. His beak clenched, then he pulled out a slip of paper from one of the gloves. Thorax stared back placidly as the Kaiser unfolded it.
Gotcha.
“Three more,” the changeling offered.
Grover unhooked his glasses and closed his eyes. “I am sorry,” he forced out. “I wish she accepted my offer. I should have explained myself better and never sent-”
“You still don’t understand her,” Thorax chided with a hiss. “I did not raise her to be a Princess, nor did her family, not truly.”
You think I wanted to be the Kaiser? Grover did not say it aloud. “The gaps in her education are self-evident.”
“Her studying habits were terrible,” Thorax chirped. “Spend more time with her. Maybe the reading will rub off.”
“It won’t,” Spike countered.
“No, but I can hope.”
Grover inclined his head. “Thank you for hosting us.”
“Two things, Kaiser Grover VI,” Thorax said. The changeling leaned back in his chair and tipped his purple cap away from his horn. “Velvet Jelzek is going to realize you’re just pumping her for information. She wants to be an equal ally.”
I am well aware. “And the other?”
“Did Flurry ever tell you what happened with the Crystal Heart?”
Grover rolled his eyes. “Aside from it nearly killing her and making the world’s largest flyswatter, no.”
The changeling stared at him for several moments, then licked his right fang. He smiled softly afterwards. “Thank you for being there for Flurry. We should do this again.”
“Lord Regent. Royal Advisor.” Grover backed out of the room. The crystal ponies reopened the doors and the Kaiser exited into the hallway. Benito ceased pacing before the other dogs.
“Did they threaten you?” Benito asked.
“Only if you count more dinner invitations as threats.”
Benito gave Grover a dark look that indicated he did count them as threats.
“I’m too busy,” Grover deflected. “This was solely to confirm Queen Velvet as under my wing. She approached the Reichsarmee before Equestria.”
“She expects terms similar to the Princess.”
She is not an alicorn. “I must admire that level of self-confidence,” Grover deflected. He checked his watch. “Gallus did not send a courier. Let us see what has happened. I do not like the dragons as a rogue element in the south.”
They departed down the hallway. Benito and the Ironpaws formed a cordon around Grover, but the trip was peaceful. The sun had set over the course of the dinner, and the guards on shift were the only occupants in the hallways. Grover reached the other wing without incident.
“My Kaiser?” Benito turned his voice upwards to indicate it was a question and not a confirmation. The dog glanced over his shoulder. “I must express concern at the future war councils.”
“Why?”
“You intend to place the Dragon Lord, the Queen of Olenia, and the Princess in the same room and pray to the Gods they do not kill each other.”
“Yes,” Grover said flatly.
“Can you not be in that room as well?”
“Someone has to stop them from killing each other. As Proteus says, we cannot expect the Gods to do all the work.”
Bentio muttered something.
“What was that, Lord Commander?” Grover asked in a louder voice.
“Nothing,” Benito lied.
Grover adjusted the Reichstone with a wing, then frowned at a crinkling in the padding. He stopped abruptly and yanked the crown off, flipping it upside down and tugging at the seams. There was another folded slip of paper tucked inside a fold. This time, he openly snarled and crushed the paper without reading it. “I want a full sweep of my room.”
Flurry Heart had no expectations for a ‘rock farm,’ but those two words scarcely described the vast pits of sundered ground ahead of her. The alicorn stood at the very edge of one, feeling the rain slick down her jumpsuit and run through her feathers. Rockville was just north enough to catch the edge of the rainstorms consuming most of Equestria.
The water filled the rough-cut quarries, flooding abandoned machinery and washing away loose dirt. It flowed out of cuts in the stone to be washed towards the sea, but the drainage was too slow to keep up with the downpour. Flurry kicked a pebble in with her bare hoof, watching it sail down into the dark, swirling waters. The top of an excavator was still visible; the bucket had been raised up above the waterline.
An earth pony stallion was hanging underneath, but the water already dragged the body down. Only the rope was still visible. The other slaves had been unrepentant about killing him; the stallion was one of the company’s appointed overseers. He had been too low-level to be worth taking along the evacuation to Las Pegasus.
Flurry brought her eyes upwards to the north. Lightning flashed along the horizon and thunder followed, but some blasts were mistimed. The Reichsarmee was counterattacking several dozen miles ahead of an attempted breakout, shattering a mechanized push up the coast to relieve the stranded Changelings still in the south.
The alicorn turned around and trotted back to the jeep parked at the edge of the quarry. Chips and a radiogriff sat beside the hood, with Smolder and Nightshade leaning on the front seats. All of them were arguing over a paper map, but Flurry couldn’t hear the words. Her golden bubble shield muffled the pounding rain and discussion to anyone outside, and that included her for the moment.
Flurry retracted an edge of the shield slowly. Chips felt the stinging rain and flared his wings over the map. The alicorn ducked and stepped through the open side, then snapped the shield closed behind her. The droplets made a discordant chiming sound as they impacted the half-shield, rippling out like they hit the surface of a still pond. The golden bubble crackled with blue sparks as the sound of rain faded.
The Princess dimmed her horn. “What’s the situation?” She resisted the urge to fan her wings and shake her head, letting the cold water soak further into her fur and jumpsuit.
“It’s a feint,” the radiogriff answered. The brown griffoness took off her headset. “Princess, the force is too small. It’s a distraction. If we had our recon planes out-”
“We told you,” Smolder snorted. The dragoness folded her arms across the steering wheel. “Saw some ships moving towards Las Pegasus.”
“There’s an informational chain of command to these things,” Nightshade pointed out. “Yeah, ‘Late Lord’ Ember told us…as in some random idiots on the frontline, not command.”
“Don’t call her that,” Smolder abruptly snarled at the bat pony beside her.
“I can call her what I want,” Nightshade hissed back.
Chips shot a worried wince up to Flurry’s muzzle.
“Enough, Nightshade,” the alicorn sighed. She craned her neck over Chip’s wings to see the map of the south. Figures and arrows had been scrawled across it around the major highway to Las Pegasus, with additional markings on the bay towards the Olenian Peninsula.
Shit. We need to move. Flurry bit her lip. “What’s going on with General Mudbeak?”
“The advance is all strung out across the south,” Chips summarized. His eyes drifted to the orange dragoness drumming her claws on his steering wheel. “There’s been…complications. For deffo.”
“Please don’t start that again,” Flurry pleaded. She return to the map, eying the rough drawings. “Smolder, can you get Dragon Lord Ember? She’s around here. Lemme go talk to Gilda.”
“Yeah,” Smolder shrugged. “She’s out by that buried quarry with one of the elders.”
Flurry Heart looked back over a wing. In the far distance, a plain two-story wooden house stood discordantly next to a half-dozen abandoned excavators. Tents stretched out from raised scoops and booms, using the equipment as makeshift poles to keep the rain away. The alicorn could easily see the dozens of ponies sheltering from the storm surge.
“Tell the Dragon Lord to meet me at the house,” Flurry said as she twisted back to the dragoness. Smolder followed the alicorn’s stare and bit her lip. She nodded after a pause.
Flurry’s horn glowed; Chips and Nightshade pulled up their raincoats and folded the maps away as the shield slowly retracted. Flurry Heart scrunched her muzzle at the cold, stinging rain impacting her pinned ears. She folded them against the jeweled crystal band for protection before trotting towards the house.
The mining community around Rockville had been family-owned for centuries. Earth pony clans mined and worked the land as part of the gold rush, then the oil rush of the last few decades. Like all Equestrian industry, Celestia mandated a focus on sustainability. Ponies did not strip-mine their ancestor’s land, and large quarries were rare unless the mineral deposits were excessive. Nearly all of Equestria’s iron and copper came from the south, forging railways to connect isolated, happy towns and villages to the rivers and coasts.
The Princess of the Crystal Empire and Equestria passed by one of the black, mechanized excavators. Chrysalis’ crown was stamped on the back of the cab. Everything in Rockville had been absorbed into the Queen’s crown corporation, and the Changeling Hegemony did not care about the environmental cost.
The open pit mines stretched out for miles. Several collapsed during the intense rain storms, loose gravel sliding deeper into the cut-offs and turning the pits into quicksand. The Changelings knew how to dig; their Hives were partially underground. But whatever care they took in their homeland was abandoned in the name of profit.
There was a round rock halfway to the wooden house. A few armed Thestrals stood around it in a circle, wearing black raincoats. They bowed low as their Princess marched past them. Flurry Heart slowed to look at the tarp dragged across the front of the boulder. Two shapes bulged out, but the bodies had been left alone with the armed guards standing watch.
Flurry deviated to one of the larger tents. The tarp was held up by two excavators, and several dozen ponies gathered under the covering to shelter from the rain. The former quarry workers clutched jackets to their withers as they ate meager rations. Medical staff with purple armbands tested reflexes, but they lacked the supplies to do more.
The first ‘generation’ of workers had been prisoners of war captured by the Changeling Hegemony. They were told they had to work off their ‘debt’ for fighting against the victors. It was the same story in the factories in Manehattan or in the Canterlot Commissariat, but very few survived the five-year sentence in the quarries compared to the north.
A crystal pony glittered under his raincoat as he trotted through the nearly skeletal survivors. The raincoats hid how patchy and thin the fur had gotten from the day-long shifts, and how hooves shook holding cups of coffee and hot chocolate. The crystal stallion bowed low once he realized his Princess was staring at him, causing the mare beside him to start and nearly drop her mug.
Flurry turned away. It’s like the Empire. She took some small comfort in knowing that her crystal ponies weren’t singled out for brutal enslavement, but her heart burned.
The changelings and ponies overseeing most of the operations were gone. They fled, either north up the frontline before the Appleloosan Protectorate was cut off, or south to the gap and Las Pegasus. The Changeling garrison had abandoned Rockville wholesale, leaving thousands of workers with hapless pony overseers too ignorant to run.
Most of the earth pony families did not run. They stayed behind during the war. They stayed on their land through the Hegemony. They accepted deals with Chrysalis’ crown corporation to remain on their ancestor's land and work the same soil.
And now they died.
Flurry Heart had not ordered it, but the miners had slammed their pickaxes through skulls the moment the garrison retreated ahead of the Reichsarmee advance. General Mudbeak and the Tzinacatl warbands were stretching themselves thin containing the violence. A few homesteads had been found burned to the ground as the surviving workers took out years of anger on the only targets still available.
The rain had cooled tempers. Ponies were too cold, wet, and tired. At the very least, none complained about being liberated by griffons and bat ponies. Aquileians always said the Reich was held together by the Reichsarmee; I suppose the Hegemony was held together by the Heer.
The Princess passed through two cordons of bowing, wet soldiers before stepping up onto the porch. Limestone Pie leaned against the wall with a hoof on her submachine gun. Her gray uniform was relatively dry.
“Princess,” the earth pony coughed. Her voice remained a dry rasp, and the high collar of her uniform did not fully hide the line of scar tissue running across her neck. Her hard yellow eyes simmered. “I got a pass to be here,” she added.
“I’m aware, General Pie,” Flurry demurred. She glanced back at the pony soldiers. All of them were technically support for the Reichsarmee’s counterattack, but the battle had been decided for several hours. The Hegemony had launched a feint to distract from a sea evacuation.
Most ponies still wore gray ELF uniforms, but the purple armband of the Imperial Snowflake was prevalent in the rain. Where are those being made? A few looked homespun, and the snowflakes were a little lopsided.
The wooden floorboards creaked as they absorbed the moisture from the storm. The air was chilly from the wind. Flurry shook her wings and droplets pattered across the porch. “Sorry.”
Limestone waved a hoof. “As soon as we move on, I’m blowing the place. Kept the dynamite dry.”
Flurry chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I understand.”
“Yeah,” Limestone snorted. Her eyes were pinched tight. “Woulda…woulda killed them myself for all this. Didn’t ask to be a fuckin’ excuse.”
Flurry Heart looked back to the round boulder and the tarp covering the two shapes. She’s lying. It wasn’t worth calling her out on it. Everypony grieved differently, and General Limestone tended to turn to rage.
One of Limestone’s soldiers opened the door, and Flurry stepped into a modest coatroom. The kitchen and living area was a cacophony of activity. Griffons splayed radio equipment out atop every table and shelf. A map hung before a leaking windowpane. Unlike Applejack’s planation, this was still obviously a home, still cared for.
But the windowpanes leaked and there was a crack in the wooden ceiling that had not been plastered over. A few pictures on the walls were missing; the lighter spots on the wood marked where they had hanged for years. The wallpaper leading down the hallway had yellowed. Flurry wiped her hooves on a filthy welcome mat.
The mare that opened the door bowed, as did her partner at the staircase. A few of the griffons looked over their wings at the movement; they stilled. Reichsarmee officers squawked into receivers, but none of the griffons in the house responded.
“Rise,” Flurry sighed to the two soldiers. She flicked a wing upwards. A few water droplets flew to the ceiling. The alicorn was soaking wet from the walk.
One griffoness slowly turned back to her radio set and picked up a pencil, and that triggered the other griffons to resume their business with forced nonchalance. Flurry stared at their twitching wings and bobbing tails. All the furniture had been rearranged; it was obvious from the indents on the wooden floor. Some sat backwards on dining chairs designed for ponies.
The alicorn craned her neck higher and spotted the heavy leather flight jacket on a griffoness. Gilda’s back was turned and she stood before the sink, seemingly scrubbing a cloth. Another griffon sat beside her with a folder, pawing through it.
Flurry trotted through the hallway and around the staircase. The floorboards creaked. She found the side entrance to the kitchen and pushed the swinging door open with a flash of her horn.
The kitchen was no less cramped than the living room, but the half-dozen griffons backed into the living room with feigned casualness at the alicorn’s entrance. Gilda and the other male griffon remained at the sink. The griffoness wrung out a cloth between two claws and placed it against her neck.
The male griffon cleared his throat. “P-princess?” He was frozen in a half-nod and half-bow, brown eyes indecisive.
“This is Felix,” Gilda offered in a distracted voice. “He’s one of my pilots.”
“I’m meeting with Dragon Lord Ember,” Flurry announced. “Are you still grounded?”
“General order across the south,” Gilda explained. “Too many wings in the sky. Dragons don’t exactly have to care about mid-air collisions with a fighter.”
“Las Pegasus is attempting a naval retreat.”
One of Gilda’s wings shifted. She pointed back to the living room. “We’re coordinating something. Don’t know what.”
“The fleet is still too far to have naval range,” Felix added. “We have a few airfields.”
“Weather’s awful,” Gilda concurred. “Don’t have enough weathergriffs to do anything right now in the north.”
“That’s a job?” Flurry asked.
“Not like Equestria, but yeah.” Gilda removed the cloth and turned the faucet back on. Flurry scrunched her muzzle at the dark red stains.
“Are you hurt?”
Gilda turned her head fully to the alicorn. There was a thin gash under her beak and along the side of her neck. “Nah.”
Flurry’s wings sagged. “Rainbow?”
Gilda wrung the cloth out. “She’s upstairs. With, uh, Maud. And…” she trailed off.
“I know you didn’t like her.”
“We patched it up,” Gilda scoffed. “Yeah, she was annoying, but not…” The griffon exhaled through her nostrils. “RD’ll be fine.”
“I’ll go check on her.” Flurry shuffled her hooves. “Can you cut through the noise to Mudbeak or Grover? I have a plan.”
“Sure,” Gilda shrugged. “Give us a second. Those assholes in the living room know I’m the Kaiser’s favorite.”
“No, you aren’t,” Felix deadpanned.
“Called him a fuckwit and lived,” Gilda boasted. She placed the cloth back against her neck. “Gonna be a Griffonstone legend for that. That dog wanted to hack off my head.”
Flurry refolded her wings and turned back to the hallway.
“Hey,” Gilda called out. Flurry looked back with a side-eye. “Just, uh, let her talk. Don’t try anything.” She rubbed the cloth against her neck.
Flurry exited back to the hallway. The ponies bowed again, and this time the alicorn did not tell them to rise. She wandered to the wooden stairs and peered upwards. The second floor was unlit, except for light peering out from two doors. As cramped as the downstairs was, no one ventured to the second floor.
The alicorn took the stairs two at a time with her long legs. Her horn brushed against the low ceiling, so she hunched her neck at the top. A wing brushed against the railing, wet feathers gathering dust.
Rainbow laughed uproariously from the door on the left. Flurry trotted towards the raspy echo. “That was a great one, Pinks. You remember that?”
The floorboards creaked under Flurry’s hooves.
“Course you do,” Rainbow laughed again. “Anyway, G’s downstairs. Remember her pranks?”
Flurry Heart tapped her horn on the door.
Rainbow stopped laughing. Hooves crossed the room, then returned without opening the door. “Yeah?” her voice said warily.
“It’s Flurry.”
“Well, hay! Come in, Princess!” Rainbow's voice was boisterous.
Flurry Heart opened the door.
Rainbow Dash leaned against the bed with an easy grin. Her prosthetic wing was missing, resting on a dresser to her right. She flapped her one wing in, beckoning Flurry forward. “What’s up, Princess? You look, uh, wet.”
Rain pelted the windows in the bedroom. Two gas lamps sat on the dresser, casting the room in a dull glow. Flurry Heart cast a magelight that floated to the ceiling. It pulsed gold. “Rainstorm’s gotten worse.”
“Yeah,” Rainbow nodded. “I feel it. You get a twitchy knee or something, Pinks?” She nudged the pony on the bed.
Pinkie Pie said nothing. She laid on the bed with her legs tucked under her. She stared directly at Flurry with vacant blue eyes. The earth pony was motionless after the weak nudge.
Not at me. Through me. Flurry had seen stares like that in Aquileia, in the Crystal City, in Nova Griffonia, in Manehattan, in Canterlot. Ponies or griffons that just looked beyond what was actually in front of them to somewhere far away.
“You know,” Rainbow said conversationally, “she was the only one that could keep up with you when you were born.”
“Really?” Flurry asked. She kept her eyes on the pink mare atop the bed. Her fetlocks were unshorn, and clumsily trimmed. The mare’s mane was flat, and combed to one side of her head. The pink locks were cut unevenly at the end. Her tail matched it, pooled on the bed.
“Yeah,” Rainbow chuckled. She nudged Pinkie with a hoof again. “Big chase all around the Crystal Palace. Pinks was always good with foals.”
Flurry realized Pinkie had not blinked since she entered. The alicorn slowly stepped to the side, but the bright blue eyes did not track her. Pinkie stared ahead.
At nothing.
“Anyway,” Rainbow continued, “I was talking about Gilda.” She switched from looking to the side at Pinkie to looking at Flurry. “How is she? I didn’t get her too hard, right?”
“She’s fine,” Flurry offered.
“No hard feelings, right?”
“No.”
“Good,” Rainbow smiled. It was a tight smile with brittle lips. “She’s, uh, always been a little jealous of my friends. Thought we worked past that in Griffonstone, but, you know, some lessons are never really learned just once.”
Flurry Heart took a deep breath. “Right.” She shifted her focus to the other pony sitting in the corner of the room. “General Pie.”
Maud Pie smoothed out her blue frock. Her mane was hidden by a matching bonnet wrapped tightly around her head. “I have not been a general for some time.”
“Maud was great!” Rainbow interrupted. “Pinks had nothing but praise for her during the war.”
Maud nodded slowly, then stood up even slower. Flurry caught a glimpse at her chipped hooves, and a patch of bare skin just above the keratin. She shuffled to an adjoining door. “I was hoping to talk to you,” the earth pony forced out. Her breath wheezed.
“Of course.” Flurry bit her lip and opened the door with her magic. Maud leaned against the doorframe for a moment, then pushed herself inside the other bedroom. One of her rear legs dragged on the wood. There was a series of scuffmarks on the floorboards.
“Maud kept records about the mining operations,” Rainbow explained from beside Pinkie. “Real egghead secret stuff. You know she designed prosthetic wings? If you could make a plane wing outta metal, surely you could make a pegasi wing.”
“I did,” Maud called out from her room. Her voice almost broke into a cough, but she swallowed something down and exhaled in a wheeze.
Flurry moved to follow the eldest Pie sister, but stopped and instead walked over the edge of the bed. It was a springy mattress, but Pinkie laid in an indent, like a body had not moved in some time. The pink earth pony’s colors were faded, but that could have been a trick of the poor lighting.
The light pink alicorn stared down at the pink earth pony. Ice blue eyes met bright blue. Pinkie still had not blinked. Flurry Heart forced a smile. “Hello, Miss Pie. Rainbow’s told me a lot about you.”
Pinkie did not respond. Nor did she blink.
“Call her Pinkie,” Rainbow shrugged her wing. “We’re not that old.” She pawed at her deflated mohawk. “No gray in here yet.”
“Pinkie Pie,” Flurry said as lightly as she could. “I’m proud to meet you.”
There was no response.
“Great prank, Pinks,” Rainbow laughed after a moment. “I’ll make her break,” the pegasus said to Flurry. “She’s always been a prankster.”
Flurry inhaled. “Rainbow-”
“You should talk to Maud,” Rainbow cut her off sharply. Her snarl twisted into a toothy smile. “She’s been waiting to talk to you.”
The alicorn met desperate magenta eyes, then backed into the other bedroom. At the last moment, Flurry’s horn glowed and she grabbed Rainbow’s prosthetic off the dresser. “Do you mind if I ask Maud about this?”
“No problem,” Rainbow shrugged her good wing.
Flurry gently closed the door with a rear hoof, then placed the metal wing beside the doorframe. One of the feathers was slick with blood at the end. Her horn dimmed.
Maud had shuffled to her desk. She opened several drawers and gathered papers. Her frock had fallen away from her forelegs, and Flurry recoiled at the lesions running up her skin. Her gray fur had been reduced to patchwork.
The earth pony caught the look with a bloodshot turquoise eye. “Not as bad as it looks,” she rasped.
“I…” Flurry shook her head. “I don’t believe that.”
“Limestone did.” Maud’s lips quirked into a subdued smile. “Good to see her.”
The ceiling was low enough that Flurry’s horn scraped the wood. Rain pounded on the roof. The alicorn noticed a leak in the corner; a bucket had been placed to catch the droplets. The bedroom was amazingly plain. An oak dresser and desk sat to one side of a mattress on a bedframe. There was no pillow or sheets.
Maud coughed as she shuffled through papers. The folder she was gathering had grown distressingly large.
“We’re pulling in more medical staff,” Flurry offered.
“Most workers got Rocklung,” Maud answered. “Dust got in from the heavy diggers. Changelings got gas masks for themselves, not for us. Not fatal on its own. Might be able to clear the lungs with spells.”
“I’ll look into it.”
"Summers kicked up dust storms. Lot of ponies have breathing problems," Maud nodded. She nudged a rock on the desk to the side, then bent her head into one of the drawers, grabbing paperwork with her mouth.
Flurry watched. “I know you passed information to the ELF.”
“Not me,” Maud responded after setting down the files. “Pinkie. Had her ways.”
Rainbow’s voice picked up through the wooden door. Flurry Heart stepped away and lowered her head further. “What happened?” she whispered. “Please.”
Maud was quiet for a moment, bloodshot eyes shifting over papers. “She should never have been a commander,” the earth pony sighed. “Wasn’t fit for it.”
“She kept up with the Blitzkreig,” Flurry countered.
“She remembered everypony’s birthday,” Maud whickered. “Can’t get attached. Not like that.” She twisted away from the table, and Flurry heard her neck pop from the sudden motion. “Do you do that?”
“No,” Flurry closed her eyes. “I’d like to try-”
“Idiot,” Maud whispered.
Flurry opened her eyes and glared at the earth pony.
Maud turned back to the table. “Came home broken, forcing smiles that came natural. Passed information to the ELF, did everything she could for the workers. Remembered all their birthdays, too.”
Flurry looked out the window. The quarries and pits stretched out, illuminated by flashes of lightning in the horizon. “How’d this happen?”
“Mother and Father cut a deal,” Maud responded numbly. “Already lost one daughter. Changelings wanted ponies that knew the land and deposits. Wanted ponies to be the face. Offset the hate. Price paid.”
From the window, Flurry could see the circular boulder and the tarp. “I’m sorry. Rainbow told me about Marble.”
“Earth ponies shouldn’t fly,” Maud answered. “We never found out for sure she was dead. Shot down over occupied territory. Changelings told us she might be alive. If we did the right things and said the right words, maybe her sentence would be commuted.”
“Which ones? From Chrysalis’ thing?”
“Names don’t matter,” Maud shrugged a hoof. “Running north, running south. Running from you.” Her eye flicked to the alicorn at the window. “Saw the pamphlets.”
Flurry looked back out the window. “I wasn’t going to execute them.”
Maud hummed. “Lime says she would. Slaves would have done it before either of you. Did it themselves first.”
Flurry laid her head against the window. The jeweled crystal band clinked against the glass. It was wet with condensation. “I’m sorry.”
“Tried to keep us safe,” Maud continued in a monotone. “Regretted it in the end.” A hoof tapped wood. “This is more important.” Flurry turned around. A thick folder sat on the table beside Maud Pie. She hobbled away from the desk and into a corner. The alicorn approached slowly.
“What is it?”
“Records,” Maud rasped. “Everything they wanted dug and shipped. Not just ore. Crystals. Dangerous things. Things that can kill.”
“Artillery?” Flurry guessed.
“Bomb,” Maud corrected. “Twilight had an idea during the war. Asked me about it. Told her it could work. Told her what it would do. She refused.”
Flurry picked up the folder and leafed through the papers with her horn. It was all growing quotas of shipments along the railways to Vesalipolis, or reports from the Crystal Empire on the viability and quality of crystals. Uranium? Plutonium? What?
“You think the Changelings built something,” Flurry connected. “Some megaspell? Or a bomb?”
“I know they did,” Maud replied. “Chrysalis tried it at the end of the war. With your mother.”
The folder and papers almost fell as Flurry’s horn flickered. She froze, jaw working soundlessly. It took her several heartbeats to reply. “What?”
“Scientists trotted around,” Maud shrugged. “Smart ‘lings. Figured we were dumb earth ponies and talked freely. The Queen canned the project after it failed.”
“The Crystal Heart held,” Flurry finally stated. Her voice raised up from a whisper. “They didn’t break it.”
“If they built one, they can build another,” Maud retorted. She raised a scabby hoof and pointed at the folder. “Did the math. They can. Make sure that reaches somepony.”
Flurry stared at the folder. Her eyes watered and she shook her head roughly. I don’t understand anything in this. Maybe Sunset? Or…Grover. Maybe the Reich knows. She unzipped her jumpsuit and shoved the folder into the dry padding against her side. It rested under a wing awkwardly.
“Why did Twilight refuse?” Flurry asked.
“Too much time, too much resources,” Maud said. Her bloodshot eyes closed. “Too terrible.”
Flurry’s response was cut off when the side door crashed open. Rainbow leapt at Maud with her one wing extended, snarling. Tears streamed from her eyes. The alicorn stepped back with a blazing horn. I didn’t hear her stop talking. Her head whipped back to the open door.
Pinkie had not moved from the bed.
Maud tried to move out of the corner, but she stumbled. Rainbow checked her into the wall, then slammed the earth pony against the wood again. She pinned her there by the neck.
“What did you let them do to her!?” Rainbow screamed. She shook the earth pony by her forelegs. “What did you let them do!?”
Maud coughed. “Don’t…don’t touch me…” Her voice weakened. The earth pony did not push the shorter pegasus off her, forelegs held at her sides. “Please.”
Rainbow grabbed at her head to slam it into the wall.
Flurry Heart yanked the pegasus away, holding her in her magic. Rainbow struggled and gnashed her teeth. Her hooves and one wing flailed mid-air. “You fucking coward! You let them drain her!? What!? What!?”
Maud sank to the floor, openly coughing. Her bonnet fell off her head.
Rainbow stopped snarling. Flurry Heart set her down, but still kept her contained in her aura. The alicorn approached the earth pony. “Let me-”
“Don’t!” Maud wheezed. Her mane was nearly gone. All that was left was a few strings of purple hair. Her scalp was covered in scabs. She raised a hoof up and pulled the bonnet back into place. The frock fell back and exposed more lesions running along her barrel. Most of her fur was gone.
She’s worse than Twilight. Flurry stepped back on reflex. She abruptly realized that many of the former workers outside had similar thinness and lesions. Flurry thought it was due to malnutrition. “If there’s an illness, or something, we can help.”
“Changelings wanted rocks,” Maud wheezed. She stood up shakily. “Bad rocks. We always left them. But they wanted them, and they didn’t care about the ponies.”
“You…you got what you deserved,” Rainbow muttered.
“Didn’t have to do it,” Maud said in a monotone. “Needed a good foremare. Keep the shifts rotating so nopony got too exposed.”
“Except you,” Flurry responded. “If there’s something-”
“I’m already dead,” Maud shook her head. “Lime won’t listen.”
Flurry released Rainbow and stood between the two ponies. The pegasus stepped forward, muzzle quivering. “What…what did they do to her?”
“They didn’t touch her,” Maud coughed. “She remembered everypony’s birthday, passed information to the ELF, went down into the pits everyday. Kept hope alive.”
Rainbow bared her teeth. “Don’t…don’t you d-dare say it’s on us.”
Maud did not. She looked away. “Just didn’t get out of bed one day. Found her like that.”
Rainbow stepped up again, and was checked by Flurry’s extended wing. Her nub twitched as she flared out her good wing, and she turned baleful, hateful eyes to Flurry Heart. Before the alicorn could say anything, the pegasus burst into tears and fled. She stopped long enough to grab her prosthetic, biting down on the metal feathers and slicing her mouth.
Flurry did not try to stop her from leaving. She lowered her head. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing,” Maud rasped. “Gonna end up like Pinkamena.”
The alicorn swung her head over to Maud.
“Called me a good general,” Maud snorted. A small trickle of blood dripped from her nose. “My ponies said I had a rock for a heart. Let the changelings slam into them. I lost a lot of soldiers.”
They say my heart is as hard as crystal. “I don’t want to be that,” Flurry answered.
“Can’t save everypony, Princess,” Maud rasped in a monotone. “Don’t cling to everything. Find one thing. Try not to regret it in the end.”
Flurry returned to the window. Rainbow raced across the rock field, past the circular boulder towards the quarries. Her metal wing glinted from the lightning strikes in the horizon. The tarp covering the two bodies was waterlogged. Family.
“What was yours?” Flurry asked.
“My sister,” Maud answered. “I don’t regret it. During the war and afterwards. Take care of her. She’ll eat and go to the bathroom if you guide her.”
Flurry slowly trotted out of the room. Maud moved stiffly, back into Pinkie’s bedroom. The alicorn stopped in the doorway and looked back to the Element of Laughter. Maud sat beside her sister, retrieving a brush to run through her flat mane.
“I’m happy to see you again, Pinkie Pie.” Flurry smiled. “I…don’t remember the last time we met. Maybe you can tell me about it one day.”
Pinkie Pie continued to stare forward at the wall. She did not blink. Her head rocked from Maud’s stiff brushing.
Flurry took a deep breath. “Was it the ELF losing? Or…or was it me?”
“It was everything,” Maud responded. "Limestone is going back to Canterlot with Pinkie once the counterattack is over."
"Are you going with her?"
Maud did not respond for a moment. "I have some work here to do. Inspect the quarries. If you don't mind. I'll help get everything operational."
"I..." Flurry bit her lip. "I could name you a governor. You seem to have a good sense of-"
"I don't have that long," Maud responded. Her voice turned soft. "I'll work with somepony while I can."
Flurry backed away.
“Don’t tell Limestone.”
The alicorn nodded over a wing and retreated downstairs. Gilda stood in the hallway, pacing with twitching wings. Dragon Lord Ember leaned against the wall, snout downturned. The Bloodstone Scepter hummed in the sling across her back.
“Felix is on the radio,” Gilda squawked. “I’m going after Dash.” She left before Flurry could reply, racing out into the rainstorm.
Ember cast a red eye into the living room. Griffons avoided her stare nearly as much as Flurry Heart’s. Her spade tail swung in a low arc. “You wanted to talk?”
“I got a plan,” Flurry sighed. “Let’s get on the radio and confirm it.”
The dragoness and alicorn silenced all the discussion in the makeshift radio room. Felix hunched over one of the larger radio packs. Shaking talons poked at the receivers, and he unplugged the headset. The speakers crackled.
The griffon tugged on his flight jacket and leaned his beak into the microphone. “Rockville Command to AGS Headquarters,” he stuttered in Herzlander. “Receiving to Overlord, confirm?”
Ember hissed. “I don’t speak turkey.”
“Overlord copies,” a griffon announced in clipped Equestrian. It wasn’t Grover himself. Guess he’s listening in. Felix stepped to the side and dipped his head away from the microphone. Flurry Heart raised a brow and leaned her head down.
“Grover? I have a plan. We’re strung out here-”
Felix made a strangled sound in the back of his beak. “Callsign.”
“What?” Flurry’s muzzle scrunched.
The griffon on the other end interrupted Felix’s muttering. “Rockville Command: Demon-One and Wyvern-One present? Acknowledge.”
Aw, damn this. My callsign is Demon-One? Flurry waved Felix away, batting his beak with her wing. “Fine. Overlord, this is Demon-One. Wyvern-One’s forces can close the gap while air deploys to strike the bay. Air zones designated for encircling Las Pegasus. How copy?”
“Hang on,” Ember puffed a ring of smoke. “You want us to do what?”
The radio crackled. “Overlord copies all. Air will be redirected. AGS, prepare for rerouting to priority target.”
Flurry leaned her head back. Easy. She turned to Ember. “How’s that scepter work? Can you signal your dragons?”
Ember folded her arms. “To do what?”
Flurry groaned and snapped a wing to the map hanging in front of the window. Several griffons ducked under the wingspan. “You have dragons on both sides of the highway. Snap the jaws shut. They’re strung out as badly as we are. There’s no anti-air beyond Las Pegasus.”
Ember gazed at the map for a long time. Her tail curled around a leg. “Hang on, filly.” The dragoness bit her lip. “We flew over that highway. There’s a lot of civilians mixed in with the military.”
“No,” Flurry snorted. “You gonna call the changelings working here civilians? Or Appleloosa? They’re settlers, not civilians. Most of them are veterans.”
“There’s ponies too,” Ember tried.
Flurry ticked down her feathers. “Collaborators running like Tartarus, disguised changelings…” she hesitated. “Slaves getting dragged along as shields.” Her stare turned icy. “Hit them.”
“They’re retreating,” Ember said in a weaker voice.
“So were the ones you slaughtered,” Flurry countered. “We’re losing time. I’d go myself if my armor was here. You’re in the perfect position to trap Las Pegasus.”
Griffons shuffled around the living room, backing away from the two royals. Ember was nearly tall enough for her horns to scrape the roof. A claw reached back to unsling her staff, but she twisted her claw around and poked Flurry in the chest instead. “You don’t get to make plans involving my dragons without me.”
This wouldn’t happen if you were on the radio. Flurry resisted saying it. She backed up and exited the room. “I have to find my Air Marshal. Again.”
"She's out in the south field," Limestone interrupted. She stuck her head into the living room. "Watched her race...race past Holder's Boulder. There's a marble quarry."
"Thank you, General Pie," Flurry answered.
Limestone regarded the griffons with barely disguised contempt. "Hurry up," she wheezed in Herzlander. She shook her saddlebags. "I got dynamite in here and I'm blowing this house up whether or not you birds are in it."
“I didn’t agree to this!” Ember called out.
Flurry stopped at the front door. “Please, Dragon Lord,” she called back over a wing. “We’re losing time. Don’t be late.” The alicorn left before Ember could respond, trotting out into the pouring rain. She flapped her wings and lifted off the ground, moving slower due to her waterlogged feathers.
Rainbow Dash and Gilda were not hard to find, even in the dark. Sparks kicked up from a granite slab. The griffoness sat back, soaked to the fur, but resting under the torn-off box of a dump truck that had been flipped upside down. A red dragon sat next to her in steel armor.
Flurry landed next to them. This time, she summoned a shield around herself and cut the rain off. The droplets crackled as they hit her magic.
“Fancy,” the dragon rumbled. He offered a wave. “Princess Flurry. My sister’s said some stuff about you.”
“Good stuff?” Flurry asked.
“For a dragon, maybe,” he laughed. His baritone boomed over the rain. “I’m Smolder’s brother. Name’s-”
“Garble.” Flurry narrowed her eyes. “Smolder hasn’t talked about you. Spike has.”
Garble laughed with a touch of nervous smoke. “How is the little purple menace? He was Dragon Lord for five seconds.”
Flurry judged the height of the overturned bucket. “He’s taller than you.” She shifted her eyes to Gilda.
Gilda ran a claw through the wet rocks. “She won’t talk to me. She’s going to ruin that wing cutting up a rock.”
“Come along,” Flurry ordered. She flexed the bubble shield larger.
Garble whistled at the magic. His scales flashed, then began to glitter. The dragon raised a claw and wiggled the sharp talons. “Huh. What’s going on?”
“Your Dragon Lord is closing the gap,” Flurry provided.
Garble ran a tongue over sharp teeth. He looked down at the alicorn with bemusement. “Bout time. You know there’s ponies on that road, right?”
Flurry’s muzzle pressed into a thin line. “Yes.”
The red dragon stared a moment longer, then dipped his head. “Alright, then. Best of luck, Princess.” He stepped out into the rain and flapped ragged wings. A larger shape soared through the storm clouds above him, heading in the same direction.
Gilda held a claw out and poked the shield. When nothing happened, she stepped through it and shook her wings. “Soaked my jacket.”
“Dragons will hit the highway; planes hit the bay,” Flurry explained. “Cut them off from both ends.”
“The bugs will send their air force from Olenia to intercept.” Gilda’s tail swished. “We’ll probably be outnumbered.”
“I’ll fly if you have a spare plane.”
Gilda glanced at her hooves. “Can you, uh, fly a griffon plane?”
“You think Nova Griffonia made them special for ponies?” Flurry nickered.
“That’s the other problem.”
“You think a griffon will blow my tail off?”
“In the middle of an air battle?” Gilda thought about it. “Wingmates just don’t have to be there when you need them.”
Flurry hummed. She trotted over to Rainbow Dash, slowing as she got closer. The pegasus had surely noticed the golden shield illuminating the deary weather, but she still hacked at the broken slab of marble. Her strikes were slow now, kicking up sparks.
The alicorn stopped a few paces away. “You’re going to ruin that wing.”
“I’d have broken…my real one…three dozen times by now,” Rainbow panted. She swung a final time and carved another gouge in the rock. A few of the metal feathers were bent out of shape, and the harness was loose. She bent down and tugged on the straps with her muzzle. The pegasus abruptly sagged to the ground and began sobbing again. Tears mixed with rainwater.
Gilda left the shield and hugged her friend with a wing. “I’m sorry, RD. I, uh, I liked her, too.” Flurry Heart trotted forward and brought them both under the shield.
Rainbow buried her muzzle into the larger griffoness’ jacket. “Why am I the last one?” Her voice hiccupped. “I’m the dumb one. I should’ve gone first.”
“No,” Flurry retorted. “You’re not dumb.”
“Rares, AJ, Pinks, Twi…” her voice hitched again. “Flutters…I’m the last one.”
Flurry laid down on the wet gravel. She kept one wing pressed tight against the folder underneath. “I know how that feels.”
Rainbow pulled her muzzle free and gazed up at the sharp horn, then the oversized wings. She snorted. “Yeah. Guess so.”
“I…” Flurry stopped short of saying she was sorry. She wasn’t even sure what she would be apologizing for. How much of this is my fault? Is there an amount or percentage?
“Thank you for helping me over the years,” she said instead. “You made a difference, Rainbow. I wouldn’t be here if not for you.”
“Not many can outfly an alicorn,” Gilda offered. Her claw scrubbed at Rainbow’s mohawk. “Not bad for a Junior Speedster.”
“Yep,” Rainbow sighed. “Fifteen-year-old filly came to save my crippled flank on her birthday.”
“I liked the way you told the story at the bar,” Gilda retorted.
Flurry Heart bent a few of the metal feathers back into shape with her magic. “Everyone on that mountain had given up. Including me. I had no idea what I was supposed to do until I saw that plane screaming past.”
“My fault you’re a killer then?” Rainbow laughed mirthlessly. “Your mother will hound me in the afterlife for that.”
“My mother would thank you for being there for her daughter when no one else was.”
Rainbow sniffled. “I’ll take that.”
Gilda looked to the side. “Can the shield, uh, be closed?” It took Flurry a moment to parse the question, but she turned the shield opaque and the outside world cut off.
The griffoness wrapped her friend in a hug, lifting the pegasus off the ground. “I was real worried some griffon would end up clipping you, Dash. Waited for that report in Nova. Swore I’d slam my plane into that asshole’s fancy palace if he ended up killing you.”
“Heh,” Rainbow chuckled and flailed her forelegs against the griffoness’ talons. “That’d be a real tragedy to kill the Princess’ boyfriend.”
Gilda froze.
Rainbow froze.
Flurry sighed.
“What the fuck?” Gilda squawked.
“I take it Gallus didn’t tell you?” Flurry said tonelessly.
“What the fuck?” Gilda set Rainbow down. “Gallus knew!? Wait, what the fuck was that whole war!?”
“It was in exchange for Nova Griffonia and the ceasefire,” Flurry explained. "I offered a marriage like-"
Gilda grabbed her head feathers. “You want to marry that asshole!?”
No. “He’s not that bad,” Flurry nickered. “It’s a political thing.”
“Hey, be nice, G.” Rainbow rolled in the gravel and stood up. “So what if the Princess has shit taste? I wasn’t exactly sold on the Princess of Love marrying a nerd that overanalyzed Ogres & Oubliettes.”
Flurry gave Rainbow a dark look.
Rainbow raised her forelegs. “Hay, just saying there were way more awesome candidates around. You best believe there was some, uh, private discussions about Twilight not telling us about her hunky brother and hot foalsitter until after the marriage was announced.”
“Thought he was a nerd?”
“Yeah,” Rainbow agreed. “Major disappointment for me.”
“I did not need to know that my aunt’s friends lusted after my parents.”
“Why do you think Twilight tried not to bring them up? Wasn’t just us, by the way. Weather Patrol was way worse. Flying around pushing clouds all day leads to some, uh, discussions.”
Gilda wrapped a claw around Rainbow’s muzzle. “And that’s enough.” She turned her beak to Flurry, eyes wide. “Am I gonna get killed for knowing this?”
“Don’t tell anyone,” Flurry advised. “Grover thinks the River Federation will invade.”
“Of course it fucking will!” Gilda snapped. “You own most of a fucking continent, Princess. You’re marrying a griffon that owns another half. Maar’s Hell, how much of this war is two teenagers blowing feathers at each other?”
Flurry dropped the shield and the rain returned, pounding down fur and feathers. “Look around at Equestria. You’re going to try and say this is just a lover’s quarrel?”
“I…” Gilda groaned and released Rainbow’s muzzle. “No. Fuck.” She shook her head. “Average griffon ain’t getting a fancy marriage at the end of this. And the Gods watched Griffonstone turned into a shithole. Not going to buy a Crusade. The first one was against ponies, not for them.”
Flurry tipped her head back and let the rain flood across her muzzle and run down her neck. Thorax said it would start another war. The water trailed down the six jewels in her crystal crown. I'll spend the rest of my life at war. Find one thing and hold onto it...
She had no idea.
“What’s it going to take?” Flurry asked, shaking her head. The alicorn stood from the gravel.
Gilda licked the end of her beak, then waved a wing. “Dash, you wanna fly? Princess is gonna cut off the convoys.” She rolled an eye to Flurry. “Let’s start with flying for the right side, Princess.”
Rainbow looked to Flurry Heart. Her mohawk was plastered to the side of her muzzle from the rain. “Yeah, I can kill some bugs right about now.”
Flurry Heart bit her lip. “Should I say something?”
“No,” Gilda responded. She tugged on her flight goggles and poked them with a knuckle. Her brown cap pressed down her white feathers, masking the purple accents around her eyes with the black frame of standard-issue goggles. The griffoness actually looked professional in her brown flight jacket.
Flurry shuffled her hooves in her black jumpsuit. It was near enough to a flight suit that it would be fine to fly in. Her own cap hung around her neck by its string. It was an awkward fit not suited for a horn, but Flurry cared more about the radio than the comfort. The alicorn flapped her wings and landed next to the cockpit of the borrowed fighter plane.
It was a standard issue Reichsarmee fighter with heavy machine guns. She felt the metal bounce a bit under her landing, and Flurry tapped her hoof against the gray paint. The glass on the canopy was crystal-clear. The seat inside was red leather; it would have been too long for most ponies, but Flurry slid in and braced her hooves against the back pedals.
Her eyes skipped through the control board. All the instruments were in Herzlander. She expected it and it wasn’t a problem. Flurry tested the stick with a hoof, looking over a wing to see the rudder and the ailerons flex. A griffon mechanic in a stained gray jumpsuit emerged from under the left wing. He ducked under the metal, giving the alicorn a long, slow stare from one golden eye. Flurry stared down her muzzle back.
She knew this plane. She’d shot down enough of them. They were better made than Nova Griffonian fighters; Nova skimped on aluminum and substituted wood when available. But the Reichsarmee flew heavy with extra fuel tanks, and that slowed them down from local interceptors.
Flurry eyed a switch. “Drop tanks?” she called down. Gilda slapped one of the bulbous canisters under a wing.
“We’ll signal to drop.” Gilda tugged on a glove. “You ready?”
Flurry scanned over the controls in the cockpit. Near enough to Nova. And the Luftwaffe’s older fighters. She bumped the switch for the fuel gauge with the tip of her hoof. A wingtip bent forward to tap the ammo counter.
Both were full. “Yeah,” Flurry snorted. “Let’s hit it. Sure I shouldn’t say something?”
“What?” Gilda squawked. “Like you’re sorry?”
“I guess.”
She rolled her eyes behind the goggles. “Are you?”
Flurry did not respond.
Gilda sighed with a low purr. “Look, Princess: Dash is good. There’s respect there. You get shot down by the Element of Loyalty with one wing, that’s fair.” She waved a claw up at the plane while her other claw slapped the wing again.
Flurry knew she was gesturing to her horn. “I’ve never been in a fair fight,” she said with a frown. “You’d teleport your plane around if you could.”
“Damn right,” Gilda agreed. Her wings fluttered. “But I can’t. No griff can. Never saw a pony do it either. You cheat.”
“Don’t tell me this is some noble ‘Knights of the Sky’ crap,” Flurry snorted.
Gilda laughed harshly. “Nah. Stings to get clipped by a cheating wonderhorse. We don’t get paid enough to fight that.” Her eyes shifted around to the other planes. “They aren’t gonna try and kill you. Kaiser said you’re…friends.”
Flurry smacked her lips. “Yep.”
The griffoness coughed awkwardly and flared her wings. “Radio comms are in Herzlander!” Gilda called out as she flapped to her own plane ahead of Flurry Heart. The griffoness was technically in charge of an air wing, but Flurry suspected that was mostly on-paper. Felix seemed to actually do more with the ground crews. She spotted the speckled griffon pointing to ground crews and screeching them off the tarmac.
The alicorn looked to her right. Rainbow Dash had her head down in her own plane; her mouth moved rapidly as she shuffled through papers, then glanced back up to the controls. Flurry grimaced.
Fuck, this was a mistake. The Princess had no idea how exactly Rainbow managed to know Gilda for years and fight the Changeling Hegemony without learning Herzlander. But she seemingly achieved that. The pegasus had spent the last three days flying around with notecards, insisting that was how she actually learned languages.
Rainbow saw Flurry’s grimace and mistook it for a smile. She smirked back and pumped her hoof. “We got this, Princess!”
Flurry forced a smile. Rainbow shouted in the worst Herzlander she’d ever heard, and somehow mangled ‘Princess’ into ‘jelly donut’ with her muzzle. That shouldn’t even be possible. It sounds exactly the same.
The alicorn slid the canopy forward and locked it into place. Her horn dimmed. She tugged the cap into place by hoof and poked the earpiece into her folded ear. Ahead of her, flight crews began waving flags along the line. The griffon directly in front of her plane stared flatly through the unmoving propellers. He kept the flags by his side.
The other propellers started along the line of fighters as engines roared to life. Flurry waited for the signal, testing the stick and eyes drifting over the controls with forced nonchalance. She glanced up like she had not noticed the hard glare.
The white griffon kept glaring.
Flurry sighed and her horn sparked. The griffon squawked as his arm was seized in her telekinetic grip. It raised up and waved the flag; he tugged against his own arm for a moment before Flurry released him. He tumbled back over his paws with an open beak, then rolled across the tarmac and away from the plane.
The propeller spun to life ahead a roaring engine. Flurry Heart leaned down in the seat, gripping the stick between her forelegs. She flicked the last few switches into position.
“All right,” Gilda’s voice crackled in her ear. “Little cubs, we’re on intercept while air support takes out the bugs’ escape route. We got ships making a break for Olenia; RADAR picked up some light screens moving to escort them back home. Our job is to make sure they don’t make it.”
The planes began to taxi onto the runway in groups of three. Flurry took a deep breath and pushed it out with a foreleg as best she could. I should’ve practiced…then again, where could I have practiced? Buzz around Canterlot? Her jeweled crown rested around the bottom of the stick. It rattled in time with the vibrations from the engine.
Flurry averted her eyes from the six colored jewels. They were just bits of crystal, but they meant everything to her ponies. The Elements of Harmony that made the bedrock of Equestria, what Celestia built upon for a thousand years.
And the current Princess of Equestria jammed it around the stick of a fighter plane. She couldn’t wear it and the flight cap. Flurry closed her eyes. I miss my gold crown. It was simple. The scraps the medical staff peeled off her head and eyelid were still in the Crystal City. Spike decided to keep them. “Just in case,” he had said.
“Little cubs, we have two guests flying with us,” Gilda said in Herzlander. “Spectrum-Seven and Demon-One are on my tail for this flight.”
“Ja, Kommandant,” Rainbow’s voice broke in.
“Ancestors above.” Gilda’s growl was audible through the static. “You sound like one of the bugs.”
“Maybe you should’ve taught me your turkey language,” Rainbow replied in Equestrian.
Gilda ignored her. “Demon-One, how copy?”
Flurry nosed the plane forward onto the tarmac, following the gray fighter with gold streaks of paint on the wings. Gilda tallied her kills with gold crosses along the chassis. She had moved onto the rudder on one side, and Flurry was forced to guess. More than a hundred.
“Solid copy,” the alicorn said into her headset. She leaned her muzzle to one side to keep the earpiece in place against her folded ear.
“Spectrum-Seven, you’re my wingmate since you replaced Eagle-Two. Demon-One…” There was a long beat as the trio of planes took formation on the strip. “Maar’s Hell. Demon-One, just do the fucking work.”
“Copy,” Flurry acknowledged. She looked around the plane, then laid a hoof on the console just below the compass. She exhaled and her horn flickered. Who are you? Who do you belong to?
It was a new model, assembled for a half-dozen places that flickered just beyond her eyes. But only one pilot, a young griffoness from Vedina sitting back at the air base. She wrote letters in the cockpit to kill the time, writing to an engineer that she met in training. They had been assigned to different areas of Equestria, and she missed him terribly. She hadn’t killed anyone, too nervous to fire. She doesn't want to be here.
Flurry snapped her focus back to the tarmac and rammed the stick forward to follow Gilda’s fighter. Rainbow was slightly ahead, easing into a perfect takeoff. Flurry’s fighter wobbled as she left the ground. She stuck her tongue out and tried to get a feel for the plane.
The ascent was smooth, but Flurry felt the hairs on her neck prickle at multiple eyes watching her fighter. It was as plain as could be, no kill tallies and no special paintjob. Just like my old one.
The air wing slowly bunched into formation and headed west, following a setting sun to the ocean. They banked north to skirt Las Pegasus and the wide cloud of black smoke choking the air to its east. Flurry stared out the side of the cockpit regardless.
They were too far away to see the dragons hit the road. The radio chatter hadn’t been positive that the alicorn overheard. There was no coordination in the assault, just an animalistic mauling behind an inferno. Without any mobile anti-air guns or armor piercing rounds, the scattered remnants of the Changeling Heer were truly defenseless. Dragons thrice the size of a heavy tank simply flew over the road and glassed it, soaking heavy machine gun fire like mosquito bites.
Mudbeak’s Army Group South was surrounding Las Pegasus on both sides of the closing gap. Light Narrative and part of the Moonspeaker Conclave had moved up to Appleloosa to coordinate search lines behind the frontline. Deserters had fled into the dry plains as the frontline collapsed, and there were fears they would use some of the abandoned homesteads to launch raiding parties.
Las Pegasus was visible from the sky. The top half of the city was clouds bolstered by enchanted metal. Unlike Cloudsdale, there was enough investment into the resort capital of Equestria to keep the city together. While Appleloosa was the so-called capital of the Appleloosan Protectorate, Rockfeller and the magnates that worked with Chrysalis’ extraction efforts were based in Las Pegasus.
It was half a port city and half an airbase. It was bright flashing lights for casinos tied to the Love Tax and miserable factories underneath the clouds besides crowded dockyards. Before the war, there were constant fears from the pegasi and earth pony industrialists that the underclass was being funded by Stalliongrad agents.
Rainbow claimed the weather patrol for Las Pegasus was the worst possible posting in pre-war Equestria. They constantly wanted sunny days, and often demanded pegasi break up the smog from the factories below before it stained the fluffy white clouds that drew in the tourists.
Stalliongrad rebelled. Las Pegasus was roiling. Appleloosa quarreled with the Buffalo. How often did Celestia leave Canterlot to actually see her principality? Flurry could see the clouds clustered together from her vantage point, lit up by searchlights or the blaring lights of the casinos and tourist traps. The planes gave it a wide berth. Several other air wings flitted through the sky between the alicorn’s cockpit and ‘Equestria’s Playground.’
Flurry Heart had not ordered a single hanging.
Yet.
“We’re hitting the coast,” Gilda announced. “Ready up. Weapons check. Eagle-One.”
The Princess of a foreign country to all the other pilots listened to the varied accents call in. The sun had set by the time they crossed into open water. Flurry adjusted her heading on the compass with the others as they moved west. The planes ascended again, breaking through scattered clouds.
There was a large, seemingly endless dark mass of clouds to the north over Equestria. The storms broke apart and reformed after the wind currents brought them against her pink shield in the Crystal Empire. Well, at least the crops are doing well inside the shield.
Her horn tingled whenever she faced north. Flurry realized last night she slept better with her horn pointed north as well. The nightmares weren’t as bad.
“Bugs are out to play!” Gilda squawked. “Heading 220! Spectrum, Eagle-Three, Demon-One, follow me in!” The alicorn aligned her compass and followed Gilda up.
“Seeing a launch from Las Pegasus,” another griffon reported.
Heavy fighters from Olenia and whatever’s left in Las Pegasus. Flurry visualized the sky above the ocean in her head. Trying to sandwich us in.
“We have this patch of air,” Gilda answered the other pilot. “Others have the rest. Drop tanks.”
Flurry scanned the switches and flicked one with her hoof. She felt the clunk as the latches released. The two canisters on either side of her wings fell free and tumbled to the ocean below.
Rainbow’s plane kept the fuel tanks for several seconds before they fell free. Flurry pressed her flight cap to her shoulder. “Having problems with the controls, Air Marshal?” she asked in Herzlander.
“Fick dich,” Rainbow answered. Her pronunciation was surprisingly flawless.
“Glad you learned the easy ones,” Flurry deadpanned. She rolled the plane, feeling the flex in the wings now that the drop tanks were gone. A hoof flicked the button to prime the machine guns.
Shadows crossed the dark clouds to the west; the boxy shapes of Changeling heavy fighters broke into a swarm formation. Packs of fighters split into clustered groups of eight with one in the middle leading the charge. Black paint against gray paint in the night meant that only the tracer fire would be easily visible.
Flurry chewed on the inside of her cheek. She leant her head to the side again. “I have to ask: Is Demon-One my callsign from Nova?” The alicorn tracked a swarm descending to meet the air wing as it split.
“Yes,” a male griffon curtly responded.
“Then watch Maar’s Daughter work.”
Flurry Heart pushed the canopy back and unclipped her headset. She pushed the flight cap down and slammed the stick up and to the side. Her fighter spun through the sudden corkscrew and the engine screamed at the strain.
The fighter snapped out of existence.
It reappeared in a crack of golden light, screaming directly into the swarm of Changeling fighters. Flurry didn’t squeeze the trigger. She flashed a bubble shield around her plane at the shock maneuver and aimed at the lead fighter. The pilot only had enough time to nose down.
The bubble shield slammed through the chassis in an explosion of sparks and rivets. The wings broke apart with oil igniting on the crackle of magic. Flurry couldn’t see her next target, but banked the fighter to the side. The bubble shield moved with her plane and sheared off a wing of another changeling. She slammed through the tail of another at the end of the swarm. The two crippled planes spiraled through the clouds as the rest of the formation broke.
It took about two seconds. The wind cleared the burning oil off the bubble as Flurry readjusted her trajectory. She brushed the flight cap back up with a wing, pinning it to her shoulder. The fighter banked after another swarm.
“Demon-One. I’ll soak fire. Break up the swarms.” She checked her rudder before dropping her shield and lining up one of the straggling planes. The machineguns shredded the canopy and it spiraled through the clouds.
The bubble shield reformed and she dove down, screeching into the top of another fighter. She blinked at the explosion and filed away the crunch of chitin at the direct hit against the cockpit. The radio crackled.
“Say again?” Flurry asked.
No one responded.
Her air wing in Nova Griffonia called it ‘bowling.’ The Hegemony practiced tight, swarm-like formations to overwhelm individual pilots with sheer numbers. It took practice to accomplish the tight shape, but the skill of a lone pilot didn’t matter with so many wingmates to watch their tails.
Flurry could see the packs chase and attempt to box-in the Griffonian fighters. Her plane was faster and more mobile. Changelings could fly and stand on clouds, but they lacked the deeper senses of air currents. Her feathers ruffled against her jumpsuit as the wind raced across the open canopy.
Their plane design matches their tanks. The Luftwaffe flew armored scarabs. Bullets pinged off the reinforced metal, only slicing through the weaker joints in the tail and rudders. Flurry corkscrewed and teleported, using the momentum to flash upwards into another swarm trying to encircle a fighter.
Their formations made it very easy to go bowling. The bubble shield clipped two by the wings and smashed apart another’s tail as the plane broke in half. Flurry could not hear the radio over the rending metal, but a griffon squawked something.
Flurry peppered one of the survivor’s cockpits before responding. “Demon-One. Say again?”
No one responded.
“Two on your ass, Spectrum,” Gilda broke in. “My turn.”
Flurry Heart flashed around the sky and shattered three more swarms before the light fighters from Las Pegasus joined the fighting. She barely had time to snap her shield back into place before bullets slammed home in her rudder. Flurry banked wide and three fighters followed her.
The alicorn tracked them with a side-eye. The lead fighter was doing a good job keeping the bubble lined up, and whenever she managed to break away from her, the other two spun to intercept. They occasionally peppered a short burst against the shield as she pirouetted, anticipating when she would drop the shield to teleport.
Might just have to-
Bullets slammed into the shield from above. One of the heavy fighters screamed past, pulling up just ahead. The tail gunner fired tracers liberally into the front of the shield, just in front of the cockpit. Flurry squinted at the sparks and nosed away. The four fighters followed her.
Another burst hit her from below. Flurry twisted to fly sideways, seeing another heavy fighter and a tail gunner aiming upwards. She dove down towards him, but the plane spun away in time.
Flurry sagged back into her seat. Well, fuck. She glanced up to the tail gunner still firing bursts of tracers into the front of her bubble shield. During a pause, she waved her right wing up at him.
He did not wave back. Flurry assumed it was a changeling stallion, at least. She couldn't see him that well through the sparks and his black flight suit, but the muzzle looked square.
Flurry spun right and the five fighters adjusted. She leaned her head to the side and shuffled the flight cap back to her ear. The alicorn took a deep breath. “This is Demon-One. I’m swarmed.”
“Anyone got eyes on Demon-One?” Gilda asked. “Help her out.”
Flurry noticed a gray fighter scream past her formation, chasing another black plane. They got the kill and ascended, looking for another target. Below her, another set of pilots engaged in a vicious dogfight. The guns barked in short, controlled bursts.
Flurry maintained a steady heading, somehow alone in the middle of a battle. The three fighters from Las Pegasus on her tail were thinner and sleeker than the heavy fighters boxing her front and bottom. The alicorn glanced back at them, but it was too dark to make out their expressions. Her horn hummed from the constant effort in keeping the shield up.
“I’m on Gilda’s six,” Rainbow barked in Equestrian. “Gimme a sec.”
“Spectrum-Seven, stay with Eagle-One,” Flurry countered. Another burst hit the front of her shield. Flurry glanced upwards at a gray fighter spinning after a retreating Hegemony fighter trailing black smoke.
The alicorn openly sighed into a radio. “Look, if you’re hoping they’re going to kill me, they aren’t. I’m going to sit under this bubble with a hoof up my ass for the rest of the fight.”
There was no response.
Flurry forced her voice to sound even higher-pitched and sweeter. “Could a big, strong griffon please help the little alicorn?”
The radio crackled.
A gray fighter sliced through the clouds behind the three on her tail and fired a long burst. A few bullets pinged off the back of Flurry’s bubble shield, but the Changelings took the brunt of the fire. All three planes broke off, beginning death spirals towards the ocean below.
Free from them, Flurry slammed her shield downwards on the distracted heavy fighter below. She clipped through the tail and sheared the tail gunner’s cockpit off the plane. It broke apart as it fell. The heavy fighter above broke off, tail gunner attempting to line up the new griffon.
Flurry dropped her shield, nosed up, and put a burst through the fuel line underneath the chassis. The cockpit burst into flames and the fighter corkscrewed out of control. She summoned the bubble shield afterwards and looked for the gray plane, but it was already spinning off to find new targets.
“Thank you,” she said as sincerely as she could.
No one responded.
The Changelings attempted to box Flurry in several more times and prevent her from teleporting around, but quickly realized they made themselves easy targets for the other fighters. The golden bubble shield was the one consistent light in a dark sky. Whatever advantage the dark paintjobs gained them was lost when flying too close.
Flurry nearly shot several griffons on reflex after spotting their silhouettes in the clouds, and a few were too liberal in their peppering of her bubble shield to down the swarming fighters. The Hegemony’s numerical advantage thinned. The alicorn brought her fighter back down to Gilda after half an hour.
She tapped her fuel gauge and ammunition on reflex, raising a brow at their amounts. Not used to actually having bullets.
“Cubs,” Gilda squawked. “We’re descending. Bombing runs are moving in.”
The fighters dove down through the cloud cover.
The ocean was on fire. Tracers and flak thundered above the escorting destroyers, and dozens of long freighters trailed through the waves. They were glorified steamers, repurposed for troop transport to make it across the bay to Olenia. A few were painted with dazzle camouflage, but most were left with the original colors.
Flurry could pick out which belonged to Equestria and which were Changeling by the gradient. Equestrians loved bright colors. A few were larger than the destroyers trying to escort them back to safety.
Flowers of fire blossomed on the decks as the dive bombers did their work. The engines screamed high and loud, sounding like the keening war shrieks of the Griffonian knights as the planes dove. Flurry spun down with Gilda. The destroyers were bracketing the freighters, but without air superiority they were too open.
Flurry Heart slid the canopy back again, shouting into the flight cap. “I’m going in!” She let it hang by the strap and unbuckled herself. The alicorn leaned her horn out of the glass canopy, one hoof barely on the stick. A spark of fire trailed down the spirals of her horn.
The laser arced downwards, cutting straight through the conning tower and behind the smokestack of a destroyer. There was no immediate effect. The anti-air guns blasted flak upwards and forced the alicorn to spin away with a hasty bubble.
The destroyer rapidly began to sit lower in the water and slow. Flurry circled it and watched water lap into the hole from the bottom. She had blown straight through the deck and hull with a quick shot. They’re screens; their armor is awful.
Flurry twirled the fighter through the masts of another destroyer, letting the dual flak guns pound the bubble shield as they tried to track it. In the dark of the night, changelings leapt from the sinking destroyer and buzzed their wings across the waves to the other ships. A few were strafed by the dive bombers as they pulled up from dropping their payloads.
The alicorn pushed her flight cap back up; the wind nearly blew it down. “I’ll keep drawing fire!” She couldn’t hear a response, but dive bombers took the window of opportunity to land hits on the destroyer she was circling. Once it began to list portside, she jerked the stick to the side and flew at an angle along the line. She glanced to her right.
Colorful dots stood on the decks of the freighters.
After a moment of recognition, Flurry bared her teeth. I’m not that fucking stupid. She turned away from the stricken destroyers and their two turrets. A few of the freighters had been hit; smoke poured off the decks with growing fires, but most of the bombers were sinking the escorts first.
The fighter buzzed the top of a repurposed freighter. Flurry barely cleared the smokestack before circling around. It was a wooden deck speckled with ponies among a sea of black chitin. Small arms fire sprayed into the sky. Flurry dove almost to the whitecaps and broke line of sight. The bottom of her bubble shield skipped across the waves.
The alicorn dropped the shield and charged her horn before yanking the stick back up and to the side. As she spun across the top of the deck, Flurry unleashed the spell point blank. One lucky bullet pinged off her left wing.
Flurry reformed the bubble shield as she completed the spin, leveling off just above the waves. The fighter twisted to circle the freighter. She leaned to the side, dangling in the loose straps to see over the pulled-back canopy.
There was not a single colorful dot on the deck. The detection spell had washed over the entire ship. Flurry took a deep breath and tugged her flight cap up. “This is Demon-One. Changelings are disguising as ponies atop the decks to throw off bombers. How copy?”
There was a burst of static. “Hang on,” Gilda said with uncharacteristic sullenness. “Patching.” Another burst of static followed.
Flurry weaved between the line of convoys. Most of them had far too many ‘ponies’ on board. Thorax said they did that during the war. She closed her eyes.
Some of them were ponies. She knew in her heart some were, somewhere, either collaborators still worth something or servants just being dragged along. But unless she cast that spell all night through the entire line there was no way to check. Flurry checked her fuel, then looked across the open ocean.
She was flying west; she couldn’t see the Olenian coastline, but it was there ahead of her. She banked the fighter around the bow of one freighter, aligning the fighter back east. Las Pegasus’ lights were in the horizon. They barely made it out of port.
“Demon-One?” a griffon asked. “This is Peregrine-Five. You’re soaking their attention. We’ve almost taken care of the escort.”
“You are unusually polite tonight, Peregrine-Five,” Flurry sighed.
There was no response for a heartbeat. “We’re moving to the troop transports. How copy?”
“Copy,” Flurry agreed neutrally.
The alicorn sliced one more destroyer in half before the bombs began dropping on the transports. The crews of the armed ships fled if they could get out in time, wings buzzing to the remaining freighters and crowding the decks. The ocean glowed with oil fires.
Changelings with oil-caked wings tried to swim free in the waves, but the water was rough. As the first ‘troop transports’ began to list and sink, more changelings leapt to the next ship in the line. Some started to list dangerously just from the extra weight.
Flurry Heart watched in her golden bubble. She stayed with the ships as they turned off their spotlights to try and make themselves harder to spot, but that was useless with a bright magic shield circling them like a beacon. Dive bombers screamed down and dropped their remaining payloads under scattered small arms fire while the fighters dealt with any intercepting planes.
One of the last destroyers sank stern first. Flurry watched the bow go under. The ships weren’t like the Griffonian Reich’s. They had darker blacks with navy accents around the turrets. As far as Flurry knew, the Equestrian navy was able to harass the Changeling surface fleet enough that it wasn’t an issue during the war. The submarines were the real threat.
One of the freighters exploded like a firework. There was a burst of squawking on the radio. Flurry had left it hanging next to her neck, but assumed it was celebrating hitting the munitions in the lower decks. Wind whistled across the cockpit. One of her lasers had accidentally brushed the glass and melted the metal frame. She couldn’t slide the canopy forward again. It was hard to tell in the dark from just her bubble shield, but she was also pretty sure the paint was scorched along her right wing.
That poor griffoness isn’t going to appreciate that. Or maybe she’ll be grateful for the downtime and repairs. She doesn’t want to be here, after all.
Flurry kept circling a shrinking number of ships. She thought she saw one dark purple body floating in the water, but it could’ve been black and discolored from the oil fires. Another convoy went up in a fireball as a bomb found an ammunition stockpile. Flurry only saw a few figures leap from the stern before the ship rolled.
“I think they’re surrendering,” a voice broke through the static. Flurry blinked heavily and turned to regard the final ship. It was a single smokestack cruiser, and the alicorn huffed a laugh at the bright colors.
It was a luxury liner. Only a small one, probably based out of Las Pegasus pre-war. It sat low in the waves and the decks were cluttered with a mass of black shapes. Flurry didn’t see any colors in the herd of black chitin. Spotlights on the deck switched on.
The fighter nosed closer, flying parallel to the ship west to east, then circling the stern and repeating east to west. On the first pass, Flurry noticed a frantic changeling hacking at the Hegemony flagpole above a painted-over name. By her second pass of the stern, the flag was gone and sinking in the oil-slicked water.
Flurry had to adjust her heading. The ship was trying to turn around. The spotlight at the front flashed several times. Her muzzle quirked. Code. “Don’t Shoot.”
“This is Peregrine-Five.” Flurry brought her flight cap back up and clipped it to her head. She worked the pedals listlessly, wiggling the wings as she flew around the last ship. The spotlight continued to flash.
“We’re, uh, out of bombs up here,” the griffon continued. “Good hunting tonight. Thank you, Demon-One.”
Flurry inhaled. “What do you want to do?”
There was a moment of silence.
“I suppose that’s up to you, Demon-One,” the griffon answered. “Looks like they’re turning around to Las Pegasus. Just going to reinforce the garrison there.”
We need the airfields and port intact anyway. Flurry sniffed. “Maybe we could guide them to Stableside?”
“Do you have fuel for that?” Peregrine-Five asked.
Flurry checked the gauge and didn’t respond. The spotlight continued to flash. “Please don’t shoot.” How polite. She stared back at Las Pegasus. Night made it hard to see the smoke clouds, but the eastern horizon was better lit than it should be for nearly midnight, even with all the spotlights and clouds.
Flurry turned her plane to the side and looked across the burning ocean. With the ship turning around, it was sailing through the wreckage of the attempted evacuation. She angled the plane back so it flew parallel to the ship. Her fighter was faster and she kept circling. No one had fired at her shield for some time, and the spotlight continued to flash desperately.
With all the lights on, Flurry could see wet, miserable changelings on the deck watching the Alicorn of Death circle their ship like a shark. She did not see a single pony. I don’t know what it says about me that I’m less inclined to sink them for not trying to shove that in my muzzle.
Her crown rattled against the bottom of the stick. Flurry tapped it back into place with a hoof, then leaned her head to the side to pinch the radio. “This is Demon-One. Let’s just-”
The ship abruptly turned starboard and blared its horn. Flurry had to pull away with a nicker, straining her engine with a whine. The spotlight continued to flash. She spun her plane to the side and glared along the deck.
Flurry had enough time to see the twin trails in the water before the middle of the ship buckled. The blast rocked her bubble shield; the sheer concussive pressure forced her plane upwards and away from the deck. Flurry blinked stars from her eyes, spinning the fighter away on instinct.
By the time she looked back down, she was looking at the bow and the stern in two separate pieces. The stern sank first, capsizing to the side and leaving an oil slick. The bow and spotlight followed a few seconds later. Flurry did not see any figures swimming in the water or trying to fly away.
“Blessed Boreas, Demon-One!” Peregrine-Five shouted. “Give a griff a warning!”
That wasn’t me. The alicorn worked her lips. “That…that wasn’t me. Who fired?”
The radio crackled. “We’re out, Demon-One,” the pilot answered with clear confusion.
Flurry stared out over the open water. Trails…torpedos…
“Please don’t shoot.”
It wasn’t to me.
Flurry dropped her shield and reached out. She brought the plane low over the water, following the wisps of magic glowing across the burning waves. Her horn glowed brighter.
“Demon-One?” Gilda asked.
Flurry pushed past the feeling of the plane, reaching down into the ocean. She rammed her way past sinking rifles and pistols, and the bodies they were still attached to. The stick grinded as it bent in her grip.
“Princess?” Rainbow’s voice crackled.
She ignored all the planes spinning above her and traced the trail to one thing alive in the water, swimming deeper. The alicorn growled and her horn glowed brighter. Her flight cap began to smoke.
Found you.
She grabbed it, and her magic slipped across it like a fish. It was too far away and too deep, so she snarled and tightened her grip. Something hot and sticky gushed from her nostril and trailed down her lips to her neck. The plane bent to the side as she circled a patch of water. Debris floated, including a flag with Chrysalis' trident crown.
Another fighter lowered to just above her, matching the circle. Flurry ignored it. She yanked her horn back like a fishing rod, willing her telekinesis to pull it up. It was heavy, and too far away, but she refused to let it go. Flashes echoed across her vision.
Destroyer off of Olenia.
Cruiser out of Maredia.
Overloaded freighter in Manehattan.
Another, closer to New Mareland.
Another. Pride.
Another. Good hunting.
The submarine’s spinning propeller emerged first, wrapped in a golden aura. It was jet black and dripped with seawater. The long metal tube glowed gold underneath the waves. Flurry felt something pop in her other nostril and another trail of warmth trailed down her muzzle. She jerked her head back again.
The submarine’s tower left the water at a sixty degree angle, then the torpedo tubes at the front. The entire steel tube glowed gold, hanging forty hooves above the ocean water and surrounded by a circling fighter. The magic around it vibrated and crackled across the hull. Blue streaks of electricity writhed across the trident crown stamped near the torpedo tubes.
Flurry’s flight cap ignited from the intensity of her horn. The instrument panels flickered and the compass atop began to spin wildly. She was not aware of any of it.
Her magic slipped down the torpedo tubes and through the hull, down the periscope and through the crystals and electronics. She felt a changeling pinned by a loose torpedo screaming in pain. Another clung to his bunk. One mare had grabbed a hatch to steady herself. Changelings were scattered all through the length. They didn’t know what was happening to their weapon.
She felt her magic race across the consoles and sonar and logs, creeping across rivets and bolts and valves until she felt the hooves of an aged changeling clinging to a chair just next to the periscope. It was his boat and his weapon and he had captained it for years.
The earpiece screeched with feedback, but Flurry did not hear it. The leather smoldered. Her horn burned brighter, and she felt the holed hooves on the console tense as the old captain suddenly realized she was there with him.
The fighter’s engine sputtered and stalled. The plane glided. Flurry did not open her mouth; her jaw was locked into a grimace. Her question flowed from her horn and through her magic into the weapon and its owner.
WHY
The captain did not answer her with his mouth, but she felt his first thought.
We had orders-
In the time it took to blink, the submarine crumpled into a ball the size of a tin can.
Flurry dropped it into the ocean.
The radio sparked next to her ear. The alicorn tugged the cap off and flicked the switch for the engine several times with a numb hoof. It restarted with a whine. Rainbow motioned to her own headset, but Flurry shook her head and mutely followed the pegasus back into formation. The compass stopped spinning once her horn snuffed out.
Flurry did not try to use magic for the journey back. The base of her horn throbbed. The other Reichsarmee fighters gave her space, and no one tried to shoot at the wobbling plane. The alicorn bent the stick back into position, but the ailerons weren’t responsive. A few of the gauges were melted into position, including the ammunition counter.
The engine failed after Flurry landed back at the airbase and taxied it into position. She sat in the cockpit for awhile until Rainbow came over with some towels and a canteen. Flurry scrubbed her muzzle, then placed the jeweled band back atop her mane.
Gilda had followed Rainbow, but kept her distance. When Flurry looked over at her, she flinched. “Uh, nice flying. Princess.”
“Do you mind telling that Vedinan griffoness I’m sorry for bleeding in her plane?” Flurry rasped. She coughed into a hoof and drank from the canteen.
“Of course, Princess. I’m sure she won’t mind.”
“Hey,” Rainbow said softly. She leaned in, standing atop the scorch mark on the right wing. “The bugs are assholes. You tried. More than they did for us.”
Flurry poured the canteen on her muzzle and washed away the blood. She looked east to the fading smoke clouds. “Would’ve been nice to do one good thing today.”
“No losses,” Rainbow shrugged her one wing. “Everyone came back alive. They might not be grateful for it, but they lived.”
The alicorn stared over Rainbow’s wing with dull, icy eyes. Gilda had backed away, and the other flight crews had practically abandoned the nearby planes. Rainbow was the only one within spitting distance of the alicorn.
Flurry gave a long, slow blink and saw the wisps of magic brushing off the cockpits and blowing in the wind. She blinked again and they vanished in the lights of the airfield. “I should go talk to Ember.”
Rainbow nodded.
“Go back to Canterlot, Air Marshal.”
The pegasus looked away. “I’d like to-”
“That’s an order,” Flurry interrupted.
“Promise me you’ll be alright down here?” she asked in return.
“I promise,” Flurry lied.
Rainbow accepted it anyway.
The asphalt cracked like glass under the heavy crystal greaves. Flurry Heart ignored the rending snaps under her every hoof step. Her eyes, shrouded by her helmet, remained focused on the brittle husks of vehicles collapsing in the wind. The alicorn stopped in front of a hulk that was probably a light tank; it was difficult to tell with only the treads and part of the rotating gears remaining.
Dragon Lord Ember followed the alicorn. Both wore their armor, but Ember’s was light and relatively form-fitting with her tall, lean frame. Her breast plate left her white-scaled neck exposed to gunfire, and the helmet exposed more snout and horns than the alicorn approved. The dragoness’ steps cleaved strips from the road with every clench of her feet. The Bloodstone Scepter hummed between her folded wings, secured by a strap to her back.
“How many escaped to Las Pegasus?” Flurry asked over a wing.
“Less than ten thousand?” the Dragon Lord guessed back. “We kept away from the anti-air in the city.”
Flurry swung her helmet to a large, jagged black dragon scale jutting out from beside the highway. She clicked her teeth and levitated it over. It was nearly the size of her wing. “Any losses?”
“No,” Ember answered. “A few minor injuries from tank shells.”
“Good.”
The dragon scale fell to the road. Flurry stepped over it and continued surveying the vehicles. Her exposed jaw was set into a frown. This was a waste.
The Changelings retreating down the road had seen the initial flyovers. Dragon Lord Ember’s dragons were more marauders than a coordinated fighting force. They slammed into the highway without clear direction. Most torched already abandoned equipment as the soldiers and civilians dropped everything to run. We could’ve used this equipment.
Flurry flapped her wings and the gust blew the ashen legs of a changeling apart into motes. They had sheltered behind the tank when whatever dragon that torched this section of the road flew over. Most had not made it very far, either fleeing off the road into the surrounding armies or getting caught in the crush to Las Pegasus.
The Princess stopped before a troop truck that had melted into slag. Her horn glowed above the purple helmet. After a moment, she snorted. I can’t even tell if there were weapons in here. Ash blew across the road with a northern wind.
“We contained the oil fires,” Ember offered. The Dragon Lord’s voice was smoky, rough with forced nonchalance. Flurry noted how her talons jittered on her bare feet. The alicorn nodded her helmet in acceptance before continuing down the road.
“I would’ve liked to make use of the equipment,” Flurry mused aloud, “but it’s an acceptable sacrifice.” She shoved one of the skeletal bedframes of a half-track off the road with a chime from her horn. “We’ll need this road cleared and repaired for the shipments. Can your dragons assist?”
Ember did not respond.
Flurry Heart fully turned around. The Dragon Lord had stopped besides remains of a four-door civilian sedan. It had been spared a direct blast from the tank beside it, but the glass and entire chassis had deformed from the heat. Flurry walked over and followed Ember’s stare to the driver’s seat.
A blackened skull laid in a pile of ash and bone shards. The seat itself had fused into the remains from the intensity of the heat; Flurry could not tell if it was a mare or stallion with the skull in such poor condition.
Flurry sniffed and smelled overwhelming ash. “Odd for a pony to drive. Either a servant left behind…or a collaborator unwilling to leave their car.” She raised her helmet to Ember. “Do you know how to drive?”
The Dragon Lord’s lips twitched and she refused to answer. A shadow briefly eclipsed the sun as a massive claw ripped the nearby hulk of a tank free from the asphalt and crunched it down in its palm. The metal shards fell to the side of the road.
Flurry squinted and craned her neck high. A massive elder dragon grabbed the remains of an oil tanker with both claws and carelessly flung it out into the flats behind him. It landed with a cloud of dust and ash.
“Don’t hit my ponies!” Flurry said warningly. Her voice kicked up swirls of embers along the road.
The dragon stared down a long, crooked snout at the alicorn barely the size of his orange eye. His scales were a deep blue, pockmarked with dents and gouges. Some looked very old and more scales had grown around scars.
“No ponies out here.” The dragon’s breath blasted heated air across the highway. “Chasing little mosquitoes out in the desert.”
Flurry eyed his colors and compared them to the scale she passed. “Your work?”
The dragon rumbled in tacit agreement. He picked up another car frame and bit clean through it with mismatched teeth. His snout soured and he spat the metal shards off to the side. “Yes.”
“Nice work.”
The rumble twisted to a deep, bassy chuckle. “No work swatting flies.” An eye leaned down and squinted at the armored alicorn. “Forgot how to fight dragons.”
“I’ve never fought a dragon,” Flurry shrugged a wing. Her armored wing joint chimed.
“Use magic,” the dragon offered bluntly. He slapped one claw against his other forearm.
Flurry abruptly ducked her head as a rain of flattened bullets fell around her. Several bounced off her helmet. The dragon shifted backwards off the highway slowly with a deep, rumbling laugh. The only armor he wore was an ugly belt of plate strapped to his underbelly by the wire ropes the alicorn had only seen to secure cranes.
“Keep clearing the road!” Ember shouted up at the dragon. She had retrieved her staff and twirled it between her claws. Her dragon nodded and swiped another truck off the road from behind the two monarchs. It landed in the flats with a muted crash, thrown nearly clear of hearing range.
Flurry kept walking ahead. She stepped over a partial chitin skeleton. “Army Group South estimated forty thousand on the road. Let’s assume ten made it to Las Pegasus and five ran towards my army or the griffons. They don’t matter. Good work.”
The alicorn snorted at the husk of a stretch limousine. It had been blacked by the heat, but just enough of the silver paint job was left behind near the burst wheels. We’ll have to set scouting parties to clear the flats. They might try to reorganize-
“There were ponies here,” Ember interrupted the alicorn’s train of thought.
“I know,” Flurry returned.
“And civilians.” There was a thud as the dragoness buried the Bloodstone Scepter into the asphalt. The dragoness gripped it tightly with one claw as Flurry turned around.
The alicorn flared her wings. “War veterans,” she corrected. “Given grants of Buffalo land to ‘settle’ for the future of the Hegemony. Civilians running plantations or oil wells on stolen land while the blood still soaked into the ground.”
The alicorn looked to the side at the limousine. Probably abandoned. “They strafed our convoys as we retreated to the coast; they don’t get to cry about us doing it to them.” Her helmet swung back to the dragoness, but Flurry kept her head low and stared out the eye slits. “Don’t waste your tears.”
“You didn’t do it,” Ember bared her fangs. “You told us to do it.”
Flurry rolled her eyes. “I would’ve helped if my armor arrived.”
“That’s not my point.”
Flurry refolded her wings with a groan. “What is your point, Dragon Lord? You want the Badlands back? Or the Spa Islands? Would you like a territorial concession or automation help? Do you even have factories on that island?”
Ember turned her snout upwards. “I’m here because it’s the right thing to do.”
“Oh?” Flurry whickered. “Your sense of moral superiority took a hit, then?”
Ember yanked the scepter free from the asphalt and snarled a plume of nearly white-hot fire. “I don’t know how someone raised by Spike and Thorax can be this much of an asshole.”
“When was the last time you saw them?” Flurry said neutrally.
“A few years,” Ember deflated. “Guess Thorax took those assertive lessons to heart, huh?”
“What?” Flurry asked. She raised her stance up, knee joints clicking on her greaves. Sweat stuck to her jumpsuit under the heavy crystal plate. It was unseasonably hot for spring along the highway; the air itself still held traces of heat from the pass overs from the rampaging dragons.
“We met a few times during the war,” Ember waved a claw. “Spike asked me to help him be more assertive on the radio.”
“He tortures VOPS agents to death and ran a criminal empire,” Flurry deadpanned. “Looks like whatever you taught him stuck.”
“I didn’t teach him that,” Ember retorted with a snarl.
Flurry looked past the Dragon Lord. A few of the younger dragons scavenged bits of plate off the few intact tanks, raking their claws against the metal to test its thickness. One about Flurry’s height held up a shard to her chest and judged the size.
Ember noticed her stare and turned around. “I’ve noticed your Thestrals wear war trophies.”
“Same thing?” Flurry guessed.
“We’ve always taken from the dead,” Ember answered. “Add to the hoard.” With her back turned, Flurry could only see her wings flutter and refold while dragoness bent the metal shard into place for a leg plate. The dragons did not seem bothered by the ash or skeletons.
“You mean from those you’ve killed,” the alicorn said. “A little bit like Olenian Vikings from the old days.”
“Where do you think they got the idea from?” Ember huffed. “They tried sailing around our islands a few times.” The dragoness turned back around and surveyed the ruined road. Her eyes stopped on the ruined limousine caught between two military trucks.
Flurry waited for the dragon to gather her thoughts.
“I didn’t come back to the war to be history’s monster again,” Ember sighed. She yanked her helmet off and plopped it down into the ash. “I wanted dragons to move past this.”
The alicorn smiled ruefully. “You think playing nice and smiling is going to make everyone forget? They’ll just notice the sharp teeth even more.”
“I wanted to be a different Dragon Lord,” Ember finally admitted. “I got involved with the war because I wanted to show the world we could be more than this.”
“Mom told me stories about ponies befriending the dragon, not slaying it.”
“Yeah,” Ember puffed a plume of smoke. “'The dragon came down the mountain and befriended all the ponies and ate all the cake and became just a big, goofy, non-threatening idiot. All the ponies wondered why they were ever scared. The end.' I preferred the slaying stories, honestly. Less insulting.”
“I’m not asking you to do that,” Flurry replied after a pause. “Grover wanted to be different, too.”
“You’re really on first-name basis with the Kaiser of Griffonkind?” Ember chuckled. “You know how many of his knightly orders supposedly got started by slaying dragons and stealing their hoards?”
“Did dragons not steal it first?" Flurry nickered. "Actually, are there dragons on Griffonia?”
“Not anymore.” Ember waved her claw. “Dad always said someone was full of shit unless they had the dragon’s skull. You don’t lose something like that. Don't think any of those blowhards actually have one. Probably looted a bunch of Riverponies and made up a story.”
Flurry stared at the husk of the trucks. It was impossible to tell if they had been loaded with Changeling soldiers at the time of the blazing inferno, or if they had already fled farther up the road. Even if they had, they couldn’t run or fly as fast as an elder dragon at full glide. Grover’s plan had worked. The civilians fleeing Appleloosa and all the smaller towns had clogged the road. With the sea escape cut, the remnants of the Changeling Hegemony had to make a stand at Las Pegasus.
“This sends a message,” Flurry said aloud.
“That dragons burn things?” Ember ventured sardonically. She folded her arms across her breastplate.
“Surrender or burn,” Flurry continued. “Same offer I gave the Republicans in the north. They only believed it because I killed Kemerskai.”
“I heard you did far more than that.”
“Yep,” Flurry exhaled. “Canterlot says the Las Pegasus airfields are the priority, not the port. If this turns into a siege, can I count on your dragons as shock units to take the outskirts?”
“The bugs are going to put your ponies in the way.”
“Yes.”
Ember shook her head. “I’m not ordering that.”
“They’re going to drain the ponies if we wait and try to starve them out. If they won’t surrender, we’ll storm the city.”
“Why would they surrender after this?” Ember waved her claw at the road.
“Because they know I won’t fold,” Flurry returned. Her voice was cold. “Trimmel tried it in the Crystal City, then Rainbow Falls, then Canterlot. I will not yield.”
“Leave my dragons out of it,” Ember warned. Her voice softened. “You’re just playing the Queen’s game, you know.”
Flurry cocked her helmet. “What do you mean?”
“I could hear her radio on clear days,” Ember began. She flapped her wings and balanced herself on the melted frame of one of the trucks. It bent under her weight. “She kept going on about ‘my beloved changelings’ and how the world was out to get them, how it was their strength that made the Hegemony and if it faltered all was lost.”
Ember bent one of the bars casually in her right claw. “You’re just proving her right. Proving her right to all her ‘beloved changelings’ as well.”
“I did not invade and enslave a people then lie about why,” Flurry growled.
“The world’s out to get us, so we should get it first,” Ember said flippantly. “Did you meet Smolder’s brother? Red, bad breath?”
“Yes,” Flurry bit out.
“He wanted the same thing during the Gauntlet. A lot of dragons did. Always hated how Equestrians looked down on us as stupid, ignorant brutes. Held up pretty pony Spike as a ‘civilized’ dragon. Always wondered why she had that egg in the first place.”
“Did you want that?”
Ember’s eyes clouded. “Just wanted to prove myself to my dad.”
Flurry ground her teeth and paced along the asphalt. It cracked under her hooves. “Your dragons weren’t shoved into fucking cocoons and mutilated. You’ve seen my Thestrals? You see the scars from the plantations?”
“I’m not saying you aren’t justified, filly. But you’re playing her game, and there’s no winning it.” Ember bent forward, leaning on the scepter. Her wings flared. “Chrysalis said the world was always against them, and now there’s the world stomping towards their door. Just as cruel as she said it would be.”
Flurry tossed her head back with a stomp. “Most ponies didn’t know the first thing about changelings until my parent’s wedding. We barely acknowledged they existed. Chrysalis attacked for no reason, and we should have gone after her.”
Ember hummed and stared at the gem thrumming with power in her scepter. “Wonder if she planned it that way.”
The alicorn scrunched her muzzle. “What?”
“Sets one Tartarus of a first impression,” Ember explained. “Not like ponies were gonna tell bugs apart, either. If she won, she won. If she lost….well, there’s no undoing invading Canterlot and kidnapping an alicorn.”
Flurry gazed west towards Las Pegasus. The army had roughly encircled it and was slowly tightening its grip, but progress was slow. She was close enough to see the clouds that made up the top of the city, and the flashing lights. Probably anti-air and spotlights now instead of casinos.
“How do you want to fight this war?” the alicorn asked the dragon.
“I’ll throw my dragons into the fire,” Ember answered, “but I’m not going to use them to just prove a point. Next time, do your own dirty work.”
“I thought your dad died because he held back?”
Ember’s tail lashed against the metal and bent the frame with the strike. “Don’t twist my words.”
“We’re not made of dragon scale,” Flurry nickered. “We can’t swim in lava and eat rocks. We don’t play her game and we get stabbed every step trying to be the better mare. Chrysalis beat Equestria and the ELF when they were generous. She made them pay for it every step of the way until they bled out.”
“So you’ve decided to beat her at her own game?” Ember ventured. Her scaled brow furrowed. “You’ll never beat her.”
“Why?” Flurry snorted. “Because I’m just a filly?”
“Because you care,” Ember answered. "That's why they're doing it. And they'll keep doing it."
Flurry snapped her mouth shut.
Ember twisted a shard of the metal frame free and raised it to her snout. She bit into it after a moment and swallowed with a grimace. “Dragons can eat just about anything. Told everyone not to eat the dead. I’ve heard from a few that changelings taste terrible anyway. Wonder how love tastes?”
“Thorax told me it tastes like chocolate except not.”
“How vague,” Ember laughed. Her eyes turned somber. “I could tell my dragons to hit the city, and most would without ever thinking of how it looked to the rest of the world. Especially the old bastards the size of a battleship. Back in the day, they could torch some random village without word getting around if it was isolated enough.”
Flurry pinched her eyes shut. “I can’t believe this. You feel bad for them? Changelings started this war. Every changeling living in Equestria lived over ponies. They sense emotions. They weren’t blind. They knew exactly what they were doing.”
“Hard not to feel bad for them,” Ember returned. “Most probably can’t even see what their ‘Great Queen’ did to them. Dragons are awesome and everyone’s just jealous of us. Has nothing to do with how we raided and torched towns for gold.”
Ash blew across the road from a sudden gust of wind. Flurry opened her eyes and scowled at Ember. Her horn glowed and she removed her helmet. Sweat ran down from her shaved mane. Her horn winked out and the helmet dropped heavily into a pile of ash.
“Trimmel met her,” Flurry said coldly. “So did Jachs. Every changeling that’s actually spoken with Chrysalis knows she’s a monster. They all followed her anyway.”
“Except Thorax.” Ember set the Bloodstone Scepter against the ruined metal. The dragoness folded her arms. “Spike made friends with him. Your ponies are killing every changeling they catch down here.”
“You’ve seen the pamphlets. You think he’d befriend a changeling after finding Twilight like that?”
“No.” Ember puffed a plume of smoke. “But you’re not going to win playing her game.”
“I’m not trying to win it,” Flurry snorted. “Chrysalis just has to lose with me.” Her eyes swept up the road to the city in the distance. “They all followed her because she won. Let’s see how far they’ll follow her into defeat.”
“You’re not giving them much of a choice,” Ember tried.
“Everyone has a choice,” Flurry shrugged a wing. The crystals sliced through the air. “Changelings eat love, not pride. In the end, they can accept a hoof of friendship with my uncle and come down the mountain to make peace with all the pathetic ponies. Or they can burn.”
Ember tapped on the haft of the Bloodstone Scepter. She ran a talon down the purple, jagged rock. “Any self-respecting dragon would choose death before dishonor.”
Flurry laughed loudly at that, and windchimes rang across the broken road. “What honor, Dragon Lord? Spike had to invent a ‘Dragon Code’ for himself. You’re on the wrong continent for honor.”
“I’m sure changelings think they have honor,” Ember replied with a snap.
“Loyalty to the Hives,” Flurry echoed Thorax’s words in the throne room. “Loyalty to the Queen that killed all the others to secure power.” Her laughter faded as she chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Any Dragon Lord ever get overthrown for being an asshole?”
“A few tried with my dad,” Ember answered sullenly. “There’s legends. And he never talked about the previous Dragon Lords. It was over a thousand years ago.”
Flurry was quiet for a moment. “You’re right. Chrysalis doesn’t care about them. They sank one of their own ships out there when it tried to turn around. That’s their weakness.”
“What is?” Ember frowned. Her tail whipped against one of the metal prongs.
“Chrysalis wants a swarm that will die upon her command,” the alicorn mused. Wind blew ash into her blue and purple mane. “She never had to test that conviction until now. She won’t break…but they will. This time, they’ll break before we do.”
“Crystal cracks, filly.” Ember licked her fangs.
“Chitin cracks before crystal,” Flurry responded. She shook the ash out of her helmet and turned eastward. “When we’re finished here, I’ll see you in Canterlot. We need to set up a unified war plan.”
Ember watched the alicorn slide her helmet back over her horn. A claw clenched her own helmet to her hip. “Where are you going, Princess?”
“General Mudbeak moved his command up,” Flurry stated. “We’ll offer surrender terms before…” the alicorn trailed off. “You still don’t want to help?”
“I’m not helping you torch your own city.”
The Princess sighed and accepted it with a nod. We’ll have to move artillery up and shell the lower levels. Thestrals and griffons can assault the clouds. She spared one last look at the Dragon Lord standing beside the wreck of a truck in slightly dented armor.
The alicorn flared out her wings and charged her horn. Magic crackled through the air as she primed the teleport. Ember stood her ground and let the sparks dance off her chest plate. “Thank you for your assistance, Dragon Lord.”
“Princess,” Ember shrugged her wings.
As she teleported away, Flurry realized Ember was uncomfortable in her armor. She snapped into a field of canvas tents with a muted smirk. Several griffons squawked in alarm at the flash.
Flurry Heart folded her wings with the sound of clashing crystals. The five nearby soldiers moving crates had not recovered from the sudden crack of lightning in the middle of their tent city. Army Group South had been mobile ever since it left the jungles for the more temperate plains, making a command post along the second major highway every few weeks to relay orders between Canterlot and the southern push.
General Mudbeak prefers to lead from the rear. Flurry glanced over a wing to the west. She could no longer see the clouds of Las Pegasus, but the base was where it was supposed to be at the very least. Griffons in gray standard uniforms still unrolled barbed wire and propped up chain-link fences in the distance.
Flurry rolled her eyes. Changelings fly. Who are you trying to keep out? She finally twisted her helmet down to the soldiers. The alicorn had snapped into the middle of the camp, apparently disrupting a shift change. One griffon had his helmet in a claw, head feathers laced with sweat and damp stains under his wingpits. Flurry felt her own fur chafe with froth under the jumpsuit.
Griffons had also laid down wooden boards for walking on the uneven ground beyond the highway. Flurry’s hooves crunched through the wood from the weight of her armor. She shook splinters off her greave with a small frown. “Where’s General Mudbeak?”
The griffons traded looks amongst each other. They only moved their eyes. If Flurry Heart had not known better, she would think she had paralyzed them with her telekinesis. The alicorn’s muffled ears twitched as the sounds of construction beyond the sea of canvas tents faded.
Flurry picked the least terrified looking soldier, a light orange male barely out of his teens. He clutched his carbine rifle like the Princess remembered holding onto Whammy. Probably only a few years older than me. “Do you know-”
He flinched and dropped his rifle. Flurry caught it in her magic reflexively, and the two griffons on either side of the quivering soldier stepped away. The alicorn gave them an unimpressed look of annoyance through the slits of her helmet.
She thrust the carbine back into his claws after flicking the safety on. “I’ll find him myself.” Her horn continued to glow and the color vibrated. Magic pulsed out across the camp.
Every griffon nearby flinched. One in an open tent dropped a tray of glasses. They ducked back out of sight before Flurry could check if it was medical equipment or not. Fuck it. Find the fanciest tent. She craned her helmet up and shifted her legs.
It wasn’t hard to spot. There was a high-pointed tent with gold trimmings along the drab canvas; the frame was bigger than the ones surrounding it. Flurry trotted towards it alongside the wooden boards to avoid breaking more of them. Shadows in the tents stepped away.
Unlike the massive camp outside Canterlot, Flurry did not see any clear servants. Griffons flew over the tents in stained undershirts, or only had armbands denoting their rank while they shifted supplies and crates. Most had a knife in a sheath or a pistol in a holster under one wing. A few balanced long arms on their backs, wary. Most banked clear of the massive pony stalking through the camp below them.
Flurry smelled the alcohol from the aid station in the wind. She did not spot the tent on her walk, and doubted it would be close to the field command. A screech echoed from somewhere to her right. A radio tower slowly hoisted into view with ropes pulling it upright above a long tent full of ammunition crates.
The Princess gracelessly seized the top of the tower in her magic and pulled it all the way upright. The ropes trying to haul it up went slack. Flurry released the tower and watched it sway in the wind and nearly topple over. She grabbed it again half-blind. A few of the ropes went taut after a moment of silence, so the alicorn released it and continued.
“You’re welcome,” Flurry snorted in Herzlander.
There was no response.
She rounded the long tent and finally came upon the gilded canvas. Flurry had approached it from the side and was forced to trot around. The material looked finer than all the others, but it was well-worn with age. Her estimation of Mudbeak went up slightly at the patched bullet holes in the side. Those aren’t new.
Her estimation went down at the four guards before the sheet metal ‘door’ on the tent. None of them said a word and kept their eyes on the ground, claws flush on the wooden boards. The two closest to the side she appeared from shuffled closer to the sheet metal, then shuffled back as she rounded the front.
The boards creaked under her armored hooves. Flurry smacked her lips and judged the door. I’ll need to duck. “Is this General Mudbeak’s tent?” she asked with forced politeness.
None of the Reichsarmee soldiers answered her. Flurry scanned their collars under dark metal helmets. “Oberleutnant?” she asked a black griffon. “Is General Mudbeak available?”
The griffon’s helmet jittered in a nod, but he kept his beak to the wooden boards so it was hard to tell for sure. Flurry hummed and bent the sheet aside with a flick of her horn. The alicorn had to duck and the large crystals at the ends of her primaries sliced through the canvas on the sides. She ripped them free once she crossed the threshold.
More wooden boards cracked under her hooves. A rug had been splayed out across the width of the tent, but it was more for catching dirt than coziness. Flurry had not spent much time with the old griffon; he seemed perennially nervous to be anywhere near her, always fiddling with his wispy mustache or flapping his hat.
Flurry was surprised by how dull the tent was on the inside. There were two plain wooden desks, cut into segments and slotted together for easy transportation. A cot only slightly springier than her own laid in one corner with carefully folded sheets. Several spare jackets and pants hung from wires along one wall.
Flurry Heart was also surprised by General Mudbeak. He slumped forward in a chair beside one of the desks, casually eating a sandwich with slow clacks of his beak. A pile of folders laid beside an empty plate. His jacket was unbuttoned and the medals hung loosely.
“I said I was not to be disturbed,” Mudbeak grumbled in half-slurred Herzlander. An eye swiveled from the sandwich to the massive armored alicorn shrouding his doorway. Flurry kicked the sheet metal back into place with a clang.
“Oh,” Mudbeak squawked lowly. He bit down into the sandwich again. “Come and go as you please, Princess. Kaiser’s orders.”
Flurry took a deep breath, sweaty and tired. She removed her helmet and carefully set it down beside the door. “I apologize. You guards did not say you were occupied.”
“Why would they?” Mudbeak responded around a clump of roast chicken. He vaguely waved at her with a claw. “Don’t sit on one of my chairs in that armor.”
The alicorn narrowed her eyes. She had cast the detection spell earlier, but the griffon swaying in the chair seemed…
“Are you drunk?”
General Mudbeak laughed with a single, solitary squawk. “I had some wine with my meal. That’s not a crime, Princess.” His tent had windows, but all of them were folded shut. The only light in the interior was two humming crystal bulbs set atop each desk.
Flurry cast her magelight and set it high into the peak of the tent. The shadows receded around the corners of the tent. Mudbeak squinted at the sudden intensity, but it wasn’t enough to hide his glassy, dilated pupils.
“You are drunk,” the alicorn scowled.
The griffon rolled his dull eyes and lifted up one of the folders next to the empty plate. A needle and discarded vial laid on a smaller silver plate. “I am high,” Mudbeak corrected. “As high as the light of Boreas above.”
The alicorn snorted in disgust. She had been given morphine in the Crystal City, but she had been unconscious for the removal of the molten gold from her head. Flurry Heart had awoken in pain from the breathing tube rammed down her throat, and her scraped-together medical staff refused to issue her more drugs in fear of collapsing her nervous system after reaching Critical Magical Exhaustion.
After the first day, she didn’t care. The pain was nowhere near as bad as the Heart. “You’re stealing that from soldiers that need it just for a fix?” the alicorn huffed.
Mudbeak’s cheeks pulled into a lazy smirk. He tapped one of his talons to the loose jacket, and a medal shaped like two folded wings swung in the stale air. “I was awarded a medal in the Revolution, filly. Got four medals, actually, but the Kaiser just gave me one.”
“Very impressive.” Flurry tossed her head back. “I saw the radio tower. When can we move on Las Pegasus?” Or are you too high to do your job?
“The other three medals I received on the shores of the Griffking,” Mudbeak continued like he didn’t hear her. “Artillery shell landed next to my pioneer team. Three shards went in, and the surgeons couldn’t remove them without severing my spinal column.”
The griffon bit into his sandwich, finishing the last bite. Crumbs spilled down. “Still hurts when it’s hot.”
Flurry sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“Heard that’s how your father died,” Mudbeak remarked. “I suppose I was lucky that the Gods watched over me…” An eye rolled over to the alicorn again. “Guess his gods didn’t watch over him.”
The alicorn’s horn sparked.
“You look frightening enough like that for the negotiation,” Mudbeak said approvingly. “I’ll offer surrender on the radio, try to meet up with the Hegemony’s command in person to confirm the offer once the encirclement's complete. You can just stand in the back and scowl with your lean little muzzle.”
“I wonder what Grover thinks about your habit,” Flurry ventured.
“He knows,” Mudbeak crowed. “He also knows I was due to retire before this Maar-damn war.” The wispy white mustache dropped around the edges of his beak, but he smirked again. “Maybe the Gods are punishing me?”
The pink horn snuffed out with a golden ember. “I’ll go find…” Flurry wracked her brain. “Major Darktalon? Whoever. Stay here and sober up.”
“I’m the only one in this camp that’s actually going to talk to you, filly,” Mudbeak said languidly. “My guards didn’t say a word, did they?”
“So much for the Reichsarmee’s discipline,” Flurry agreed.
“You see any knights flying around here?” Mudbeak squawked. He drummed a few talons along the desk shakily. “The Kaiser can send his holier-than-thou brigades into the spearheads, but it’s griffons believing in a paycheck that actually fight and move his army.”
“And that’s you?” Flurry asked with a huff.
“I wasn’t paid enough to take three chunks of shrapnel in the Herzland.” Mudbeak poked the medal again. “You think any pay raise is enough to get cocooned or dragged off by those parasites? Most of this army saves a bullet just in case. Half of them think they actually do suck out your soul.”
“They don’t,” Flurry deadpanned.
Mudbeak waved a claw. “I met the Hive Marshal back when he was just a Field Marshal. That little fez made him look like an asshole.”
Flurry thought back to Aquileia and smiled. “It did.”
“Only thing Synovial liked in Griffonia,” Mudbeak chuckled. He shifted around in the chair with sagging gray wings to stare blankly at the alicorn. “The griffons outside aren’t paid enough to stop you, filly. They’re not full of the guiding light of Boreas to believe He’s going to shield them from that horn. They want to get through this and go home.”
The alicorn flexed her wings halfway, limited by the tent. “You’ve seen my home.”
“Celestia watched the Reich burn while we fought the Republicans,” Mudbeak retorted. “Seeing your ponies like this…it’s horrible.” His beak turned downward. “And it makes a griffon afraid of being caught by them. Your family seemed like they were good people. But they weren’t worth a war like this.”
“It’s worth it to me.” Flurry stared down his dull brown eyes with her ice.
“Go kill more of them, will you?” the griffon hiccupped. “My soldiers will like that.”
“They’re terrified of me.”
“Yes,” the griffon acknowledged. “It’s called awe. Like a firestorm that tears through the enemy front. You’re grateful it happened, and you’re praying the wind doesn’t turn and you feel the heat.”
Flurry’s horn glowed and static built in the air. “Are you going to be capable of accepting their surrender, General?”
The elderly griffon blinked several times under the magelight and his eyes cleared slightly. “The radio tower won’t be operational for several more hours. I’ll be fine.”
Flurry eyed the syringe half-exposed by one of the folders. Her horn dimmed. “You know that’s going to kill you.”
“It hasn’t killed me for several decades,” Mudbeak squawked. He stood from the chair and buttoned his jacket slowly with uneasy claws.
Flurry watched him, then cast a spell. The griffon’s graying feathers flashed gold for a moment. His claws twitched and cleaved a button off his jacket while his wings flushed. Mudbeak took a deep breath in surprise with a lashing tail before visible confusion furrowed his eyes.
“Pain relief spell,” Flurry snorted. “Doubt it lasts as long as a morphine high, but it won’t kill you.”
Mudbeak was silent for a heartbeat. “I’m sorry for the remark about your father.”
“You didn’t kill him.” Flurry shuffled her hooves. The wooden floorboards creaked from the strain.
“I ordered the artillery strike as we crossed the river to Flowena,” Mudbeak answered. “Technically, I suppose I did.” He finished buttoning up his jacket and ran a talon across his cap. The general held it in his claws and looked away.
The alicorn’s muzzle twitched and her eyes went to the syringe. My father did not die to a drugged-up, pathetic excuse for an officer. “My father chose to stay.” Her eyes snapped to the medals hanging on the griffon’s jacket. “Did you get a medal for that, too?”
Mudbeak pointed to a medal on his jacket. “For taking Flowena.” It was a golden cross with black inlays. Flurry ripped it free and crunched it into a ball of molten shards, then blasted a frost spell across it. She let the warped marble fall to the floor.
The griffon sighed in a mix of relief and surprise. “I…I thought you might kill me over it.”
“No,” Flurry nickered. “It was war. Why even say anything?”
“The Kaiser would tell you eventually, I imagine,” Mudbeak answered. His stare turned wry even with glassy eyes. “I suspect he does not like me.”
Flurry did not respond to that, so Mudbeak shrugged a wing. “I did not intend to kill him. The Changeling Embassy wished-”
“Never talk to me about this again,” Flurry ordered. “Get the radio working. Las Pegasus is going to surrender or burn.” Her horn glowed and she snapped away.
Chips rolled the jeep to a stop just behind the line of artillery guns and a pile of shells. Nightshade leaned back in the passenger seat, sunglasses perched close against her eyes. The Thestral fanned her leathery wings; sweat flaked off the membranes.
Flurry Heart sniffed and climbed down from the back. Her jumpsuit clung to her fur by itself, and the alicorn did not relish the added weight of her armor. The crystal band levitated off her head and landed on the hood of the cooling engine.
Nightshade nodded. “Crown watch. Got it.”
Chips glanced up at the noonday sun and shielded his eyes with a claw. “Reminds me of New Mareland.”
“The north is hogging all the rain,” Nightshade whickered. “So much for the Mild West.”
Flurry waited for the other jeeps to pull up. A few axels sagged close to the ground. The New Marelander griffons parked in a row before clambering into the bed and unclipping their boxes of cargo.
The alicorn levitated out her battle armor from three other jeeps. Griffons gave the floating plates a wide berth as they shuffled through other boxes of rations for the siege. A griffoness ducked under the gorget with pinched eyes as it levitated over her head.
Flurry set the pieces down around her and began to fasten everything together. She suppressed nickers of annoyance at the touch of hot crystal against her feathers. Damn it. Should’ve asked for a cooling enchantment or something. Her horn glowed, but she caught herself.
Ice spells would weaken the crystal and make the metal joints stiff. The alicorn grimaced and clipped the gorget to her neck, working out the stiffness against the padding. Her wings extended as she locked the wing joint armor into place.
The griffons prepping the line guns avoided staring at the alicorn. The heavy artillery was aimed low, towards the factories of the undercity. Las Pegasus loomed to the west; the cloud city on the topside cast a long shadow across the plains and dry terrain beyond the defenses.
The Changeling artillery outranged the Reichsarmee. They had positioned several batteries atop the casinos or in the sky-parks. The encirclement on land had halted several miles away, and the land between the city and the besieging army had been churned apart with shellfire. Trucks and jeeps idled behind the long line of heavy guns. If it came to an assault, it would be a brutal ground push to the undercity with artillery raining down from the resort above.
A shadow briefly eclipsed the sun as one of the elder dragons circled back from the sea. Ember’s dragons had flown lazily over the ocean and banked back, eyes watchful for attempted patrols. The Hegemony’s Luftwaffe had apparently abandoned Las Pegasus to its fate. Reconnaissance had spotted ground crews in the cloud bases above the undercity, but no sorties had flown out to contest air dominance.
Behind the siege, Tzinacatl warbands scoured the desert and secured the pipelines. Every night, keening war cries echoed as bat ponies chased down stranded soldiers. The advance had been fast, and if Flurry was honest with herself, sloppy. Between Ember’s surprise pincer attack on arrival, the gap in the lines to Las Pegasus, and the attempted breakout, the Appleloosan Protectorate was a mess of breakthroughs and encirclements from the Southeast to Las Pegasus.
But an army of dragons, bat ponies, and griffons had made it to the outskirts of the final city in Changeling hooves. Estimates from before the Battle of Canterlot placed 200,000 Heer soldiers in the south. That did not count war veterans, settlers, civilians, or the Kriegsmarine under Admiral Mimic. Flurry doubled the number in her head.
400,000 changelings. 500,000 ponies. Nearly the amount of Canterlot. At least, that was the prewar population of Las Pegasus. With the Appleloosan Protectorate relocating or draining the populace as part of the Love Tax, that estimate could be wildly off. Flurry levitated her helmet over her horn and locked it into place.
Chips smacked his beak and drummed his talons on the wheel. The New Marelanders stared ahead over the line artillery, avoiding twisting around to watch the alicorn dress. Flurry rolled her eyes under the helmet. “I’m decent.”
Nightshade blew a bubble between her fangs. It popped and she scrunched her nose. The gum stuck to her dark blue fur. She pawed at her nose with her left wing. Chips raised a claw behind him to signal to Flurry.
“Where’d you get gum?” Flurry asked. The bat pony ceased struggling for a moment and pointed her wing at Chips. The alicorn turned her helmet to him. “Can I borrow a few sticks?”
Chips leaned across Nightshade and rummaged through the glovebox with one claw. He pulled out a revolver with ruffling wings. Flurry plucked it out of his claw and brought it over to her muzzle.
“Sorry,” she apologized. “That’s mine.” The Princess popped open the cylinder and inspected the one bullet. She spun it closed with her magic and set Applejack’s old revolver down in her saddlebags stored in the jeep’s bed. Forgot I kept-
The Princess barely caught the package of bubblegum lobbed at her helmet. Chips had thrown it blindly over his shoulder to her. “New Mareland original, Princess!”
“It’s old as shit,” Nightshade mumbled. “Think that company went under when Beakolini invaded. Surprised I can still get bubbles.”
“Gum don’t expire,” Chips scoffed.
Flurry tucked the package against her gorget and the neckline of her jumpsuit. It stuck out slightly. The packaging had a playing card of a joker; a swirly-eyed mare in a harlequin’s hat beamed above the metal. “What’s the radio say?”
“Meet up’s, good,” Nightshade summarized. “Be careful. You’re going to be in range of their artillery. Recon spotted two trucks heading out from the barricades.”
“Only a Breezie’s dick,” Chips probably disagreed. He felt the alicorn’s stare and finally turned around. “You’re at the very edge of their range,” he translated.
Flurry nodded, walked around the jeep, and through a clearing in the stacks of shells. Shirtless, and occasionally totally naked Reichsarmee soldiers worked to load and adjust the artillery. They kept their beaks down and focused as the Princess walked through the line.
General Mudbeak waited in full dress uniform with a cap under his wing. Four soldiers with assault rifles waited behind him. Flurry was grateful her helmet hid most of her surprise. The elderly griffon had actually cleaned himself up. He still looked nervous, but his eyes were clear and mustache combed. The overall look was slightly ruined by the sweat stains on the brown jacket under his wings, but Flurry was already sweating worse in her armor.
“Where’s the meeting?” she asked in Herzlander. General Mudbeak placed the cap atop his head and pointed to a distant hill. A ruined town sat below it, barely more than two dozen houses. Before the war, it was called Goodspring for the water source, but the Appleloosan Protectorate had relocated the ponies elsewhere.
Only the brick frames remained, bracketed by craters from lobbed shells from Las Pegasus. The hill was to the east of Goodspring, and it provided a decent over watch of the flat terrain leading to the city. Shame it’s in range.
The Reichsarmee was filtering the water from the nearby aquifers; the changelings had destroyed the pumps and dumped fertilizer in the pipes. The entire area around the floating city had been steadily bombarded for the past two weeks. There was no cover for an advance.
Las Pegasus had been an oasis in a dry stretch of land, but it was heavily dependent on food imports from Appleloosa before the war. Without the rest of the Appleloosan Protectorate and cut off from the Changeling Lands or Olenia, it was a matter of time until the city starved. The Changelings knew it and the Reichsarmee knew it.
Flurry Heart and General Mudbeak slowly walked ahead of the guns towards the craters. She swung her head to the griffon. “Do you want to teleport there?”
“Can you teleport all five of us?” Mudbeak returned. A wing jittered to the guards walking behind them.
Flurry did not bother answering. Just say no. Her horn glowed and a large bubble slowly formed around the group. Two of the guards slowed in nervousness, but the alicorn kept walking ahead. Flurry felt her bubble clip the end of one of their tails.
“Sorry,” she called back.
The guard did not respond.
“Admiral Mimic leads the Kreigsmarine,” Flurry said aloud. “Governor Plexippus ruled the area. He’s in command of the Changeling Heer.”
“Admiral Mimic is not in charge of the navy,” Mudbeak said slowly. His eyes wandered around the golden shield surrounding them. The magic crackled and sparked, and there was a dull hum in the air. “Hives Admiral Lysander commands the surface fleet.”
“What’s left of it,” Flurry snorted. “Fine, she’s the submarine one.”
“Yes.” Mudbeak undid a coat pocket and inspected a few folded papers. Satisfied, he nudged them back into place with a talon. “It’s a cowardly way of war. No self-respecting griffon would shove themselves into a metal tube. Do changelings like cramped spaces?”
Flurry thought about the tunnels under the ghetto in Weter. “They don’t mind them.”
“We already have to shell their bunker complexes into Maar’s Hell. They’re too complicated to storm.” Mudbeak glanced at the shield warily. “Princess?”
Flurry kept walking. When he did not continue, she sighed and prompted him. “Yes?”
“Is this shield going to explode?”
“Not unless I want it to,” Flurry answered.
It took an hour to reach the hill. Flurry was morbidly surprised to find it was an earth pony cemetery. The original settlers of Goodspring had buried their families there for at least three generations going from the headstones. The hilltop was dry and covered in sagebrush.
The alicorn stopped in a relatively open area between several different gravesites. A few clans of earth ponies had lived in the area. The last markers were simple wooden planks with names and dates of death. Flurry squinted through the eye slits to read the nearest one.
Whiskey Rose: A Lily of the Valleys. Always Remembered.
The date was during the Great War, and the wooden board was cracked. Flurry swung her head back to Mudbeak. “Did they pick this location, or did you?”
“It was not their first pick,” Mudbeak squawked. “They’ve gone back and forth over the past two weeks. It was their idea for a direct meeting.”
Flurry Heart had not met any of the changeling intermediaries that eventually contacted General Mudbeak. Her role was simple. She backed up and the four soldiers parted. The alicorn walked backwards until her armored flank skirt bumped against the rear of the bubble shield with a crackle of electricity. One of the guards peered back with a tan beak and wide green eyes, then snapped his head forward at the distant truck engines.
The bubble shield amplified the noonday sun. Her magic was gold, and it intensified the rays coming down into strange, shifting refractions resembling pillars of flame on the exterior. Flurry didn’t bother anchoring the spell to anything on the hill. She kept her horn primed.
The truck engines faded to the west. Flurry counted two by sound. One of the griffons swung a radio pack down between her wings and adjusted the dials. She listened for a moment. “Forward acknowledges,” she whispered quietly. “Contact imminent.”
The gorget and helmet were stiff, so Flurry partially turned around to look behind her. From the hill, she had an excellent view of the wide, curving line of the encircling trucks, half-tracks, and towed artillery. She could also see three elder dragons the size of small mountains lounging to the southeast. Ember would be there.
The Dragon Lord had agreed to help scout for the encirclement. She maintained her dragons would not be used to storm the city. The anti-air atop Las Pegasus could probably pierce dragon scale, and Flurry had overheard the Tzinacatl warbands running counts of dragons from Amoxtli.
Ember had brought nearly a thousand dragons to war, leaving a scattering of older, younger, and crippled dragons on the Dragon Isles. It was comparable to the dragon migration from prewar. But a thousand dragons can’t fill a frontline.
Flurry turned back around. And the Changelings don’t know they won’t be involved in an assault. Around twenty black shapes slowly flew up from one of the cratered valleys to the west. The alicorn tugged the pack of gum free and shoved three sticks of bubblegum into her muzzle.
She smacked her lips nosily, causing one guard to look back at her. She grinned with bubblegum running through her teeth. He turned back just before the first changeling landed at the edge of the cemetery.
It was a Queen’s Guard in bright blue armor. Flurry wasn’t necessarily surprised by that, but the guard was young with short fangs. He glared at the five people under the bubble shield with a shotgun slung under a buzzing wing, then sent up a green flare from his horn. He began to pace with restless legs, blue armor clanking. It was slightly too large for him.
The remaining shapes descended one by one. The alicorn counted the uniforms. Another Queen’s Guard landed first and moved to his partner, followed by three changelings in blue uniforms with ocean waves on the bars of their collars. All of them were armed with submachine guns. The remaining twelve changelings were in black standard uniforms. They fanned out in a half circle around the hilltop. One set down a radio and put on a headset, speaking in a low voice.
The admiral and the governor landed. Admiral Mimic was a short mare; her eyes were a brilliant ocean blue under a darker blue cap. Chrysalis’ trident crown was embossed in gold leaf on the top. As a whole, the changeling’s uniform was pressed and impeccable even in the unexpectedly hot day. She adjusted her stance to seem taller.
Governor Plexippus landed last. In contrast to Mimic, he was sweating in a disheveled black uniform. A white undershirt was exposed at the collar, and he did not bother with a hat. His head fin was slick with sweat. The stallion was well into his forties with a scar running down the side of his neck that cracked the chitin. It was faded gray, and his green eyes were tired.
General Mudbeak twitched his wings and pulled out the folded sheet of paper. Wind blew across the bubble and through the sagebrush atop the cemetery hill. The griffon cleared his throat. “A-as an officer of the Reichsarmee of Kaiser Grover VI-”
“We’ve wired the dockyards, airbases, and parts of the cloud infrastructure to blow,” Mimic interrupted with a clipped, dual-toned accent. Her Herzlander was almost flawless. “Any attempt to assault the city will be met with force. We will bring the topside down on the undercity and bury it.”
Mudbeak stuttered for a moment, then placed the paper down in the dirt. “So your adjutants said,” he finally remarked. “We are aware. Your defenses will be destroyed.”
“Half a million ponies will die,” Mimic claimed. She looked past Mudbeak to the Princess standing in the back of the shield.
Flurry smacked her gum.
“We would like to avoid that,” Mudbeak continued. “As I was saying: I am an officer of the Reichsarmee and today I negotiate on behalf of Kaiser Grover VI.” He held up the paper. “This paper is a direct offer from his desk: Lay down your weapons and surrender the city, and the Kaiser pledges to protect every changeling under your command.”
“Are we supposed to believe a scrap of paper?” Plexippus hissed behind Mimic. His Herzlander was nearly as rough as Flurry’s, and the alicorn quirked her muzzle. Who’d he learn it from to sound like that?
“This offer is generous,” Mudbeak scoffed back. “Considering the state of our captured scouts and pilots if we ever recover them, this is more than you deserve.”
“If you want Las Pegasus intact,” Mimic countered, “withdraw your forces and allow us to evacuate oceanside. We leave with equipment and changelings to the Olenian Peninsula in waves. We will take ponies as a precaution, but we will leave-”
“No,” Mudbeak shook his head. “You are surrounded, Admiral, by land and by sea. This is an offer of surrender, not a negotiation.”
“What of our civilians?” Plexippus asked. His right wing buzzed twice.
“Under the current standing of the Griffonian Reich, every changeling within Equestria is classified as a potential combatant,” Mudbeak waved a claw. “You are shapeshifters. This pledge from the Kaiser is to all changelings residing in Las Pegasus.”
“You’ll kill us all,” Mimic rolled her eyes.
“We will not,” Mudbeak promised. Flurry watched sweat pool under his wings.
Mimic frowned at the griffon for several moments. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re standing under her shield. You’ll let her kill us. Or are we supposed to believe you’ll stop her?”
Flurry smacked her gum and started to blow a bubble.
“She sank every ship that tried to leave,” Plexippus said behind Mimic.
Flurry popped the bubble and worked her jaw. “Not all of them!” she finally called out. “Your admiral sank the last one!”
“So you claim,” Mimic sneered far too quickly and casually. The green-eyed changeling behind her did not look surprised. His right wing buzzed three times.
Flurry pulled the gum back into her mouth and chewed loudly. She kept her helmet still, but her eyes went past the two changelings to the varied Hegemony soldiers. The black-uniformed Heer spread out behind the Queen’s Guard and Mimic’s marines.
“The Kaiser will take you under his wing,” Mudbeak read directly from the page. “This is not an offer made lightly. You will be guaranteed safe conduct to the prisoner-of-war camps in Hayston and Albion, and you will be held until the war’s end under our guard.”
“Your lines are overstretched and there’s a storm over half of Equestria,” Mimic snorted. “A few victories don’t make that cub a conqueror.”
“Better than a few defeats,” Flurry quipped back. Her voice was slightly muffled by the wad of bubblegum. She ran her tongue over her molars. I fucking hate bubblegum.
“If you want the airfields and dockyards,” Plexippus interrupted, “we withdraw without issue. Any attack and we’ll blow the city.”
“There will be no withdrawal,” Mudbeak retorted. “The city will surely starve. It’s burdened with refugees from all across the south. Be reasonable.”
“Ponies will starve first,” Mimic hissed. She looked over Mudbeak’s head.
Flurry met her eyes and shifted the gum into her cheek. “Why do you think that’s going to work?”
The admiral bit her lip with a fang. “Excuse me?”
“Your radio calls me the Alicorn of Death,” Flurry shrugged both armored wings with a flash of crystal. “I’ll give you credit: you didn’t haul a foal out here like Trimmel did. But that didn’t work either.”
“You care about your ponies, Princess,” Plexippus stated. His right wing buzzed again. “You would not be here if you did not.”
“Changelings are supposed to be clever.” Flurry threw her helmet back in exasperation. “You’re supposed to trick us. Chrysalis took even that from you. All you have is cruelty now.”
“Enough,” Mudbeak interrupted with a glare backwards. His eyes were more nervous than they should be, but Flurry closed her mouth and resumed glaring at the gathered changelings. The griffon twisted to the changelings. “If you did not come here to surrender, there’s nothing further to discuss.”
“If you do not allow us to withdraw,” Mimic countered, “we have no choice but to hold as long as we can. The siege will leave you with nothing. No dockyards, no airbases…no ponies.”
“If that’s the case,” Flurry snarled, “I might as well fly in there myself.” Her horn pulsed and the shield crackled with blue sparks. The changelings beyond the bubble shield tensed. “Save us all the trouble of waiting several months.”
Plexippus looked past the shield to the southeast. Flurry suppressed a smirk. From the hilltop, he could see the dragons. His left wing buzzed twice. The alicorn watched with bemusement as the changelings slowly tried to flank the shield.
Then she carefully dropped her expression as one of the black-uniformed changelings shifted his shotgun with a wing to aim just under a Queen’s Guard’s exposed neck. They aren’t trying to flank us. She buried the realization deep.
“We want the guarantee announced over the radio,” Plexippus said. “All channels.”
“You can’t trust that!” Mimic hissed to the changeling behind her.
“If it broadcasts out and you break it, no changeling will ever surrender to the Reichsarmee again,” he continued.
“We will do so tomorrow,” Mudbeak agreed.
“No,” Admiral Mimic spat. “If you do not withdraw by the end of the week, ponies will-”
“Stop.”
Mimic stopped, if only because the shield flexed from the magic in Flurry’s voice.
The alicorn remained behind the four guards. She spat the gum out into the dirt. “I have heard it all before. I have run out of tears to shed. If you wish to walk this path, I will follow. I will walk over their corpses and yours until we reach the Changeling Lands.”
Mimic’s sea blue eyes flickered at the mention of her home. She took a deep breath. “We do not surrender Las Pegasus.”
Plexippus looked at the dragons, then the alicorn, then the back of Admiral Mimic’s head. One hoof shuffled over the other, tugging on a sleeve. Flurry exhaled and her horn glowed brighter.
She felt the switchblade folded inside a hole in his hoof. The Governor buzzed a wing and looked over his shoulder, but remained where he was. The standard soldiers had surrounded the marines and Queen’s Guard, but shifted in place nervously.
Plexippus closed his tired eyes for a second, then looked up at Flurry Heart. He met her gaze through the slits in her helmet. Neither said anything for a heartbeat. Mimic noticed the cold look and tracked the gaze. Her head began to turn around.
Flurry opened her mouth. “If you’re going to do something, you’re in the place to do it.” Her wings extended to gesture around at the cemetery.
Plexippus flexed his hoof and the switchblade sprang out. Mimic had enough time to twist her head back.
She opened her mouth in a shriek of surprise just before Plexippus stabbed her in the throat. The smaller mare struggled against the stallion with flailing hooves; her hat fell away. The two Queen’s Guards reacted quicker than the marines and drew their weapons, but one fell to the shotgun blast and another turned in time for the shot to spark off their armor. A marine managed to kill one of the soldiers before falling.
Two bullets sparked off Flurry’s shield. Mudbeak and the four guards tensed, but Flurry looked to the griffoness with the radio. “Call in that we’re fine.” The griffoness flinched at the shots bouncing off the shield, but held a receiver to her beak.
A shotgun slug ricocheted off the shield. The last Queen’s Guard was dragged down by three of the soldiers after landing a bolt of magic that shot through one of the Heer. They struggled to hold him down and stab him in the gaps of his blue armor. Knives flashed in green magic.
Plexippus straddled Mimic, throwing her onto her buzzing wings and twisting the switchblade. He held it with the hole in his hoof. “I’m sorry,” he hissed out. Mimic gurgled something in response.
The last one to die was the young Queen’s Guard that first landed. The changeling did not beg; he died snarling and hissing at the other changelings. He tried to pull a grenade free before one knife finally plunged into an eye and the body stilled.
When it was over, nine black-clad changelings stood shakily in the cemetery. Governor Plexippus staggered upright above the body of Admiral Mimic. She died with her eyes open just before the tombstone for Whiskey Rose.
“I want your word!” Plexippus hissed.
“You have it,” Mudbeak said. “And the Kaiser’s word-”
“Fuck him!” the changeling snarled. He flung the switchblade against the shield and it sparked off. His hoof shook. “Hers!”
Flurry Heart finally stepped forward. Her armored boots kicked up small plumes of dust. “I promise,” she said down to the Governor. “Surrender accepted.”
“Including civilians.”
“Yes.” Flurry paused. “Unless you’re talking about Rockfeller or-”
“My wife,” the changeling panted, “and my daughters. You don’t set a fucking hoof in that city until we say so. You try anything and we blow it all up. All of it. Everyone.”
Flurry Heart looked past him to the floating clouds in the distance. “I agree. I give you my word.”
“H-how,” Mudbeak coughed and cleared this throat, “how long do you need?”
The alicorn wasn’t sure what he meant until she considered the dead. Shit, this is going to look bad. “How many Queen’s Guard are in the city?”
“Less than a dozen,” Plexippus answered. “The Kreigsmarine will try to blow the port. I need a week.”
“Three days,” Mudbeak said surprisingly quick. He turned back to the griffoness. “Radio it in. We’ll keep recon patrols, but no attack under any circumstances. Ignore any fighting.”
The changeling licked his fangs and stared down at Mimic. “I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t sink that last ship,” Flurry nickered.
“I know.”
Flurry considered the dead mare, then her horn dimmed. The golden bubble shield burst into sparks and faded away. Mudbeak and the griffons froze.
Plexippus staggered back and his horn glowed green. He nearly drew his pistol from the flank holster, but the changeling caught himself and waved his wings back. The soldiers behind him hesitated before lowering their weapons.
Flurry stepped forward to the body near the gravestone, then stomped her hoof on Mimic’s head. She stomped again on her neck. The alicorn wiped her bloody hoof on the crisp blue uniform, then walked backwards.
Plexippus flinched at the ruined, headless body.
“Take her back with you,” Flurry shrugged her wings. The crystals chimed. “Changelings lie. Say I killed her after she said something that pissed me off. That might buy you time.”
“How did we get away then?” Plexippus asked dryly. He dragged the body by one rear boot away from the alicorn. His hooves were still shaking.
“Griffons stopped me,” Flurry cast a glance at Mudbeak. Her horn glowed and the bubble shield resumed around the group.
The changelings left their other dead on the hilltop, and carried two of their wounded back to the trucks hastily. They sped away. Flurry Heart frowned at the retreating vehicles from her vantage point. “I did not expect that.”
“Nor did I,” Mudbeak coughed. “Blessed Boreas, we’ve always heard rumors the Hegemony’s military branches hated each other, but not to that degree. The Governor was the one that wanted the meeting. He must have wanted to see if he could surrender. Why did the Admiral refuse?”
Flurry said nothing. She began to walk back east, stepping over the bloodstain from Admiral Mimic. The other griffons followed this time.
“Did you truly not destroy that ship?” Mudbeak asked.
Flurry had to fully turn around in her armor. “No.”
“The reports said you flung a submarine into it.”
“The submarine sank it,” Flurry nickered. “They had orders to.”
Mudbeak looked to the city to the west. He wiped a shaking claw cross his head feathers after removing his cap. “I do not wish to see what Maar-spawned madness comes of these parasites when we reach their cursed land.”
Flurry thought about Grover’s answer. “The seas will boil and the sky will burn.” Her eyes moved east. She had seen the bomber fleet parked at the eastern air bases. She had seen part of them over the Battle of the Celestial Plain, striking the Hegemony’s supply lines in targeted raids.
But the Reich was holding back over Equestria. The walk back was quiet.
On the first day, nothing happened. Las Pegasus continued to occasionally fire artillery down into the no mare’s land. Dragons made sweeps across the ocean. General Mudbeak radioed the surrender agreement, and Canterlot repeated the broadcast across every channel.
On the second day, gunfire broke out in the undercity and explosions rocked the dockyards. The Reichsarmee and the Thestral warbands remained alert, but the explosions stopped after two hours. The gunfire ceased by nightfall.
By dawn of the third day, flags drifted down from the clouds. Chrysalis’ trident fluttered in the winds over the craters before being trampled by the wheels of the advancing Reichsarmee. Scouts entered the undercity, then flew up to the clouds. Radio messages traded back and forth until nightfall.
On the ninth day, the Diarch of Equestria entered the undercity of Las Pegasus with her Thestrals to a crowd of jubilant ponies and former slaves. She toured the dockyards and factories, now being used to house thousands of Changeling prisoners-of-war guarded by griffons as the railways were linked back to the east. Dragons lifted ruined submarines out of the docks where they had attempted to be scuttled. Just before dusk, the Princess ascended to the upper city to meet with the Reichsarmee command. And the higher profile collaborators that tried to flee.
The hangings started on the tenth day.
“As Diarch of Equestria and Princess of the Crystal Empire, I sentence you to hang by the neck until dead.” Flurry Heart paused and lowered her wings. “I forget which one you are. Are you Flim or Flam?”
The bloodied stallion with a black eye did not respond. The blue dye in his fur continued to drip and pool around his hooves, mixing with the blood from the dozens of cuts and bruises littering his fur. One eye was swollen shut, but the other glared hatefully; the iris was more blood than green.
The owners of F&F Industries had tried to disappear into Las Pegasus’ undercity, but no amount of mane cuts and dye could compete with a population used to changelings. The twin brothers were beaten by their former factory workers and nearly lynched before being ‘rescued’ by a Reichsarmee squad investigating the riot. Many of their corporate staff already swung from the balconies of the casinos in the clouds.
“Hang him with his brother,” the alicorn said dismissively. She waved a wing behind her to the open balcony doors. It was almost nightfall, and the lights of Las Pegasus illuminated hundreds of soldiers and thousands of ponies. A crowd had gathered in the long walkways, waiting to see where their former bosses would hang.
The Tzinacatl had claimed The Full Moon as a base of operations; it was a gaudy, pyramid-themed casino with bat pony statues at the entrance. They were dressed far more provocatively than the statues in their cave city. Impressive how tactical loincloths seem worse than naked fur. Flurry Heart stood in one of the grand suites reserved for high-rollers or wealthy clients. Full moons covered the walls, and the carpet smelled like cigarette smoke.
The two tribals dragged the stallion to the open balcony. He said nothing, but it was possible he couldn’t: the bruising on his muzzle had swollen one side of his mouth. The Thestral on the left dipped her head with smiling fangs, flashing an Imperial Snowflake sloppily painted onto the top of a Queen’s Guard helmet.
The Queen’s Guard detachment had been hanged post-mortem from their base as well. While the Appleloosan Protectorate was nominally controlled from Appleloosa, Las Pegasus had been the true capital. Rockfeller and Governor Plexippus had operated from the port city, and it has direct shipping access to Olenia and therefore Vesalipolis.
Flurry walked up to the lone Thestral staring down out the window beside the balcony. Light Narrative, the Tlatoani of the Tzinacatl, had dressed in a simple vest with wide brimmed hat. He flicked his remaining golden eye to her before returning to the cheering crowd. Flurry stared across the crowd to the other casinos. Las Pegasus’ simple brick three-story town hall looked quaint in comparison to Gladmane’s Tall Towers resort or the Rockfeller-backed Lucky Pumpjack! casino. The flashing sign had an oil well spurting into the sky, and it looked suggestive.
“I hate this place,” Flurry said aloud.
Light Narrative chuckled. “I wrote an article about this casino. It’s the newest one.”
Flurry shifted her head to a casino with a glittering Chrysalis winking on the front. Heartbreaker had been vandalized beyond repair, and the lights flickered. The Princess could make out the original spinning sign for Buffalo’s Trail and a caricature of a proud chieftain just under Chrysalis’ grinning teeth. The Queen’s Guards dangled under the rotating sign.
“Well,” Light Narrative amended, “that one’s newer. This one was built just after Luna’s return to cater to the Thestral crowd.”
Flurry shifted her stare down to the statues. “Really?” One hoof rubbed against the swirling white fur of her scar. She had rolled-up the sleeve of her black jumpsuit, as she usually did around the Thestrals. The alicorn noticed most looked at the unity symbol at some point.
“Cater to the crowd that suddenly realized Thestrals existed,” Light explained. He rubbed a wing against his eyepatch. “This was the only casino that hired Thestrals in all of Las Pegasus.”
Flurry waited for the reveal. When Light Narrative shifted his wings and looked reluctant, she prompted him. “Exotic dancers?”
He bit a lip with a fang.
“Prostitutes?”
His eye went wide and he managed to choke out, “Technically exotic dancers.”
“So prostitutes but paid less,” Flurry sighed. Her eyes wandered over the crowd; griffons flapped over the cheering ponies filling the street. Her Nova Griffonians now wore a shade of gray similar to the Reichsarmee, but they carried themselves differently. Rowdier. “When will you head back?”
“Soon,” Light Narrative shrugged a wing. “The Conclave will meet to divide the warbands into the Imperial Army and the militias. Some will remain to run sweeps for the rest of spring.” He shuffled his hooves. “The Royal Advisor has sent changelings-”
“I’ll talk to Deimos,” Flurry interrupted.
The Thestral nodded and changed the subject. “The assignment of commanders will be divisive; I hope you don’t need us soon.”
“I would think all-Thestral regiments commanded by Thestrals would be easier.”
“Without one of the Three Tribes to gang up on we’ll fight about our own tribes,” Light Narrative deadpanned. “How do you intend to use us?”
“That’s up to Tempest Shadow,” Flurry deferred.
Light leaned his head to the side and regarded the cheering crowd. “Nighttime patrols, Dreamspell interrogations, assassinations, sabotage, and hit-and-run raids.” A wing twitched with each example. “Every stereotype of a marauding bat worthy of Chiropterra.”
Flurry Heart stepped away from the window. “We are what we are, Tlatoani. Would you rather that stereotype?” She jerked her head downwards to the statues at the main entrance.
“No,” Light Narrative whickered. “You know, the slot machine’s jackpot is triple mangoes.”
“Who owned this piece of shit?” Flurry groaned.
“One of the ponies hanging out there already.”
“Good.” Flurry Heart trotted across the open room to the door. Nightshade and Amoxtli dipped her heads and braced their submachine guns with a wing. They followed her out into a dimly lit hallway.
Las Pegasus had power from turbines in the bay; the lights were themed like crescent moons and gave the hotel a smoky, ‘seductive’ atmosphere even during the day. We are tearing all these casinos down. Flurry hummed and reconsidered. No, housing. If anypony can stomach it.
Smolder waited near the elevator. The dragoness looked bemused by the wallpaper and picked at it with a claw. She turned her head with a swing of her tail in greeting. “Princess.”
“How’s the docks?” Flurry questioned. She halted and looked up at the slim orange dragon. Smolder’s steel armor was scuffed, but the damage was old. The dragons had not fought since the highway.
“Not an engineer,” Smolder rumbled. “They look damaged. Dragon Lord Ember’s headed up to Canterlot. I’m following her in a day. If you don’t tell us what you want done with the submarines, the old farts are going to use them as baseball bats out in the bay.”
“Have them dumped in the plains to the south. We’ll scrap them for metal.”
Smolder opened her mouth.
“No baseball bats.”
Smolder closed her mouth, but grinned. “Shame you missed the look on those blue sailor bugs when we just hauled their tiny metal tubes out of the docks. They were so sure they clogged the dockyards.”
Flurry rolled her eyes. The fighting in the city before the surrender had been based around the Hegemony’s Kriegsmarine detachment in the undercity. Plexippus managed to kill the Queen’s Guards covertly, but Admiral Mimic’s death prompted her sailors to accelerate their plans to blow the port. It turned into a desperate, running gun battle along the docks. Only a hundred or so of the marines survived to be captured as the city turned over.
Flurry Heart had heard from Thorax the Hegemony’s internal command was full of petty rivalries. Synovial had once been Hive Marshal before Trimmel, and was replaced after her parents’ wedding. Lysander and Mimic argued whether changelings should design heavily-armored beetle battleships or deceptive submarines. The air force was divided between bomber production and fighters. Vaspier and VOPS had no official rival, but resources were always pulled from the other departments.
Chrysalis has to do it on purpose. The changelings had never been united before under one Queen of the Changelings. The Changeling Hegemony’s forces would have had too many divided loyalties to the other Queens during the war if things turned against her. I suppose she’s lucky they never did.
“Who’s in command of the dragons staying behind?” Flurry asked.
Smolder blinked. She folded her arms. “Dragon Lord Ember.”
“If she’s in Canterlot, who’s in charge down here?” Flurry rephrased. Someone small enough to operate a damn radio, please. Smolder’s sudden look of uncertainty caused the alicorn to bare her teeth. “Find someone before you leave. We need to keep in touch.”
She stepped to the side and winged her way past the taller dragoness. Her saddlebags bumped against the dragoness’ swishing tail. The two bat ponies followed their Princess to the elevator. Flurry ignored the soldier stomping his hoof into the stained rug, then spared the briefest nod of acknowledgement to the grinning bat pony.
Generic music somepony in Canterlot probably thought was jungle-themed played in the elevator. “Mom always said if I didn’t get a degree I’d end up shaking my tail for a bunch of repressed hornheads,” Nightshade commented behind Flurry.
“My mother said the same,” Amoxtli picked up. “Actually, she said she’d skin my wings if I ended up here.”
Flurry Heart rode the elevator down to the casino floor. She walked out into a chaotic display of flashing lights and broken machinery. Las Pegasus remained a tourist destination for the Hegemony. The casinos transitioned to a changeling clientele easily enough; a torn banner proclaimed the jackpot was a lifetime’s supply of condensed love. The bat pony on the banner’s fangs were too long and changeling-like.
All of the Appleloosan Protectorate’s Love Tax had been collected in Las Pegasus. Flurry had grimly smiled when the warehouses in the undercity were empty. The love rations had been on the ships attempting to leave. Did the Changelings even realize they were setting themselves up to starve here? Or did they plan to feed on the workers?
She’d have to ask Governor Plexippus. The Reichsarmee had commandeered Chrysalis’ casino, holding the Appleloosan Protecotrate’s government prisoner there. The old city hall was too battered and exposed to the near-riotous herds of partying ponies.
The newly arrived Nova Griffonians mixed with groups of Thestrals amongst the tipped-over slot machines and tables. Like the others, The Full Moon was being cleared out for space, and a few earth ponies mixed into the groups. Flurry spotted Duskcrest at a long roulette table crowded with ponies and griffons.
The ponies had been bound and gagged, sat atop the stools lining the table with Nova Griffonians standing watch. The entire floor was dripping with riotous energy; one Thestral took a crowbar to a slot machine displaying triple mangoes that refused to pay out. All the tokens were worthless, but it seemed that Las Pegasus still had one last party in it before the war resumed.
Duskcrest spun the roulette wheel and casually tossed the ball into play. He leaned onto the board and spun one of his silver-plated revolvers around a claw. “Red or black, everyone?”
The griffons around the table offered various answers, and the ponies protested with muffled whinnies. Duskcrest straightened slightly at the alicorn’s approach; everyone cleared the floor with hasty nods or bows as she crossed the room. The Princess demanded space with her wingspan, but most gave her double that and avoided eye contact.
The griffon’s dark golden eyes flashed under a dipped cowboy hat. “Howdy, Princess.”
“General Duskcrest,” Flurry acknowledged. She swept her gaze over the griffons crowding the bound ponies before moving her stare downwards. The ponies all wore rumpled suits or sequin dresses under the ropes. “Which group is this?”
“F&F,” Duskcrest answered. “Just having a little fun before bringing them up. Are we offering pardons?”
Flurry bit her lip. Rockfeller’s company was named General Petroleum prewar. It had folded into Chrysalis’ crown corporation, but the top staff largely remained the same. They had been captured with their boss in his own casino and held with the Reichsarmee’s headquarters. But Rockfeller was hers.
Flurry Heart did not want to spare them; they had driven their workers into the ground with their boss. However, they knew the pipelines and refineries the Reich desperately needed operational to reduce the strain from Griffonia. So far, her one visit to their makeshift cells over the past week had resulted in screaming and begging from ponies terrified of the Princess of Rope.
That might be enough. It made her stomach twist, but she couldn’t kill them all, no matter how her ponies brayed for it across the south. Equestria suffered a severe brain drain over the course of the Hegemony’s rule. Most universities were shuttered. Celestia’s school was burnt down, and whatever still functioned did so at the Changeling’s exact instruction. Lies about how we started the war and racial phrenology of the ‘alicorn-like changeling physique.’
“I’m not offering pardons for F&F,” Flurry said aloud. She flicked her eyes back to Duskcrest. “Stop fucking around with them, General.”
“Ah,” the griffon accepted, “apologies, Princess. It’s a casino. Of course Nova Griffonians want to have some fun.” He slapped his claw down on the spinning wheel and deftly caught the ball mid-air. His other claw twirled the pistol.
The surrounding Nova Griffonians placed their claws on their captives. One mare tried to chew through the rag with mascara running down her eyes. Flurry stared at her coldly, then regarded the inhibitor ring on her horn. The factories of the undercity were surrounded with slums. For all of Canterlot’s talk of being ruled from above, Las Pegasus was a stark example of inequality. The weather patrol charged with keeping the clouds clear and fluffy for the tourists lived underneath them with the factory workers.
“Get it done today,” Flurry ordered. She stepped away from the table. “I’m looking for Deimos.”
“They finished up with Rockfeller.” Duskcrest pointed a wing to the back of the casino, near the bank teller’s cage. The casino vaults had all been emptied before the siege and loaded onto the initial ships trying to escape. Coins littered with Chrysalis’ muzzle probably ran along the ocean floor from Las Pegasus to Hjortland. The vaults were used to secure the highest-profile collaborators before their hanging.
Flurry Heart did not lie to herself and say the hangings were impartial, but they were more organized. She had collected a list of the accused and the Thestrals patrolled the undercity. Lynchings were met with violence. The Reichsarmee swept the city and kept her forces clear of the changelings, and the pony civilians trapped in the besieged city were mostly distracted with the show above. Food had been shipped in from Appleloosa along the railways.
The alicorn had once read that the old Karthinian Empire was held together by bread and circuses before it collapsed to the Wingbardian barbarians. My bread is apples and my circus is hangings. The south needed to be reorganized like the Imperial Coast or the East Coast. She filed away another meeting in her head.
“We’ll deal with Rockfeller next.”
Duskcrest clacked his beak and held up a claw. “Hang on, I got a request before you meet with him.” He wore the Imperial Snowflake on his gray uniform now, but the silver chain around his neck looked looted. A breast pocket jingled with a few coins.
Flurry flicked her ears.
“Two of my captains want to talk. Sent them to wait around.” Duskcrest holstered his revolver. “Earth pony and surly old bounty hunter. They’ve been at a few meetings. You haven’t met them.”
“About Rockfeller?” Flurry guessed.
Duskcrest leaned over and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Earth pony’s related. Ran away from home or something. She’s been living in the frontier since before the Great War.”
Flurry closed her eyes. Familial relations don’t count. She did not relish that discussion. “Who’s the griffon?”
“An asshole,” Duskcrest laughed. He pulled back. “We shot each other once, back when I had a bounty.” His golden eyes quirked. “Actually, I might still have one.”
“Everything the Nova Griffonian government established ceased to exist with their Capitol Building,” Flurry deadpanned.
Duskcrest’s feathers flexed and he rolled his eyes to the terrified ponies. “Alright, you heard your Princess. Fun’s over. Truth is, the game was rigged from the start.” He cocked his head and his griffons hauled the ponies off their stools. A few sobbed and neighed; one stallion soiled his tuxedo.
Flurry Heart extended her wings to clear more room, letting Nightshade lead the way to the vault. She waved her wings for the Thestrals to rise at the door to the teller boxes, then stepped through to the back around empty safes. Her hooves crunched on scattered plastic chips.
Flurry Heart let her wing droop and snagged a chip with a feather. She brought it up to her muzzle for examination. There was a full moon on one side, and a bat pony with a headdress made of fruit on the other. “Did you know about this casino?” she asked behind her.
Amoxtli nodded. Her wing pointed through the bars in a teller’s booth to cages that still hung from the rafters on the casino floor. They were silver-plated and the bars were wavy to imply moonlight, and a horizontal pole in the interior was capped with a full moon.
Exotic ‘dancers.’ Flurry scrunched her muzzle. “This was before the war?”
“Yes.” Amoxtli rolled her slit eyes. “Some ponies wondered why we preferred our caves.”
They descended into the vault. Flurry Heart found Deimos and two other changelings making notes at an office table. They startled at Nightshade and quickly held up their hooves before Flurry rounded the corner. “Oh! Princess!”
“Rise,” Flurry preempted them. Thorax’s changelings were exceptionally nervous with twitching wings. They avoided making eye contact with Nightshade or Amoxtli. Flurry had suspicions her other soldiers were increasingly hostile. The Reichsarmee was doubtlessly worse. Less than a hundred of her changelings were in the south right now, and nearly all of them were in the city overseeing the interrogations of the surrendered staff.
The others followed the Tzinacatl scouts tracking deserters. The advance had been swift and relentless, and rough estimates placed several thousand Changelings missing in the vast expanses of unsettled land. There had already been one attack on one of the oil derrick outposts from a band of raiders. The two dozen changelings tried to abduct three of the pipeline’s repairponies before they were chased down.
They couldn’t hide out for long, not without food or a source of love. It’s why the Nova Griffonians had been chosen for garrison duties; they could fly fast and strike hard. The south was flatter than the mountains of the frontier, but the alicorn’s frontier griffs could live off the land. Most were used to being bandits.
“Deimos,” Flurry greeted the purple-uniformed, red-eyed changeling. All of Thorax’s changelings wore the full dress uniform of the Imperial Army at all times. The purple could be an eyesore in the daylight, but it was better than being shot on reflex. “How are you?”
It was a useless question; the stallion looked miserable and the chitin sagged around his eyes. “Good, Princess,” he clearly lied. “We extracted a strong amount of internal information about the Hegemony’s economic structure-”
He stopped at Flurry’s flat stare. “We’re done with the interrogations,” he said, skipping to the end.
“Does Thorax want to pick up stragglers?” Flurry asked in response.
Deimos bit his lip. “It’s not a high priority, but starvation will hit the Heer’s rank-and-file soon if they ran at the first attacks.” His horn glowed and he hefted a wooden crate full of Condensed Love Rations onto the desk. “A little kindness might go a long way if some ‘ling starts feeling their mind slipping…”
Flurry Heart could feel Nightshade and Amoxtli’s stares on the back of her neck. Her fur bristled. “Radio it out openly. Surrenders will be accepted. Raids will be met with fire and blood.”
“Thank you, Princess,” Deimos sighed.
Flurry twisted her head and her crystal band flashed in the lamplight deeper into the vault. “Where’s Rockfeller?”
“Bat ponies are guarding his cell,” the changeling pointed a gossamer wing to one of the branching hallways. “You can’t miss him.”
“Thank you.” Flurry moved.
“Princess?”
She stopped and turned her head back.
Deimos shuffled a few papers aside. “Can…can we get it in writing? About the broadcast? It, uh, it makes things a little easier if…” he didn’t finish the thought.
The alicorn’s horn glowed and she levitated a ballpoint pen up. Flurry nodded slowly and trotted back to the table. She wrote out a brief synopsis of the order in her looping scrawl on a blank page, then signed her name at the bottom of the page. She tilted her head.
Flurry added, DO NOT MAKE ME COME DOWN HERE AND CHECK ON THIS underneath her signature, then drew a horrible self-portrait of her frowning. “Yeah, that looks official, doesn’t it?” she nickered. From the desk of the Princess of Ponies herself.
Deimos did not answer.
At least we’re not at the forced laughter stage like Grover. Flurry took that as a victory. She left the paper with the changelings and descended further into the vault. Hooves clacked on tile. The two bat ponies and one alicorn rounded a corner to find an earth pony and griffon waiting before a line of Tzinacatl warriors standing guard at the caged alcoves for the deposit boxes.
No point guessing which one’s related. The earth pony was a brown mare with amber eyes and a black mane tied back into a rough bun. A gray cap was settled over her eyes, not quite hiding the bags and lean muzzle. A stitched yellow rose was on her pants over her flank, probably her cutie mark. She was unarmed; her eyes were facing forward but far away as she was engrossed in thought.
The brown griffon looked like an asshole. Or rather, he had that look of ‘I’m charming but kill people for money’ that Flurry Heart grew used to seeing in the Nova Griffonian Frontier. A wide scar creased his beak and ran up one eye, maybe from a knife or a talon. He wore the Imperial Snowflake same as the mare, but his gray uniform was complemented with a bandolier and holstered revolver. A brown, wide-brimmed hat completed the ensemble. He was leaning against the wall, trading a waggling eyebrow with one of the Tzinacatl that looked more flustered than she cared to admit.
“Where’s Rockfeller?” Flurry asked without preamble. She trotted forward and inserted herself between the guards and the duo. The griffon and pony straightened, but did not bow.
“Within, Princess,” one of the tribals hissed. Her ears flicked and nose scrunched, baring her fangs. “He soiled himself during the changeling’s questioning. The smell was unbearable for us.”
“My apologies,” Flurry remarked with poorly suppressed amusement. “Leave us.”
The Tzinacatl snapped a hoof to their chests and bowed with flicking ears. Flurry shuffled her forelegs and nodded; the white fur over the scar seemed brighter in the lantern lights of the dimly lit vault. The bat ponies retreated, leaving the Princess, her two guards, and the mismatched pony and griffon alone.
“Princess,” the earth pony said. She bowed her head.
“I take it you are in my army and did not steal those uniforms,” Flurry whickered. “General Duskcrest told me I had two waiting. He did not tell me who you are.”
The griffon laughed with a warm, rich drawl. “If I’d been asked years ago ‘bout Virgil Duskcrest, I’d never thought he’d turn tail for a filly.”
“He said you shot him,” Flurry deadpanned.
“Tends to happen when ya shoot at me,” the griffon laughed. He removed his hat with a claw and bowed with a vaguely Aquileian flourish. “Jean De Basse, bounty hunter and lieutenant.” His unoccupied claw scuffed at his jacket’s collar. “Still waitin’ on my bars, Princess.”
Flurry Heart tried to guess the accent. “You’re not with my other Aquileians.”
“Born in Nova Griffonia,” Jean confirmed. “I heard ya had a mash of an accent. Sounds different up close.”
“Have we met before?”
“Before Canterlot.” De Basse waved a claw after replacing his hat. “Virgil and I have an agreement not to get too close. Had to share a crater one night fighting off Redtail’s communists after shooting each other half to Maar’s Hell.”
“You told me it was cannibals,” the earth pony whickered.
“More excitin’ that way,” De Basse shrugged. “S’all good now, wind over wings.”
Flurry turned her head to the mare. Her icy eyes studied the blank jacket collar. “I was told you are related to Rockfeller. I wasn’t aware of any familial relations.”
The earth pony bit her lip and her amber eyes sank to the floor. “My name is Paddy.” She took a deep breath. “Rose Rockfeller.”
Flurry flexed her wings. “Niece?”
Paddy blinked slowly. “Daughter,” she whispered. “Your…uncle…spoke to me once.”
Thorax. Flurry inhaled and pushed the breath out with a foreleg. “I am sorry, but the testimony of familial relations-”
“I’m not here for that,” Paddy interrupted. She flinched at the hisses of Nightshade and Amoxtli. Flurry waved her wings and the Thestrals backed up; she rolled her head for Paddy to continue. “I just…I’d like to say goodbye.”
“Were you part of the ELF?”
Paddy shook her head. “I ran away from the south a long time ago.” Her accent still had a twinge of Appleloosa, but it was overwhelmingly Nova Griffonian. “Father owned everything, always did. I was supposed to be his ‘Yellow Rose’ while he worked ponies into the ground.” She cast a baleful stare back to her stitched cutie mark. “I hated it so I ran.”
“Wait…” Flurry paused. “You’re not talking about the war.”
“The south might’ve been under Celestia’s sun, but it was always independent,” Paddy nickered. “Money talked. Look at this damn place. Southern ponies went on and on about their freedom and land, but it was oil that built the railroads and towns after the gold rush.”
“Called ‘black gold’ for a reason, mon chere,” De Basse drawled. “Hired bounty hunters for his daughter. Found her first.”
“Helped me go into hiding,” Paddy added.
Flurry blinked several times. “I’m…sorry.”
“It’s alright, Princess,” Paddy slowly smiled. Her breath shuddered. “I know…I know he’s done bad things. He was a bad pony before all this. I just…need to say goodbye. Please.”
The alicorn nodded in acceptance. “I understand.” She waved her wings forward and trotted into the hallway, following the lights to the last ‘cell’ still occupied. The four followed her.
Rockfeller was a large blue-gray earth pony with a brown mane. Flurry had seen pictures in the Lucky Pumpjack! casino. He looked stately in them, staring at a horizon with firm brown eyes above a well-maintained mustache. He was usually in a suit standing before one of his oil derricks in the photographs.
He was still in a suit, but it was torn and rumpled. Several empty buckets sat outside the cell, explaining the puddle on the floor around the stallion. Blood was all over his collared shirt, still dripping wet. The smell lingered in the stale air. The earth pony struggled to his hooves, moving sluggishly with unfocused eyes.
They drained him. Flurry expected that. It was the best way to get honest, unfiltered answers. She took some satisfaction out of the probable reality it was the first time the stallion had ever felt a changeling feed on his emotions. She kept her muzzle firm.
Snot dripped from the stallion’s mustache. His mane had streaks of gray in it. The earth pony staggered to the bars of the alcove and leaned against the locked door, using it to hold himself up.
“Princess,” Rockfeller’s eyes struggled to focus, but he locked onto the gently glowing golden horn. “This…this is all a mistake…”
Flurry said nothing. Amoxtli and Nightshade stood to the side with slung submachine guns.
“Please, Princess,” Rockfeller coughed. “It was just…just good business. I told you it was.”
What? Flurry frowned and extended her wings.
Rockfeller’s eyes tracked them and wobbled. “Princess Celestia, please…”
Flurry Heart registered the dim lighting, her height over all the others, and the golden glow around her horn. She stepped back with a snarl. “I am not Celestia.” She folded her wings tight and stepped to the side with her Thestrals.
Paddy Rockfeller moved slowly and stiffly, eyes ahead but as distant as her father’s. Jean De Basse walked by her side with a wing over her back. The mare’s chest heaved with every step.
Rockfeller’s eyes cleared slightly as his daughter walked into the alicorn’s horn light. He leaned his muzzle against the bars and exhaled, trying to smile with limp muscles. “Rose?” he rasped out.
Paddy’s first word was a whimper and she squeezed her eyes shut.
Rockfeller tugged his mouth into a smile even with glassy eyes. “My little Rose…”
“Goodbye, father,” Paddy choked out. Jean tightened his wing over the mare’s back.
And before Flurry Heart could stop him, the griffon drew his revolver and fired point blank into Rockfeller’s muzzle. The gunshot echoed in the alcove; the ponies flinched, Nightshade and Amoxtli most of all. They flexed their wings and snapped the submachine guns to their forelegs.
The alicorn’s horn flared and every gun slammed into the ceiling, including the other revolver that was holstered at De Basse’s side. The griffon’s wing was nearly knocked off by the force of Flurry’s magic tearing the weapon from its spot. He squawked but held up his claws.
Rockfeller sank against the bars. It was a perfect headshot between the eyes. He lolled to the side and stilled, blood mixing into the dripping water. Paddy’s hooves trembled and she closed her eyes.
“It’s my fault,” Paddy nickered through her teeth. “Jean was following my-”
“She’s lyin’ through her muzzle,” De Basse retorted. His wings twitched. “I forced her ta go along with it.”
“No!” Paddy stomped her hoof. “It was my idea.” Amoxtli snarled, eyes flicking to the submachine gun on the ceiling.
“Quiet,” Flurry snapped. Her ears rang from the gunshot. She spared one long look at the dead body. “Why?”
De Basse opened his beak. “Part of an agreement-”
Flurry closed his beak with her magic. Her glare made him stop struggling. “Paddy. Why?”
Paddy swallowed, eyes still closed. “H-had a deal to k-kill him before the war. C-couldn’t see him swing from n-no gallows. S-sorry, Princess.”
“What…” Flurry frowned. “Before the war? What did he do before this?”
Paddy gave the Princess an incredulous look. “He owned the south. Forced ponies to sell their land with hired thugs, bought almost every election, pushed the petitions for the Buffalo to lose their sacred grounds…”
Flurry Heart worked her jaw, searching for a reply. “Celestia wouldn’t have allowed that.”
“When was the last time Celestia was down here?” Paddy laughed. It didn’t fully muffle a sob. “Father always had his say.”
Flurry released Jean’s beak and let the guns drift back to the floor. She eyed the two revolvers. “These look like Duskcrest’s,” she commented.
“Mine are better,” Jean retorted. He made a show of holstering them slowly. “Princess, this was my fault-”
“No!” Paddy interrupted.
“I am not punishing you,” Flurry sighed. “I…I get it. I’m sorry.”
“If ponies need to see a Rockfeller hang, I’m right here,” Paddy sniffled.
“No.” Flurry made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. “You can have the body. If you want. We don’t have to make a show of it.”
“You don’t know.” Paddy’s laugh had a sob laced into it. “You’re looking at the owner of General Petroleum now. Rockfeller Oil is mine.”
She turned to face the Princess. “He never wrote me out of the will. I’m his only foal. It’s mine now. That’s why he cut a deal with Chrysalis. So it could stay in the family.”
Flurry shuffled her hooves back to avoid the expanding puddle of water and blood. “Is that why he sent bounty hunters after you?”
“He did that because I was his Little Rose,” Paddy snorted. “You can have it, Princess. The company’s yours.”
I have less idea what to do with it than you. Flurry Heart backed up into the hallway and away from the body. The dim light did not hide the tears dripping from Paddy Rockfeller’s lean muzzle. Jean wrapped his wing around her with a wince and guided her after the alicorn.
Flurry stopped halfway down. “I’m pardoning most of his staff.”
Paddy’s eyes widened. “No! You can’t! Not those snakes! They’re all as bad as him!”
“We need the company,” Flurry explained. Her voice lacked confidence. “I need the pumps and refineries for the Reichsarmee. The workers can’t run it all on their own.”
“Just give it to the Griffonians, then!” Paddy insisted.
“It’s one of the last things we have left,” Flurry sighed. “I can’t sign it over to the Griffonian Reich. We need it. We’ll be in enough debt.”
“This all started ‘cause of debt,” Jean answered lowly. “I had debt and took it ta hunt her. She made a deal to wipe it away if I killed him, not that it matters now. Ya mean to tell me after all these years, it’s endin’ with debt?”
Flurry smirked tiredly. “My country is a shithole that makes the Frontier look good. I’m paying it off with everything I have.” Including my own ass. She left that out.
Jean did not argue with her assessment. He rubbed a claw over the scar running down his beak. “That’s a pickle.”
Flurry looked to Paddy Rockfeller. She sucked in a breath through her teeth. “If Rockfeller wanted you to run his company, can you do it? Can you get the pipelines running?”
Paddy’s teary eyes widened. “No. No, Princess, don’t ask me to-”
“I am,” Flurry exhaled. “I can’t run your company. I need a governor over this area, and I need the oil flowing to the Reichsarmee. If you can do it-”
“I did not kill my father just to be told I need to become him,” Paddy snorted. She did not flinch from the dual hisses of Nightshade and Amoxtli. The earth pony glared upwards through her tears.
“Easy,” Jean tried to push her back with a claw.
“Do you have griffons with you?” Flurry asked him.
“Got my own,” he acknowledged warily.
Flurry turned back to Paddy, meeting her furious stare with cool ice. “I have to put somepony in charge of this. They can work for reduced sentences postwar, or something else, but I need this oil. You have guards to help, and you were local once. You know the south better than I do.”
“Gonna have a hard time filtering out all the Buffalo blood,” Paddy spat.
“I know.” Flurry’s wings sagged. “I’m not asking you to be your father. Be better than him.” She looked back to her two Thestrals, then listened to the warbled ‘tribal’ music still faintly playing in the casino’s speakers. “Seems like every story I was told about Equestria wasn’t true.”
Paddy’s glare faded and she pursed her lips. “Wasn’t true for everypony,” the mare corrected. She blinked again and tears leaked down her muzzle. “Let me think about it, Princess. I…I can’t…”
“I never got to say goodbye to my father,” Flurry acknowledged. “I understand.” She turned to Nightshade. “Paddy Rockfeller can talk with me before we leave.” The bat pony nodded.
Jean and Paddy did not follow them all the way back to the casino floor. The griffon, despite his surly beak, gently led her to an unused corner and sat the earth pony beside some boxes once her hooves started to stumble. Flurry’s ears pinned at the muffled sobbing. Paddy had to have fought in Nova Griffonia, but the emotions from finally facing her father after a decade had left her as emotionally drained as Rockfeller himself.
Flurry Heart took the elevator all the way to the roof and teleported across the street to Chrysalis’ casino. Amoxtli suppressed a retch from the move. The Reichsarmee soldiers guarding the rooftop startled at the flash, but left the alicorn alone. No griffon dared point a gun in her general direction, and the two guarding the stairwell practically fled their posts when she approached.
The Reichsarmee command staff for Army Group South took control of the top floor. The hallways were brightly lit to contrast with the black wallpaper. Green hearts littered the otherwise monotone decorations. The floor rugs were sticky, and Flurry regretted not wearing her full uniform with boots.
Nightshade twisted her ears at the hum of the buzzing wall lamps. “Did they mean to put insect lamps? What did they name this place?”
“Heartbreaker’s,” Amoxtli answered. “It was on the sign before some unicorns blasted it. We used to hear stories that ponies were auctioned off on the lower floors as part of bets, but I don’t know if that was true.”
“It was,” Flurry answered. She led the way to the high-roller suites. The griffons guarding the palatial rooms did not run. They were busier processing dozens of changelings in crisp black uniforms and noting details. Most of the couches and low seating had been replaced with desks dragged up the stairs, and the few unicorns in the hallways bore orange armbands marking them as the Kaiser’s Aquileians.
Two unicorns scanned the alicorn at the double doors to a wide room. The chatter inside ceased. Flurry felt the magic blow through her feathers. She cast the spell back idly and felt it sweep through the floor.
A few dozen crackles reverberated through the room ahead. Flurry grinned, flat white teeth flashing as she entered. The Appleloosan Protectorate’s high command avoided staring at the alicorn. In fact, they attempted to stare anywhere else. Most chose the spinning ceiling fans. The Reichsarmee officers interviewing and guarding them kept their eyes on the changelings.
Flurry’s long legs slowed. She languidly walked through the room, eyeing the changelings from the side of her muzzle. She kept her head high and horn straight, looking down at them. She had raised her wings just after entering, and the wingspan passed over a few of their horns as they sat at the desks.
All the changelings wore inhibitor rings at the top of their horns, but it did not stop their emotion sense from working. Flurry was certain her distaste rolled off her in waves. She did not spy any changelings in blue uniforms of the Kreigsmarine, nor any Queen’s Guards. Good.
Flurry walked up a small staircase to a more private area of the suites. Dusty Mark leaned on the railing of the balcony, looking over the griffons and changelings. “Quite the show, Princess. Some probably pissed themselves.”
“How’s the situation below?” Flurry asked. “Factories functional?”
“We disarmed all the bombs,” the gray unicorn assured her. “Factories are operational, and the dragons are clearing out the port.” She jerked her horn to the side. “We’ve radioed Canterlot and gotten confirmation on identities.”
Dusty Mark led Flurry to a small group of ponies waiting on the balcony. “Former staff of the Appleloosan Protectorate. They passed information to the ELF about deployments, but most of the southern cells were wiped out between Plexippus and Rockfeller.”
Flurry quirked her muzzle. “Hangings?”
“Pine Chest is already swinging,” Dusty nickered. “Wiped out Starry Plough’s forces a year ago in the desert. You’ve already been briefed on all the ones worth the rope.”
“Princess,” a tan earth pony approached and knelt. She was wearing worker’s overalls from the undercity, and her barrel was thin. “My name is Sugarquill. I was an assistant for Mayor Rokenhar during the war.”
“She was the main contact with the ELF,” Dusty supplied.
Flurry nodded. “Rise.”
Sugarquill did so stiffly. “Governor Plexippus made use of much of Las Pegasus’ bureaucracy before the ELF uprising. Afterwards, the all-changeling administration sent us to the factories.”
“Did they suspect you sent the ELF information?”
“I would not be alive if they did,” Sugarquill answered dryly. She tossed her head to the earth ponies behind her. “These ponies are my…staff, I suppose. We were prepared to organize a general strike if an assault took place.”
Dusty snorted. “That’s a kind way of saying they turned welding saws into combat saws. We’ve seen the stockpiles in the factories. If this turned into an assault, changelings were going to get carved into pieces in the streets.”
“They had guns,” Flurry remarked.
Sugarquill shrugged. “Most of their ammo was stored here, not below. They would have run out of bullets before we ran out of bodies.”
Grim. Was this going through the minds of everypony in Canterlot? Flurry grimaced and shook her head. “I’m glad it did not come to that.”
Sugarquill’s eyes flicked to the door. The mare wore safety glasses taped to her muzzle for poor eyesight. “Do you intend to let the governor live?”
“Yes.”
The mare hummed. “Unfortunate. He was the sole governor of the Appleloosan Protectorate. These changelings wiped out the Buffalo in a systemic campaign.”
“I am aware,” Flurry said evenly. “They surrendered.”
“You think the Buffalo did not try to?” Sugarquill bowed again. “I beg your pardon, Princess. I forgot my place.”
“You did,” Flurry said the thought aloud. “Before I leave for Canterlot, I will appoint a governor for the south. You seem to have the experience and credentials. Perhaps not the attitude.”
Sugarquill’s ears pinned and she pressed her muzzle to the black carpet. “I apologize, Princess.”
“Accepted. Rise.” Flurry waved her wing. She left the ponies with Dusty Mark and entered the last room of the suite. It was once a large bedroom, but the bed had been replaced with office desks. The curtains were pulled away from a wide window, and the spinning sign of Chrysalis’ smirking muzzle was prominent. As were the Queen's Guard hanging below.
There was one large oak desk at the end of a row of smaller desks and piled paperwork. Griffons still sorted through all of it. They stopped as Flurry Heart and her two bat ponies entered. Discussion faded into mumbling.
General Mudbeak and an adjutant sat across the wide desk from Plexippus. Flurry Heart did not recognize the changeling mare and two foals standing behind the governor. The mare was wearing a bright blonde wig and green sequin dress that clashed terribly.
Flurry assumed the foals were Plexippus’ daughters. It was challenging to tell beyond their little poufy green dresses. They were very plump and had gained double-chins. I didn’t even know that was possible with chitin.
“Princess,” Mudbeak greeted with a dipped head. “We’ve finished the finalized surrender terms, but…there’s some hesitation on your stipulations.”
“We cannot go on the radio,” the changeling mare insisted. She rolled her vowels in Equestrian like Rarity. Clearly a manufactured accent.
“We can,” Plexippus overruled his wife. “This is not a concern.”
“It is absolutely a concern, Plexi!” the mare sniffed. “Those goons will run down my sister and-”
“They are not here!” the stallion hissed in Herzlander. His expression collapsed as his two daughters backed up against their mother’s forelegs. “We’re fine,” he said down to them in a softer voice.
The two foals’ eyes went to the standing alicorn. The blue-green eyes were very wide. Flurry Heart did not smile at them. Her mind was imagining how much love it took to make them that fat, and how skinny the ponies down below were.
“I suppose that’s sorted, then,” Mudbeak declared after a pause. He waved a claw to the paperwork on the desk. Plexippus signed with green magic. Flurry watched his uninhibited horn dim after he passed the papers back.
“I would like a word alone with the former governor,” the alicorn announced.
The griffons in the room stilled. Mubeak stood from his seat and turned around. Sweat stained his wingpits. “The Kaiser has taken these changelings under his wing,” he reminded her shakily.
“I understand,” Flurry demurred. “I would like to discuss the Appleloosan Protectorate.”
The mare sniffed. “Plexi doesn’t have anything-”
“Of course,” Plexippus cut her off. “Go along. Take the foals.”
“No!” his wife answered. Her hoof stomp shook the wig atop her head, and she had to nudge it back into place with a buzzing wing. “We have nothing to say to that monster!”
Flurry’s horn sparked. She ripped a chunk of the wallpaper free, exposing the previous grinning Buffalo chieftain. It was horribly garish wallpaper for the high-roller suites. Flurry almost understood why it was replaced by the Changelings.
“Go along,” Plexippus voice turned into a hiss. “Now.”
His wife’s muzzle twitched and she scooped up her grubs in her green magic, balancing them on her back. “Don’t play with the dress, darlings.” Her foals instead batted at her mane as she trotted out with her horn held high. At the door, one knocked off the wig. She sputtered and snatched it in her magic, pressing her head fin flat.
The griffons followed her out quickly, leaving the paperwork behind. Flurry walked around the desks at a sedate pace, scanning over the documents. To her surprise, it was all submarine reports. She raised a bow and looked over the large table again.
The nameplate and several frames were facedown on the wood. The alicorn’s horn glowed and she tugged one upright. Plexippus turned to stare out the window.
Flurry Heart recognized Admiral Mimic from the uniform. It was an old photograph, still in black and white from before the war. She was close to a slightly taller changeling stallion.
A small foal was balanced atop her head, wearing the Admiral’s blue cap. It was far too big for the changeling grub, but they beamed with tiny fangs and happy eyes. Mimic smiled underneath her foal, and her mate smiled at the camera beside her. He was in a suit with a tie.
Flurry Heart set the photograph down. “Was this Mimic’s office?”
“Yes,” Mudbeak answered. “Lysander sent her here during our invasion to coordinate the raids on our convoys. Their rivalry was exacerbated after Lysander lost most of their surface fleet in the Battle of Haukland. Some of the documents we’ve gone through suggest he wished her closer to the frontline. Mimic’s requests to return to the Changeling Lands were denied by the Queen.”
“He wanted her to die here,” Plexippus said quietly.
“Have we taken her family prisoner?” Flurry asked.
“They are in the Changeling Lands,” Mudbeak answered after Plexippus did not.
Flurry clicked her tongue after a heartbeat. “Thank you, General Mudbeak. I’ll meet you outside. We’ll talk before I leave about the administration of the south.”
“The changeling is…” Mudbeak steeled himself. “He is not to be harmed, Princess.”
“I know,” Flurry returned. “Leave.”
Mudbeak and his adjutant, a shaking griffoness, left. Amoxtli and Nightshade pulled the doors shut to the office, then slung their submachine guns into their hooves. Flurry Heart walked around the desk to stand in front of the window, forcing Plexippus to look at her.
“So,” Flurry began, “Mimic’s family would die if she surrendered.”
The changeling did not respond.
“Your family would die if you did not surrender,” she continued. “How’d you meet her? Gonna be honest, she has that ‘married in Las Pegasus’ look. Your foals are young. Were they born here?”
“They have nothing to do with this,” Plexippus hissed.
“Really?” Flurry snorted. “What’s the story? I’m curious. Changelings used to raise their young communally, right? Under the Queens? Which Hive are you from?”
“It’s all under Queen Chrysalis now,” the changeling said dismissively. “Does it matter?”
“No,” Flurry accepted. She frowned. “Did Mimic hate you as she died? Or was she just surprised? Did you open your magic and feel it?” The changeling’s lips shook, but he did not answer her questions. The Thestrals hissed.
Flurry Heart looked over the changeling’s head to the wallpaper she had torn down. Her voice turned dangerously cold. “What happened to the Buffalo?”
“You know what happened to them.”
“Say it.”
The changeling sighed through his fangs. “The Queen ordered-”
“No.” The power in Flurry’s voice rattled the window behind her and caused Plexippus to be forced back into the chair. The legs rocked back on the rug. He finally stared at her with wide green eyes. His uniform was unbuttoned and creased; the sleeves hung loosely over the holes in his forelegs.
“The captain that sank your ship said the exact same thing,” Flurry intoned. Her voice lost the magical force, but not the frost in every word. She spoke slowly. “I have heard ‘orders’ across this continent. Tell me the truth. Why?”
Plexippus’ eyelids twitched. “You want the truth? Pick one. They shot at us with breechloaders. They refused to know when they were beaten. Some scientist in Vesalipolis did a study and found out they had less love to give anyway.”
“Chrysalis ordered Trimmel to wipe out the Yaks and he did a shit job,” Flurry countered.
“Rockfeller approached us,” Plexippus hissed. “Those ponies out there? They didn’t give a shit. If they weep about it now, they just shrugged then." The broken sign rotated around to show more of the Buffalo underneath. "The ponies that actually gave a shit about the Buffalo died fighting with them.”
“And you helped every step of the way,” Flurry stated. “Don’t try to tell me it was just orders.”
“I was ordered.” Plexippus drew in a breath. “And I did not give a shit. Happy?”
“Yes,” Flurry said to his visible surprise. “I know honesty can be hard for changelings.”
“If you’re going to kill me, just fucking do it, you bitch.”
“I’m not going to kill you,” Flurry replied. “You and your wife are going on the radio to talk about the Reichsarmee’s mercy. My mercy. I’m sure Chrysalis will call it lies, but some will listen and have hope that there’s a way out of this.”
The changeling failed to hide his relief. He sagged against the desk. “Fine.”
“After the war,” Flurry said, “you will be tried and found guilty. You will be sentenced to life imprisonment in the darkest hole I can find. You will never see for family again, so cherish what time you have with them now.”
The changeling looked up from the desk. “W-what? T-that’s not…”
Flurry cocked her head at him. She did not hide her derisive smirk. “What? You think you get away with this after a pathetic, ‘I surrender!’ and some simpering? Those documents you signed protect you during the war. Postwar, all of you are mine.”
Plexippus’ eyes widened. He licked his fangs. “Please.”
Flurry scrunched her muzzle. “Don’t you dare beg. Not after all this. If you refuse to go on the radio, I might upgrade your postwar punishment to execution. Fair warning.”
The changeling had no more to say, so Flurry turned on her clipped tail and trotted down the desks.
“You are as cruel as her.” The voice was dual-toned.
Flurry Heart twitched, stopped, and turned around. Her horn glowed and the doors and windows turned gold. The ward surrounded the room. The griffons outside surely noticed, but none tried the doors.
Plexippus sat in the chair and bared his fangs. “You’re no better than her.”
Fine. Flurry stared down her muzzle as her horn glowed. After a moment, she smiled brightly. “Did you know there are two camps?” She spoke in Herzlander with a lilt that made the Katerin accent sound higher-pitched.
“There’s two camps,” Flurry repeated. She trotted up to the desk slowly as she spoke. “One’s a bit nicer than the other, but both are going to get very, very crowded. I’m afraid your family is going to end up in the larger camp. It’ll be wet. It’s raining a lot. Griffons are a little trigger happy, too. But you should be fine.”
The changeling said nothing.
“Oh.” Flurry raised a wing to her lips. “Well, the Kreigsmarine might end up at that same camp with you and your family. They probably aren’t happy. You can stay together, all wet.”
She winked. “Maybe you can still play slots with your wife? Or…maybe she can play slots with other ‘lings for love rations for your fat little grubs. I doubt those griffons care too much after all that's happened.”
Plexippus inhaled. “I misspoke.”
“I don’t think you did,” Flurry teased. “Honesty has its rewards, doesn’t it? The nicer camp is usually reserved for officers anyways, so they can go there.” The alicorn looked out the shielded window. Her horn lifted up one of her saddlebag’s flaps and she flicked through the folders of Maud’s documents until she found what she was looking for in the bottom of the bag.
Flurry pulled out the pistol and snagged it with a wing. She popped the cylinder free with deft feathers, bringing it up to an eye. She spun the one bullet into place. “I took this from Applejack before she made her choice.”
The alicorn swung the cylinder back into the revolver and set it down on the table by the wooden grip. She shoved it forward to the changeling with her long wing. Plexippus jerked his head back and blinked rapidly in confusion.
“You killed a lot of changelings to protect your family,” Flurry said with forced enthusiasm. “Kill one more.”
She removed her wing from the pistol and stepped back with a smile.
Governor Plexippus shuddered in the chair. “Please.”
“How many Buffalo said that?” Flurry asked rhetorically. “Hay, no pressure. You can all go together. Or they can go to the nicer one. I’m sure your wife will tell your daughters stories about how the mean alicorn killed their father anyways, so taking the chance might be better.” She looked to the window. “This is Las Pegasus, after all.”
Nightshade and Amoxtli stepped forward with their guns. Nightshade’s eyes were hard. Amoxtli bit her lip with a fang and looked to the scars on her back. Her golden eyes returned to the changelings unflinchingly.
The revolver was old without a trigger guard. It had been designed by earth ponies. Probably the same model that most had down here. Plexippus reached out with a hoof, then hesitated.
“Please, let me say goodbye.”
Flurry raised an eyebrow up to the crystal band with six jewels. “Do you want them in the room for this?”
The hissing sob that escaped him was far too high-pitched for the scarred muzzle. Flurry watched with a glowing horn as he shakily scooped up the revolver in his hooves. His magic sparked a few times, but the changeling lacked the concentration to hold the gun to the side of his head and get a clean shot.
He finally tucked it underneath his mouth and used a hole in his hoof to pull the hammer back. It made an audible clicking sound and the changeling gave a full-body shudder. Plexippus looked up at the ceiling after taking a few short breaths through his nose. He froze, eyes wide.
“You can try to shoot me,” Flurry offered. “You might succeed. Of course, ponies will kill your family for it.”
He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger with clenched fangs.
Flurry Heart snorted.
Plexippus opened his eyes in confusion. His shaking hooves held out the revolver. He had pulled the trigger back against the grip with the side of a twitching hoof.
A golden glow surrounded the hammer halfway to the firing pin.
The revolver was yanked out of his hooves and floated up the alicorn. Flurry gently set the hammer, flicked the cylinder open, and removed the bullet. She tossed the brass to him and it rolled across the desk. “Keep it.”
The changeling shook in the chair as the wards faded. His eyes were wet.
“You will all go to the nicer camp and talk on the radio,” Flurry promised. Her voice remained cold. “Enjoy every moment left with your family, every moment that you denied thousands. It’s more than you deserve.”
The revolver floated back into her saddlebags and the alicorn turned around. She twisted her head back over a wing. “Oh, and if I was as cruel as Chrysalis? I would have brought them in here to watch, then sent them to the other camp anyway. Good job being a good little ‘ling for her. Seems like it was worth it.”
The Princess flapped her wings for Nightshade and Amoxtli to open the doors. Her eyes lost the ice and fire, and the alicorn blinked heavily. I’m tired of this place. She tugged back another strip of wallpaper to see the equally tacky wallpaper underneath. Chrysalis’ muzzle rotated on the sign outside, showing the chieftain grinning.
Equestria wasn’t like this. This wasn’t the Equestria her aunt believed in. It couldn’t have been. She believed in the School of Friendship. Were the Buffalo there? I’ll ask Smolder before I leave.
The answer was no. There had been plans before the war, though. Surely.
Before Flurry Heart returned to Canterlot, the clouds connecting Chrysalis' casino to the rest of Las Pegasus were broken off, and the entire building was pushed out into the bay. It became a target for artillery practice by the Reichsarmee to sight their defenses. The space in the city was slowly sculpted into a new airfield while trains began to ship thousand of changelings east under armed guard.
Flurry Heart did not listen to the radio broadcasts on the way back to Canterlot.
Grover felt the static cling to his feathers a split second before the crack reached his ears. Thunder rumbled outside, and rain still hit the high roof of the hall. The griffon drummed his talons on the tabletop, mildly concerned that the a peal of thunder was in time with the magical burst inside the room. Coincidence, assuredly.
Princess Flurry Heart flexed her wings with an apologetic grimace. “Sorry!” Her hooves left a burn mark on the floor rug from the teleport. The alicorn had an open can of something gripped under a wing. “I thought I had enough time to grab something. I was wrong.”
She set down a can of diced carrots. Steam wafted out of the open lid, probably fried during the teleport. The alicorn sat down heavily on the cushion set for her, then scooted herself forward with two wing flaps. The jeweled band below her horn caught the chandelier light and the purple gem flashed.
Grover became acutely aware the Reichstone was chafing again. It did not seem to matter how often servants fixed the padding. His head feathers itched from having to wear it so often. I wonder if it helped kill father.
He stopped drumming his claw on the table. That was a dark thought. He cleared his throat. “Are introductions in order, Princess?” Grover shifted his head to the left to see the alicorn.
Flurry Heart sat with Tempest Shadow, Sunset Shimmer, Spike, and Thorax at a table behind the Kaiser. She shoved a glob of carrots into her muzzle and swallowed it whole. “Sure,” she chirped. A wing extended to point to her right. “Dragon Lord Ember, Kaiser Grover VI.”
Unlike the other monarchs in the room, the Dragon Lord still wore her war plate. The Bloodstone Scepter rested upright next to her chair. Ember slouched against the table, slightly too tall for a comfortable pose. She leaned on one arm to compensate.
Grover was grateful the only other dragoness in attendance was the orange one Gallus identified as Smolder. The other seven landed on Mount Canterhorn in the rain, too large to land within the city comfortably. Several knights of the Opinicus Order still almost flew out to start a fight, but Grandmaster Jürgen was had been expecting a few hotheads to try it. The dragons stayed in the abandoned mines for now, out of the way.
“I was referring to Queen Velvet,” Grover explained with a patient tone. He spoke Equestrian for this meeting, the only common language amongst everyone in attendance. He waved a claw to his right.
Queen Velvet, already seated with a fine cloak about her lower body, nodded her blue antlers towards the Princess. Five deer sat with her, including the albino twins that Grover disliked. The doe stared at him with intensity, and he was not sure she ever blinked. Her fur was the color of falling snow, the same as her brother.
“Princess,” Velvet intoned with her received Equestrian. “It is an honor to see you again.”
“The honor is mine,” the Princess accepted. “I would say I remember our meeting, but I was most likely eating diced carrots in a diaper at the time. Not much has changed.”
The doe tittered. “Not quite that young, Princess, but close. You have your mother’s grace.”
Flurry levitated another clump of carrots into her lean muzzle and swallowed them down. “I have her ears and colors, but little else,” she replied bluntly. Said ears flicked above her unruly, stumpy swirls of a purple and blue mane. The Princess wore the full ensemble of the military uniform including her boots; Grover guessed she anticipated photographs.
If she did, she was correct. Griffons sat in the back of the hall with cameras to document the first meeting of a unified front against the Changeling Hegemony. Dragon Lord Ember looked uncomfortable at the occasional flash, but Velvet Jelzek smiled at the cameras when they turned to her.
Velvet had no smile for the Princess’ blunt reply. She paused a second too long. “You are too hard on yourself, Princess. You are a beautiful young mare.”
Flurry blinked slowly. It made the bags under her eyes seem more prominent. The dark circles were already contrasted by the intense glacial blue of her irises. “I don’t recall horns being blue, Queen Velvet. They are a lovely color.”
“They run in the family line of all the trueborn heirs of House Jelzek, Princess.” Velvet smiled at the confirmation of her title. The doe placed her hooves on the table before her. “My brother does not have them.”
“The bastard you want dead?” Flurry asked flatly.
Velvet’s smile faded. Grover hid a smirk with a claw placed to his cheek. “Yes,” the doe replied equally flatly.
“Are we going to begin soon?” Ember growled out from behind the Kaiser. Her claw occasionally reached out to touch the scepter as if she was assuring herself it was within easy reach. That might actually be a concern, considering some of the legends about dragons.
“Yes.” Grover removed his claw from the cheek and snapped his talons. The servants in the rafters clicked the projector on with a quiet hum of a crystal. The guards remained wary and alert at the doors, but the side chatter ceased. The only sound now was the rain hitting the roof and stained-glass windows of the east wing.
With Field Marshal Bronzetail and the Reichsarmee staff rightfully at the frontlines, Benito walked to the projected map. The dog kept his paws crossed behind his jacket. His sheathed sword clacked against his hip.
“Based on intelligence from Royal Advisor Thorax Vrakium, the Olenian Resistance of Queen Velvet Jelzek, and the interrogations from Las Pegasus, this is the situation within the Changeling Hegemony.” His Equestrian was gravelly.
Benito raised a paw to his head in a signal. The first picture flashed onto the canvas set up against the far wall. Grover recognized the changeling on sight. I would recognize him even without my glasses.
“Hive Marshal Synovial is confirmed to have survived the Battle of the Celestial Plain.” The purple-eyed changeling wore a fez from Fezera in the picture; the buildings behind him were clearly Griffonian. Synovial had an easy, fanged smirk from atop his tank. The photo was over a decade old. It had been taken for the newspapers during the first days of the Changeling mission to the Griffonian Reich.
If any were upset at the picture being used, none voiced their emotions. “The Hegemony Heer has reorganized and stalled our advance with the ongoing rainstorms,” Benito continued. “Radio broadcasts continue to be in code.”
“We’re working on breaking it,” Thorax interrupted. “The old codes from Las Pegasus indicate they’re purely fighting defensive actions and trying to sort their supply lines.”
“Continue,” Grover announced.
“Synovial is the only known living relative of Queen Chrysalis,” Benito picked up. “The Queen has no living heir.” The dog paused a moment to look between Grover, Flurry, Velvet, and Ember, but resumed. “The Changelings have always been ruled by Queens. With the suspected elimination of all other claimants, Chrysalis is the final known royal changeling. In the event of the Queen’s death, we believe a military junta led by Synovial will assume control of the Hegemony.”
“No,” Thorax chirped with a laugh. “Next ‘ling.”
Benito flushed and suppressed a growl, but raised his paw. The next picture was just a silhouette of a changeling with a name underneath it. “Vaspier Orn Kladisium, head of the Vesalipolis Office of Public Safety. VOPS. Chrysalis has made extensive use of the civil branch of the Hegemony to eliminate her rivals after her victory in the Great War.”
“VOPS runs most of the Hegemony,” Queen Velvet added. “All of the civil servants behind the Heer’s war machine answer to Vaspier. Most do not know it. Infiltrators and agents are part of everyday life.”
“Chrysalis could die tomorrow and they would have a backup in place within ten minutes,” Thorax said from the other side of the room. The Royal Advisor for the Princess looked bored next to Spike. “It wouldn’t last forever, but it would last for a few years.”
“Why haven’t they killed her then?” Ember asked. “She’s insane.”
Thorax’s wings buzzed against his purple uniform. “Security. Vaspier can’t kill her without sparking a civil war between him and Synovial. They blamed each other for the failures of the wedding invasion.”
“All of Vaspier’s power comes from Chrysalis,” Spike rumbled. "He's loyal to her."
Thorax gave a hissing hum. "If he kills her, he's the target for every other ambitious 'ling. It opens the door. He won't do it."
Benito signaled the projectionists again. The blank shadow changed to an older, rose-eyed changeling in a blue uniform. He stood on the deck of a battleship just below one of the main guns. “Hives Admiral Lysander.”
Benito paced. “With the loss of most of the surface fleet of the Hegemony, Lysander’s role was moved into administration. The reports from Las Pegasus indicate he is the unofficial head of the Hegemony’s government under Chrysalis.”
“Vaspier still pulls the strings,” Thorax shook his head. “The Reichsarmee is too quick to label every act of sabotage and changeling behind the lines a VOPS agent.”
Grover turned to him. “Explain.”
“Infiltration units are squads trained in close sabotage of supply lines.” Thorax rolled a hoof on the table. “They’ll kill a few guards, shapeshift into them, plant explosives, then exfiltrate. They’re trained by VOPS, but they aren’t agents.”
“I fail to see the difference.”
“An actual VOPS agent is briefed for months on a target. They’ll practice dry runs on assassinations, go undercover for weeks as the pony they replaced.” Thorax shifted his eyes around the room. “Or griffon. Or dog. You’re calling some conscript given a grenade and told to throw it from a foxhole a VOPS infiltrator. These aren't trained saboteurs on the front.”
“How many agents does Vaspier have, then?”
“Ground level, just changelings that report to higher up in the cells. Basic shapeshifting and eavesdropping.” Thorax licked his fangs. “We haven’t encountered actual agents in months, not since the battle. The Hegemony doesn’t need the elite agents for domestic intelligence, and I haven’t killed enough of them to cripple their network. Vaspier pulled his ‘lings back.”
“So be it,” Grover shrugged a wing. “We’ll take what we can get.” He glanced up at Benito. The dog nodded.
“With the death of Lord Commander Lacin Cardo in Canterlot, the Queen’s Guard has lost their leader. No replacement has been named. Olenian resistance bombed Luftwaffe Marshal Glaive a year ago. The former Hive Marshal Trimmel was killed in the Crystal City-”
Flurry Heart snorted.
Benito coughed into a paw. “And with the death of Admiral Mimic of the Kreigsmarine's undersea fleet in Las Pegasus, the Hegemony’s military is significantly weakened. These three changelings are the remainders of the old guard.” He signaled the projector to switch back to the map.
Equus flashed onto the wall with a rough frontline and scrawled borders. The northwestern peninsula was still black, but the rest was gray. Grover clacked his beak. We should have gone with pink or purple just to see it better. The Princess did not seem to care from her seat. She had finished her can and sat on her flank with her white boots crossed against the sash. She noticed Grover twisting to look back at her and shifted her stare, but he turned back to the map.
“Western Equestria was directly ruled by the Hegemony in an attempt to create living space for an expected population boom. There was a concentrated effort around Vanhoover to ‘changelingify’ the area. By all accounts, it failed.”
“By all accounts," Thorax echoed, "Changeling civilians are fleeing west. The uncoded broadcasts and documents from Las Pegasus indicate that Chrysalis has forbid further evacuations. Changelings are to stand their ground. They are not.”
Ember huffed a plume of smoke.
“If anything, it keeps the roads clear for the military,” Grover assessed. “Many in the west would be veterans granted land and conscripted back into service.”
“The Reichsarmee’s battle order remains the same,” Benito stated. His voice turned harder. “We do not regard changelings within Equestrian territory as civilians. The Changeling Luftwaffe has bled planes for months; our close air support engages all targets.”
“Semantics or not,” Grover began, “every one of them could be a saboteur or VOPS agent. We have enough trouble with the ponies in liberated territory. I am not adding random shapeshifters to the situation. If groups surrender without fighting, they will be shipped east. I have brought over more engineers to expand the camps at Hayston and Albion.”
Thorax shrugged his wings and said nothing.
“Tempest?” Flurry asked. “Where are we with the militia?”
“We can begin a full integration campaign by summer,” the unicorn reported. Tempest Shadow was wearing a gray uniform with black bars on the collar. It was a very simple looking outfit in contrast to the Princess’ jacket. “We’ve already taken over most of the garrison duties east of Canterlot.”
“I’ve pulled mages for support with the Reichsarmee,” Sunset Shimmer said slowly. The Archmage’s uniform was a darker gray than Tempest’s, and she had red stars on her sleeves. “Unicorn teams will sweep through after the initial advance for saboteurs. Most ELF veterans know Herzlander, so it's a matter of pairing off with Reichsarmee teams for sweeps.”
"We will pair with some of the Knight Charters," Grover offered.
“Pegasi on scouts and earth ponies on supply lines,” Spike continued. “Colonel Heartsong is practicing unit drills in the Empire.”
“Olenia remains the final protectorate within Changeling control,” Benito refocused. “Chrysalis recognized King Johan Jelzek after their surrender in the Summer War. The administration is based in Hjortland.”
The projection shimmered to the Olenian Peninsula. Rocky, mountainous, and snowy, Olenia was well-positioned for a grueling defensive war against the Changeling Lands. However, the Olenian military had not been prepared for the shock assaults with panzers, and Johan’s government formally surrendered long before the Changelings could push through the mountain passes.
Equestria had not stirred in the south, and Johan was diplomatically isolated by Velvet’s maneuvering. From what Grover remembered, the surrender still came as a surprise to everyone, even the embassy. The deer were only an obstacle to the real prize Chrysalis desired. Olenia had been left alone after initial territorial concessions and the implementation of the Love Tax.
Grover spared a glance at the fuming Queen Velvet. The doe almost snarled at the map. The generous terms were all a lie, of course. Deer prisoners were left cocooned and drained for the proper war. Some were conscripted into cannon fodder to be thrown ahead of the blitzkrieg. Deer were relocated into factory towns and worked under changeling overseers.
Everything the Hegemony had done in Equestria, they had first tried in Olenia. And it worked. Grover propped his beak up with his claws. How did they not see what was on their doorstep? Flurry Heart's muzzle was pressed thin with hooded eyes.
There were political factors. Velvet never asked Equestria to intercede in her squabbling with her brother. Johan had claimed the throne with accusations that Velvet was an Equestrian puppet. When she ran to Equestria to seek shelter, that accusation seemed true. And the Princess of the Sun could not justify a military intervention into Olenia regardless. King Johan’s rule was consumed with rewarding the deer that backed him to avoid being overthrown himself, not preparations against the unified Changeling Lands.
Olenia’s fate was sealed long before the tanks rolled into Vaverfront. Grover switched angles to peer over at the Princess. Just like Equestria. Nearly like the Reich, had Aunt Gabriela’s madness persisted.
Hjortland rested on a splinter off the Olenian Peninsula, positioned away from Vanhoover Bay and north of Las Pegasus. The deer had always been seafarers and explorers after climbing their mountain peaks. The capital of the Olenian Protectorate was far from the Changeling Lands and a beautiful port city.
“Queen Velvet’s resistance is based in the mountain ranges surrounding the coast.” Benito pointed vaguely to several of the ranges. “Raids have confirmed that most of the Changeling garrisons have been pulled and left to the deer loyal to Johan.
“With the loss of the south and the Crystal Empire, Olenia remains the last oil source for the Changeling Hegemony. Eliminating their access will starve the Heer of resources.” Benito folded his arms. “Army Group North and South will merge with Army Group Center into one large frontline that will sweep across western Equestria.”
“I saw your supply lines get bogged down in mud,” Ember remarked. “The rain’s intense even on dragon scale.” A round of thunder answered the dragoness before anyone else could.
“Agreed,” Grover said behind him. “Princess?”
The alicorn blinked and suppressed a yawn. Her lips twitched. “I’m ready to lower the shield across the Crystal Empire. That should fix the weather. Or make it suck less.”
“We can hold the mountains with Yak teams and crystal ponies,” Tempest announced. “The north is still snow, permafrost, and tundra. They won’t be able to push quickly, but neither can we. They’ve dug out a few mountain holds in the northern Changeling Lands. Clearing them will be work.”
“The Yaks seem eager,” the Princess said to her commander.
“Yes.” The unicorn’s muzzle was grim. “Flamethrowers. We’re calling it blowtorch and corkscrew between the crystal pony demolitions teams and mountaineers. Mountain artillery will do the rest.”
“Good. I’ll have a look once I’m back in the Empire.”
“This meeting is to solidify the war plan for the coming spring and summer,” Grover said. “The Reichsarmee will be reorganized into one army group under Field Marshal Bronzetail. The Imperial Army will hold the north. The New Marelander contingent is remaining in Las Pegasus with the air bases.”
Benito waved his paw and the projection shimmered. Arrows flew from Las Pegasus to Hjortland and the splinter off the Olenian Peninsula. “Las Pegasus will be the base for a divisionary raid into Olenia.”
“New Mareland wanted to try that in the war,” Spike dismissed. “The submarines are too intensive.”
“Except my army flies,” Grover announced with a touch of smugness. “And so do dragons.”
Dragon Lord Ember and Queen Velvet shifted in their seats. “Excuse me?” Ember growled.
“The shield has remained useful, but opening up another front for the Changelings will stretch their forces thin.” Grover drummed his talons along his table, spearing a few loose pages. “Without Olenian oil, the Changelings will gnaw through their reserves. I certainly cannot make use of it; the submarines are a problem.”
“You want the dragons to ignite the oil wells,” the Princess connected.
“I haven’t agreed to anything,” Ember remarked with a huff. Grover turned around in his chair. The Dragon Lord was far taller than all but Spike, and a plume of smoke left her nostrils.
“Neither have I,” Velvet scoffed. “Excuse me, but I do not want overgrown lizards scorching my kingdom. Olenia has suffered enough.” Ember traded the glare at Grover for a glare at the doe. Smolder clenched a fist and hissed.
Velvet sniffed back. “I am sorry, but I cannot agree to this.”
“The dragons are already in the south and can be easily positioned for a shock and awe strike over Olenia,” Grover frowned. “Olenia can be liberated before the final push into the Changeling Lands.”
“Use the beasts on the frontline,” Velvet waved a cloven hoof. “I would not call torching my land ‘liberation,’ dear Kaiser.”
“If all deer are like her,” Ember growled, “I don’t think I want to help.”
“I cannot use dragons on the front,” Grover said flatly. He removed his glasses and rubbed them on his sleeve. A wing raised and he counted down on his feathers.
“Firstly, the Changelings have anti-air and piercing rounds on the frontline. Secondly, I have to divert my air force to allow them to fly unimpeded as less functional air support. Thirdly, each elder dragon is worth a battalion, but eats thrice that. My supply lines are strained enough.”
Grover replaced his glasses and twisted back around to face the map and Benito. “Olenian anti-air is sparse compared to the Changeling Lands and the west. Dragons will be most effective on the peninsula. I will have trailblazers and pioneers as support, but even a small force can overwhelm the Olenian garrisons and whatever Changeling commanders remain.”
“I am not burning Olenia to the ground for you,” Ember said flatly. “Do it yourself, cub.”
“Fine!” Grover suddenly laughed. He flapped his wings and launched up to Benito, turning around at the makeshift stage. He stared down his beak at the three seated monarchs.
Princess Flurry Heart looked tired. She traded a few looks between Spike and Thorax, but was otherwise slumped on the table. Queen Velvet had straightened as best she could in her chair, forehooves planted to keep her steady. Her furious, cool blue eyes glared between the Dragon Lord and the Kaiser. Ember kept her claw on her staff, but remained seated.
“Queen Velvet,” Grover began, “you have remained obtuse with the numbers of your resistance, but I estimate less than 50,000 deer in total are ready for an uprising.”
He turned to regard Ember. “Dragon Lord, General Mudbeak’s scouts counted less than a thousand dragons. I allowed them to rampage across the south because I could not reach any dragon in command for weeks at a time.”
The Kaiser glanced at the Princess. “How many ponies do you have in your army?”
Flurry rolled her yes to Tempest Shadow. “How many do we got?”
The mulberry unicorn inhaled. “With the recent training-”
“Right now,” Flurry interrupted. “Best guess.”
“300,000,” Tempest deflated. “Split between the Empire and Equestria. Maybe half a million counting militias.”
“I have two and a half million griffons on this continent,” Grover announced. He raised his wings and glowered over the rims of his glasses. “Another million remain on Griffonia. I have the largest army in the history of the world. We still control the railways across Equestria, and my ships sail across the ocean ferrying supplies. A thousand dragons, a few thousand deer, and a few hundred thousand ponies cannot hold back the Changeling Hegemony combined.”
“I’m not impressed, cub,” Ember remarked dryly.
“Then leave. I shall use my original war plan before you arrived late.” Grover shrugged his wings. “My strategic bombers will hit Olenia and cut off the oil wells. As I said, the anti-air is weak.” Grover rolled his eyes to Queen Velvet. “My army will launch an aerial assault unaided. Your resistance would be essential in avoiding unnecessary casualties. Strange as it is, dragons are less damaging than thousands of bombs.”
Queen Velvet and Dragon Lord Ember stopped glaring at the Kaiser and looked to each other. Ember’s tail swung around the back of her chair; the wood creaked when she leaned back. The wind whipped more rain into the roof above the chandeliers. Queen Velvet tossed her mane back over her horns and affected a cool, casual look of consideration.
“Whatever damage is done as part of your war plan will be paid back to Olenia postwar,” Velvet demanded. It was a pointless concession; Olenia would need significant rebuilding.
“I already have an economic reconstruction plan,” Grover replied. “I would also like to setup training camps in the south for the upcoming invasion. The younger dragons can be drilled in small-unit tactics under Reichsarmee officers.”
“I am in command,” Ember retorted with a plume of smoke. “Everything is run by me, and I land in the first wave.” She spun the Bloodstone Scepter around with a claw. The jewel hummed.
“Does that mean we are in agreement, Dragon Lord?” the Kaiser asked.
Dragon Lord Ember and Queen Velvet looked to Princess Flurry Heart. The alicorn raised her head up from its resting place on an upturned hoof. She bit her lip while her ears pinned back.
They expect her to deny it.
“It sounds like a good plan,” Flurry Heart accepted with a wince. “If we knock Olenia out of the war and open up the shield, the Hegemony will be pushed back to its original borders except in western Equestria. They’re surrounded on northwest Equus.”
“You would say different if it was your home being burned,” Velvet snorted.
“No.” Flurry’s eyes hardened. “I would not, Queen Velvet. Equestria and the Empire will help you rebuild as best we can.”
Velvet bared her teeth at the wall for a moment, then stared up at the Kaiser. “I will be acclaimed on the radio as the rightful Queen of Olenia and heir of my father, Aldar II. I will make landfall with whatever dragons and griffons are sent. My brother is mine.”
“Agreed,” Grover said from the stage. “The fate of deer collaborators remains your prerogative, Queen Velvet.”
“The coming weeks will be busy,” Thorax offered. “The Princess will return to the Crystal Empire in preparation for the shield.”
“I will return to the south with…Queen Velvet.” Ember gave the doe a dark look with her red eyes. “We will prepare for the flight to Olenia. I agree if your offer comes with equipment."
Grover did not bother hiding the smile on his cheeks. Not like you have factories to produce it yourself. "Of course."
Queen Velvet unfolded her forehooves and sighed. “So be it. We’ll organize the resistance to soften the initial landings. After taking Hjortland and executing my brother, pushing up the peninsula will be easier than pushing down from the Changeling Lands.”
The Kaiser nodded from the stage. His tail swished behind him. Welcome to the Reichspakt, everyone. He did not say it aloud. Seems rude. No need to twist the knife.
The albino doe stood beside her Queen. She cocked her head, switching between the griffon and the dog ahead of her. Grover glanced at her with a side-eye. She still did not blink, staring blankly into the griffon’s glasses.
The doe opened her mouth and spoke with a lilt. Grover did not recognize the language, but guessed it was Olenian. Velvet nickered and waved a hoof. The albino stag stood up and pushed his sister back down. “Forgive Floki,” Velvet demurred. “She sees far and wide, but not always accurately.”
“I do not know Olenian,” Grover answered. “What did she say?”
Velvet flushed and waved a hoof as if it did not matter, but the twin stag glanced up. “The dog will kill you. Or you will kill him. A head will roll from a body.”
The dog in question snarled and drew his sword. Grover waved him back with a wing. “Peace, Benito.” Unless you intend to prove her mushroom-induced visions correct in this instance.
Benito sheathed his sword with a hard slap. “Mind your tongue,” he barked. “You’re not the first white-furred freak to meet this blade.”
The Kaiser rolled his eyes. “Unless there are more…divinations, that is all. Field Marshal Bronzetail will command the western push. Nothing can happen until the shield is brought down.”
“I’ll get right on it,” Flurry yawned.
Grover checked his watch. It was nearly sunset, not that it was easy to tell with the clouds and constant rain. Benito raised a paw and the projection shimmered away.
The dogs standing guard opened the doors to the hall and magic pulsed through the room as the wards were brought down. Sunset Shimmer and Tempest Shadow left with a few lower officers, followed by Dragon Lord Ember. Smolder split off to talk to Gallus in the hallway.
Ember lingered uncertainly, slinging her Bloodstone Scepter on her back. She eyed Spike and Thorax speaking quietly with Flurry Heart. Spike caught her look, but shifted his eyes down to Flurry. A claw brushed against Thorax and the changeling broke off to talk to the dragoness.
Queen Velvet was helped out by her deer to the guest quarters. The albino doe still did not blink, and her eyes seemed to split and stare at Benito and Grover together. Grover suppressed a mild shudder and affected a look of disinterest.
“I am not well-versed on Olenian magic,” Grover admitted to Benito. “I suspect it is more mushrooms and hallucinogens than most would admit.”
“No doubt,” Benito scoffed. His eyes narrowed at the retreating deer.
Grover looked over to the Princess. She had pushed herself out of the chair and followed Spike out of the room. Her wings sagged slightly against the purple jacket, and one rear leg dragged a black boot on the tile.
“Perhaps I should have given her more time to rest,” Grover said aloud.
“No,” Benito retorted. “The Element of Loyalty and Element of Generosity’s screaming matches rang through the castle for the past two days. Her fatigue has nothing to do with this meeting.”
Grover hummed and watched the six jewels on her crystal band flash in the hallway light as she vanished around a corner. The Holy Book of Boreas made no mention of the Elements of Harmony, nor the Pillars of Harmony. A few heretical sects attempted to combine the worship of Boreas, Arcturius, and Eyr with the tenets of Harmony, but few rarely made sense. Most defaulted to worshipping some local spirit and mixing whatever they wanted into it.
I suppose I should be grateful I never heard Boreas speak to me. The absence would be staggering. “When Griffonstone lost the Idol of Boreas, the entire kingdom plunged into disarray,” Grover commented to the dog. “The decline of the Reich started with the loss of the Gods.”
“Your father’s regent was meant to be Guto VI,” Benito reminded him. “It was not just the loss of the Idol. The death of the cadet branch in Griffonstone did more damage to the court than the Idol. Even Grover II did not wield its power like his father.”
“Then the seeds of our destruction were sown long before they sprouted,” Grover returned. He stepped off the stage and returned to his table. Sir Erreck and Sir Ewing gathered his papers. Relatively alone, he set the crown down and cracked his neck. “Have a bath drawn. It has been a long day.”
“My Kaiser,” Sir Erreck confirmed.
Grover flipped through the papers to find the summary of General Petroleum’s assets. Even under the Changeling Hegemony, Rockfeller controlled most of the railways and the infrastructure of the south. Like Skyfall. Ghislain Guiscard was mayor, but seized the ports during the Revolution. His coin owned the entire city before and after. Skyfall might’ve pretended to be a republic like Aquileia, but it was Guiscard’s niece Genevieve that followed him.
And now it’s Governor “Paddy” Rose Rockfeller. The Princess did not seem the type to reward sycophants, but the irony was not lost on Grover VI. Stopping a pie fight seems inconsequential to stopping large-scale corruption. The griffon paused with a claw on the hollowed-out Friendship Journal.
“I shall travel with her to the Crystal City.” He placed the journal in his satchel.
“My Kaiser?” Benito said warningly.
“Not with her,” Grover clacked his beak. “Blessed Boreas, that is asking for an ambush. I will meet her at the shield.”
“There is no need.”
“I disagree,” Grover countered. “It is the oldest city in the world and over thrice the age of Griffenheim. It is worth seeing. And the Crystal Heart is one of the few artifacts left in the world still functioning.”
“Bless Boreas for that,” Sir Erreck muttered. “Going near the shield makes our armor itch, my Kaiser. The enchantments react poorly.”
Grover unclipped his holster and stuffed the pistol into his satchel as well. “We can take one of the tunnels if it comes to it.”
“My Kaiser…” Benito whined.
“I am safer under the shield than outside it,” Grover sighed. “Benito, it fries changelings. If we are worried about assassins, you should celebrate I am going further away from the frontline. We have time to prepare false escorts.”
The dog’s ears twitched. For a moment, Grover thought the dog would actually say, “You just want to spend time with her because she looks sad,” but it was not to be. Benito bit his lip and huffed. “As you command, my Kaiser.”
Flurry Heart dragged her boots to a stop once back in her room. She remained in Celestia’s former bedchambers after returning to Canterlot, and the room remained as sparse as it was before. She swung her head to Whammy on the lonely bedside table.
Any uninvited guests, seneschal?
Whammy, tiara atop the shell, did not respond. The brass button eyes remained vigilant. Flurry sighed and stripped her boots off, levitating them over to the lone dresser. Spike shut the door behind her with a click, and the alicorn looked over a wing. “What’s next?”
Spike’s muzzle deepened into a frown. “Nothing.”
“Are Rainbow and Rarity talking to each other?”
“They’re both adults, Flurry,” Spike sighed. “Let them work it out.”
Applejack had been brought to Canterlot for holding until after the war. There was no dungeon, but the lower floors and basement were close enough. Pagala certainly thought so. There were only a few other ponies being held for after the war so far; Second Wind was watched over by the same medical team that kept an eye on Twilight Sparkle.
Flurry had mandated he live, and none of the ponies wanted to risk her wrath by slipping him too much morphine. The Princess had not spoken to any of the ponies that awaited her judgement after the war’s end. They doubtlessly knew it would be a long time until they saw the sunlight in Canterlot again, if they ever did.
The reports she reviewed on the way back to Canterlot suggested her codified orders on collaborators were being followed after order was restored. There was neither the time nor ability to hold ponies for trial and evidence collection. The accused was either sentenced to be hanged, or dismissed to go back to their lives with varying levels of seized assets for the war effort.
It was a stark ‘all or nothing’ style of justice, and often up to the ponies deciding in the Princess’ stead what truly warranted execution. Flurry hoped her ponies did not exact too many reprisals on civilians that refused to help the ELF, but it was undoubtedly biased. And even after a pony was judged innocent, the accusers often tried unsanctioned revenge. Some ponies in Appleloosa tried branding over a mare’s cutie mark, but the Thestrals overseeing the town beat them.
Maybe I should’ve listened to Babs and just killed her. Rainbow and Rarity had both been allowed to speak to Applejack if they wished. Rainbow did not wish to, and apparently Applejack refused to talk to Rarity. The unicorn had not requested to speak to Flurry Heart, and the alicorn suspected it would be a poor discussion.
Pinkie Pie had not been moved with General Limestone and Maud Pie to Las Pegasus. For the next several weeks, Limestone’s earth ponies would work to repair the railways and get the pipelines functional to Canterlot and Manehattan. Unofficially, they would work with General Duskcrest at reintegrating the south and setting up the new government.
The final two Elements of Harmony had seemingly broken the other two. Frosty Jadis had ordered the castle’s guards to keep the Air Marshal away from the seamstress for the foreseeable future. They were friends again at the bar.
“Do you think it’s my fault?” Flurry asked aloud. She weaved her wings through the slits in her jacket as she pulled it off.
“Applejack made her choices,” Spike said slowly. “So did Pinkie. Maybe they could’ve made better ones, but that’s not on you.”
“Have you talked to Ember?”
“Stop.” Spike folded his arms across his purple overcoat. “You can’t force everyone to talk to each other and make up.”
Flurry exhaled and wordlessly shrugged off her pants. She folded them in her magic and tugged her sweatpants across her cutie marks. My mother used to be really good at that. Spike had glanced to the balcony doors to give her privacy, watching the falling rain and soggy sentries outside the windows.
“Ember,” he paused and glanced up at the ceiling. “We’ll work it out. We both have a long time to do it.” His wings twitched.
“She’s sorry for whatever she said,” Flurry offered.
Spike smiled and it made the chipped lower fang stick out. “Yeah. Big risk for the Dragon Lord to apologize for anything, especially ‘The Late Lord’ Ember.”
The alicorn nickered and bared her teeth. “How did that spread around?”
“Dragons.” Spike shrugged his wings. “Ember’s young and a lot of the elders only stayed out of the Gauntlet of Fire because Torch had picked fights with nearly all of them. None of them wanted to fight in a pony’s war anyway; they’re just being...jerks.”
“Dicks,” Flurry corrected.
“Most of the ones saying it do have one,” Spike agreed with a rumble, “so yes.”
“Alright,” Flurry rolled her wings and popped her joints. The feathers flexed and resettled. “Let’s go-”
“To bed,” Spike said for her. “You’re not leaving this room. I have a meeting as regent.”
Flurry stared at him and scrunched her muzzle. “What’s it-”
“No.” Spike smirked and snorted a stream of smoke. “Nope. You’ve teleported off a train back up this mountain and haven’t stopped for a week. It’s dusk. You have the night off.”
Flurry glanced around the sparse bedroom. She tossed her head. “To do what?”
“I’m fairly certain if you laid down you would pass out,” Spike offered. He pointed to the small stack of books under the snail toy. “There’s also those books you asked for and never actually read.”
“The Equestrian-Yakut dictionary is worse than when Twilight read me the regular dictionary in between chapters of Daring Do.” Flurry’s wings shuddered. “I’d rather have Yona teach me more swears.”
“You’re the one that wanted to learn their language,” Spike chided. “You want to show cultural acceptance of the oral history of the Yaks? Start quoting the Sagas.”
Flurry’s stare was flat. “You’re only suggesting it because it would put me to sleep.”
“Yes,” Spike confirmed. “You could also use Celestia’s jacuzzi. It’s large enough for your wings.”
Flurry Heart extended said wings and sniffed her wingpits. “Hasn’t been that long.”
“You still smell like ash,” Spike retorted. “The soap smells like lilacs, which tells me you barely use it.”
“We had to ration it in Weter,” Flurry defended herself. “I use it on all the decent spots.”
“Relax.” Spike fully frowned now. His tail lashed and the spade flicked at the alicorn’s muzzle. “Take one night off.”
“I’m going to fall asleep in there and drown. My death will be on you.”
“Your wings will keep you floating,” Spike quipped back. His slit eyes turned to the wall. “You’re worse than Twilight.” He blinked and caught his wording a second later.
Flurry’s intended snipe back did not leave her lips. She shuffled her bare hooves. “Yeah. Alright, fine.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. Twilight overworked herself too.”
“I know,” Flurry returned quietly.
Spike listened to the rain hit the balcony for a moment and visibly searched for something to say. His eyes wandered around the room. “You know, when your mom first started foalsitting Twilight, your grandmother told her to lace a sleeping potion into Twilight’s drinks.”
Flurry snorted. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Spike huffed. “Try to get her to stop reading and go to bed. Your mother decided to take her around the parks and wear your aunt out instead. Velvet always ribbed her about it.”
“They liked each other?”
“Of…” Spike stumbled over his tongue for a moment. “Of course they did. Never got to hear much of the ‘mare talk,’ but they gossiped. Your grandfather was always mortified.”
Flurry went to the nightstand and moved Whammy to the side. She shuffled through the books with her right wing. “They died with the ELF, right?”
Spike did not respond immediately. “We think so. They were working with the council in Manehattan when it fell at the end. Night Light had been injured in a bombing raid and couldn’t move quickly. They didn’t try to run for the border.”
“You think they would have?”
“For their granddaughter?” Spike rumbled. “Of course.”
Flurry grabbed the dictionary and set it on the plain bed. “I found their house.”
The dragon said nothing.
The alicorn yawned and smacked her lips. “Goodnight, Uncle Spike.”
“Try to get some rest,” Spike ordered in a subdued voice. “Recover for a few days. Stop eating out of cans.” Flurry cast the detection spell and let it wash over purple dragon scales. He sighed. “Funny.”
Flurry Heart flopped onto the mattress on her back, letting her edges of her feathers droop off the sides. She shuffled backward onto the pillow and took the book in her forehooves, cracking it open to an earmarked page. She blinked heavily. “Time to get through the two hundred words for ‘snow.’”
Spike shuffled out of the room, speaking quietly with Jadis outside the door. Probably telling her not to let me leave, Flurry guessed. The crystal pony wouldn’t actually stop her, but she’d probably go tell Spike and Thorax.
I’ll just end up interrupting whatever they’re doing. Spike was absolutely confident he could deal with all the administrative duties of reintegrating Equestria. The dragon had already been an unofficial part of Canterlot’s bureaucracy during the war. And Thorax is probably beating ‘lings to death in the basement. Probably with Cozy Glow.
She hadn’t actually seen Cozy since their meeting, which meant she was either dead and nopony had told the Princess, or Thorax was getting some use out of Equestria’s Most Wanted. Should probably go ask. Flurry set the book down and looked at the door.
She yawned and picked it back up.
After getting through 112 words for the varying types of snow, none of which were anything resembling ‘Flurry,’ the alicorn set the book down and rolled off the bed. She stumbled on unsteady long legs to the bathroom and regarded the jacuzzi with a flat stare. It was properly alicorn-sized, designed specifically for Celestia’s swan-ish frame.
Flurry Heart turned to the mirror and examined her lanky legs and lean barrel. Her breath pulled in and out, making her oversized wings flutter against her sides. “My little ponies,” she tried with a dry whicker into the glass. I am technically taller than nearly all of them. Feels weird to say it.
It didn’t look right with the cold glacial blue eyes and short cropped mane. Her muzzle was narrower as well, caught between the awkward pudge of a filly and the rounded snout of a mare. Flurry tried to remember her mother’s muzzle. Was it narrow? Might stay like this.
Her horn glowed and turned the faucet on to the bathtub. Flurry checked the water with a wing a few times, shaking the droplets off her feathers. The large shower stall next to the bath seemed quicker and more inviting, but Flurry couldn’t remember the last time she had a bath anyways. The large button on the side of the tub caused the crystals inlaid in the sides to hum and churn the water.
She waited until the tub filled halfway, then folded her sweatpants and set her jeweled crystal crown on the countertop below the mirror. At the last moment, her ears perked and she looked around for her raggedy towels. There were only two hanging by the shower. The alicorn puffed her lips.
I’ll just use magic again. She placed one hoof into the tub and felt the jet swirl around the white-furred scar near her fetlock. Oh, that does feel nice.
There was a knock at the door. Flurry paused, then withdrew her hoof and shook it off. Her horn glowed and shut the faucet, and a wing stamped the button controlling the jets. The water slowly stilled as the whirring died down.
Flurry trotted to the door and stood slightly to the side. “Yes?”
“Frosty Jadis,” the crystal pony said on the other side. “Echo, Kilo, Seven, Nine. With Sunset Shimmer.”
The Princess mentally ran through the code, then unlocked the deadbolt and stepped farther to the side of the door, away from its swing as it opened. Jadis poked her blue muzzle in and nodded to the alicorn, then withdrew. Sunset Shimmer trotted forward slowly in her uniform. Bare hooves clacked on the floor.
Frosty Jadis shut the door after Flurry cast the detection spell again. Sunset’s horn sparked and she warded the room before casting an uncertain glance around the interior. “You’ve…” she searched for a word, “redecorated?”
“It was all Chrysalis themed,” Flurry replied. “Archmage.”
Sunset blushed at the wet light pink fur on the Princess’ foreleg and her ears pinned back. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No.” Flurry walked around her and back into the bathroom. Sunset turned her head away to the balcony with a swish of her tail. The alicorn pulled her sweatpants back on and placed the crown atop her head. “What’s up?”
Sunset’s horn glowed and she levitated her saddlebags in front of her. Files and papers floated out and arrayed themselves in the air. “I looked into Maud’s documents.”
Flurry clicked her teeth. This can’t wait. “And?”
The unicorn hesitated and her eyes pinched. “Princess, I cannot make an accurate guess. This was not my project.”
“Start from the beginning,” Flurry ordered. “It’s a bomb?”
“Research was looking into the Balefire spell,” Sunset began to explain, “trying to make it into something we could drop from planes instead of cast in the Mage Units locally. The Balefire Bomb never left the drafting phase.”
“What about the Changelings?”
“Thorax is familiar with a dozen ‘Wunderwaffen’ experiments Chrysalis authorized,” the unicorn rolled her eyes. “A giant ray to move the sun, something to give changelings cutie marks, there’s a long list of projects that went nowhere and cost a lot.”
“Maud thinks they tried it in the Crystal Empire.”
Sunset sucked on her teeth. “Yes. Maybe. It’s not a Balefire Bomb. Nuclear Fission is still a poorly understood science, especially when combined with Thaumatic Residence and Attunement.”
Flurry dropped her eyelids and stared blankly. “My education is not what it should be, Archmage.”
“Neither is mine,” Sunset chuckled. “Feels like I took some classes twice.” Her ears flicked and the papers slid back into the folder levitating around her head. “Princess, there is nopony left from Twilight’s research department. Those that weren’t in Canterlot were with the ELF in Manehattan.”
“So the Changelings might already have a bomb,” Flurry guessed. “What would it be like?”
Sunset looked to the balcony. The rain obscured the view beyond Canterhorn, but her stare was west. “A really, really big boom. Residual effects from radiation.”
“Like from the sun?”
Sunset looked surprised. “A little bit. I checked with the crystal ponies about whatever was used in the Empire. It sounds like it could have been a bomb like that.”
Flurry waited. “So if they had one then, why not now?”
The unicorn shook her head. “Resources? There’s a dozen better ponies that could answer this question. Twilight, Starlight, Moondancer, but the Changelings took all of them at the war’s end.”
“Well, it sounds like our educational system is going to be just great,” Flurry drawled. “Honestly, can’t get worse than Neighsay.”
Sunset looked conflicted about being compared to him, or whether that was a vote of confidence. She passed the folder over to Flurry’s magic. “I’ve spoken to less than seven ponies. This cannot get out. Who else knows?”
Flurry hummed. “Rainbow was there.”
Sunset’s eyes darkened. “There's a few spells that can-”
“No memory wipes,” Flurry ordered. “I’ll talk to her to keep her muzzle shut.” She stuffed the folder into her saddlebags and strapped them high, just above the hemline of her sweatpants. “Do you have a copy?”
“It’s secured,” Sunset assured her. The unicorn frowned. “Where are you going, Princess?”
“I’ll talk to Rainbow, then I’m taking this to Grover.” Flurry’s ears twisted into her mane. “Don’t.”
Sunset’s grimace and bared teeth slowly evened out. The unicorn exhaled with a hiss. “You want to give the griffons a head start on this?”
“Maybe they know something.”
“If they had a bomb, they would’ve used it already,” Sunset retorted.
Over Equestria? Flurry did not voice that thought. “Grover seems on top of projects. I’ll check with him.”
“Are you going to leave those papers with them?”
“They are our allies, Sunset,” Flurry said lowly. Her voice dropped to a nicker. “We have to share information. I doubt Grover’s going to crow about bombs anymore than we are.”
“Postwar,” Sunset said with a sigh. “They’ll have the resources to figure out something. They’ll probably get the magical knowledge from us as well.”
“So be it,” Flurry shrugged her wings.
Sunset gazed at the high ceiling. Celestia’s room, like all of Canterlot Castle, was designed with taller dimensions for the Princess of the Sun. The unicorn scuffed a forehoof. “You might not live forever.”
I certainly hope I don’t. “Remains to be seen,” Flurry replied. “You think the griffons will use it as leverage?”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
Flurry did not have a reply to that, so she trotted past Sunset to the hallway door. “I was going to get in the jacuzzi. Did you ever use it as Celestia’s student?”
“No, I did not creep around my teacher’s bathroom,” Sunset retorted. Her eyes wandered to the open door. “Apologies for interrupting you, Princess.”
“I already filled it up,” Flurry offered. “Consider it an apology for using your towels a few times in Twilight’s castle.”
“I could tell by the pink fur,” Sunset mumbled. “That’s not necessary, Princess,” she insisted in a louder voice.
“Get in the damn jacuzzi and relax,” Flurry ordered. “It’s late. Do you have anything else going on?” Sunset rolled her eyes in thought, but failed to come up with an excuse.
Flurry Heart opened the door from the side, then waited for Jadis to poke her head in from the hallway. “I’m going to talk to Grover.” She shook her saddlebags. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
Jadis inhaled with a scrunched muzzle. “The Lord Regent ordered-”
“Overruled,” Flurry quipped. “I left the jacuzzi filled. If Archmage Shimmer doesn’t want it, you can relax. It’s a waste of water otherwise.”
Frosty Jadis traded a look with Sunset Shimmer. The other crystal ponies guarding the hallway shuffled their hooves. Flurry swept her stare over them. Out of all the orders I’ve given, ‘use my hot tub’ is somehow the most disconcerting. She forced a smile and trotted down the hallway.
The alicorn deviated to find Rainbow first. The Air Marshal’s office was in the guest quarters just before the royal bechambers, so it was a quick trot. Flurry slowed near the scarred, but otherwise nondescript door and heavy guard presence. Ponies of every tribe stomped their hooves above bullet marks and boarded windows.
Twilight Sparkle had not been moved from ‘her’ room. There was a constant guard presence and multiple checkpoints along the hallway. The medical staff that entered and left were patted down and scanned four times. Flurry stopped at the outermost checkpoint of sandbags blockading the hall. A poster had been stapled to the wall.
Flurry stared at ‘Chess Piece’ and her bright red eyes. She grinned in the picture, exposing the gap in her teeth. It was a recent photograph. A picture of her red rook cutie mark was in the corner, just above the notice.
BY ORDER OF THE LORD REGENT: SHOOT ON SIGHT BEYOND CHECKPOINT ONE.
“Howdy!” a voice trilled down the hallway. Flurry craned her neck over the sandbags. At the opposite end of the hallway, a short pegasus waved a stunted wing. She was wearing a gray jacket and skirt over her cutie mark, but the thick glasses and curly mane matched the poster.
Flurry Heart walked over to Cozy Glow. The salmon-furred mare leaned against the wall just before a stack of sandbags. The earth pony on the other side had a shotgun casually resting on top and aimed square at her muzzle. The stallion’s ears pinned at the Princess passing him, but Flurry nodded in acceptance.
Cozy smiled with pressed lips. “Howdy, Princess. I saw you checking out my poster.”
“Is there somepony supposed to be with you?” Flurry questioned.
Cozy raised a hoof and almost brushed the sandbag. The shotgun’s muzzle twitched. The pegasus stopped short of pointing further into the hallway. “Ocellus is running a quick sweep of the rooms. I shadow her most days.”
“Can’t exactly shadow anypony out here,” Flurry remarked.
“Oh, I know,” Cozy smirked and ran her tongue around the gap in her front teeth. “She always says I’m welcome to follow her, but the guards seem so friendly I hang out and wait.”
The alicorn regarded the guard that was visibly waiting for an excuse to pull the trigger. “You don’t say?”
“Sometimes I wear my mane in a different style,” Cozy admitted. “Or put on a uniform. They’ve always caught me before I could get past. We’re friends now. This is Doughy.”
The stallion possibly named Doughy snorted.
“Princess?” Cozy asked. Her voice was sickly sweet. “Your uncle always says that it’s just a test, but I think these ponies will actually shoot me. I think your uncle is trying to get me killed with these tests.”
“If he was trying to kill you, you’d be dead,” Flurry returned. “He doesn’t need an excuse.”
Cozy chuckled. “Golly, that’s brutally honest of you, Princess.”
“Since you seem to appreciate it, here’s another. If you go anywhere near my aunt, it’ll be a race to see which of us kills you first: Spike, Thorax, or me.”
Cozy Glow pushed herself off the wall with a wing. It shook from the effort, but she tried to hide it with a casual flex of her feathers. Her muzzle twisted into a pout. “Princess, I do want to say-”
“Consider very carefully if it is worth lying to me,” Flurry interrupted.
The pout evened out into a flat, emotionless expression. “I’m not interested in hurting her,” Cozy said tonelessly. “There’s no point. Your uncle wants to see if I’m as good as I say.” Her smile returned. “And I am.”
“Be careful not to choke on your aspirations, Chess Piece,” Flurry retorted. “Where’s my Air Marshal?”
“With Nightshade, her brother, and some tribal in her office,” Cozy Glow responded. “We passed them on the way here.”
Flurry turned her head to the stallion. Her horn glowed. “Is Ocellus sweeping the rooms?”
“Yes, Princess.”
“Good.” Flurry’s horn dimmed. She swept past the stunted pegasus and resumed her walk towards Rainbow’s office. Her horn glowed idly and double-checked the flaps on her saddlebags to see if they had been tampered with. I’m sure Thorax is having her do more than spook guards-
She sniffed. There was a pungent odor in the air that ticked her nose. Flurry tossed her head and snorted. It smelled like rancid smoke. What the fuck? She looked around to the guards along the hallway, then checked the ceiling. Flurry locked eyes with a pegasus mare. The purple-clad soldier stomped a foreleg and checked her submachine gun. “Do you smell that?”
The mare licked her lips like her mouth suddenly went dry. “Smell?”
Flurry cast the detection spell again and let it sweep through the hallway. “You cannot possibly not smell that.”
“I, uh…” the guard looked to the stallion across from her helplessly.
“Thestrals,” the stallion explained with a nervous whicker.
Flurry swung her head to him. “Thestrals do not smell. They are ponies the same as you or me.”
His eyes widened. “N-no! O-of course, Princess! B-but…”
Flurry Heart sniffed again and followed the odor.
Right to Rainbow Dash’s office.
Of course. The alicorn stared at the door flatly, then to the two pegasi guarding it. They looked away with pinned ears. Flurry pressed her hoof to the door to push it open, but it was locked. She pressed on it lightly.
Rainbow whinnied on the other side from the hammering crunch that nearly shattered the deadbolt. “What the shit!?” Her voice was raspier than usual.
“Open up,” Flurry intoned. “Your Princess commands it.”
“Oh shit!” a stallion giggled. “It’s the fuzz!” His New Mareland accent was thicker and slurred, but Flurry recognized Murky.
“Shut up!” Nightshade hissed. There was a thump and a frantic clatter of hooves. The alicorn registered low muttering under scrapes and flapping wings. Sounds like Amoxtli. There was another thump and a keening cry half cut off by a hoof shoved into a muzzle.
Flurry debated punching the door in.
A minute later, there was a scrabbling on the other side as somepony fiddled with the deadbolt. The door stuck for a second before it opened with a grunt of effort. Nightshade nearly fell over onto her back, unsteadily waving her wings.
A cloud of smoke hit Flurry’s muzzle. She gagged. Her wings snapped out and flapped in the hallway on reflex as she stepped back. “S-sorry!” Nightshade whinnied. Her golden pupils were wide. “Sorry, Princess!”
“What,” Flurry coughed. “What are you doing in here?”
“Nothing!” Murky insisted behind his older sister.
Flurry stood up straight and squinted. The three Thestrals were crowded around a circular table that had been haphazardly pushed to the center of the room. Bags and bottles of soda littered the floor. The alicorn entered, forcing Nightshade back.
The smell was even worse in the room, and wisps of smoke trailed along the ceiling. Flurry was too busy squinting at them to watch her hooves. She stepped on something with a crunch. She lifted her hoof and watched the orange powder fall from the keratin. She frowned at the scattered bags, levitating one up to her muzzle. The bag crinkled.
Cheese Puffs!
There was a picture of an inordinately happy fat griffon shoveling a flaky, oblong ball covered in processed cheddar powder into his beak. He was as orange as the cheese. Flurry upended the bag and watched the airy, cheesy dough balls fall to the floor. They had been made so light a few fluttered as they fell.
“T-the griffons,” Murky stuttered from his seat. “They have a lot of those. They suck.”
Flurry levitated one up from the floor, blew on it, resisted sneezing from the cheese dust, then shoved it into her muzzle. It crunched, and she swished the bits around in her mouth before swallowing. “This tastes like carboard with cheese.”
“They suck,” Murky repeated.
“Why are you eating them?”
“Chips had a few,” Nightshade replied. She sat down next to her brother and Amoxtli, but all the bat ponies looked away from the Princess. “It’s…a good snack.”
Flurry studied their nervous, but also somehow unfocused expression. Amoxtli nibbled on her lower lip with a fang, brushing a wing against her patchwork uniform reassuringly. The alicorn cast the detection spell again.
Murky giggled as the magic raced across his fur, but shoved a hoof into his mouth. The other bat ponies stilled. Flurry finally turned to Rainbow’s square desk. The peagus had her high-backed office chair turned around and facing a wall of reports. Her metal wing rested on the desk, slightly cheesy.
“What the fuck is going on?” Flurry nickered. She tugged the door shut with her horn. The smoke swirled just above her horn. “What’s the smoke? Were you burning something?”
“Just some documents,” Nightshade coughed. “Not important.”
“In an interior room?” Flurry returned. “What documents? Why do they smell like…” she trailed off, sniffing. Why do I feel like I’ve smelled this before?
She had in Weter. The smell had been in the basement with Thorax’s lings. The tenements were always musty so she just assumed it was mold somewhere. But she had recognized the smell from somewhere else.
“Stuff about air wings,” Rainbow said, still facing the wall. Flurry saw her mohawk bob from the other side of the chair. “I, uh, wanted to get the bats into an air division.”
“Yes,” Amoxtli hissed. Her voice was squeaky, but the Tzinacatl did not seem to notice. “Very important.”
“This required soda and awful cheese snacks?”
Amoxtli sank against the table. “Yes?”
Flurry’s horn glowed and she spun Rainbow Dash around in the chair. The pegasus’ uniform was buttoned and she nearly fell out of the seat despite Flurry barely putting any power into the grab. Rainbow braced her hooves on the table and swayed.
She was wearing aviators.
There was only a single wall lamp on in the room.
Flurry frowned. “What is going on?”
“Nothing,” Rainbow deadpanned impressively. Flurry began to lift her glasses off, but the pegasus snapped her wing over the frames and wilted in her seat. “Okay! Okay, promise you won’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad,” Flurry said with pursed lips. “I’m confused about why my castle is on fire.”
Murky giggled. “Did nopony ever tell her?”
Nightshade hissed at her brother.
Flurry twisted to glare at them.
“Okay,” Rainbow flexed two feathers on her intact wing and pulled off her glasses. She kept her eyes closed and eyelids pinched shut for a moment, then opened them and stared over at Flurry. “I know it looks-”
The alicorn backed up against the open door with a snort of surprise. Her horn pinned Rainbow to the chair. The pegasus wriggled. “N-not a changeling!” Rainbow’s magenta eyes were badly bloodshot, but that was not surprised Flurry Heart.
The pegasus’ pupils were shaped like hearts.
“What. The. Fuck!?” Flurry whinnied. “What’s wrong with your fucking eyes!?”
“It does that to non-Thestrals,” Amoxtli offered. “Well, the good strains do.”
“She’s sick?” Flurry turned to them. “Are you sick? Is this some Thestral illness? The last thing we need is an epidemic-”
“No!” Nightshade snapped. “Moon above, we’re high.”
Flurry released Rainbow. She paused for a long moment and her muzzle flapped soundlessly as she turned it over in her head. “Wait. Drugs?”
Murky started, “It’s not a drug-”
“Yes,” Amoxtli preempted him. She vanished under the table and popped back up with a gray saddlebag. She set it down and sorted through it with her wings.
Flurry watched her set out what looked like bits of oddly colored grass. Amoxtli sniffed slightly and tugged out crinkled bits of parchment and strangely cut paper. “You scrunched it all up.”
“I was tryin’ to hide it,” Murky snorted.
“You’re all on drugs,” Flurry said flatly.
“Heart’s Desire is barely a drug,” Rainbow whickered. “It’s organic. The Thestrals grow it.”
“It’s called Hemp,” Amoxtli countered her. “Pure strains infused with moonlight have magical properties. It opens our minds to commune with the moon.”
“Drugs,” Murky waved his hoof. “Bat ponies got high to relax under the moon for thousands of years.”
Amoxtli gave him a sour look. “It’s meant to be a sacred ritual.”
“Name one sacred thing that involves Cheese Puffs,” Murky replied.
Flurry fluttered her wings against her saddlebags. “So…you’re just relaxing? It’s like alcohol?”
“Yes!” Rainbow whinnied triumphantly. “That's what I always said! Flutters’ friend had a hook up.” She visibly tried to think about the name. “Tree Hugger! You remember her?”
Flurry stared flatly at the pegasus. “No.”
“Ah, right,” Rainbow shrugged her wing. “This is better stuff than she had.”
“We picked it up in the southeast on the way back,” Amoxtli admitted. “We’ve grown it in secluded, open caves for centuries...and sold it discreetly to discerning ponies.” Flurry rolled her eyes.
“I figured you’d know about this,” Nightshade muttered. “We moved some of it for Thorax back in Nova Griffonia. It was part of the black market.”
“I bet it wasn’t as good,” Amoxtli said with smug fangs.
“Griffons can’t grow it worth shit,” Nightshade agreed.
“Princesses were a bunch of hypocrites anyway,” Rainbow waved her hoof. “Twilight ranted about ‘Celestia says no!’ when she caught Flutters. She lived next to the Everfree; the mare needed to chill out once in a while.”
Flurry frowned. “What?”
Rainbow blinked. “Uh, it’s, uh, illegal.” Her muzzle scrunched. “Wait, is it illegal?”
Murky planted his hooves on the table and nearly scattered the herbs. “Princess, you wanna be really, really cool!?”
Flurry sighed. “If it was banned prewar, it was probably for a good-”
“She wanted to keep bat ponies down!” Murky interrupted. Nightshade swatted him with a wing. The bat pony quieted down with a huff.
Flurry regarded the table. A few of the papers were rolled up into silly-looking cigarettes. She levitated one up and squinted at it. “You just smoke it?”
“There’s a lot of different ways,” Amoxtli offered. “You can roll it into a-”
Flurry grabbed about half the papers and flowers, haphazardly stuffing them into the unused side of her saddlebags. “Awesome. Whatever.” She clipped it shut, crinkling her nose at the lingering smell of smoke. “Rainbow?”
The pegasus tried to look attentive with her heart-shaped pupils. “I can see fine,” she rasped. “It’s, uh, magic.”
That’s not what I was going to ask. Flurry took a deep breath and resisted coughing. “About what happened with-”
“Rarity probably does worse drugs,” Rainbow snorted.
“The files,” Flurry growled. “With Maud.”
Rainbow’s mouth flopped into an oval of surprise. “Oh, yeah, the-”
“You don’t say shit. Or I have Sunset or Thorax wipe your memory.”
Rainbow zipped her feathers across her muzzle. “Not to worry, Princess. The Element of Loyalty is on it.” The pegasus reclined in her chair. “Uh, do you mind if we…”
“Go ahead,” Flurry groaned and snagged several of the small bags of Cheese Puffs. She floated them into her saddlebags to hopefully cover up the smell. One of them was already open and spilled against her pink feathers when she tucked it in.
Rainbow pumped her hoof. “Yeah, finally got a cool Princess!”
“Does this mean it’s legal?” Murky muttered hopefully. Flurry refused to answer and left. She tugged the door shut behind her and flapped her wings to clear the hallway air. None of the guards met her stare.
The walk to the Reichsarmee’s wing was mercifully clear of interruptions. Flurry stopped at a checkpoint and stared blankly at the visibly terrified griffons. One griffoness spoke quietly into a radio from behind a sandbag. The hallways had been otherwise cordoned off into checkpoints, and the castle was more a haphazard fortress than a open, welcoming palace now.
Flurry glanced out a window while she waited in an alcove. The rain covered the city beyond, and it was almost nightfall. She didn’t feel strictly tired, but more drained of energy. More meetings tomorrow. The alicorn tried to remember if it was going to be with Queen Velvet or Dragon Lord Ember.
She twisted back at the thud of several boots on rugs. Benito and two other dogs walked up the checkpoint, and the graying dog stood straight-backed. A paw rested just above his sheathed sword. “Princess? How can we assist you?”
“I need to show Grover something.”
Benito held out a paw. “I will be happy to take it to the Kaiser.”
“Sorry,” Flurry apologized without much effort into sounding sincere. “Sensitive documents. It goes with me.”
The dog’s paw dropped and he studied her muzzle. “If you doubt my integrity-”
“I do not,” Flurry assured him. “But it’s important.”
Benito’s brown eyes wandered around the checkpoint. He pointed to a unicorn. “Will you assent to a scan, Princess?”
Flurry walked up to a shaking Aquileian mage on the other side of the sandbag wall. “Go ahead,” she said in Aquileian. The mare’s horn sparked pink several times before the spell washed over the alicorn. Flurry cast it back and watched everyone flinch. “Take a deep breath before casting,” the alicorn advised. “Calm your nerves before releasing the spell.”
The mare bit her lip and toyed with her mane.
Benito snapped a paw up and signaled the other dogs to turn around. “Follow me, Princess.” He marched off without waiting.
Flurry Heart followed him through two more checkpoints and through an access corridor to Twilight’s old tower. They were not stopped again. The dog’s tail swung lowly while he walked, and every so often he craned his head back to the alicorn with his jowls pulled into a frown.
Flurry sidled along behind him. Her ears flicked above her crystal band. “What did you think about that deer’s prophecy? I don’t know Olenian; I don’t know how accurate that translation was.”
Benito refused to answer.
“The only prophecy I know came true is the one Celestia probably invented about her sister,” Flurry continued. “On the longest day of the thousandth year, the stars will aid in her escape, and she will bring about nighttime eternal.”
“We are familiar with the Maar-spawned mare,” Benito huffed. “Nightmare Moon fell to the whispers of Maar and would have brought doom upon all the world.”
“Do dogs believe in griffon gods?” Flurry asked. Her wings flexed and refolded against her saddlebags. She caught a wisp of lingering smoke and bit her lip.
“Our gods created us, but did nothing to strike the chains from our paws,” Benito stated. He rubbed a glove against the hilt of his sword. “The Trinity of Grover II brought him to our mountains. The dogs of Bronzehill acknowledge both.”
The group stopped at the base of Twilight’s tower. They had walked to a side door from the access hallways rather than across the pouring rain and an open courtyard. Flurry listened to thunder rumble outside the windows.
Benito turned around. His nostrils flared on his muzzle. A paw reached out and the glove beckoned. “I will search your saddlebags.”
Flurry sighed. She unclipped them and hefted them over to the dog. Benito’s tail swung and one of the guards entered the tower. “The Kaiser may be too busy. The hour is late.”
Benito opened one flap and stared inside. A paw reached in and removed a single Cheese Puff. His eyes went from the bag to the alicorn, then back to the bag. His muzzle scrunched.
“What?” Flurry asked innocently.
Benito took a deep breath. He switched to the other saddlebag. This time, he pulled out the folder and papers. He gave them a cursory look without scanning over them before replacing the folder. After a moment, he offered the saddlebags back to the alicorn.
The Princess plucked them out of his paw and strapped them back to her barrel with a twist of her horn. She smacked her lips. “They’re for me,” she explained.
Benito bit into the puff and swallowed. “No one likes them.”
The dog that absconded up the tower returned with his helmet in his paws. “The Kaiser will see you, Princess Flurry Heart.” He also sniffed and shared a look with Benito.
“Remain,” Benito ordered. He walked through the door and started up the winding steps. Flurry followed him alone. A few griffons stood guard in the alcoves and lower floors, but the top three floors were Twilight’s old study. The sound of rain hitting the stones and roof intensified as they climbed.
Benito stopped at a door draped with the roaring griffon of the Griffonian Reich. Never actually been in the tower, Flurry mused. She tried to imagine a younger Spike tottering up the steps after her aunt and smiled.
Benito turned around and stared down at her.
Flurry stared back.
“Your pants remain on.”
“I wasn’t planning on taking them off,” Flurry deadpanned.
The dog growled and knocked on the door in a specific rhythm.
“Enter, Benito!” Grover called out through the door. Flurry Heart followed the dog into the room. They were a floor below the actual library and study with the timepiece and wide windows. There was a bedchamber in an offshoot, and another winding staircase. The room was only lit by crystal lamps along the walls. The bathroom door was open, and a few griffon servants cleaned a table and plates. They bowed with clasped claws as Grover descended the spiral stairs.
The Kaiser of the Griffonian Reich wore a plain white nightshirt and black slacks. The staircase had been built for a slimmer pony, so he leaned a wing along the railing and took the steps slowly. He had a leather holster attached under his left wing, but Flurry couldn’t see if he was armed. She kept her horn dim.
Grover inspected her from above, staring down his darker beak and glasses. “Good evening, Princess,” he greeted in Equestrian.
“Kaiser Grover,” Flurry nodded. “I have some documents I need your opinion on.”
A few of the servants slowed clearing the dinner table. Grover raised the wing on the railing. “Dismissed.” The griffon reared up on the spiral stairs, having to duck his head. The Reichstone nearly fell off, and Flurry spied his head feathers flexing under it as he noticed.
Grover turned around smoothly otherwise. “We will speak in the study. Benito, see everyone out.” The dog clasped a paw to his chest and nodded. As his head was dipped, he gave Flurry a cold look out of sight of his Kaiser.
The alicorn let Grover walk back up the staircase and out of sight, then teleported up a floor. She snapped back next to the hourglass. Grover blinked, having been staring at the staircase and waiting.
“Sorry,” she apologized. “It’s rude to teleport around, but it’s quicker.”
“If I could do so, I would,” Grover replied. “Words are wind. Why have you come?” He caught himself and crossed to his desk. “I mean no disrespect.”
“None taken,” Flurry shrugged. She levitated the folder out of her saddlebags and floated it over to his desk. A bag of Cheese Puffs fell out.
Grover raised a brow at the bag first. “You know, we have a warehouse full of those things just beyond the castle.” A wing pointed out into the rainstorm. “I have no idea how Featho-Lay acquired the contract. They probably bribed someone in the Fezeran mob.”
“The Cheese Puffs are unrelated,” Flurry claimed. “This is important.”
Grover twisted around and sat down in his chair. Flurry trotted forward, but remained several wingspans away. She stood quietly as he flicked through the folder. After several minutes of casual reading, the Kaiser didn’t seem to be impressed. With his back to her, she only had his curling tail and wings to judge.
“Benito should be finished downstairs,” Grover said in Aquileian. “None of my staff know this language. Check and ward the room.” He did not turn back around.
Flurry walked to the staircase and inspected the bottom floor. She cast the life detection spell, feeling it pulse though the upper stories. Grover, me, guards outside. Benito escorting more griffons below. Her horn glowed. The windows and walls shimmered gold after several seconds. Flurry trotted around and double-checked the spellwork.
“Can you cut the sound off as well?” Grover looked around the room.
“You want to talk to me under a bubble shield?” Flurry answered. “That’s the safest.”
She expected him to decline, but the griffon stood swiftly and tucked the folder under his left wing, up against the holstered pistol. He marched over to her with a speed that made her take a step back in reflex. Grover wasn’t blinking.
“Do it.” He halted a wingspan away and set the Reichstone down on the floor. He leaned the folder atop it and flipped through the pages with a claw.
The alicorn slowly formed a bubble shield around both of them, then turned it fully gold in her magic. The rain cut off, leaving only the crackle of her magic and the hum of her horn. Flurry sat down on her flank and heard a bag of Cheese Puffs crunch in her saddlebags. “So-”
Grover held up a single talon. Flurry clacked her muzzle shut. His eyes swept through the pages one more time before he unhooked his glasses and sighed. He rubbed the lenses on his white sleeve, blinking deep blue eyes. “Shit.”
“How eloquent,” Flurry said grimly. “That bad?”
“This makes no sense,” Grover said in Herzlander. “You believe they had this capability years ago? They would have bombed Canterlot. Or Manehattan during the landings.”
“That’s what Maud thought,” Flurry said. “Chrysalis tried something with my mother. The Heart held the shield, but it almost killed her.” It did kill her, in the end.
Grover’s cheeks pulled into a frown. He tapped a talon along the jewels of his crown while the other fiddled with the frames of his glasses. Without all his jackets, sashes, and overcoats, the Kaiser had a teenager’s body frame. His shoulders and wing joints still tugged on the nightshirt and it fit a little more snugly against his fur and feathers she remembered.
The griffon looked at her suddenly. They were close enough that his glasses weren’t an issue. “What do your ponies know about this?”
Flurry blinked and refocused. “We had a Balefire Bomb study, but it wasn’t pursued. Nopony knows a thing.”
“Uranium and Plutonium-”
“Grover,” Flurry waved her wings. “Please. I’m stupid. Use small words.”
Grover looked nonplussed, then chuckled. “I know little more,” he admitted. “Yale has a team looking into it. We call it a nuclear bomb. The crystals under Griffonstone seem promising, and the minerals from the Vedinan mountains might work.”
“Might?” Flurry seized on the wording.
“We diverted resources from Project Arcturius to tank development,” Grover studied his talons. “Heavy metals were best used as depleted rounds to pierce armor. The reactor process is challenging, doubly so when crystals are involved. The initial experiments killed several scientists with something Yale called ‘Maar’s Heart’ as a derogative.”
“You don’t have a bomb,” Flurry assumed.
“No,” Grover answered. “Eros did not pursue the project after several deaths, and I did not restart it in favor of other developments.” He closed the folder. “This might help Yale.”
“Go ahead,” Flurry waved a hoof. “Make sure it’s-”
“I’m not radioing this,” Grover preempted her. “Ancestors above, I will send a courier team with Chief Grimwing’s agents. How many on your end know?”
“Maud Pie, Sunset Shimmer, Thorax, maybe Spike?” Flurry guessed. “And, uh, Rainbow.”
Grover stared at her. He replaced his glasses. “Why do you tell-”
“She was there at the time,” Flurry defended with pinned ears. “It wasn’t my choice to tell her.”
Grover stared down at the folder. “If they had this years ago…” he trailed off in thought. “The ELF must have damaged them far more internally than I suspected.”
“Maybe they gave up?” Flurry guessed. “The Heart held the blast.”
Grover hummed. “It nearly broke. Speaking of that, are you…” he trailed off.
Flurry raised a brow. “What?”
“Can you actually lower the shield?” Grover asked.
“It cannot possibly go worse than last time.”
“There are proverbs about saying such things.” Grover closed the folder and tucked it back under a wing. He picked up the Reichstone and set it back atop his head. “Was that all? Your saddlebags were full of cheese snacks and nuclear research?”
“And drugs,” Flurry added.
Grover paused. “What kind of drugs?” he eventually asked.
“What?” Flurry whickered. “You gonna rat me out in my own castle?”
“I am just curious,” Grover responded. He swung the bob of his tail at the golden shield. Flurry dispelled the bubble and stood, stretching her legs. The griffon returned to his desk and placed the folder in a drawer. He locked it with a key that he looped into a keyring atop the table. “This leaves tomorrow by courier.”
“Alright,” Flurry acknowledged. “We have a copy.”
“I hope it is secured.”
“With Sunset.”
“Good,” Grover commented idly. He turned the chair around and sat down heavily, leaving the Reichstone on the table. The griffon ran a claw through his head feathers. “Do you usually walk around with drugs in your saddlebags?”
Flurry unclipped them and slung the bags at the seated griffon with a flick of her horn. He caught them with a squawk against his chest. “Since you're so interested like your dog, have a look.”
Grover hummed. “Benito smelled them? Or looked?” He opened the flap and flung a package of Cheese Puffs out of the way. He clacked his beak. “Oh.”
“Oh?” Flurry echoed.
“I thought you meant actual drugs,” Grover said flatly, “not cannabis.”
“What?” The alicorn tapped a rear leg and her sweatpants bounced. “It’s called Heart’s Desire or hemp or something.”
“Cannabis,” Grover answered. He glanced up at her over the rims of his glasses. “I suppose this might be a stronger strain,” the griffon allowed.
Flurry shook her head. “No. No, there’s no way you’ve done drugs.”
“It isn’t really a drug,” Grover retorted. “No worse than alcohol.”
“You don’t drink either.”
“I have.” Grover sounded annoyed. “We have wine with our meals. I do not make a habit of it, but a glass is traditional.” He clutched the saddlebags with both claws. “Princess? Do you not know what this is?”
Flurry looked away. “Celestia banned it.”
“Blessed Boreas, I thought you grew up in a ghetto.” Grover squawked in laughter and his voice cracked. “Even Eros would not ban this. It would be like banning alcohol. Griffons would riot. More than usual.”
“I should unban it?”
“You could tax it,” Grover suggested. “I do.”
“That’s very typical of a griffon to immediately think of money.”
Grover ignored her jab and upended the saddlebag on his desk after clearing away several papers. He casually tossed the Cheese Puff bags behind him to Flurry, then hummed. “Decent paper. A little crinkled. Where did you get this?”
“Tzinacatl.”
He poked at some of the flowers. Flurry trotted up to the chair and stared over a wing. “You fold it up like-”
Grover rolled his eyes and smoothed out a piece of paper. He proceeded to roll some of the flowers into it with casual ease. “I remember how to do this.”
“You’re going to have to explain this.”
“Brodfeld is known for rice.” Grover inspected the rolled paper and pinched the ends. “When we invaded the Evi Valley, half the fields were not actually rice. The battles caused fires to break out. I am told the Reichsarmee had fun, relatively speaking.” He licked it and ran it under his beak. “This is probably a stronger strain.”
“It makes heart eyes.”
“Really?” The griffon's head feathers puffed in surprise. He hummed. “I have heard that was possible. Never seen it.” He opened a drawer and fished out a box of matches.
Flurry’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?” Grover’s look was best described as ‘smug and patronizing.’ “You are not smoking my drugs.”
The griffon frowned, then clacked his beak and waved his claws at the table. “Very well. I take it you are returning to your room to 'smoke your drugs?'” He kept the single rolled paper. “This is called a reefer and you smoke it down to a blunt, by the way.”
“I thought it was called a cigarette or something. It looks like one.”
Grover looked incredulously at her. “How are you so murderous and so sheltered?” He shook his head. “Can you even fold one?”
Flurry’s horn glowed and she shoved the chair aside with the griffon still in it. Grover clutched the armrests as the chair skidded a body length to the left of the table. He laughed again and his voice cracked. The alicorn ignored him.
She stuck her tongue out and concentrated, grabbing a slice of the thin, strangely textured parchment paper and placing some of the herbs inside it. “Too much,” Grover offered. “It won’t roll well.” Flurry removed some of them and rolled the paper up. The edges folded awkwardly, so she crunched them inside and rerolled it. “Too much paper.” The alicorn ripped off the end and folded it flat. She held up her ‘reefer’ triumphantly.
It was crooked and shaped more like a right angle than a cigarette. Grover held up his own above his head to compare. It was almost perfectly straight. Her muzzle collapsed into a frown.
“That is impressively bad,” Grover admitted.
Flurry dragged his chair back to the desk. Her horn sparked. “You do it, then. I’ll let you have some.”
The griffon stared at the supplies. “Three-quarters. I am doing all the work.”
“Half,” Flurry whinnied.
“Done,” Grover said far too quickly. He sliced one of the papers with a talon and licked the edges. “This will be quick. Here.” He offered her the original.
Flurry levitated it over to her muzzle and stared cross-eyed at it. “So I just smoke it?”
Grover set the half-rolled reefer down and muttered something. “Light the end. Let it burn for a moment, then inhale. Hold the smoke inside your lungs, then exhale. Perhaps out your nose. Have you seriously-”
“No.” Flurry’s ears jittered. Guess Thorax was more careful than I gave him credit for. “I guess I smelled it around, but nopony talked to me about it.”
“Eros did not give me the talk until he caught me,” Grover chuckled. He set the ‘reefers’ aside in a neat line. “Granted, ours did not cause ‘heart eyes.’ The Griffonian variants are not particularly strong. Nor magical.”
“How’d you even get them?”
“Ordered Benito,” Grover responded simply.
Flurry lit the end with a candlewick of a flame from her horn. She watched it burn for a moment and the smoke made her muzzle curl. She levitated it up to her muzzle and her expression froze. “I’m inhaling,” she mumbled around the burning reefer.
“We have far more difficulty doing this than you should.” Grover gestured to his beak. “Suck on the Maar-damned thing.”
Flurry’s eyes turned wrathful. Her horn briefly burst into golden flame.
Grover did not look intimidated. “You know what I meant.” He turned back to the desk with flexing wings and resumed rolling more with mechanical precision. Flurry noted the later ones looked better as he fell into a rhythm. She pursed her lips and inhaled.
The reefer fell out of her mouth as she burst into a brutal hacking fit. Her legs shook and wings spasmed. Grover actually stopped and fully turned around in the chair to watch the alicorn pound a hoof into her barrel.
“That’s…” Flurry gasped. “That’s rancid. Oh, fuck. That’s worse than that beer.”
The burning blunt rolled to Grover’s paws. He leaned over and picked it up. He held it up to his nostrils and sniffed, then brought it to the tip of his beak. Flurry watched his cheeks puff and inhale.
Grover was motionless for a few moments, then snorted a plume of smoke out of his nose. He purred, voice slightly raspier. “Stronger than I expected.” He pulled from it again, deep blue eyes pinched in thought. They did not resemble hearts.
I am not being outdone by a fucking nerd. Flurry seized one of the others and lit the end, then shoved it into her muzzle and inhaled. She nearly gagged, but held the smoke in her lungs for several seconds before snorting it out with a quivering, full-body shake. Her mouth tasted like spoiled milk.
“Better,” Grover assessed. He stubbed out the end of the blunt on the Reichstone, then left the remains atop the crown. The griffon set aside four more. “I can get a dozen out of this, perhaps less. Half.”
Flurry Heart grabbed all of them and tucked them in the feathers of her left wing. She nickered angrily around the blunt in her mouth, glancing around the room. The room was just as bare as it was when she snuck in. She thought for a moment. There’s furniture downstairs. The alicorn stomped down to the lower floor.
Several minutes later, cushions and pillowcases flew up through the stairwell and landed with a thump. Flurry continued to ransack the lower floor for chair cushions and throw pillows from varying sources. Most of them were dusty. She spat out one of the blunts once she tasted ash on her lips and lit another.
This one doesn’t suck as much. Flurry continued to chuck pillows up the spiral staircase. She snorted out smoke involuntarily. Suck. Stupid nerdbird.
Flurry stole one of the spare bedsheets last and trotted up with it draped on her back. Grover had finished and was reclining in the chair, staring at the pile of assorted cushions and pillows from his royal bedchambers. He had removed his glasses to squint, but his eyes looked fine.
“You don’t have any fucking furniture up here,” Flurry grunted around the blunt.
“I thought you were returning to your room.”
“I can teleport back whenever I want,” she replied. “I let Sunset use my jacuzzi.”
“This is normal behavior when you are not floating in the sky?” Grover asked. “You let your high command use your private bathroom?”
“They let me use theirs,” Flurry returned. “What? Think they’ll plant a bomb?”
“The former student of Princess Celestia?” Grover drawled. “Perish the thought, Princess.”
Flurry bent two feathers out and stuck them up at him. Grover flashed two talons in response. She lit another reefer after stomping out the old one. “Do my eyes look weird?”
“No,” Grover glanced at her. “Give it time.”
Flurry shoved the cushions together haphazardly and sprawled herself across the lumpy-but-soft makeshift couch. “You want a cushion?”
“I will take an empty bag of Cheese Puffs,” Grover answered. He slung a canteen of water over a wing. Flurry caught it just before it hit a throw pillow. “For your thirst.”
“It makes you thirsty?”
“Hungry.”
The alicorn levitated over a bag. The dozen or so bags of cheese snacks were strewn across the room between the desk and her 'couch.' She dragged one over after finishing the third blunt and ripped it open. Might as well try these. After finishing the bag, she rolled over and stared at the domed ceiling, listening to the falling rain.
Grover returned to some documents, leafing through them idly. Smoke drifted across his desk. He lit another with a match and hummed appreciatively.
Flurry Heart lit her fourth and held it between two primary feathers. She brought her wing up to her muzzle and inhaled. Oh, that works better. Her other wing fumbled at a bag of Cheese Puffs and pulled it open. She alternated between the snack and the smoke for a few minutes.
She looked upside down back at Grover’s chair. He was partially turned back to his desk, and she couldn’t see his eyes around the frames of his glasses. “You were kind of a dick to Velvet and Ember earlier.”
“You have not had to share a castle with Queen Velvet for several weeks,” Grover replied. “This is her last chance to remain relevant. Olenia can easily be a military occupation in the aftermath. She believes she is bargaining from a far stronger standing.” He purred. “Or not, as it were.”
“Don’t be a dick,” Flurry said warningly.
“Dragon Lord Ember cannot back out of this war after reengaging,” Grover continued. “The dragons have done nothing for years, and nothing while the largest war in the world was fought just beyond their islands. If she storms out in some failed diplomatic play, she returns to the Dragon Isles only to be ousted.”
“She’s trying to do the right thing,” Flurry mumbled around crunching cheese snacks.
“She could not sit out this war,” the griffon growled. “She only made her choice once the Hegemony suffered a crushing defeat so she could taste the spoils of war and solidify her position. The elder dragons only respected her as Dragon Lord because of her father. Any one of them could claim the Bloodstone Scepter at any moment. She has to prove herself, and that means fighting.”
Flurry tasted ash and spat out the blunt. She rolled an upside-down hoof on the cushion before it could burn into the bedsheet below. A wing blindly groped for another bag of Cheese Puffs, but she held it to her barrel before opening it.
“Yeah,” the alicorn sighed. She rubbed her head against a pillow, feeling the crystal band press into her mane. “That makes more sense. Friendship doesn’t stop bullets. Didn’t stop the tanks. What’s it really worth?”
“Everything.”
Flurry looked away from the ceiling. Grover had stopped fiddling with his papers and stubbed out another burning blunt on the Reichstone. She watched his wings fold against his back.
“Perhaps I am wrong.” Grover swished his tail. “Torch is long dead. The dragons must respect his memory to not have challenged his daughter so far, and she gains nothing from this immediately. The war has not been decided yet. Twilight Sparke was her friend.”
“She was everyone’s friend,” Flurry muttered. “Except you, I guess.”
“I hardly take that personally,” Grover laughed. He twisted around in his chair. "Velvet and Ember will be in your sphere of influence."
Flurry giggled.
Grover blinked heart-shaped pupils. “I take it there’s an effect?”
“No,” the alicorn lied. She tore open the bag and shoveled Cheese Puffs into her muzzle. “How about me?”
“Surprisingly, no,” the griffon admitted. “It may not work on alicorns if there is a magical component.” He drummed his talons on the desk and twisted back. “Shame. I took a bath earlier and now my feathers smell of smoke.”
“I always smell like smoke,” Flurry shrugged. Or tried to. She was upside down on her back in a pile of cushions, so it mostly looked like a wiggle of her hooves. Her wing reached into the bag of Cheese Puffs after several minutes of listening to the rain. The feathers came back a dusty orange and empty.
Flurry Heart frowned and pawed at the empty bag of Cheese Puffs. She knocked it over to the others and puffed her lips. “This shit sucks. I don’t feel anything.”
Grover glanced over at her from the desk. He opened a drawer and rummaged through it, then tossed a small compact mirror over to the pile of cushions. “Catch.”
Her horn glowed, and her magic missed. The mirror landed on a throw pillow. “Nice throw, nerdbird.” Flurry wiggled her wing over to the mirror and tugged it close to her with two feathers. “What’s this for?”
“Look,” Grover deadpanned.
Flurry squinted into the mirror. “Aw, fuck.”
“You are feeling it.”
“I’m feeling it,” Flurry confirmed.
Her pupils were shaped like little black hearts in a sea of glacial ice. I have hearts to match the Hearts on my ass. She snorted in laughter and tossed her head back. “Hey Grover.”
“Yes?”
“I have four hearts.”
“Technically, you have five.”
“You’re a buzzkill even when you’re high,” the alicorn whined. Her horn sparked and she tried to sweep the papers off his desk. Instead, the entire desk lurched sideways. Whoops. Grover turned back to her with a flat expression, even despite the eyes.
“Look upon the alicorn,” said alicorn trilled. “Marry me or die.” Her feathers were dusted orange at the wingtips and the sweatpants were stained. Flurry let the remaining reefer roll onto the pillows. “Who wouldn’t want this?”
“I had to think about it for several days,” Grover reminded her.
“Reconsidering your choices?”
“If I knew you were a teetotaler, yes,” Grover retorted. He folded his arms. “Are you even capable of teleporting? You should have paced yourself.”
“You should have paced yourself,” Flurry imitated him in Herzlander. Her high-pitched voice could not go low enough, so she sounded like she was attempting to chew rocks. “I can teleport. Where’s the Cheese Puff storage?”
Grover rolled his eyes. “Somewhere in Lower Canterlot.” He opened a drawer and scanned through a thick logbook. “Give me a moment.”
Flurry smacked her lips as she stared at him. “You cannot possibly track-”
“Warehouse 17 off the airship dockyards,” Grover said smugly. “It is only a partial shipment. The Reichsarmee hates the damn things. If you want them for your Imperial Army-”
“I am requisitioning them,” Flurry confirmed. Her horn sparked, and the magic wobbled around the tip. “I’ll be right back.”
She snapped away before Grover could open his beak. Flurry reappeared in an alleyway in Lower Canterlot, and was quickly drenched in falling rain. She looked to the dockyards and teleported again.
It took her nine tries to find the warehouse, and she accidentally caused several alarms from the crack of her magic. The warehouse itself was an incredibly low priority target for any sabotage, and Flurry was beside herself with laughter to realize the ‘partial shipment’ was several hundred wooden crates of individually packaged packets of Cheese Puffs.
She frowned after smashing open a box clumsily. These bags are so annoying. The alicorn tore them open with her magic and collected the puffs in her aura, holding several thousand in a giant ball above her horn.
A griffon guard opened the warehouse garage door. He was in a raincoat.
Flurry stared at him below a vibrating mass of cheese. She was dripping wet.
The griffon closed the garage door wordlessly.
The alicorn concentrated and closed her eyes. Okay, quick teleport back and-
She vanished with a pop and was suddenly compacted by the thousand of puffs around her. There was a keening screech somewhere above her. Flurry shook her head and swam upwards through the airy flakes, popping up close to the ceiling of a bedroom that was far too small. She recognized the wooden enamel textures for the guest quarters. Misfire. Whoops. Haven’t done that since I was a foal.
“Sorry!” Flurry trilled out. The Cheese Puffs were brushed aside by a dark claw a few hooves away, and a beak poked out, heaving in surprise. The griffon braced a claw on the ceiling and hauled himself up.
Grover’s eyes widened at her. “P-princess?”
Flurry’s muzzle twitched. She paused for several moments at his normal pupils, then splayed her wings out for more surface area and slowly spun around the room. Her horn scraped the ceiling. “Oh,” she finally realized. “Hey, Henrik.”
Henrik said nothing. A claw brushed through the Cheese Puffs as he ‘swam’ to stay at the top of the cheesy sea. The alicorn smiled apologetically at him.
“Sorry. I was aiming for Grover. Is Katherine stuck down there?”
“I-I was asleep.” His Herzlander was a soft whimper.
“With her?” Flurry winked.
Henrik’s head feathers flexed. “N-no? Princess, a-are your eyes alright?”
“I was doing drugs with Grover,” Flurry said casually. Her muzzle quirked. “Hey…do you wanna go get high with the Kaiser?”
Henrik sank down into the Cheese Puffs. “I don’t think I have a choice in this.”
“I’m gonna be honest,” Flurry replied. “You don’t. I don’t have the coordination to teleport the Cheese Puffs without you coming along. Sorry.” Her horn glowed again, partially stuck in the ceiling.
Grover von Greifenstein stubbed out the blunt on the Reichstone’s third emerald. It left a sooty stain that would need to be rubbed out tomorrow morning. He chuckled to himself. Excellent, my vocabulary has fully degraded: ‘suck on it’ and ‘rub one out.’ He grabbed the remaining four reefers and tucked them into his shirt pocket along with the box of matches.
The Kaiser of the Griffonian Reich blinked slowly before unholstering his pistol and feeling the worn grip. With his other claw, he unlocked the top drawer of his desk and placed the gun atop the Friendship Journal. He left the keys on the desk to hold down a stack of folders.
She’s been gone a long time. Grover listened to the rainstorm and checked his watch. He had left it propped up behind a folded map of western Equestria. It was nearly midnight. The griffon sighed and leaned on the desk. Eh, she’s fine. Alicorn. Has a horn.
Grover clacked his beak at the rhyme. He took a deep breath and flexed his talons against the grain of the desk, scoring a slight dent in the wood. After some mental reflection, he had to conclude that the Thestrals knew what they were doing. I suppose living in caves and sucking on moss gets boring after a few centuries.
The griffon twisted out of his chair and stood on all fours, walking to the pile of haphazard cushions the Princess had draped his linens over. It looked closer to a bed than a couch, and his mind wandered. The bob of his tail swung lazily against his silk pajamas.
The final remaining reefer belonging to the Princess laid on a throw pillow. Grover pocketed it before grabbing the compact mirror. He flipped it back open and unhooked his glasses, squinting at his reflection. The griffon cocked his head to the side.
His pupils had dilated into hearts. He flicked his eyes up to the distant, blurry hourglass. Wings rustled against the shirt in disappointment. My eyesight is not improved. Grover snapped it shut. I suppose I should be grateful it is not worse.
A griffon with poor eyesight is a poor flier; their species was known for the sharp, forward-facing predatory sight that made them so deadly in the old days before the Trinity supposedly gifted them intelligence and souls. None of his ancestors had ever worn glasses, and pilots had mandatory vision tests. Grover knew he was nearsighted, and his griffons knew he wore glasses, but his exact vision remained private.
Grover stared out the windows into a vague city. Canterlot’s bell towers and spires were lit up in the night, and it cast a yellow glow above dark clouds and pouring rain. Lower Canterlot was a smudge, but he could make out the outlines of the estates and castle below Twilight Sparkle’s tower. There was a distant whine somewhere in Lower Canterlot.
The Kaiser wandered back around the makeshift nest of pillows. Out of sheer curiosity once, he had taken the same fitness tests knight applicants were given. It varied by Knightly Charter, but all had some basic standardization.
Grover placed the mirror back in its drawer with a few other vanities. The instructor said I passed with flying feathers. He shoved the desk back into its original position. I missed the bottom line of that eye chart. I fucking guessed. He had to take a moment to extract his right talons from the wood. Grover purred and picked a splinter from one with the tip of his beak.
He sat back down heavily and his wings refolded against his back. Grover ran a claw down the feathers. His wings were smooth and freshly oiled after the earlier bath, but he still smelled like smoke. Benito doubtlessly smelled the cannabis when she arrived. His eyes wandered to the clock.
For a moment, he considered how it would look if the Princess had gone missing after visiting him and getting high. He rested his head against the back of the chair and scoffed with a mix of a squawk and growl. As if I could make her do anything. He checked the clock again. Less than a minute had passed.
Five more minutes, then-
Static raced across his feathers and there was an errant hum in the air. Grover’s head feathers puffed out on reflex. He twisted his beak around in the chair and waited for a heartbeat, but the charge in the air only intensified. He frowned. Where in Maar’s Hell is she teleporting from?
The room exploded in a burst of orange.
Grover had time to flare out his wing and shield his beak from the gust. It washed over him and he tasted cheese. He smelled cheese. It was impossible to hear cheese, but he did and it clung to his feathers regardless. The next thing he registered was the dim feeling of airy puffs hitting his wing and bouncing away.
For a moment, they matched the cadence of the rain pounding the roof. Grover blinked behind his glasses, resisting a sneeze from the dissipating cloud of cheddar dust. He flapped both wings and stood in the chair, leaning his claws atop the back. His desk was covered in Cheese Puffs, but he brushed his wing across the surface and removed most of them.
They fell into an ocean of Cheese Puffs all around the room. If he stood on all fours, it would be up to his chest, and Grover was as tall as the average adult. The top of his desk barely stayed above the wave.
Grover looked up to the balcony above and empty bookshelves. I should fly up there. The deluge of Cheese Puffs stilled after several hundred tumbled down the spiral staircase below, leaving a gap. Grover cocked his head at the sound of them rolling down the steps.
Otherwise, he could see the top of the hourglass and little else beyond orange puffs. Dust motes fell onto a quiet expanse. The cheesy sea stirred near the subsumed pillows before he could extend his wings. The griffon tilted his head and waited.
Grover frowned at the beak emerging from the Cheese Puffs. "Hello, Henrik."
"Hello, my Kaiser," Henrik answered. "She thought I was you."
Grover’s double was dressed in a cotton long shirt and pants. He was more orange than he should be, including his beak, but he stuck his arms out and rolled upright. He tried brushing a few of the puffs away after realizing he was standing on something soft, but it was a futile gesture.
The sea of Cheese Puffs warbled menacingly several wingspans away from Henrik, and a horn poked out with a single puff speared onto the top. Flurry Heart slowly stood. Puffs fell from her extended wings, and her eyes were closed above a scrunched muzzle.
The light pink Princess was wholly orange.
She sneezed. It sounded like a windchime being hit with a rock. Her wings flexed and the alicorn disappeared into a cloud of cheddar. Several additional wing flaps made it worse and she sneezed several more times.
“How are you Henrik?” Grover asked over the sound of dinging windchimes.
“Well, my Kaiser,” Henrik deferred. Both spoke in Herzlander. He raised a claw to his beak and tried to hide a yawn. “Apologies, my Kaiser.”
“I apologize on the Princess’ behalf,” Grover offered.
“The P-princess has already apologized.” Henrik winced as a sneeze sounded strained. He finally looked over at Grover and stared at the glasses. “Are…are you alright, my Kaiser?”
It took Grover a moment. He clacked his beak in realization. “My eyes are fine.”
“Just so, my Kaiser.”
“Okay!” Flurry gasped. The cloud settled around her. Her wings were still streaked with orange, and her fur was tinged more pumpkin-colored now. “I found more Cheese Puffs.”
Grover stared blankly at the sea of cheddar surrounding them. Henrik shuffled his claws around and knocked away more puffs from the pillows. Flurry noticed and her horn sparked.
Two waves of cheddar puffs parted around Henrik and exposed the piled-up cushions. The golden magic wobbled around the waves and they partially collapsed. Flurry Heart raised her wings above her head and kicked her way through the knee-deep puffs to the cushions. “I made a couch,” she explained to the griffon. “Grover has no furniture.”
“Neither do you,” Grover retorted. “Your bedroom is a mattress, dresser, and nightstand.”
“But my office actually has desks.” Flurry wiggled a cheesy wing at him. She stuck her tongue out. “Who else do you talk to up here, anyways?”
“We are at war with shapeshifters.” Grover’s voice was flat. “I do not entertain guests in your aunt’s tower.”
“To be fair, neither did she.” Flurry sat down atop the cushions and rubbed orange hooves on the bedsheet. It left four smears. Her heart-shaped pupils made her squint look non-threatening. “Get off the chair, you aren’t going to drown in them.”
Grover raised a paw and kicked the side of his desk. He rode the chair down with two flapping wings and crunched through several hundred puffs. It wasn’t quite large enough to lie on, but he rested his beak atop both claws and stared at her over the orange ocean.
“What have you done?” Grover cocked his head. “I heard alarms.”
“It took me a second to find the right warehouse,” Flurry nickered. “And they were in all those annoying packages.”
Grover speared a puff with one talon and looked flatly at her. He tossed it into his beak. “This is highly unsanitary.”
“We eat with our hooves.” Flurry raised a cheddar hoof to her muzzle in critical appreciation. “You think there’s enough sinks at a Hayburger for everypony?”
Henrik and Grover’s feathers shuddered in disgust as the alicorn licked the bottom of her hoof with a flat tongue. She smacked her lips and cringed. “The cheese mostly covers up the dirt.”
Flurry laid down on the clearing. She waved her right wing to Henrik. “You can have a seat if you want.” Her horn sparked and the puffs swirled around on the floor. “You can have my last, uh…” The alicorn’s muzzle scrunched. “Reef?”
“Reefer,” Grover corrected. He held one out between two talons.
Flurry narrowed her eyes in focus and stuck out her tongue. Grover felt the magic prod at his claw before grabbing the reefer and slowly floating it over. It did not move in a straight line. The small packet meandered around in an awkward, uncertain dance before stopping near her muzzle.
Henrik and Grover said nothing.
“Shit,” Flurry chuckled lightly. “I’m really feeling it. Sorry.”
Henrik held out a claw underneath the floating reefer, and the alicorn’s horn dimmed. He caught it in his palm and stared uncertainly at it, eyes flicking to the Kaiser across from him and the alicorn laying a wingspan away. He sat on his haunches.
Grover tossed him the box of matches from the upturned chair. Henrik caught it in his other claw. Unlike the Princess, the Kaiser’s aim was close enough to count. Flurry’s muzzle quirked. “Uh, Grover? Would you explain that whole-”
Henrik struck a match and puffed calmly. He exhaled through his nostrils. “Thank you, my Kaiser.”
“No problem,” Grover shrugged his wings.
Flurry looked between them. Her muzzle deepened into a severe frown, though the effect was dampened by her heart eyes. “What the fuck.”
“I tried it first,” Henrik explained. “Test to make sure it was safe for the Kaiser.” He blew a smoke ring into the air and hummed. “This is good, certainly better than the contraband in the orphanage.”
“See?” Grover crooned. “Henrik grew up on the mean streets of Griffenheim.” He shifted his stare to his double. “Did you know this is the Princess’ first time?”
Henrik still had the mental capacity to hold his tongue. His tail looped around a paw. “I-I’m sure t-that-”
Flurry rubbed a cheesy wing against the orange jewel on her crown. She left another smear of cheese dust. “I like honesty, please.”
“I can tell,” Henrik coughed. “How many did you have?”
Flurry rolled her eyes to the ceiling and thought. “Five?”
“Blessed Boreas,” Henrik responded.
Grover held up a claw. “Four. The first one was barely a puff.”
“Fine.” The alicorn rolled to her side. Her wings further stained her already-stained sweatpants. They were more orange than black now. “Laugh it up at the Princess of Ponies, boys.” She bent her neck into the sea of puffs just beyond the cushions and buried her muzzle into it.
Grover rolled his sleeve back and buried his arm in the puffs, feeling blindly for the canteen of water. He found it after a minute of searching. “Henrik? There’s another to your right.”
Henrik found it far more easily and shook the canteen. It was about half-full and the water sloshed. His eyes shifted to the Princess.
Flurry raised her muzzle with puffed lips. “You can have some,” she said around a mouthful of Cheese Puffs. “My backwash ain’t magical.”
Grover shoved himself off the chair with extended wings and glided to the clearing. He landed at the edge of the cushions and his tail slipped into the cheesy sea. He glanced over a wing and shook the bob of his tail off.
Flurry swallowed. “You look like you have a Cheese Puff stuck to your tail.”
Grover pointed a claw up. The Princess’ eyes crossed and she leaned forward. The puff that had been speared onto the tip of her horn was entirely blackened from the previous spellcasting. She raised a large wing and knocked it off into the sea.
“You look like a Cheese Puff,” Grover deadpanned.
“I should.” The alicorn raised her muzzle. “I am the Princess of Cheese Puffs.”
Henrik held the blunt between two talons. “Katherine told me stories,” he said in a low voice to Grover. “I did not believe them.”
“I can hear you,” the alicorn remarked. Her ears wiggled and orange dust fell from the triangles. “Unlike you, I actually have ears.”
“I must ask about Katherine,” Grover interrupted. He was genuinely curious after encountering her weeks ago. “Has she asked you to kill me?”
Flurry gasped dramatically and began to cackle off to the side.
Henrik puffed on the blunt before offering a response. “No, my Kaiser. We trade stories about growing up in Griffenheim versus Katerin.” Grover’s double shuffled back to try and give the Kaiser more room.
With all three of them on the pile of cushions, there was precious little space. One of the alicorn’s wings laid in the surrounding ocean. Henrik twisted his body around like a cat, nearly stepping on one of the alicorn’s hind legs.
Flurry folded her legs underneath her and pressed her wings to her side. Her eyes swung to Henrik. “You already look mostly like him. Why don’t you call him Grover?”
“It is i-improper due to our social standing,” Henrik responded.
Fuck’s sake. Grover ran a claw through his head feathers. “We are adrift in a sea of cheddar. You can call me by my name. We are not cubs anymore.”
Henrik blushed and flicked the blunt off into the orange mass around them. “Just so.”
Grover flopped down onto the cushions. “Well? What does a Katerin peasant think of my capital city?”
Henrik puffed to buy time and considered his answer. “She thinks it is…” His eyes went to the alicorn.
“A shithole?” Flurry guessed with a whinnying grin.
“She has never been there,” Grover dismissed.
“There are differences in the life of a poor griffon in the city against the countryside,” Henrik offered. “Katherine had a freedom I never had even if she only sees chains binding her wings.”
“She’s told me about her village and her family,” Flurry said in Herzlander. Her eyes suddenly widened. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Henrik asked. He laughed, and Grover tried to ignore that his voice was deeper and richer. He is a year older by best guess. It matters not. “My mother abandoned me. I have no tragic story of loss. I never knew them.”
“That’s sad,” the alicorn said.
Henrik waved a wing. “I once dreamed of being taken out of the orphanage and told I was secretly royalty.” He rolled a slightly brighter blue eye to Grover. “Sometimes I dream of my poor, destitute mother wringing her claws outside the palace and asking for a coin.”
“Do you give her one?” Grover asked.
“No,” Henrik puffed a smoke ring. He blinked, and his pupils turned to hearts. “I give her a bag of gold, and I tell her I never want to see her again.”
“Maybe she had no choice?” the alicorn guessed.
“Just an extra hungry beak,” Henrik gestured to himself. “Perhaps. But words are wind. I hope not to know.”
“My mother did not have a choice,” Grover cut in. He leaned over to the Cheese Puffs and grabbed a clawful. His other claw rolled another reefer between his talons. Henrik offered a match in time with a spark from the alicorn’s horn.
Grover stared up at the flame burning on the point. It flitted between blue and gold. Flurry grimaced and the fire snuffed out. “Yeah, best not.”
Grover lit the end and laid lengthwise. All three of them faced the hourglass and the windows with Henrik in the middle. He blew smoke out from his nostrils and tossed a puff into his beak. It was crunched down noisily.
“Was your mother a noble?” Flurry shuffled forward and leaned her head on a lone throw pillow. Her muzzle smeared cheese on the velvet cushion.
“Lady Giselda Goldheart,” Grover announced. “Minor nobility from the Duchy of Strawberry. She was a compromise. Her family was too minor to upset the balance of the regency council after the revolution. They were betrothed from the age of twelve.”
“Sound terrible,” Flurry whickered softly.
“He loved her, and she loved him,” Grover waved a wing. “He never remarried. He should have.” He inhaled and let the smoke taste bitter in his beak before snorting it out. “I killed her.”
“No,” Flurry immediately nickered. The alicorn pushed herself up and stepped over Henrik with long legs. He ducked his beak at the sudden movement. She looked between her forelegs apologetically before shuffling between the two griffons.
Grover moved further to the side to avoid her cheesy wing. “The birth was difficult and the fever never broke,” he continued. “Aquileia had splintered away.” He rolled the blunt in his talons. “There are spells, are there not?”
“That’s,” Flurry sighed, “that’s not a guarantee.”
“My father trusted the doctors,” Grover’s voice cracked. “I think some of the council wanted her to die for a chance to offer their own.”
“It was a rumor among the commoners during the funeral,” Henrik added. “Lady Giselda was well-loved. She actually traveled beyond the palace.”
“Well, of course,” Grover drawled. “My father risked death by sitting up too quickly.”
“That’s an exaggeration, my Kaiser,” Henrik tried.
“Hardly,” Grover scoffed. “My earliest memories are being prodded by needles. Now I await knives.” You are supposed to call me Grover.
“Benito’s not going to kill you,” Flurry laughed. A few feathers tugged on her sweatpants. “Don’t listen to the deer.”
“Albino freaks haunt my life.” Grover clacked his beak. “I am not worried about my dogs; my griffons are the ones that wail and gnash their beaks. Besides, Benito lied to me in Aquileia. Eros lied. My aunt, Gerlach, Ignatius, Raison, every single one of the creatures in my court have plotted against my Reich.”
Grover bent his talons and punted the blunt out towards the hourglass. The sand inside had long ticked away, and he hadn’t bothered to reset it in several days. “My own fucking Reichsarmee tried to kill me first.”
“What?” Flurry switched to Herzlander. “When?”
“It’s why Eros sought out doubles,” Grover pointed a claw across her muzzle to Henrik. “There was a revolt in the palace barracks. The fools nearly made it inside the palace, but the Barkginian Guard rallied and crushed the assault. The leader was some albino Maar-spawn named Dawnclaw.”
“Why’d they do it?”
“Why do griffons do anything?” Grover laughed mirthlessly. “They saw an opportunity in the infighting between my aunt and the Archon.” He looked back out into the city. “Dear Aunt Gabriela still tried a war.”
“And the common griffons suffered between them,” Henrik said sullenly. “That’s how Eros found me. Priests and nobles lined up in Griffenheim to suddenly show they cared about the poor. We were dragged to the Temple of Boreas for a hot meal in front of cameras, then shoved into trucks to go to Strawberry the next week for a feast.”
You never talked about that. “Who did it better?” Grover asked.
Henrik considered the question while pulling at the tassels of a throw pillow. “I suppose the priests,” he admitted. “When Gabriela seceded and embargoed Griffenheim, all her delicious strawberries dwindled. So much for her caring for the common griff.”
Flurry hummed. It sounded like a crystal flute, or a windchime swaying in a cold wind. “You’re still between us, Henrik. Sorry about that.”
Henrik waved a claw. “I was until you moved over.”
“Stepped right over you with my heavy hooves.” The alicorn’s grin wasn’t very happy. “My cheesy subjects look upon me in awe.” She raised her head up to stare over the ocean of orange puffs. She licked her orange lips.
“They believe they see a fellow Cheese Puff,” Flurry intoned. “But they know in their puffy hearts it is a lie.” Her horn sparked and a few levitated shakily up to her open muzzle. She crunched down on them remorselessly and swallowed.
“Some of you will die, my little puffs.” One floated before her muzzle, then zipped over to Grover. It speared itself onto the end of his beak. Grover removed it with a talon, but tossed it into his mouth.
“Feathered barbarians at the gates,” Flurry said down to the ocean. “I have let them in, my puffs, and I have barred the passage behind us. There is only one way forward, and we must do it together.” She squinted and her horn moved in a circle, glowing gold.
The burnt Cheese Puff was picked out as a distant bolt of lightning loosed over the Celestial Plain. “Some of you may burn in the fires so the other puffs may remain cheesy.” It wobbled over to her mouth and the Princess ate it like the others. The clap of thunder from the lightning strike echoed over Canterlot. Flurry smacked her lips and laid her head atop one of the cushions between the two griffons.
After a moment of silence, Grover lit another. He inhaled. “You betrayed me, too.”
“Sorry,” the Princess apologized.
“At least you were upfront about it,” the griffon answered. He offered her the reefer, but the alicorn shook her head. He passed it over her horn to Henrik.
“Katherine’s well,” Henrik coughed. He glanced to the alicorn then his doppelganger over her horn. “She did once jokingly suggest…”
“She wasn’t joking,” Flurry muttered between them.
“If I die,” Grover scoffed, “you can have the crown.” He looked over a wing back to his desk. Fuck it, that’s actually not that bad of an idea. “Actually, we shall make it unofficially official: you get to be ‘Grover VI’ if I bite it.”
“My Kaiser,” Henrik coughed. “I, uh, I-I’m h-hardly-”
“You already do most of the work,” Grover declared with a swish of his tail. “You sit and wear that heavy crown. Just nod along and try not to let it fall off.”
“The replicas aren’t as heavy,” Henrik remarked. He took a very long drag on the blunt to avoid having to respond again.
“You sat with enough of the tutors,” Grover continued. His voice dropped into a purr. “I learned all those languages. You know how often I use any of them?” He pointed at the alicorn between them. “She speaks to me more in Aquileian than my fucking Aquileians.”
“How many did you learn?” said alicorn asked in Aquileian.
“I gave my coronation speech in six languages,” Grover ranted. He raised a wing and bent the feathers to count. “Herzlander, Aquileian, Wingbardian, Vedinan, Evian…Rumarean.”
He clacked his beak. “You know how many griffons speak Rumarean? It used to be one of the original languages around Griffonstone. Artur the One-Winged was Rumarean.”
“I thought he was from the Herzland?” Henrik asked.
“No!” Grover snarled. “Fucking Herzlander kingdoms tried to rewrite everyone’s origins to be about them. My ancestor was too lenient with the petty kingdoms. Wingbardy is awful about it. They’re descended from the barbarians that overthrew the Karthinian Empire, but Beakolini’s conquests were all about remaking the damn thing.”
“Fuck Beakolini,” Flurry snorted for the pillow.
“Half the ships you sank in Nova Griffonia were Wingbardian,” Grover commented. “Most of the destroyers and escorts.”
The alicorn blinked several times, staring out over the Cheese Puffs. “Grover?”
“Yes?”
“I’m not sorry anymore.”
Grover laughed and his voice cracked. He laughed harder at her deadpan, spacy heart eyes when they rolled in their sockets. It took him several heartbeats to regain control. “If I die here, you will assume my place, Henrik.”
Henrik had burned the blunt down into a cinder to avoid saying anything, then tried shoveling Cheese Puffs into his mouth. Grover stared at him until he drank from the canteen and coughed. “My Kaiser-”
“Ancestors above, Henrik.”
Henrik took a deep breath. “Grover…I don’t want your job.”
Flurry’s wings shook and she laid a cheesy hoof over her muzzle. Snorts of laughter still escaped her. Grover’s beak twitched and he searched for a response. “Why not?”
“It sucks,” Henrik retorted as if it was obvious. “I’d rather go back to the orphanage or join the army.” He thought about it. “Maar’s Hell, I’d rather do both before putting on the actual Reichstone.”
“Those best suited for power are the ones who do not seek it out,” Flurry said from under her hoof. Her voice shook with suppressed laughter.
“That sounds like a pony saying,” Grover said down to her, but he looked back to Henrik. “Still, it may be a good point. You would do a better job than you think.”
The griffon sighed and ran claw through his head feathers, accidentally smearing cheese dust across his tan crest. “Thank you. Grover.”
Flurry Heart slowly lifted her cheesy muzzle between them. Her cold stare was grim, and she swiveled a heart-shaped iris to Henrik. Her lips twitched.
“Kill him,” she hissed.
Henrik glanced up at her horn. “Uh…”
“Kill him,” she repeated. She pitched her voice to sound even creakier, but it sounded like a kitten trying to growl like a lion. “Kill him, Henrik.”
Grover sighed.
“Become Grover,” the alicorn continued. “We can rule together. You will be my dark consort. Our empire will know no end.” She smiled, and her orange teeth flashed in time with a distant lightning bolt.
Henrik flatly stared at her in visible confusion. “What?”
“He doesn’t know,” Grover said from the other side of the alicorn.
Flurry’s ‘sinister’ expression collapsed into a shocked pout. “What? How’s he supposed to be you, then?”
Henrik stood on the cushions and stared between them. He slowly twisted in a circle, staring around the room, the cushions, and the lingering smoke drifting around the ceiling. From standing on all fours, he looked down on the two monarchs.
“This is a date,” Henrik realized.
“No,” Flurry and Grover said in unison.
Henrik’s heart-eyes widened. “Blessed Boreas, you’re going to marry each other.”
Flurry opened her muzzle, but hesitated. Grover stared over the rims of his glasses to his doppelganger. “Not until the war’s end. It was her idea.” Henrik visibly thought about it and his wings fluttered.
“For Nova Griffonia? Or the ceasefire? Or…” he trailed off. “I’m not sure. Does Katherine know?”
“Yes,” Flurry answered. “You can talk to her about it.”
Henrik looked from the alicorn to the Kaiser. “I’m not saying anything.”
“It’s,” Grover paused. “You can talk to her about it. Not many in the Reich know. Apparently, the Princess tells everyone and it is only due to the grace of Boreas word has not gotten out.”
Flurry poked him with a wing, and Grover brushed cheese dust off the sleeve. “Katherine knows,” she said to Henrik. “She’s not exactly happy about it. Don’t think that would be a good date topic.”
Henrik looked very lost. As if he realized he’s trapped in a room with the two most powerful people on the continent. Grover resisted laughing. He waved his wing downwards. “Sit back down.”
The griffon did so slowly, and shuffled away from Flurry Heart. “I…I d-don’t want to impose, Princess.”
Flurry smiled tiredly. “Katherine seems happier now. You’re a sweet griff. I’m sorry I dragged you along as a third wheel.”
“She’s a firebrand,” Henrik offered. “I understand why you’re friends.”
“Are you more than friends?” Flurry fluttered her eyelashes. “You better be treating her right.”
“She brings him food,” Grover said from the other side.
“Best way to a griffon’s heart is through is stomach,” the alicorn quipped. “Remember that from Aquileia. Is it true for Herzlanders?”
Henrik pulled on a tassel. His feathers and fur puffed up.
“Has she kissed you yet?” Flurry wiggled a wing. “I’ll tell you what books she likes. My mother was, like, the greatest wingmare. I gotta have inherited some of that.”
“We don’t kiss,” Grover said. He popped his wrist with a roll of his claw. Flurry abruptly swung her head to him. She pursed her muzzle and dropped her eyelids.
“What?”
“We do not kiss,” Grover enunciated. He tapped the side of his beak with a claw.
“It is commonly called a peck on the cheek for a reason, Princess,” Henrik said from the other side of the alicorn.
Flurry’s wings shook and she looked between them. “I lived in Aquileia-”
“Aquileia,” Grover and Henrik said in unison. It sounded like an echo of the same griffon. Henrik’s eye roll was barely behind Grover’s.
“Well, w-well…” Flurry sputtered and folded her forelegs. “Fine! Have you given poor Katherine a ‘peck on the cheek,’ then?” She pointed her muzzle at the ceiling in disgust.
“Ponies nuzzle,” Grover said flatly.
“And kiss,” Flurry retorted. “And hold hooves.”
“You cannot hold hooves,” Grover scoffed. “Please, you just tap them together.” He flashed his talons, and the Princess stuck her tongue out at them. He lowered his claw into the Cheese Puffs and grabbed another bundle.
Flurry growled surprisingly low for a pony. “Fine. Guess I have that to look forward to for the next five decades until you die.” She sniffed. “I require a preview. The best peck on the cheek gets a reward from the Princess of Cheese Puffs.”
Grover frowned up at her. The alicorn shifted to sit up straight with her legs folded underneath her barrel. She kept her head facing the hourglass and lean muzzle perpendicular.
“I-I’m sorry?” Henrik asked on the other side.
“This is a contest,” Flurry declared in Herzlander. She pressed her lips thin. “One try, each of you. Whoever is better gets to be the real Grover.”
Henrik looked over the Princess’ wings to the Kaiser. His beak jittered. “I w-would prefer-”
“Am I that ugly?” Flurry preempted him. “I need to see what Katherine has to work with.” Her heart eyes swung to Grover. “And you, bird-blessed-by-Boreas, have a lot to live up to. My cheesy subjects are watching.”
Grover realized the gambit immediately. With her sitting up straight, he would have to sit on his haunches or stand on all fours. He rolled his eyes and stood with flared wings. “Very well, Princess.”
Flurry Heart pulled in a breath, tipped her muzzle up to the ceiling, and closed her eyes.
Grover regarded her narrow muzzle for a heartbeat, then leaned up and pressed the tip of his beak to the side of her cheek, just above the edge of her lip. He withdrew within another heartbeat and rubbed a talon on the end of his beak. It came back orange. “Your cheesy subjects must be delighted.”
The Princess offered no reaction except a light flutter of her wings.
Henrik tapped his claws together on the other side of the alicorn. “A-are y-you…”
“Many would trip over their tails for this moment, cheesy pony or no,” Grover laughed. “You have her permission and mine.” Henrik held a claw to his heart and took a deep breath. He opened his eyes with determination.
Henrik leaned up slowly, but not cautiously, and pressed the edge of his beak just above her lip in the same spot. Grover could not see the full maneuver from the other side of the alicorn, but Henrik lingered for a moment before withdrawing with a dipped head. There was a smear of orange beyond the tip of his beak. Grover restrained his expression, grateful for his glasses.
Flurry Heart’s hum of consideration was deep in her barrel. “Have you done this before?”
“I-I have not, Princess,” Henrik answered.
Grover did not answer verbally. He exhaled air out his nostrils. He won.
Flurry Heart opened her eyes and relaxed with an easy grin. She laid her head upon an upturned hoof. “Katherine will be delighted…Kaiser Grover VI.”
Grover rolled his eyes and flumped back down. “Am I Henrik now?” He unhooked his glasses and slung them across the alicorn’s horn to his double. “Good luck with my prescription.”
“We tried that once and it ended poorly,” Henrik reminded him. He caught the glasses with a claw, but his eyes lingered on the Kaiser’s expression. “I-I mean no-”
“Nerdbird,” Flurry chided. “Don’t be a sore loser. You have years to practice on your mistresses or whatever.”
“The Princess is biased,” Grover said to Henrik.
Flurry Heart turned to Henrik. “Kill him, Grover.” Her voice returned to the gravelly squeak. “You can marry Katherine. We’ve had sleepovers. She’s practically a communist. We can share you.”
“Gods,” Henrik deadpanned in his imitation of Grover’s voice. “You truly are a desperate creature.” He placed the glasses on his beak and squinted suddenly watery heart eyes.
Flurry snorted at that, and it turned into a chiming laugh.
The actual Grover stared out into the windows. Those etiquette classes meant nothing as well. A talon pierced the bedsheet and the pillow below it.
The rain almost obscured the door opening below them. Two sets of boots sounded as the door closed, then they began trudging through the waylaid piles of Cheese Puffs that had fallen down the spiral staircase. Flurry, Grover, and Henrik stood and twirled around on the cushions, wings brushing against each other and kicking up more dust.
“Katherine says you can turn invisible,” Henrik hissed.
“I do not have the coordination to do that,” Flurry whispered back.
“You already have the glasses,” Grover reminded him. “You’re Grover VI now.” He laid back down, withdrew the remaining reefers from his pocket and drummed a claw against his beak, holding them between his talons. Flurry and Henrik laid beside him, looking nonchalant.
A purple cap with a snowflake appeared first, then Spike forced his way through the Cheese Puffs to stand at the top of the staircase. He preformed a double-take at the two Grovers on the either side of Flurry, then narrowed slit eyes. His nostrils flared.
Benito stepped up beside him with his gray muzzle collapsed into a frown. Before the dog said anything, he leaned his head to the side. Flurry raised her wings and showed off her stained sweatpants.
“Still on!” Flurry chirped.
Spike sighed. “You recruited the Kaiser’s double for this? You were supposed to stay in your room.”
“And I did,” Flurry returned. “I had something to tell Grover.” She pointed a hoof to Henrik. “But I found my Air Marshal high on Heart’s Desire. Things just happened.”
“I assure you,” Henrik said in his imitation accent. “Nothing happened untoward, Lord Regent.”
Spike huffed a plume of smoke. “I will be worried when I find five of you and one of her.” He turned his eyes to ‘Henrik.’ “Did she drag you into this?”
“I h-had no choice,” Grover said with as much nervousness as he could muster.
Benito marched forward. “Stop playing around, my Kaiser. Henrik, those glasses must hurt your eyes.” He held out a glove and wiggled the paw. “Give them over. That’s enough.”
Grover squinted at him. “How could you tell?”
“You have a look when you are not wearing your glasses,” Benito explained, “and I watched you grow up. No amount of cheese stains is going to hide that.”
“You should have rolled around in them,” Flurry advised.
“Did you break into the warehouses?” Spike slapped a claw against his eyes and pinched the bridge of his muzzle. “What am I saying? Of course it was you. There’s a massive hunt for Changeling saboteurs going on right now.”
Grover cocked his head and listened to the rain, dimly catching a few sirens under the pounding water. Oh shit, that was still happening. He laughed aloud.
“These things are already poison,” Benito barked. The dog kicked a boot through the puffs and scattered them to the side. He snatched the reefers from Grover’s claw, then marched back to Spike.
Flurry Heart rolled over on the cushions. She kicked her hooves in the air. “You told me to relax.”
“It’s almost two in the morning,” Spike answered. “You smell of cheese and drugs.”
“I am very relaxed.”
Spike and Benito shared a look, then the dragon took one of the reefers out of Benito’s paw and huffed. Grover sighed as the flame shot out. Pity. Those were a good strain.
The griffon blinked as the dragon lit one, then snorted a small flame onto the tip of a talon and held it out to Benito. The dog lit another. The two adults turned back to the teenagers and inhaled together.
Benito exhaled slowly. “Better than I expected. How many does it take to have the eyes?”
“More than one,” Spike explained. “For most. Dragons are pretty resistant to the effects. It’s just a mild buzz.”
Flurry scrunched her muzzle and bared her teeth. “You fucking hypocrite, Uncle Spike.”
“I never said I disapproved of smoking,” Spike said with a wag of his tail. “That was Twilight’s thing. She was horrified to find blunts in the dorms.”
Grover shook his head. “Benito, you were terrified when I asked.”
“How do you think I knew how to get them?” the dog questioned back. “I was young once, my Kaiser.” He twisted his muzzle to the dragon. “When I made the Barkginian Guard, our squad went out drinking. There was a fight. I took a chair to the head, and I was so blackout drunk I swore Grover II was standing over me telling me to knock the bastard’s teeth out.”
“Never been much of a drinker,” Spike replied. “What did you do?”
“I knocked the bastard’s teeth out,” Bentio said as if it was obvious.
Spike nodded. “Cadance always wanted to legalize-”
Flurry’s ragged gasp sliced through the room. Her wings surged out and Grover took the full force of an alicorn’s feathers to the side. He squawked in dismay and tumbled off the cushions into the cheesy sea.
He heaved himself back out, catching Henrik clambering back onto the opposite side. Flurry Heart’s wings continued to wave above her head as she sputtered indignantly. “Spike!”
Grover ducked his head down. Blessed Boreas.
Spike remained unmoved. “I said your father thought she was a bad influence. Your mother liked to relax. She had hookups from somewhere. Shining just humored Twilight whenever it came up.”
Flurry pounded a hoof into the cushions. “I knew I recognized that smell from before Weter!” She tossed her head back and whinnied into the ceiling. “My parents got high!?”
“And the cycle continues,” Spike muttered.
Benito inhaled his own and stuffed a paw into his jacket.
“And…” Flurry’s muzzle curled. “And then they fucked!” She flailed onto her back. “I remember! The smell and they warded the door!” Her wings slapped against her muzzle as her hooves pressed inwards. “They said they were tired! Sunburst said they were tired!”
“Sound like your parents were cool,” Henrik offered.
Flurry dragged her feathers down her muzzle. Grover could not quite place her expression. Her lips trembled for a moment, spasming against her teeth and she blinked rapidly. Muzzles are more expressive than beaks, yet they flit through emotions so quickly.
“If a Princess does it, it’s not illegal,” Grover said to her blank look.
Flurry inhaled and pressed a hoof to her chest, then exhaled and pushed her breath out. Looks like a breathing exercise. She turned her head to Grover, looking at him from her back. Her heart-eyes looked strangely fitting with the pink fur, but the perpetual bags under her eyes also made them look fake.
“This calls for revenge,” the alicorn said gravely. “I shall sing my mother’s least favorite love song.”
“And we’re done,” Spike snorted. He flicked the blunt out into the sea of Cheese Puffs. “I’m going to need to borrow that bedsheet and a laundry basket to get her back. Her teleportation’s unreliable.”
“I can trust on your discretion?” Benito asked behind the dragon. “I’ve already sent word it was a false alarm, and none spotted her, thank the Gods.”
“She was spotted going to your wing, but Thorax is faking her,” Spike dismissed. He swung his head to Henrik and smiled genuinely. “Katherine speaks highly of you.”
Henrik had removed the glasses and dipped his head. “Apologies, Lord Regent.”
“None needed,” Spike assured. The dragon turned his head to Grover and his smile became more fanged. “You do not say shit. See you at dinner.”
“Understood,” Grover drawled. He eyed Benito, but the dog shrugged a paw as if saying, “You should have come and gotten us.”
And that was probably the correct move. Grover scanned the sea of Cheese Puffs. “This will be a problem.”
“Mages,” Spike shrugged. “This isn’t the worst mess that’s been in this tower. Just the cheesiest.” The dragon abruptly looked away. “Twilight hated cheese.”
“Look at me,” Flurry groaned. “I am her antithesis. I am nothing. I am surrounded by drug addicts, and they have corrupted me. The Princess of Cheese Puffs is fallen.”
Spike gestured for the two griffons to step off the bedsheet and pillows. He grabbed and edge and pulled, dragging the alicorn into the center. He tugged the sheet again with both claws and began to fold her up into a knot. Flurry did not resist, but her muzzle twisted into a smirk. She cleared her throat and breathed in.
“I want love to…roll me over slowly, stick a knife inside me, and twist it all around…”
Her voice was scratchy and rough from the smoke, but the undercurrent of crystal windchimes remained. Grover stood and cocked his head. All this time on Equus, and I have never heard one sing. The dragon groaned as if he knew the song, shaking his cap and head fin mournfully. “Your mother hated that.”
“That’s why I’m singing it,” the alicorn trilled. She inhaled again, and Spike shoved one of the ends of the bedsheet against her muzzle. He flipped her over bodily and trussed her up in the sheets.
“I do not believe that is a pony song,” Grover observed.
“Nova Griffonian,” Spike sighed. The bedsheets began to wiggle and the dragon casually raised a claw over his head before slamming it down with a savage strike. The body in the bedsheets bounced and went limp.
Grover and Henrik stared at the motionless lump with wide eyes.
“I want love to…” a high-pitched voice warbled from within the sheets, “…change my friends to enemies…”
“Twilight hated it as well,” Spike added. He hefted the sheets up with both claws and stalked back towards the staircase. An orange-pink wing was stuffed back into the bundle with casual ease, but the alicorn apparently continued singing from the muffled lyrics.
Benito flicked his blunt into the Cheese Puffs and patted the sword at his hip. “We have a few laundry baskets. I’ll go get one.” He pressed a paw to his chest and nodded to Grover. “My Kaiser.” He waved to Henrik before departing.
Henrik and Grover stood in the sea of puffs for a moment before Henrik tossed Grover his glasses. The Kaiser nearly fumbled the catch and only caught them by the edge of the frame. He hooked the lenses back into his feathers and blinked.
Rain pounded the roof. The muffled singing vanished with the creak of the door below, and the two nearly identical griffons looked at each other awkwardly. Grover spotted the pillows from his bed and pulled them out. He winced at the cheese dust floating off of them, but he was equally coated now.
Henrik looked around. “Should…should I go back to my room?”
“You could use my bathroom if you wish,” Grover said. “Our clothes are the same size.” He flapped the pillow out and coughed at the dust.
“I don’t want to impose,” Henrik demurred.
“Our eyes are shaped like hearts,” Grover reminded him. “I suspect neither of us are leaving this room unless it is in laundry baskets.”
Henrik poked at a few pillows, then swished his tail. “My Kaiser-”
“Grover.”
“Grover, I think that’s your mattress.”
Grover checked. “Yes.”
“Are they coming back?”
“I do not know.”
Henrik looked around the room. “Grover?”
“Yes, Henrik?”
“She’s all yours.”
Thunder rattled the windows and both griffons startled. Grover processed the statement, then began to laugh with a high, screeching gale. Henrik’s deeper laugh in response was more subdued, statelier, and probably more regal. Grover laughed harder.
Gold Muffin stared forward in the half-track, blue eyes unblinking. The changeling stallion wore a gray ushanka atop his head fin, flaps pulled down tight over his ears. The ridge of the fin was still faintly visible in the overall shape of the cap. The hammer and horseshoe of the Stalliongrad Soviet was still stitched onto the frayed fur. Otherwise, he wore a purple uniform with brass buttons and the Imperial Snowflake proudly displayed on his right foreleg.
I don’t think those two symbols go together, Flurry thought to herself. She looked to the other occupant. Her wings rustled against her black jumpsuit.
Alesia Snezhnaya sat across from the Gold Muffin, staring forward with unblinking blue eyes. The alicorn gave the mare credit: changelings did not need to blink as often as ponies due to their pupilless vision, but Alesia somehow blinked less than the stallion across from her.
The earth pony mare still wore her tan hat with the silver-studded gem of Severyana, but the rest of her uniform was a horrific mix of a tan jacket with purple pants. She also had the Imperial Snowflake on her right foreleg. It was the only thing the two had in common.
“So,” Flurry began, “Governor Alesia, how is Stallion…” She coughed into a hoof. “How is Severyana?”
“All the paperwork still calls it Stalliongrad,” Alesia ground out. Her eyes were locked on the changeling. The mare had mastered the ability to talk with the most marginal movements of her lips. Her muzzle’s perpetual frown bounced between ‘mildly unhappy’ and ‘sneer of derision.’
“We have offered to rename it Flurrygrad,” Gold Muffin said in his borrowed accent. He sounded more from Stalliongrad than the mare that was born there. Alesia’s accent bore twangs of Zebrica in certain pronunciations, picked up from the decades abroad.
“I do not want it renamed,” Flurry said. A wing reached up and touched the crystal band around her shaved-down mane. Her armor traveled separately in the convoy with other equipment. She propped herself up on the bench and looked out the porthole.
They were taking a side road, winding through abandoned villages on the interior towards one of the tunnels outside Stalliongrad. The shield over the Crystal Empire prevented equipment from passing through it, apparently unable to differentiate between a shell lobbed from an artillery piece and a shell on the back of a truck. Over forty tunnels had been dug under the shield in the past several months, but it was now more a detriment than a benefit.
Flurry’s glacial blue eye looked up to the pink-tinged sky, then back down to the overgrown grass lining the unpaved road. The half-track had treads and managed it well enough, but it was a rough ride on metal benches. The machine gunner swiveled incessantly as well in the front. They passed a square patch of growing grass beside the road, then another beside it.
It took the alicorn a moment to realize the grass grew in patterns because of the foundations of buildings. The Changelings razed the whole village. Snow buried the ruins, then grass grew over them in spring. The cycle repeated again and again. For years.
Gold Muffin felt her emotions twist. “The Hegemony relocated most ponies to industrial centers to work,” he said from the other bench.
“You did it first,” Alesia retorted.
Flurry pushed herself away from the bench and laid between them, legs folded underneath her and facing the back door. The tip of her horn was at eye level for the two sitting on the bench. “You did not answer my question, Governor,” she prompted.
Alesia clicked her tongue. “They are not as slovenly as I feared.”
“They have been starving in ruins,” Gold Muffin hissed.
“The severity builds strength,” Alesia sniffed. “It crystalizes resolve.” The mare’s frown looked proud for a moment. “We have always been a hard breed.”
“Not as hard as the crystal ponies,” Gold Muffin chittered.
“They are not actually made of crystal,” Flurry nickered. “You’ve been around enough of them, Muffin.”
“That is not his name,” Alesia commented. “He took a new one during the…war.”
“Revolution,” Gold Muffin corrected. He broke eye contact with the earth pony to look down at the alicorn. “I took a pony name to show solidarity.”
“I thought they would have respected your differences.” It was difficult to tell if Alesia was asking a genuine question or mocking, but Gold Muffin’s eyes flashed as he sensed her intent.
Flurry raised a wing to his muzzle. “Gold Muffin has been with me a long time,” the alicorn said to her. “I do not care if he is a communist.”
“He cares,” Alesia retorted. She folded her hooves against her uniform and her bulky legs crinkled the sleeves. The earth pony was solid from years of fighting. Flurry had heard she drilled troops herself, and her muzzle had the hard edge to reflect it.
“Don’t try to tell me my emotions,” Gold Muffin hissed. “I am loyal to Thorax and Flurry Heart.”
“A monarch-to-be and an alicorn,” Alesia remarked. “The revolution came full circle.”
Flurry raised both wings and held them before their muzzles. “Okay,” she sighed. “I slacked on my history lessons with Far Sight.” And we never covered Stalliongrad. “Governor Alesia and Advisor Gold Muffin, would you like to educate your Princess?”
The changeling nodded first, ushanka flopping. Alesia snorted, but her eyes twitched to Flurry before her head dipped slightly. Flurry slowly lowered her wings and folded them back to her sides. She chewed on her cheek for a moment.
“Okay. Gold Muffin first. Why did the revolution happen?”
Alesia breathed in and pulled her frown into a sneer.
Gold Muffin smiled at her, fangs flashing in the half-track. “The Boyars were corrupt. Severyana was far from Celestia’s sun, and she had entrusted the ruling council for centuries. As all nobles do, they increased their privileges at the expense of the working class.”
Flurry stared up at him.
“Most nobles,” Gold Muffin amended with a chitter. “Stalliongrad was an industrializing city, but unlike rest of the east coast the squalor only increased. Caramel Marks’ tour found ponies with flower marks suffering in assembly lines as the cutie mark system all but broke down for paper profit. Her work was incendiary, but it meant nothing to the average Equestrian.”
Gold Muffin jerked his horn to the windows. “Many still lived their marks in villages and towns. It meant nothing to them. There was no need for reform under Celestia’s sun. But in Stalliongrad, her desire for change took root under the clouds.”
“How did this turn to ponies welding armor plates to tractors and burning down mansions?” Flurry asked.
“The Boyars,” Gold Muffin shrugged his wings. “They beat down the early unions, bought off the Royal Guard in Stalliongrad, dragged ponies off to prisons that make Tartarus look nice. The Royal Guard was not the 'Royal Guard' beyond Canterlot. It consisted of local ponies closer to militias than a dedicated force central under the Princess.”
That's all my father did as his job for the first few years. Flurry took a deep breath. “Celestia would have stopped it.”
“Why?” Gold Muffin chittered. “They were her ruling council over the area. When the uprising began, it was her Royal Guards in the streets. Thugs under golden armor, slaughtering the ponies they took oaths to protect.”
Flurry’s horn sparked.
“Your father,” Gold Muffin swallowed, “he was barely more than a cadet. Much of his rapid rise through the ranks occurred due to Celestia curbing the Royal Guard afterwards. She did not expect the violence to escalate.”
The spark popped with a fizzle.
Flurry took a breath. “So Celestia willfully allowed the Boyars to run Stalliongrad into the ground over decades because monarchies are an inherently exploitative government without the possibility of compromise?” She squinted. “Why are you here with me?”
“In a proper revolution, the proletariat forms a dictatorship until power can be shared.” Gold Muffin waved a hoof over her horn. “It is a stepping stone to true communism. The Red Princess is close enough for now.”
Flurry blinked.
“I understand your confusion,” Gold Muffin chuckled with a hiss. “You have already assented to communes and self-management. The transformation into a communist economy has already begun. The Pax Chrysalia itself is capitalism. The thesis and antithesis will create a synthesis.”
Flurry searched for a response. “What?”
“Thorax is a communist.” Gold Muffin stated it as if it was obvious. “He believed that love could be shared between changelings without the need of the Queens or the old ways. And he was right. He took the lessons of Caramel Marks and applied them to us.”
He has never talked about Caramel Marks. Flurry suppressed her disbelief and kept that to herself. Gold Muffin did not seem to notice, too engrossed in his explanation of changeling communism.
“The Changeling Queens have relied on the subjugation of the working drone for thousands of years. They claim that without their rule, we would have no future. The caste of Queen, Warrior, and Drone must remain as it was for changelings to live.”
Gold Muffin leaned his head against the metal side. His voice twisted and his Stalliongrad accent faded into a mix of a softer lilt. “Look at the Pax Chrysalia: The Love Tax, the factories, the industry, the corporations. All of the trappings of capitalism wrapped in our traditions. It has destroyed us as much as it destroyed Equestria.”
“Okay…” Flurry dragged the word out. Her eyes swiveled to Alesia. “Your turn, Governor. Why did the revolution happen?”
Alesia exhaled with a heavy snort. Did she hold her breath the entire time? The mare removed her cap and scrubbed her navy mane with a hoof before replacing it. She scowled harder at the roof of the half-track as if she could unscrew the rivets with her mind.
“The Boyars were weak,” the mare snarled. “They were corrupt.” She did not say more.
“So you agree with Gold Muffin?” Flurry prompted her.
“No,” Alesia snorted. Her eyes switched to the changeling. “Celestia was also weak. It flows from the top: strength, or weakness.” The mare’s lips twitched. “She was a foal wearing a crown, listening to everything her little ponies whispered in her ears in her gilded castle. If she was as ruthless as the communists believed, she would have crushed their rebellion in sunfire.”
Gold Muffin opened his mouth. Flurry raised her right wing in warning. “Don’t interrupt.”
“We are a hard breed,” Alesia snorted, “and far from Celestia’s sun. They sensed her weakness and exploited it, and she was too weak to stop them. They grew weak themselves.”
“So what?” Flurry huffed. “She knew and did nothing?”
“I was in the Royal Guard during the Winter War,” Alesia nickered. “She did not know a thing. She had no idea how badly her little ponies were treating each other beyond her castle walls. Her visits to Severyana were little more than a carefully managed stage play.”
Flurry Heart thought about the Thestrals and Las Pegasus. “It’s just good business.” She grimaced. “If you were a Royal Guard, were you bought like Gold Muffin said?”
The earth pony bared her teeth at the changeling. “We had to pay for overpriced food just the same as the rest of you. We took what we could get.”
“You could have joined us,” Gold Muffin rebuked. Flurry stuffed her wing against his muzzle.
“Some did,” Alesia admitted with a voice that sounded like two rocks grinding together. “I think I killed a few changelings during skirmishes. Ask him about that.”
Flurry looked to a suddenly reluctant Gold Muffin. “What?”
He hesitated. “It’s commonly thought that Queen Chrysalis sent-”
“Equestria lost almost a quarter of its country due to weakness,” Alesia snarled. “Celestia backed out and signed an armistice. She left us to fight a losing battle with enemies on her border. Enemies in her borders and already plotting.”
Gold Muffin pushed pink feathers out of the way. “Because you were killing everypony in the street!”
“She could’ve come in and executed the Boyars!” Alesia ranted. “And Steel Stallion! Stopped the revolution in its tracks!”
“And you?” Flurry asked her. She switched her stare to Gold Muffin. “And him?”
Gold Muffin and Alesia settled against their benches. The earth pony clanged a hoof against the metal and lashed her tail, but did not offer a response. The changeling whistled between his fangs. “She was trying to save lives.”
“She was trying to save her sister,” Alesia countered. “You think a truly militarized Royal Guard and a scarred Equestria would have welcomed Nightmare Moon? She would have been met by artillery.”
Flurry did the math in her head. Twilight had gotten her cutie mark. She was Celestia’s student. She thought about the Tree of Harmony. “What did ponies say about it at the time?”
Gold Muffin shrieked in laughter. “Nothing! Celestia could not let that story stand! The Proletariat had risen up against her.”
Alesia rolled her eyes. “She lost a quarter of her country and a major base of industry. The Griffonian Reich began to fall apart from a secession like that. The average Equestrian could not conceive of a reason to reject the Princess of the Sun. Few even knew the role of the Boyars.”
“Aquileia rebelled when Grover II ascended the throne,” Flurry pointed out. “There was a history of revolts in Griffonia. Wingbardy seceding after the death of their king and the loss of the Idol wasn't unprecedented.”
“Just so,” Alesia whickered. Her stare turned mildly wry. “You know their history better than ours?”
“I grew up in Aquileia and Nova Griffonia.”
“I still heard the Equestrian news in Zebrica,” Alesia muttered. She knocked her head against the side of the half-track. “Celestia sent your aunt through Stalliongrad to defeat a cultist.”
Flurry licked her lips. “Starlight?”
“The communists were in the middle of a famine and she hooved over a propaganda win to plaster posters over empty shelves,” the earth pony continued with a groan. "She remained weak, thinking she could win her ponies back with lukewarm kindness after cool dismissal."
“Celestia imagined she would dissuade us with your aunt’s example,” Gold Muffin ‘agreed’ with the earth pony. “Princess Twilight was very gracious and proved to be an apt study of Marks’ works.” His stare turned sharp for a moment. “Of course, she had never read them before. One can only wonder why.”
Flurry could not help but ask. “Uh, Rainbow?”
Gold Muffin looked askance and pulled his ushanka down. “She…enjoyed the local life.”
“We make the best vodka,” Alesia deadpanned. “Communists cannot ruin that.”
Should ask her about it. “Rarity?”
“Kept critiquing our uniforms,” Gold Muffin summarized.
“Your aunt took a communist as her student to reform her,” Alesia chuckled. “Quashed their hopes quite well.”
“Starlight Glimmer was not a communist, and Equalism was a cult,” Gold Muffin hissed. His wings buzzed. “Do not confuse true ideology with egomania.”
“She renounced her ways,” Flurry pointed out.
“That did not stop it,” Alesia said without anger. “I met Equalists in Zebrica, even. Insane even by the standards of communists and convinced that the founder was turned by foul magic. Equestria meddled in Stalliongrad's backyard. They did not appreciate it no matter how Starlight pretended afterwards.”
“I don’t think my aunt thought of friendship as foul magic,” Flurry said flatly. The half-track turned and all three swayed for a moment, then it began to slow.
“We are near the shield.” Alesia checked outside her porthole. “The Kaiser’s griffons went up the coast. They beat us here.”
“We’ll link up with Grover beyond the shield wall,” Flurry ordered. “The Kaiser wants maps of the rail lines to get supplies moving.”
Gold Muffin and Alesia accepted that and nodded. Flurry studied them both for a moment. More like Price and Bronzetail than Golden Delicious and Light Narrative. They would probably never like each other, but they could work together.
And Gold Muffin had either not caught the flimsy lie or not challenged it. Or maybe Thorax told him and he knows. A survey of the supply network was hardly a reason for the Kaiser to go himself to the Crystal City. The offer had been amazingly formal in Canterlot and stated via Benito at their one shared, awkward dinner.
No one said anything about the incident with Heart’s Desire.
No one also made eye contact the entire dinner except Ember and Queen Velvet.
It was a total surprise when Benito suddenly announced the Kaiser would travel to the Crystal City at the end of the dinner before walking out with Grover. Flurry Heart nearly choked on her potatoes and Jadis thought she’d been poisoned. Right now, Frosty Jadis rode with Flurry’s armor in a decoy vehicle in another line heading to the shield. Spike and Thorax remained in Canterlot.
“Severyana will remain a waystation and little else until the construction begins,” Alesia nickered. “With the East Coast and Imperial Coast, it can be rebuilt within decades.” The mare spoke of it proudly, and Flurry noted the creases around her eyes.
You won’t live to see it. And you know it. “I will do my best, Governor.”
Alesia looked down her muzzle at the horn point. She hummed in the back of her throat. “Weakness flows from the top, Princess.” Flurry waited. Alesia flicked her eyes to Gold Muffin. “Princess Twilight was humble. Do you see her in the Princess?”
“Yes,” Gold Muffin said without flinching.
“She was born a noble, not made one from a forgettable minor house. Almost like mine.”
“From nothing,” the changeling retorted. “Mi Amore Cadenza was adopted and made a Princess to propagate the position of alicorns as rulers. Just like the Queens.”
“Chrysalis is taller and stronger than you, is she not?” Alesia asked. “She has hair at the very least. How does equality work to Caramel Marks against this?” Her hoof waved above the pink horn point, then gestured to the wings folded tight against the jumpsuit for space.
“I’m not better than anyone else,” Flurry tried. “I’m not worth more.”
“Her soul,” Gold Muffin whickered. “Not the body. The mark, not the mare.”
Alesia leaned back against the metal. She bounced as her eyes wandered. “You allowed Baltimare to leave, Princess.” It was not an accusation, and Flurry did not like the gravel in the back of Alesia’s throat.
“Yes.”
“May I ask why?”
Flurry sighed. “We needed the port to push through towards the Everfree. Sunset in New Mareland remains a vital shipping lane. I do not agree with Golden Delicious and it was not an easy decision.”
Alesia stared down at the alicorn laying between the benches, then stared at Gold Muffin. Her muzzle stretched into a smile. Flurry Heart had never seen Governor Alesia smile. The mare’s muzzle twitched like it was unused to the expression. It was more a promise of violence than a confirmation of joy.
“The port,” Alesia repeated to Gold Muffin. “Not the ponies.” She settled her cap over her eyes with a twist of her head. “Your Red Princess, comrade.”
Then she laughed with a snorting chuckle that rang through the half-track. Gold Muffin shuffled his hooves against the bench. He looked out the window rather than look to Flurry Heart.
“I never knew either Stalliongrad,” Flurry said to him.
“It was a better home than home,” Gold Muffin said softly. “The Governor and I agree on that if nothing else.”
“Tell me about the Cryusha.”
The changeling smiled out the glass. “The Soviet almost had them done. The rockets are less accurate than normal artillery, but they can hold the front. Your Imperial Army is formidable, Princess.”
I’ll wait until I see it. Flurry looked to the mare either sleeping or pretending to sleep. “Is Governor Alesia too harsh?”
Gold Muffin licked his fangs. “It is a harsh world, Princess. So be it. The Queens and Chrysalis shelled Stalliongrad to oblivion because we dared to stand up to them.” His eyes shifted away from the window. “They did not show weakness.”
“What will happen without them?”
Gold Muffin buzzed his wings. “Who knows? Changelings have always been ruled by Queens, always taught to obey. It will be a brave new world.” His stare went far away. “I am glad they are all dead.” His accent completely disappeared into a mix of Herzlander and the changeling’s native lilt. “We will finish the job with Chrysalis.”
“I agree,” Alesia snorted under her hat.
The ride to the shield wall was quiet after that. The pegasus in the turret shouted a warning down below as the half-track sputtered to a half on a bumpy plain. Flurry Heart stepped out into a light rain. Her horn hummed. Directly against the shield, the clouds broke apart and scattered before reforming further into Equestria. Magic was thick in the air.
Gold Muffin buzzed his wings and did not follow Governor Alesia and the Princess outside. He smiled apologetically. “I’d rather not get my wings wet!”
There were no changelings under the shield ahead of the shutdown. Gold Muffin could’ve taken one of the tunnels, but Flurry Heart did not press him. His gossamer wings reflected pink light even standing in the hatch to the half-track, and it looked like flames raced across them.
Flurry smiled back and nodded her horn. “Thank you, comrade.” She paused. “Actually, one last question.”
Gold Muffin tugged his hat off and raised his ears.
“Did Discord ever do anything with Stalliongrad?”
“He pronounced it chaotic enough and fucked off,” Alesia answered behind the alicorn. The mare’s voice did not waver or show emotion. Flurry glanced at her flat expression over a wing, then returned to Gold Muffin.
He shrugged a hoof. “Yeah. He did replace Steel Stallion’s statue with himself. That was annoying. The chocolate rain and pudding puddles helped with the famine, actually.”
Flurry sighed. “Thanks.”
Gold Muffin nodded and shuffled back into the half-track. The Princess and Governor Alesia trotted to the edge of the shield wall. A tunnel emerging from the earth was carved out of the rock and dirt to the left. It was one of the smaller tunnels, gently sloping to allow trucks through single-file.
A line of Reichsarmee half-tracks in gray and orange were parked beyond it. Griffons milled around, remaining a healthy distance from the shield. Flurry could see the crackles on the enchantments from the knights’ armor even at their distance. The hum in the base of her horn increased as she approached the tunnel’s entrance.
Flurry stopped at the legion of ponies in crystal armor on the other side. It was thicker than the Royal Guard armor and full-bodied like her own set. Flurry could only tell who were mares or stallions by the shape of the muzzle in the half-helm. They snapped to attention before a crystal stallion in a crisp purple uniform. He held a hoof to his chest and shouted through the shield. “Princess!”
How the hay are they going to hold guns? “Colonel Heartsong!” Flurry called back.
Frosty Jadis limped out of the tunnel and waved a hoof with two other crystal ponies in white uniforms. The mare’s rifle was slung at her side. Flurry and Governor Alesia trotted around along the shield to them.
“The tunnels have been a little muddy, Princess,” Jadis reported. She still knelt in said mud in the white uniform, then shook her black boots off one hoof at a time.
Flurry scanned the soldiers. “New uniforms?”
“For the snow,” Jadis explained. “No ambushes, Princess. We’re in the clear.”
The Reichsarmee divisions broke rank and six dogs came forward with Kaiser Grover VI between them. He wore the black overcoat and gloves from their first meeting outside Stalliongrad while Benito followed nearly at his tail. Flurry squinted into the distance through the shield. Stalliongrad was the obvious meeting point, so one of the decoy convoys headed there.
“Princess,” Grover nodded once he was in range where the griffon did not have to raise his voice. He brushed his gloves off on the brown grass growing back from the end of winter.
“Kaiser,” Flurry nodded her jeweled band. “Hello, Benito.”
The dog stared blankly at her. He switched the stare to Alesia and they seemed to engage in a frowning contest. Benito’s actually holding his ground. His jowls deepened the frown and his whiskers twitched.
“Henrik is ‘holding down the fort’ in Canterlot,” Grover continued in Equestrian. “My presence is not known. The Bronzehill engineers will inspect the rails.” A wing pointed back to the smattering of dogs and griffons loading equipment into the trucks.
“Very well,” Flurry accepted. “Would you like to cross on hoof? Or paw and claw?”
Grover was silent for a moment. “You mean through the shield?”
Flurry turned to the pink, sparkling wall. It stretched high up into the sky at a curve, though it was hard to tell this close to the dome. Her horn tingled more when she faced it than when she faced away from it. The drizzling rain fell into her eyes as she squinted upwards and the alicorn blinked.
“I wasn’t planning on it, but we can,” Flurry shrugged both wings. “No weapons.”
Grover paused, then lifted his left wing and unclipped a broom-handle pistol. It was black and shaped with the blocky Changeling design. He passed it to Benito casually before tapping the golden Reichstone. “It reacts badly to enchanted material, yes?”
“Yes.” Flurry raised an eyebrow. I thought you said it wasn’t enchanted?
Grover gave her a half-lidded look for a second. Everyone thinks the damn thing is.
He removed the Reichstone and shook the water from it. Two dogs knelt and opened an ornate wooden box between them. Grover carefully placed it in the padding and watched them close it. He ran a claw over his tan head feathers and discreetly cracked his neck.
Flurry suppressed a smirk.
Governor Alesia and Benito remained in their frowning contest, but the dog unclipped his belt and removed his saber and pistol. “I should walk through with you, my Kaiser.”
“That is not necessary,” Grover corkscrewed his tail. “Remain with the Reichstone.”
“We should ensure it is safe for dogs to pass through,” Benito returned in Herzlander. “This magic is unstable. My fur puffs up near it.”
“Just so,” Grover agreed after a heartbeat. “Very well.”
The two stepped around the tunnel and closed the distance to Flurry and Alesia. The alicorn moved to meet them atop the tunnel’s entrance and just before the shield. They slowed and stared at each other in the rain.
Grover’s head feathers pressed down into the fur around his cheeks and the water smudged his glasses. He blinked more often to see. The water made his head look narrower along with his beak with the fur slick.
I probably look the same. Flurry felt what was left of her mane stick to the crown after several minutes standing exposed. Her jumpsuit was already slick and clung to her fur. She smiled and raised her wings. “Ladies first?”
Grover waved a claw at the shield. He did not extend his arm fully so the talons did not pass through. “By all means.”
Griffons could pass through the shield, though the Reichsarmee had never tried. Bronzetail had told Flurry in Manehattan it was standing orders to leave it alone. That order was probably never rescinded.
A lot of griffons had moved from the frontier to the Crystal City. Flurry could see a few patrols circling on the Imperial side of the shield. She paused just before stepping through and looked down. According to the new maps, she was Diarch of Equestria and in the Principality of Equestria.
Flurry took a deep breath and exhaled, pushing it out with a foreleg. She trotted through the shield and felt the magic caress her fur like feeling the draft from a warm, toasty fire. It did not dry her off; it was just a feeling that filled her barrel.
Flurry opened her eyes and turned around, now the Princess of the Crystal Empire and in Imperial territory. Governor Alesia followed her unflinchingly and shook her head to the side. Water spilled off her hat.
“The convoy will split on the way to the Crystal City,” she reported. “With the shield down, the Imperial Coast and Governor Josette will have more work to do. I have work in Stalliongrad.”
“You may call it what you wish, Governor,” Flurry offered.
“I call it home,” Alesia answered. For the first time, something resembling pain entered the older mare’s voice. “I have heard words are wind. It does not matter what is said. Only what is done.”
Flurry nodded. “Dismissed, Governor.”
Alesia bowed and backed away, finally snapping her blue tail over her flank and marching to a small group of soldiers in similar tan uniforms. Must have been the mercenary unit. Flurry had heard they were called ‘Whites’ during the war, but all the ponies wore tan and purple now.
She returned to Grover on the other side of the shield. The griffon stared back placidly, tinged pink. He paused and removed his glove to wipe his glasses before hooking them back onto his beak. The Kaiser tugged the glove back on slowly and carefully, then stepped through the shield left claw first with wings pressed against his side.
Flurry Heart noticed the slight flinch in the eyes just before contact, and the quicker movement of his rear paws. His tail flit through afterwards and looped around a hind leg before uncoiling. He clacked his beak.
“Did it shock you?” Flurry asked.
“It felt like an ice bath,” Grover commented. He stopped a wingspan away and shook out his hind legs.
Flurry hummed. “Felt warm-”
Benito stepped through with a yelp. His tail swung between his legs and he shook his paws. “Maar take this!” he snarled. The graying dog kicked a clump of dirt through the humming pink wall.
“Are you alright?” Grover called to him.
The dog stalked up to the two of them as Heartsong and several guards approached. “It felt as if I was struck by lightning, my Kaiser,” Benito barked. He spared Flurry a severe brown eye.
“I didn’t do it,” Flurry shrugged her wings.
The look indicated he did not believe her.
“Princess,” Heartsong dipped his head. “If we depart now, we can be at the Crystal City by dusk.” Several canvas trucks waited beyond the armored ponies. Frosty Jadis crossed in the tunnel and waved again to the Princess. The other dogs followed with the Reichstone and several boxes.
Flurry’s horn glowed and she cast the detection spell. The wall of pink magic crackled with blue sparks on contact, and several of the dogs’ sheathed swords jittered against their sides. The box containing the Reichstone did not react, but no one seemed to catch it.
Except Grover. He exhaled through his nostrils and lashed his tail. “We will travel in separate trucks. It will be safer that way.”
“Of course,” Flurry kept her ears from pinning. “I’ll meet you at the outskirts.”
“Agreed.” He gave a two-talon signal to Benito. The dog raised his paws and crossed his arms, giving some signal to the Reichsarmee on the other side of the shield. Flurry turned and walked away with Heartsong and the guards.
“Princess,” Heartsong intoned. His voice was reverent. “The Crystal City illuminates the night. You will be pleased with the progress we have made.”
“It’s good to see you again, Colonel,” Flurry said neutrally. “You’ll have to tell me about the armor.”
“The smiths have been busy,” Heartsong smiled wider. His muzzle glittered. “The Spellguard of House Amore has been remade.”
Flurry remembered the sketches Obsidian showed her. “That’s not the same model.” Her eyes swept over the ponies in the line, and they stomped their hooves three times in unison.
“No,” Heartsong agreed. “This armor is enchanted for close combat in the narrow forts and tunnels in the mountains. It is made in the image of yours.”
Flurry Heart moved to the truck waiting for her. Her helmet sat atop a crate. She looked between the purple crystal and the ponies waiting beyond it. “Are they still the Spellguard?” There was not a single unicorn among them.
“The smiths chose the name ‘Stormtroopers,’ Princess. After you.”
Grover stopped for a moment to pull out his notes. He continued walking on his hind paws, using his wings for balance. He could not do it forever, nor could any griffon, but he jotted down another idle thought with a worn pencil.
Farmland 4 Quadrants
“Spying on me?” Princess Flurry Heart asked. The armored pony turned around fully, incapable of seeing out of her heavy helmet. Even on his hind legs, Grover only met her eyes while she stood solidly on all fours. The Kaiser tucked his notebook into a coat pocket after a cursory glance over what he had written so far.
Clear Room 4 Expansion
NW Factories Repaired
SW SE NE Occupied
Rocket Range 3.5
Reload Too Long
Cheap
“I am assessing the quality of your forces for future engagements,” Grover answered. He lowered himself to all fours. Benito had followed him on the tour while the other engineers inspected the railyards and poured over a map. The dog folded his arms, stuck in a perpetual squint.
For once, I am thankful for my glasses. The lenses and frames helped with the glare. The Crystal City was the capital of the Crystal Empire. It was named for its architecture, unlike any other city in the world. Crystal ponies had a talent with shaping and molding that surpassed even griffons in one regard. Every building was made with some variety of crystal in a myriad of shapes and colors.
It was absurdly bright, even with the pink shield filtering the sunlight and the smoke from several factories mixing with a few clouds. Light refracted off the sides of the taller buildings into the roads and squares. There were few lampposts, and they clashed with the rest of the architecture. Installed after it returned, I assume.
“How many are still in the city?” The Princess flexed a wing rather than turn back around. Grover could not see her upper lip, only the bottom of her narrow jawline. The helmet covered more than the standard Royal Guard helmet, even if it was derivative.
“20,000,” the pinkish stallion answered. “Another 75,000 are in the field along the shield wall with the rockets. We’ve arranged a further demonstration of the motorized frames-”
“That won’t be necessary, Colonel,” the Princess interrupted. “I don’t need to see my rockets maim my future farmland again. I trust Gold Muffin’s engineers.”
The crystal stallion bowed his head. “Of course, Princess.” The alicorn did not see the gesture; her back was to him. The crystals in her wing slid against her primary feathers when she pulled her wing into place. She could not push them flush against her armor.
Her armor was an engineering marvel, but it was insanity. The armor made her a juggernaut, a deep swirling purple crystal with gunmetal joints on her limbs. No griffon knight wore armor on their wing joints so one could fly and maneuver, but that clearly was not her concern. The crystal had been chipped all across the body and under the wings; the legs were similarly scuffed. The damage was superficial, but she had to have taken withering fire in the Duskwood or Celestial Plain.
The weak point would either be the wings or the helmet. The crystals helped deflect bullets through her feathers, but the metal brace across the band of her wing guarded the true muscle and bone. That only left the helmet, and her unarmored jaw or the eye slits proved a tempting target. Or the horn. It is only bone. Grover stared up at the central spire. The Princess’ pink horn stuck out above six other points guarding the base, appearing sharper than the purple points.
The horn cocked to the side, but only slightly. The Princess could roll her head against the metal gorget shielding her neck. “What?” she teased. “Is my capital not to your liking?”
Grover cocked his own head to see through the eye slits. The Princess stared back placidly, leaving small cracks in the cobblestones of her streets as she trotted through the city. “I thought Canterlot was the capital.”
“Of Equestria,” the pink jaw explained. “The Crystal Empire is ruled from my city.”
“Which one do you intend to rule from?”
“Both.”
Grover stared flatly up at the armored alicorn. “Which one should I tell my investors to prioritize?”
“The Crystal City has more room for expansion, but Canterlot will be the administrative center.” The helmet and horn tilted back. “I’ll spend more time in Canterlot. I suppose my home is the Griffonstone to Griffenheim.”
“You have never seen pictures of Griffonstone,” Grover scoffed. “Your city’s sewage system works.”
“It’s a thousand years old.”
“But it works,” Grover waved a claw. The alicorn turned back around and nodded. The small procession resumed walking the streets, moving deeper into the snowflake towards the towering palace in the center. The city was arranged in sectors, and the streets gave it the pattern of a snowflake from the sky.
Grover shared a look with Benito over a wing. The dog remained tense with a paw on his holster, scowling at the windows and roofs. “Do you spy something?”
“No,” Benito huffed. His ears pinned. “These ponies concern me. They keep their distance.”
That was true enough. Aside from the small procession of crystal-plated guards, the city moved as it usually did. Ponies did not line the streets to cheer, and work continued in the factories they had toured on the outskirts. Rockets and shells were piled in boxes besides cans of bland food.
Pairs of Imperial Guards, distinguished by their gray uniforms instead of white, stood on every street corner. Their uniforms had flexible boots and high collars, masking most of a shiny coat. They stomped a hoof when their Princess passed them, but otherwise scanned the streets.
Grover cocked his head to a two-story house. The walls were made of crystal, as was nearly everything visible, and a blue light flickered in the window. It was the first house he had seen with signs of life inside.
The griffon increased his pace. The Princess moved slower in her armor, but her strides were long. He took two steps for her one, claw and paw skipping on the cobblestones.
The white-uniformed pony following behind the Princess shot him an appropriately frosty look over her withers. “Princess?” Her white tail screwed.
“Let him through, Jadis,” the Princess said over a wing. She must have guessed. Her head did not turn all the way back to see. “Kaiser Grover? You have more questions?”
Grover slid his wings past the cold-eyed mare, and she slowed her limp to march beside Benito. The dog and crystal pony traded a side-eye and assessed each other, then looked to opposite sides of the street.
“How many ponies live in the city?” Grover asked. He had to walk a wingspan away and partially turn his head. The Princess’ wings were partially extended by the locks of her wing joint armor.
“How many of my subjects live in the Crystal City?” she called ahead.
“Governor Lily has not done a full census,” Colonel Heartsong apologized. “We have seen more arrivals from the frontier and the old Yak lands. Three of the residential quadrants have been filled.”
“Several million,” the Princess estimated. Her helmet turned partially upwards to point her horn to the sky. “Largest city in the world.”
“I would have to look at a chart, but I believe Vesalipolis holds that record,” Grover replied.
“Changelings lie,” Frosty Jadis snorted behind him. “Who can know how many reside in the shadow of their foul Queen?”
“If that is true now, it will certainly not be after the war.” The helmet lowered and Grover caught her icy eye in the slit. She remained looking ahead. “What else?”
“We can discuss anything more specific in the Crystal Palace,” Grover offered. He stepped over a crack in the cobblestones. The wears and tears of battle damage had been mostly filled, but the repairs were easy to spot. The crystal caught the light differently in the houses.
Grover flexed his head feathers as he searched for a conversation topic. “You fought through the city in an aerial assault, Princess?”
“I did.” She did not offer more.
“Daring.”
“More daring for my soldiers. And my ponies that threw off their chains.”
“The city is remarkably intact. Your crystal ponies work hard.”
Heartsong snorted with pride.
“They can also party hard,” Flurry commented in a slightly lighter voice. “The Crystal Faire is great.”
Why was there not a parade? Grover had travelled across his Reich. There was always a parade upon returning to Griffenheim during the wars. In most cases, it was a Triumph of defeated military equipment and soldiers. Most were pardoned afterwards; the true leaders were hanged publicly with bound wings.
There were no hangings. The lampposts and balconies were bare. But ponies did not line the streets to cheer and see their Princess. The factories churned along at the outskirts like it was just another day.
Perhaps they fear spies, Grover considered. The shield prevented changelings from crossing, but he did not doubt his absence from Canterlot had already been noticed. The day journeying under the shield to the Crystal City had been tense even with the pink tinge in the sky.
The Crystal Empire was vast, and with the shield raising the temperature across most of the north, the permafrost and tundra gave way to scattered bits of green. There was still snow in the far north, but the trip from Severyana was pleasantly smooth. Even with dated infrastructure and roads.
“Do you think the storm will return with the shield down?” Grover asked aloud.
“The weather will probably stabilize,” the alicorn shrugged her opposite wing. “The weather will shift back north, but probably not as bad as before.”
“Probably?”
“That’s my Air Marshal’s theory,” the Princess nickered.
The journey from the outskirts to the city center took longer than Grover expected. He hummed. Truly is larger than Griffenheim. “How was this city built?”
“By hoof.”
“A thousand years ago or more,” Grover clarified. “Mining from the Crystal Mountains and brought to a central plain? How? On sleds?”
“Records weren’t exactly great,” the alicorn said languidly. “Everypony’s memory was scattered too. The Crystal Library had records of Amore’s reign, but she ruled just after Discord.”
“Is everything called the ‘Crystal Whatever’ in your empire?”
“Nope,” the Princess grinned under her helmet. “Snowberry Park was nice.”
“We are proud of our heritage,” Jadis huffed behind Grover. He felt the mare’s glare on the bob of his tail.
“But yeah,” the Princess continued, “sounds plausible for the start. Fortress that radiated outward over time, central location for the north, flat plains in every direction, plenty of room to expand. That’s why Grover Number One picked Griffenheim, right?”
“Griffonstone was remote,” Grover agreed. “It was the birthplace of Griffonkind: tall, rocky, windy, treacherous, and mountainous. A poor city to siege, but a poorer one to grow.” He thought back on the conversation. “You said the library ‘had’ accounts.”
“Changelings. Sorry if you were looking for some light reading.”
“My apologies.”
The procession turned a corner on the street as tall spire of the Crystal Palace loomed ahead of them. The armored guards fanned out. Grover spotted the Imperial Snowflake flying above low rooftops on a strange flagpole before they crossed into the plaza before the palace.
Grover blinked at realizing it was the turret of a tank propped up against the ruins of a statue’s base. They used the muzzle as a flagpole. The snowflake hung a little limply in the light wind inside the shield. There was an echoing stomp and clang as soldiers snapped to attention along the square.
Colonel Heartsong turned around with a beaming muzzle. “Your crystal ponies, Princess.” He visibly caught himself. “And your ponies-in-all-but-name, of course.”
The Princess of the Crystal Empire stepped forward once and raised her head and wings. Grover made a show of adjusting his cufflink and glove to step to the side. The knife-like crystal at the end of her left wing sang in the air close enough to prickle the feathers around his ear.
He adjusted his glasses casually. Thank Boreas beaks are not too expressive.
There were less than a thousand ponies standing at attention in the square, further split into smaller little sections. Barely worth a battalion. Most were wearing the white uniforms and black boots like the Princess’ sniper, but a few wore gray or purple at the front of the divisions. Griffons and Yaks stood separately in the same dispensation of uniforms.
A crystal pony in a drab purple uniform waited under the flagpole beside two crystal-plated ponies. The Princess walked to her as the army stomped or beat a claw to their chests. The blue mare knelt and pressed her head to the cobblestones while the guards bowed; she was not wearing a military cap.
“Governor Arctic Lily,” the Princess greeted. “Rise.”
Grover cocked his head. Bowed low for a communist. The mare’s stance was stiff and formal, not feigned casual. Her ears were forward and matched her serious eyes. If she is faking devotion, she does a good job for a pony.
“Princess,” the governor’s tone was stiff and cold. “Per your instructions, the Imperial Army has been split into divisions to maximize their combat effectiveness. The Imperial Guard will remain based on your father’s Royal Guard.”
“Griffon light scouts for air patrol with pegasi,” Colonel Heartsong picked up. “Yaks for mountaineers and stormtroopers.”
“Excellent.” The helmet swiveled to the Yak brigade. Several stood to the side in crystal-plate armor. They wore heavy packs with ease. Grover eyed the nozzles on the side near their forehooves.
“Have the flamethrowers been tested?” the Princess asked.
“Yes,” Heartsong nodded. “High Commander Tempest wishes to use them for bunker clearance when available, but mostly to scorch perimeters clear of our supply points.”
“We can arrange a demonstration-”
“Unneeded,” the Princess interrupted.
Governor Lily took it gracefully and dipped her head. “As you command.”
The helmet continued to turn, and the griffon caught her jaw flexing as the alicorn chewed on her inner cheek. “How are the units commanded?”
“As before,” Heartsong assured her. “Officers have been chosen by experience or recommendation. Commissars have been appointed directly.”
Grover turned his head to the bright purple uniforms at the front of each tiny herd. Those crystal ponies stood the straightest. Purple is poor camouflage. They will be the first target. He narrowed his eyes in thought. Perhaps their visibility is the point.
“Their duties will differ between the army and the guard, but the role remains the same,” Heartsong explained in a nicker. “They have authority in judicial matters.”
“Such as?” the Princess asked easily.
“As you ordered,” Heartsong echoed. “Matters of prisoners, collaborators, and general orders. All of them have been fully briefed.”
Grover returned to staring at the young crystal mare beaming bright with a snowflake on her purple cap. She was a washed-out gold with sparkling freckles on a still rounded muzzle. She was barely the Princess’ age.
Perhaps younger. A pistol was strapped to her flank above another snowflake. Grover had seen several ponies stitch rough approximations of their cutie marks onto their pants, but the entire plaza was filled with snowflakes as far as one could see.
“Excellent work,” the Princess decreed. One armored hoof raised only marginally off the cobblestones, then set back down. The crystal flank skirt wiggled slightly.
If she had a tail, it would be lashing. Grover caught the Jadis’ eyes tracing his to the Princess’ flank and adjusted to the courtyard. The ground curved just before the double-doors to the palace, under the deep blue arches. Black scorch marks marred the legs, but it did not appear to structurally damage the supports.
This close, Grover could not tilt his head all the way back to see the top of the spire without knocking the Reichstone off his head. The central balcony just above the entrance was wide, but it was made of wooden scaffolding attached to slightly-off color crystal. Another balcony off to the side was partially shattered.
She carved her way through her home.
Grover paused.
Of course she did.
He tried to imagine fighting through the halls of Griffenheim Palace. It had happened during the revolution, then almost again when the barracks revolted from the army reforms. The damage had long been repaired. Grover looked over his wing to the dog standing behind him. Benito was busy swiveling his head around the courtyard at the tiny army.
He made his career being in the right place at the right time to save father. Benito wore the medals on his coat at formal events, but he did not discuss it very much. It was a long time ago. Father was young. It was absurd that he should fight. What more could I have done? Swung a wooden sword?
“Thank you,” the Princess said to some report. Grover snapped his head back down as she moved on, following the two Imperials towards the palace. The ragged little army shifted to form a line with whinnied orders from the gray-uniformed officers. The alicorn slowed to allow them to shape up.
Grover and Benito followed the procession between two single-file lines across the courtyard. He kept his beak still. They do not have the numbers to hold the front.
“Who are we?” one of the crystal-plated soldiers called out.
“We are the Imperial Army.” The thousand-odd soldiers stomped or pounded their chests. The Princess raised her wings and kept them extended; the soldiers she passed dipped their heads.
“Who do we serve?”
“We serve the Princess.” A filly in a slightly oversized white helmet nearly shouted it next to Grover’s head. Her black boots stomped hard into the cobblestones. They reached the arches and the Princess slowed as she walked through the shallow dip in the ground. Grover felt his claws slide underneath his leather gloves.
“…died cradling a colt.” The griffon clacked his beak and his eyes wandered to the scorch marks staining the blue crystal. Benito’s muzzle was set into a frown as he assessed the army.
“Who do we fight?”
“Our enemies are the enemies of the Princess.”
I hope she does not have many of them. They will overwhelm you in sheer numbers. Grover stopped at the stairs to the double-doors. More Imperials pulled them open with a squeal, and the griffon noticed the awkward fit on the hinges. Rebuilt as well.
The Princess of the Crystal Empire turned around in the doorway. She tossed her head back and flexed her wings. The crystals sang with her voice. “My subjects!”
Grover was grateful she did not put the full power in her voice. He only flinched. The little parade stomped three times, but did not cheer.
“It warms my heart to see you,” she began, “and the Empire will stand through all the battles to come. As long as we live, we have not lost!”
The army stomped three more times.
The Princess turned around and disappeared through the doorway without saying anymore. Grover hummed. Perhaps she will say more on the radio. He turned around to see the reaction.
The golden filly was crying, summoning all her strength to remain still. Her lips trembled. At first, Grover judged her expression was one of disappointment, but griffons had to learn to read eyes instead of beaks. Her eyes were sparkling through the tears. The gray officer next to the commissar had the same expression. Most of the crystal ponies looked…
Reverent. Grover spared a look up at Benito, then waved a wing for the dog to follow him inside. He had only toured Bronzehill once, but the dogs lined the streets and howled loud enough to make his ears ring. When his father died, the entire county had shut down in grief. Even that traitor Ignatius nearly collapsed.
The armored ponies shut the doors behind the small group. Grover and Benito stood with the half-dozen crystal guards and the Princess’ inner circle. Colonel Heartsong, Arctic Lily, and Jadis half-circled the alicorn.
The Crystal Throne stood on a solid dais as part of the room. The steps up to it were steep and sharp, even with a purple rug softening the look. There was no softening the edges of the crystal lattices radiating from the seat. Three banners hung above it.
The one to the left was white with the heraldry of a blue kite shield and a purple spark. A Crystal Heart with two gold laurels underneath swayed on a pink banner to the right. The banner just above the throne was a deep purple. A burning Crystal Heart was surrounded by a blue shield and wreathed in flames.
The helmet and horn tilted to regard them. The alicorn’s half-folded wings twitched a few times, rubbing the crystals together with sharp scrapes. Governor Lily’s ears folded beside her flat cap.
“Princess, I understand that you thought it was a waste of cloth-”
“It’s fine,” the Princess interrupted. “They look well done. Thank you.”
The governor nodded in relief.
Grover observed Flurry’s helmet linger on the pink and white banners instead of her own. His hearing was not as good as a pony’s, but the drilling outside resumed as the small army broke apart. The city was not cheering at their Princess’ return.
The factories hummed and the ponies marched along the streets. It was orderly, efficient, and though the shield had raised the temperature, cold. The flagpole outside was a turret of a destroyed panzer, and every soldier they passed wore a gun. The ponies in the factories hammered rockets and rivets.
The helmet swung between the pink and white banners.
This city does not belong to the Princess of Love.
It finally stilled on the purple banner. The pink horn aimed at the flaming Crystal Heart.
It belongs to the Princess of War.
“We’ll do it now,” Flurry declared. “Governor Lily, get on the radio. Give the word.”
“Princess,” Heartsong huffed, “please, wouldn’t you like to rest?”
The windows were tinged pink, but the sky receded. It was nearing dusk. Flurry shook her head and walked away from the throne, moving to a hallway. “The army’s in position. Any longer and the Changelings will realize something is happening.”
The governor and the colonel shared a quick glance, then nodded together. “As you command, Princess,” the communist bowed.
Without looking back, Flurry snapped a wing up. “Rise. Jadis, go with them. Tell me when we’re ready.” She vanished into the hallway. Frosty Jadis stopped mid-limp, then turned away. She stood at the hallway entrance and partially blocked the doorway with her body. Benito folded his arms before her, then shrugged and leaned against the wall.
“Kaiser Grover?” the alicorn’s voice called out. “You can come down if you want. Otherwise, we set aside a room.”
Grover looked over Jadis’ head. The crystal pony glared at his beak and her cheeks purpled. She stepped to the side slowly, dragging her left foreleg along the floor in an exaggerated shuffle. The black boot squeaked on the tile.
Benito pushed himself off the wall with a paw and stepped forward.
“The Princess decreed the Kaiser may pass,” Jadis intoned. Her cold off-blue eyes flicked to the dog. “You are not invited.” Benito’s muzzle pulled back in a snarl and he bared his teeth silently. The graying fur around his shirt collar puffed up.
“Remain,” Grover ordered. “There are no changelings here.”
“I am not worried about changelings,” Benito retorted.
“The Kaiser is the Princess’ honored guest,” Jadis sniffed. “We are duty-bound to show him hospitality and defend him with our lives.” She gestured to two armored guards and waved them forward to take her place.
Benito walked to the other side of the doorway and leaned against the crystal wall. Grover raised his left wing and opened his coat, checking that the pistol was secured. He unclipped the holster as a precaution, then walked down the hallway.
There was a stairwell leading down, below ground to a basement. The walls were lit by glowing crystals humming with magic rather than electric lamps. The brightness was different, closer to candlelight and lanterns than the constant glow.
Flurry Heart did not wait for him, and for a moment Grover feared he would get lost, but the way was obvious. Many of the rooms were packed with boxes and the doors clearly labeled.
Stockpiling rations and ammunition for a potential siege. The Kaiser bumped his assessment of the Crystal Empire’s preparations up. The trainyards had been repaired and connected back to the outposts and mining towns along the Crystal Mountains. The Yaks had even assisted in carving a few new routes to the shield’s borders.
There was another stairway down at a curve. Grover felt wind blow across his feathers. He flexed a wing critically and felt the drift. Connected to the mines? The griffon moved slower until he came across a pair of crystal-plated guards at the base of the stairs. They nodded. Another pair was at a junction armed with submachine guns, then two unicorns in white uniforms beyond them.
The unicorn on the left scanned him and nodded, but did not say anything. Grover felt the crystal guards marginally relax behind him and move their guns away. The wind continued to blow from the doorway in pulses. It was heated. Hot springs under the city? Probably why the location was chosen.
Grover followed the wind down a quiet hallway. There was another staircase and he felt the wind curve as it shifted along the crystal. Most of the doors were closed, except one unassuming door on his right. Lights flickered from inside and shadows danced on the opposite wall. Grover idly peered inside on his way past.
He flinched and stumbled back against the wall. His glasses were knocked askew on his beak, but he was grateful for the blurry vision. A croon bubbled in his chest and his claws twitched.
Mi Amore Cadenza was suspended in a cocoon. The autopsy scars ran red, ragged around her pink fur. Her eyes were closed, but she was far too thin. Her wings were pressed tight against her body, interrupting the scars. Her mane and tail pooled around her.
Grover swallowed spit in his beak. The living twitched in the cocoons from the reports. Mi Amore Cadenza was still. Most only survived a few months. The Hegemony used it as a punishment in punitive extractions.
Thousands of crystals and burning little candles surrounded her body. The floor was once a deep blue crystal, but it was mostly wax around the cocoon. It would have taken thousands of candles.
“Sorry.” The voice echoed from the stairwell. Grover blinked and pushed his glasses back into place. A massive shadow loomed in the stairs, then stepped out. A purple crystal greave clanked on the crystal floor. “I should have warned you.”
Grover exhaled and smoothed out a sleeve. “It is…” he trailed off. “She looks different from the pamphlets.” The Crystal Heart on her flank was stretched tight over bone.
“It’s a small picture.” Hooves clomped along the floor down the hallway. Flurry Heart took up the entire width in her armor, and her horn nearly touched the ceiling. Grover felt the shadow fall on his beak, and the wind blew past the crystals in her feathers with a keening song.
There were a thousand questions to ask. Instead, Grover said, “I am sorry.”
“You didn’t put her in there. She was dead before we ever met.” The helmet swung to the doorway, and the purple crystal swirled in the candles and sparking crystals.
“Crystal ponies burn their dead,” Flurry said softly. “The ash blows in the cold winds, and their souls share their warmth with the living one last time. Dad was a unicorn. He would have been buried.”
“Your father is buried,” Grover answered in a ramble. His voice cracked. “Technically above ground in an off-shoot of the mausoleum, but I was waiting for the submarines to lose their range-”
“Thank you,” Flurry cut him off. Her horn flashed and she pulled her helmet off, setting it down in the room. Her eyes were dry, and she observed the cocoon with an expressionless muzzle.
Grover remained in the hallway.
The Princess’ horn remained glowing and a series of clicks happened on her back. Her wings flexed and the crystals loosened. “My parents weren’t crystal ponies. My mother was born a pegasus. I’m not sure what to do with them.”
“Did they have a will?”
“Sunburst would have known,” Flurry removed the wing armor and placed it in the clearing leading to the cocoon. She paused as she slowly unclipped a hind leg. “Am I supposed to be buried with you?”
Grover looked up and down the empty hallway. He licked the inside of his beak several times. “No, not as a foreign ruler. Your funeral rights are yours.”
“I have a will,” Flurry said with vague amusement. “I didn’t write down what was to be done with my body.” Her voice lost all mirth and she stared back at the cocoon. “I know this is fucked-up. I’m…not…”
“It’s a shrine,” Grover replied. Wind blew through the hallway near constantly at an odd beat. He flexed his wings. “I understand. The bones of particularly holy griffons are said to have the ability to heal. Beckbeak’s bones are in his altar. Some griffons make a pilgrimage.”
“That sounds grisly,” Flurry grimaced. “What he’d do to deserve that?”
“My great grandfather found him annoying.” Grover waved a claw. “It is not a punishment. He was stabbed to death praying before the altar. The Temple of Boreas has some of his wing bones in a reliquary.”
The alicorn’s ears twitched. She pulled the legs of her armor off and started to remove the flank skirt. “If I die before you, make sure I’m burned please. I don’t want my wing bones ending up somewhere.”
“Sure,” Grover agreed with a clack of his beak.
Flurry removed the last of her armor and stood in her jumpsuit. “Where do griffons go when they die? In the sky, right?”
“To the light of Boreas,” Grover responded. “In the sky.”
“The sun?”
“Not exactly. Heaven. Those sworn to Arcturius believe they join him in eternal battle against the darkness of Maar.”
Flurry looked at the cocoon. “Just…light?”
“It’s metaphorical,” Grover shrugged. He swiveled his head up and down the hallway. “The battle belief of Arcturius comes from the old gods before the Archons secured power,” he said in a lower voice. “Much of the old ways were rolled into the Trinity for easier understanding.”
“But they’re happy?” Flurry asked. Her head swung around the candles and she shuffled her bare hooves. The crystal and metal armor sat in a pile.
“Supposedly,” Grover said. He avoided looking into the room with the Princess facing her mother. Her lean flank was nearly in his beak. She turned around and stared down a narrow muzzle at him for a moment with cold, sad eyes.
“You don’t think it’s true.” Her tone made it clear it wasn’t truly a question.
Grover closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. “People can believe things that aren’t true.” The Reichstone shifted atop his head and he bumped it back into place with a wing.
He snapped his eyes open when he felt Flurry’s wing brush against his as she walked past him, towards the wind coming from the stairwell. She did not verbally respond until she began to descend the stairs. “You can come.”
Grover left the room and followed her down. The wind was never truly strong, but the heat intensified. He could time the gusts now, one every second or so. The warmth in them felt like standing close to a fire.
His claws brushed against black fabric at the base of the stairs. Flurry Heart had discarded the jumpsuit. Grover felt his feathers flush just before a powerful gust of wind hit his beak. His glasses fogged from the heat.
He looked up to see the Crystal Heart floating in the center of an elliptical room. It was smaller than he expected, a bright blue, shining carved heart spinning in a circle in defiance of all reasoning. The crystal reflected on the walls, and the surface swirled like flames roiled inside.
The walls sagged slightly, reinforced with metal beams. Scorch marks carved into the floor, ceiling, and walls. The crystal was deformed in some places like molten lava had run across it.
A light pink, foggy blob faced him from several wingspans away. A wing waved.
Grover looked down at the jumpsuit under his gloves and backed up the stairs. He unhooked his glasses as a precaution. “Blessed Boreas.” The straps of the holster pinched a sweaty undershirt. The griffon was suddenly aware the wind felt like standing far, far too close to a bonfire.
Flurry Heart stepped back into the stairwell, completely naked. Her short mane had the beginnings of blue and purple curls, but they wriggled like earthworms atop her head. “I don’t want to melt my armor,” she explained. Her eyes were slightly mischievous. “You afraid to look?”
“I have no interest in looking,” Grover answered. “Why is it in the basement?”
“The Changelings had it down here,” Flurry tapped a hoof on the bottom stair. “And, uh, do you want to try and move it?” Wind blasted across her feathers. “It used to be outside. In all honesty, this is safer for it and everyone else.”
Magic wind. Grover frowned at himself. It is thaumatic resonance from the artifact, he corrected in his head. “Was it like this before?”
“No.”
Grover removed the Reichstone and set it down on the step beside him. He shifted onto his haunches to stare down at her. Flurry Heart leaned against the doorway to the stare back. She had to look up, and her horn tilted back.
A glove ran through his head feathers, gliding through sweat. He took a breath of charged air. “This almost killed you.”
“It did kill me,” Flurry corrected. “They said it would.”
“Sombra and Amore,” Grover recalled. “You believe the Crystal Heart is a weapon.”
The alicorn shrugged a wing slowly, and the wind ruffled her feathers. “What’s a shield but a weapon that protects?” She licked her lips. “It is a weapon.”
Grover observed her short, light pink fur. She seemed unbothered by the wind. “What does it feel like to you?”
“A nice hug,” Flurry answered. She raised an eyebrow. “You’re sweating.”
Grover flicked more sweat off his wings and rubbed the feathers across his coat. “Yes.” He raised his beak to the ceiling. “Do you…” he paused for a long moment.
Flurry cleared her throat with a ringing giggle.
“Do you know what you are doing?” Grover finished.
“No,” the alicorn answered easily. “I am fully trusting my alicorn intuition.”
“That is not a thing.”
“Says the griffon,” Flurry laughed. It echoed around the room and chased the wind. Afterwards, she confessed, “I need to do it now before I lose my nerve.”
Poke around the ancient artifact and hope it does not explode. “You are hoping to roll a natural twenty after rolling a natural one,” Grover deadpanned.
The alicorn made a noise in the back of her throat. “What?”
Grover frowned down at her and lashed his tail. “Ogres and Oubliettes. Your father played it.”
“Is that the boring nerd game?” Flurry asked bluntly. “Spike showed it to me once. Too many spreadsheets.”
“It is not boring and you lack imagination,” Grover scoffed. “It is engaging.”
“I thought you needed friends to play it,” Flurry snorted back. She caught herself and her eyes widened. “Shit. I’m sorry, that was too mean-”
“Fuck off,” Grover waved a claw. “I read the guidebooks. There was a controversy over the depiction of Maar and Eros considered banning them. I would have to order griffons or dogs to play with me.” His eyes flicked to the wall. “They would surely lie about their rolls.”
“I’d offer to play with you but I would cheat. Is alicorn a class?”
“A race,” Grover responded. He regarded her with lidded eyes. “No. It is overpowered.”
Flurry squinted in thought. “Which class lies to everyone?”
“A rogue?” Grover suggested.
“No, the fun kind of lies, not the stabby kind.”
“A bard,” the griffon said with amusement.
“I’d play a changeling bard,” the alicorn declared. “Sounds fun. What about you? Paladin of Boreas?”
“Cleric,” Grover answered. He clacked his beak. “That’s the-”
“Healing,” Flurry groaned. “Oh, that’s more boring than a paladin. You gonna stand in the back and pray extra hard?”
Grover’s wings jittered and he squinted at her in suspicion. “You know a lot about a ‘boring nerd game.’ Were the spreadsheets boring, or did you get intimidated by math?”
Flurry stuck her tongue out and refused to answer.
“It can teach strategy and tactics,” Grover huffed. His voice cracked. “It does not surprise me that your father was a talented party leader in his youth.”
“Hey, can you not?” Flurry pitched her voice higher and sweeter. “Not every filly wants to marry their father. I’m only part unicorn.”
Grover’s retort strangled itself in his throat. He wheezed with a cut-off squawk. The griffon leaned back on the stairs awkwardly.
The alicorn gave him an unimpressed look. “I can use all the jokes and slurs.” Her stare turned wry. “I did grow up in a ghetto, after all.”
Hooves echoed down the stairwell, followed by deeper thuds of boots. Frosty Jadis appeared first with her limp. Her eyes swept past Grover to the naked Princess below him in the stairwell. Her voice remained ice. “Has the griffon offended you, Princess?”
Benito stepped down with a paw on his sheathed sword. The dog looked to Grover, then the naked alicorn, then back to Grover. His jowls twitched and ears pitched forward. “My Kaiser?” he asked in a neutral tone.
“We’re fine,” Flurry said.
“We are fine,” Grover said at the same time.
Jadis glanced up at the dog. “I dislike this arrangement.”
“I like it no more than you,” Benito commented.
The crystal pony nodded. “We are now friends.”
Flurry rolled her eyes. “Are we ready?”
“The city is braced, Princess,” Jadis nodded. “Should it please the Princess, could you attach yourself to the chain?”
Flurry frowned and stepped back into the room. Grover followed her to give Benito and Frosty Jadis room to enter. He nudged the Reichstone to the side, and the dog carried it into the room. The griffon turned to the left and suppressed a laugh.
A large metal chain was bolted into the wall with a harness at the end. It looked like a chainmail coat cut for a tall pony. Flurry frowned at it and levitated it up to her body. The chain links clinked on the crystal floor.
She dropped it after sizing it up. “It does not please the Princess,” she said formally.
“We must insist,” Jadis countered.
“If this goes wrong, this isn’t going to help.” Flurry raised a wing and counted down on her feathers. “One: this is going to melt. Two: you’ll scorch your hooves off trying to reel me in. Three: nopony’s strong enough, not even Spike.”
Jadis unslung her rifle. Her ears pinned and disappeared into her white mane. “Please, Princess,” she pleaded. She was here the first time. She watched her die. Grover looked between them. Flurry smiled down at her crystal pony and trotted closer. The alicorn enveloped her in a hug with her wings.
“I’ll be fine,” Flurry pulled away. “Grover and I talked it over. I know what I’m doing.”
Grover felt Benito’s stare on the back of his neck. “We should back up into the stairwell,” he announced. He heard the dog move up the stairs slowly and walked backwards himself.
Jadis chambered her rifle and laid in the bottom of the doorway. She shuffled back after a moment and aimed into the room. Grover slid a claw to the pistol before realizing the mare was preemptively lining up a shot at the Princess’ legs.
“That is not necessary,” he said in Equestrian.
The crystal mare flicked her ears. “I do not take orders from you. I waited too long last time. I will take the shot, and your dog will assist in carrying her to the medical staff in the hallway above.”
The Kaiser looked over a wing to Benito. The dog nodded in confirmation. “There is a team waiting.”
Blessed Boreas. The wind crested around Grover’s beak. He lowered himself in the stairwell to see through the doorway. The pink blur stood below the Crystal Heart. There was a golden glow above her. Grover hooked his glasses back on.
Flurry Heart closed her eyes and stood motionless underneath the Crystal Heart. The wind continued to pulse up the stairwell, and Benito tugged off his gloves and wiped sweaty paws on his pants. Grover pulled his own gloves off and stuffed them in his jacket.
After another minute, the griffon weaved his wings out of it and shrugged it off. The long black coat fell to the floor. The interior lining was sweaty. Grover had dark stains under his wings from the residual heat.
Flurry remained standing under the Crystal Heart. It spun above her.
Nothing happened for several minutes.
Maybe we should call out? Grover thought back. She said she could get lost in the memory. Or…Maar damn it, she barely explained how it worked. His wings pressed against his sides. Magic can be studied. There are schools dedicated to it in Yale. I should-
The wind shifted. Grover lost his train of thought and tensed. Benito and Jadis remained breathing steadily. The dog wiped sweat off his whiskers. “Did you feel it?” Grover whispered back to him.
“Feel what, my Kaiser?” Benito asked. “The heat?”
Grover spaced out his feathers on his right wing and felt the air current when it rushed past. Something prickled between his feathers. He looked to the alicorn underneath the Crystal Heart. She had not moved and her horn continued to glow gold.
The wind blew past again and Grover pressed two primary feathers tight as it gusted through. There was a sharp, burning sting and he grit his beak. He opened his wing up and watched a blue spark vanish before it hit the steps below.
Benito saw him tense. “My Kaiser?”
Grover did not respond. He stared into the room and a blue spark followed the wind into the lens of his glasses. It pressed up right against his left eye, and Grover saw it magnified for one heartbeat before it faded with a tiny pop.
It is not a spark.
A hum built in the air.
It is a snowflake.
Below him, the crystal pony braced her forelegs and leaned down the sight.
The room erupted into light with a roar of fire. Magical chimes tolled and echoed along the walls. Grover was forced to look away and saw the image of a flaming Crystal Heart seared into his eyelids while he blinked. Benito stumbled back up the steps.
Grover whipped his head back. Frosty Jadis had closed her eyes, but forced them open and kept aiming. The rifle barrel moved upwards. He did not understand until he squinted into the room.
Flurry Heart was floating, slowly drifting up to the Crystal Heart. Her wings were extended, but they did not flap. Her eyes remained closed. It was hard to tell; the golden light around her horn burned so bright it appeared white.
A skilled unicorn could levitate themselves for brief periods. An alicorn certainly could. But there was no magical shine around her entire body. She simply floated up to the Crystal Heart.
Its rotations slowed, now visibly roiling with fire. Sparks erupted with every burst of wind that slammed through the hallway. The alicorn began to slowly circle it in synchronization. A beam of white fire erupted from the Heart and connected to Flurry’s horn. She floated placidly, and Grover was seized with the visual of her mother in the cocoon.
Jadis swore and lifted the rifle. The barrel tracked the alicorn and her hoof tensed. Grover leaned over her and stuck his head into the room. He looked to the left.
The coiled chain remained on the wall. The wind rattled the links, but it remained intact. The room was swelteringly hot, but not melting. He slammed a claw down on the rifle’s barrel and shouted down into her ears. “No!”
Grover squawked in pain as something wrapped itself around his tail. Benito snarled and pulled him back from the doorway. The griffon reflexively flapped his wings and yanked the rifle out of the pony’s hooves as he fell back.
Benito grabbed Grover’s belt and held him in place, hauling him back up the stairs. “Give her the rifle!” he barked in Herzlander. “We’re leaving!”
Jadis turned around with a snarl and reached for the gun. Grover batted her hooves away. “Trust her!” he shouted in Herzlander. “Benito, let go!” Benito ignored him and hauled him up another step. Grover kicked at him with his hind paws and snapped his wings back, but the dog continued to struggle upwards. Jadis whinnied and reared up.
Grover had the time to make eye contact with a furious crystal pony before she slammed his head into the side of the stairwell. His beak bounced off the crystal and his glasses fell to the side. Jadis yanked the rifle into her hooves and stumbled. She fell with a neigh and rolled back to the base of the stairs. The mare flopped over onto her stomach and tried to line up another shot.
Benito released Grover in surprise. He still kept one paw on the Reichstone, so the dog fumbled the grab when Grover glided downwards and tackled the crystal pony into the room. The rifle skittered away and spun to a stop under the Heart.
The room was oppressively hot and the gusts of magic burst across the two of them. Jadis kicked at Grover’s knees with whinnies, and he wrapped two claws around her muzzle. The griffon straddled her back and snarled into the air, tasting fire and hope and love. Stop.
Benito dropped the Reichstone with a thud in the stairwell and wrapped his arms around Grover’s neck. The griffon slapped at him with wings strikes and tried to shove his primaries in his eyes. The dog tried to haul him off and back into the stairwell. Grover screeched in pain as a hoof connected with his knee.
The room burst into light and the wind carried them all into the stairwell. Grover flared his wings just before impact and was knocked upwards. Benito tumbled to the base of the stairs with a yelp. The crystal pony slid across the floor and collided into him with hooves and paws everywhere.
Grover sank his talons into the crystal of the doorframe. He was upside down, pressed into the roof of the stairwell by the spread of his wings. The wind kept him there. Fire roared in his ears and the heat scorched his beak. He squinted into the light and wrenched a claw free to shield his eyes.
Flurry Heart was engulfed in white flames from horn tip to tail. She continued to rotate around the Crystal Heart. The wind whipped around the room, but the flames did not move with the gusts. The lash of fire connecting her horn to the Crystal Heart ebbed and pulsed. There was a flash around his talons and Grover reflexively shut his eyes.
When he opened them, he stared through his talon at the alicorn. Grover turned his claw over. It glittered in the light of the fire, and his beak reflected the flames from the Crystal Heart.
The Crystallization is well-documented, the rational part of his brain reminded him.
The bird part screamed, You are now made of shiny crystal and you agreed to marry that.
Grover looked up at that.
The flames receded from the alicorn, white fire sucking into a vortex at the tip of her horn. A long, flowing trail of fire with separate streaks of purple and blue coiled and roiled from her flanks. When the fire vanished from her head and into the tip of her horn, a matching mane and tail flowed out. They whirled around her like tongues of purple and blue fire.
The blue Crystal Heart on her flank sparkled, and the shimmer radiated out from there. Her body reflected the pulsing magic of the Crystal Heart, and a blue spark inside her barrel flashed in time with the gusts of wind. The Crystal Heart began to spin faster and the alicorn slowed.
It matched her heartbeat. Grover watched the pony’s mane and tail separate and flicker together; blue and purple weaving calmly in defiance of the wind. A beam of white fire shot out of the Crystal Heart and slammed through the roof, bursting through a patch of discolored crystal. The beam rang like a windchime in a storm, and the sound echoed.
The beam continued for three dozen heartbeats before the fire retracted into the Crystal Heart. The rotations slowed. It hummed and the sound resonated through the room. The wind faded. Now longer pressed to the ceiling, Grover tumbled to the floor with a pained squawk, landing atop Benito and Jadis. All three moaned.
Flurry Heart slowly lowered to the floor, still with wings outstretched. Grover squinted, half-blind by the light and nearsighted. Her barrel flashed with a faint blue spark in time with the wind. If he wasn’t looking for it, it would resemble all the other glitters across her body. Her fur was tinged pink, and the purple and blue coils settled into swirls in her mane and tail. Her mane framed a narrow muzzle, and the swirls of her tail brushed the floor behind long, lean legs.
Wings flexed and caught the light from the Crystal Heart. They shone a deeper pink at the primary feathers and the shine raced from wingtip to wingtip like a wave. Her horn sparkled at the tip like a lighthouse beacon. Flurry opened her glacial blue eyes.
The most beautiful pony Grover had even seen frowned and looked impossibly melancholy for a moment. Her eyes turned down to him, laying paws and claws upwards atop a dog and crystal pony. He cocked his beak out of the way and peered upside down at her.
“What the fuck happened to you?” Flurry asked in her mash of accents. Her high-pitched voice remained the same. “Sound off.” She switched to Herzlander. “Who’s dead?”
“Princess,” Jadis coughed from under the pile.
“My…” Benito wheezed. “My Kaiser…”
Grover rolled off him and landed on all fours. His talons clacked on the ground. He flinched and tapped them again, listening to the clink of crystal on crystal.
Benito extracted himself and steadied Jadis. The crystal pony glittered bright above her white uniform, light blue fur sparking in the light. Her short-cut mane had evolved into a fancy bun around both ears.
Grover’s eyes widened at Benito.
Benito’s eyes widened at Grover and he howled, “My Kaiser!?”
You truly are a diamond dog, Benito. His fur sparkled. He raised two paws in horror at Grover, then at his own paws, then grabbed his muzzle. Grover spotted the long white scar on his right paw flash in the light.
“It’s just aesthetic,” Flurry whickered. “You’re still fur and flesh.”
Grover rubbed his claws together. They did not feel any different or stiffer, but the sound when he tapped two talons together was distinctly more crystal than claw. He slapped his beak and it sounded like a pathetic gong.
“Turn us back, you witch!” Benito snarled. Spittle flew from his muzzle. He took a deep breath and braced his paws on his knees. “Turn…” he panted. “Oh Gods.”
Grover walked over and guided the dog to sitting against the wall. “Deep breaths.”
Flurry levitated the rifle over to Frosty Jadis. “You shot the Crystal Heart last time, you know.” The Princess took a step and stumbled on a rear hoof, tangled in her tail. She clicked her tongue and extracted her leg.
Jadis accepted the rifle and inspected it. “The Kaiser interfered this time.”
“How long does this last?” Grover asked. He inspected his darker arms and the brighter colors of his tan feathers and fur. The brown bob of his tail clinked on the floor.
Benito’s breathing slowed and he glared at his paws with shining eyes. He stuffed them in his jacket and retrieved his gloves, tugging them over his paws. He felt the fur atop his head afterwards and frowned.
“I think it grew out,” Grover assessed.
“I haven’t worn a mullet since I joined,” Benito snarled in Herzlander. “No wonder we do not like magic.” He pushed himself up the wall, leaning an arm on it heavily. “Can this even be cut?”
“Of course,” Jadis snorted. “The effect is permanent on us. Do you think we go to a sculptor to change our manestyles?”
“Check your heartrate with the medical team,” Grover ordered the dog. “Go lie down.”
Benito gave Grover a sour look at the phrasing of the order.
“Jadis, your limp looks worse,” Flurry said. “Go with him.”
“Princess,” the crystal pony whimpered, “the team is here for you.”
Flurry flapped her wings and lit her horn. She jogged in place for a moment, and her hooves sounded like bells on the floor. The alicorn literally flashed a grin. “I’m fine.”
Benito started, “My Kaiser…”
“I am fine,” Grover said to him. He pushed the dog to the stairs. Benito and Jadis ascended together, moving slowly and stiffly. Both began to mutter in the stairwell, unaware their voices carried back down due to the faint wind pulsing through the room.
“I need a drink.”
“As do I.”
Grover looked at Flurry and blushed. His head feathers flexed. The alicorn continued to kick her hind legs idly at her tail and paced, trying to adjust how she walked.
“I never wore my tail this long,” she complained. “Burned it off last time. Guess it owed me interest.” Her horn glowed and she trotted to the wall, trying to see her reflection in the crystal. “Never let my mane grow out this long either.”
Grover’s beak was dry. “Would,” he swallowed, “would you like your jumpsuit?” He fumbled for it and found his glasses underneath. One lens was cracked. He hooked them back into his feathers regardless.
“Doesn’t have a tail-hole,” Flurry responded. She shook her tail for emphasis. “This thing is going to be a pain in the ass, pun intended.” The alicorn finally turned around and looked at Grover.
A dark pink ripple ran across her muzzle and trailed into sparkles. She glanced to the side. “I, uh, figured you would know it would crystalize you when you asked to come.”
“Better than being turned to ash,” Grover responded awkwardly. He closed one eye and looked at the two Flurries in his cracked lens. Shit. This is my only pair.
Flurry noticed. “I can fix that.”
Grover unhooked the glasses and walked forward on clinking claws. He offered them to her. The alicorn bit her lip and her horn glowed again. She plucked the frames from his claw and held them up to her muzzle, focusing on the crack.
The griffon watched the blue spark in her chest flash slightly quicker. Air gusted across his feathers with the sound of windchimes. The shattered lens healed and Flurry exhaled.
“It’s important to teach your harbinger of the apocalypse repair spells,” Flurry jested. “Saves on glassware.”
The glasses floated back. Grover plucked them out of her cold magic and settled them back on his beak. He squinted slightly. “This is temporary, right?”
“It usually is,” Flurry clarified. “Should wear off in a week or so.”
“Is there a spell to remove it?”
“It doesn’t work on the dead.”
Despite his feathers seemingly made of crystal, Grover was still sweating in the room. He backed into the stairwell. He waved a claw in front of his beak, seeing Flurry through it. The image was blurry and fading away. “If we eat food-”
“Don’t start asking those questions,” Flurry nickered. “It’s magic.” She gathered her jumpsuit and folded it under a wing. Her muzzle flashed. “Oh.”
Grover followed her stare. The Reichstone had fallen on its side during the scuffle. The gold gleamed in the light and the gemstones sparkled. The griffon walked over to it and hauled it up, turning it over in his claws. It wasn’t damaged.
In fact, it looked better in every conceivable way. Grover looked down at her and unclenched his beak. The Princess scuffed a hoof on the floor and it chimed. “Sorry.”
Grover said the thought aloud. “It’s finally magic.” He laughed to himself and tapped a talon to one of the emeralds. “Shame it will wear off.”
“Sorry,” Flurry apologized again.
“For what?” Grover chuckled. He watched another darker pink stripe flash across her narrow muzzle. His laughter faded. “Did you see anything? Your crystal pony was planning on shooting you.”
“I know,” Flurry shrugged. Her eyes lingered on the stairs. “No, I didn’t see anything. I thought I’d see her again.”
“Amore?” Grover laughed a final time. He saw his beak glitter beneath his glasses. “You could rub it in her muzzle. You know, if she said she ‘bore no foals’ that does not strictly mean you are not related.”
The alicorn's smile flashed faintly. “Yeah. Would’ve liked to call her out.” She jerked her horn up the stairs. “Let’s see if I did this right.”
Grover held up his claw on the balcony, squinting upwards into the sunlight.
He could no longer see through it. It was still a dark grayish-brown crystal, but it actually blocked the noonday sun filtering through the pink shield. Grover lowered his claw to the railing and swept his head east to west. The edges of the circular dome were visible long before the horizon, and dark clouds gathered to the southwest. A crystal talon tapped on the shattered crystal railing. It sounded like two spoons dinging together.
The last of the Imperial delegation left behind him, and he screwed his tail in a counter-clockwise motion. The bob clinked on the balcony floor. “Dismissed.”
There was a shuffling of boots and paws as the dogs followed the ponies. None of the Bronzehill engineers dealt with truly becoming ‘diamond dogs’ that well, but they pushed through at Grover’s lack of reaction. The surveying and mapping continued along the rail lines.
And the Crystal City continued as it had done the days before. On the balcony, Grover could see the smoke from the outer factories and trucks moving in convoys from the mines. Ponies walked along the sides of cobblestone streets in rigid squares. The Imperial Army had left the city to the guards, and the citizens marched to work.
If they wanted to overthrow her, they could. The Reichsarmee had always maintained a presence in the palace and capital, complemented with knightly orders sworn to the Temple of Boreas. Therefore, they were also sworn to defend the bloodline of Grover the Great. The guards in the Crystal City were watching for infiltrators, not the citizens themselves.
A train left the westward station with a few overloaded flat cars trailing behind it. Grover had to squint, but the tubes of rocket artillery were clearly visible on dozens of trucks. The engine chugged along with a whistle before it hit the shield wall, gaining speed beyond the pink bubble.
The shield no longer prevented weapons from passing through. It was double the size now than under the reign of Princess Cadance, and high up enough that clouds gathered in the interior. A few pairs of griffons or pegasi pushed clouds over the flat farmland beyond the train station. Dots tilled the land underneath them.
Beyond the wall, the tundra remained ice and snow. The tracks would need habitual clearing, and the engineers had already drafted a snowplow to smash through obstacles. Several more lines were going to connect to Nova Griffonia and Stalliongrad.
Severyana and the Imperial Coast. The Princess switched between the names depending on who she was currently speaking with. She also switches between ‘everyone’ and ‘everypony.’ Most did not bother. All the proper paperwork used the new names, and so would the Griffonian Reich. It did not truly matter where the Empire ended and Equestria began for now, but after the war…
Grover watched a city churn in absolute obedience to one monarch. To her Imperial subjects, Princess Twilight Sparkle was the Miracle of the North’s beloved aunt. The Lord Regent Spike Sparkle was Sir Spike, the Brave and Glorious. The Crystal Empire was just one city supported by mines and oil fields, but the city was growing as he watched.
“It’s a good view, isn’t it?” a high-pitched voice offered sweetly in Herzlander.
“Yes,” Grover looked back as he spoke. “Nearly as good as my palace-”
The griffon snapped his head back to the expanse and felt his feathers flex under the Reichstone. He was acutely aware a ripple probably ran through the crystal. The ringing giggle indicated he was correct in that assumption.
“Blessed Boreas,” he exhaled into the air. “Stop that.”
“It’s an intimidation tactic and it works,” the Princess returned teasingly. “What? Did the Trinity spit you out from the sky fully clothed?”
“We were given the sense to wear clothes,” Grover scoffed. He pushed himself back from the railing and turned around with closed wings. He tugged his gloves on dismissively. Despite the warm springtime air inside the shield, he continued to wear gloves and a black overcoat over a dress shirt and sash. His undershirt was soaked at the end of every day, but he looked the part of the Kaiser.
Princess Flurry Heart was naked except a crown, as she had been for the past three days. The jeweled, purple crystal band threatened to disappear into the swirls of her mane that ran to her wing muscles. The alicorn sprawled across one of the desks, seemingly tracing her hoof over a map of Equus. Her long, lean legs stretched out below a taut barrel hidden by oversized wings. One wing listlessly swung off the side of the table, tapping a pencil along the floor pinched between two primary feathers.
A ripple ran red through her pink muzzle, flashing into sparkles below her eyes when she waggled her eyebrows at the Kaiser. She currently broke every decency law in Griffenheim Palace. Grover snapped his eyes away before reaching her cutie marks. She may be able to contest her wings are a natural form of dress.
“I am only doing it because it works,” Flurry commented. “It’s adorable watching all your grizzled dogs turn into puppies.” She flicked her purple and blue tail but kept it mercifully at her flanks. “You know, Celestia attended most of her diplomatic meetings naked.”
Grover let a growl escape and shook his head. He stalked over to the table and waved her back with a claw, standing opposite the crystalized alicorn. Flurry shuffled away and put all four hooves on the floor with a chime.
“The war plan,” the griffon prompted. “We caught them by surprise.” He stared down at the map and took her place, tracing a talon along the rail lines to the northwestern mountain range within the Hegemony’s territory.
“Heartsong and Yona are confident our mountaineers can push up and hold,” Flurry said. “The southern front along the old shield wall will need to be relieved.” A wing extended and the feathers moved under his talon, tracing along the map with a sheen. Her primaries were more purple than pink.
“Ignatius is already moving.” He moved his talon past the feathers and jabbed at the revised frontline. “The Hegemony and the Reich have to reorganize, but we have the advantage. One push through western Equestria to the border under a bolstered Army Group Center.”
The feathers bent and moved upwards, poking at the various black teardrops on the map. “With my oil fields.” The wing lifted and a shadow passed over Grover’s beak. The glowing crystal lights on the ceiling cast a burst of rainbows as they filtered through the feathers.
“And here,” Flurry added with a poke on the Equestrian south. “Governor Rockfeller and Governor Lily are briefed. We ship to the refineries in the Crystal City, Stalliongrad, and Hollow Shades, then to the army.”
Grover moved his talon under hers to Las Pegasus and the scattering of metal figures gathered on the port. “The dragons hit Olenia first with Queen Velvet’s forces. She claims there will be an uprising. The trailblazers follow.”
“She’s part of the first wave?” Flurry poked at a crystal deer on the table. More were scattered across Olenia in rough estimations of garrisons and resistance fighters. The quartz-white deer outnumbered the black, but barely.
“Dragon Lord Ember and Queen Velvet are landing in Hjortland with the support of the New Mareland divisions,” Grover reminded her.
“You don’t feel bad all the mares are doing the work while you sit at a desk and look at maps?” Flurry asked with a lilt, and Grover did not need to look up to know her grin was glittering.
“No,” he said placidly. “That is why griffons are patriarchal. It is the natural order of things.”
“Dick.” The feathers slapped his glove. “I’m not making you a sandwich.”
“I have seen your eating habits. Whatever you would make would be inedible.”
“Maybe I would actually be trying to kill you. Henrik’s still the real Grover anyway.” There was a mutual clearing of throats at the door. The alicorn and the griffon looked over in unison.
Benito’s muzzle was dark, and Frosty Jadis looked equally unimpressed. They stood on opposite sides of the hallway door, and a paw and hoof tapped on the floor. Grover tapped his glasses back up his beak with a casual claw.
“There’s no one outside,” Flurry said in Equestrian. She tossed her head back. “Lighten up, Jadis. No one’s going to overhear me thrashing nerdbird.”
The crystal pony frowned harder, and her blue muzzle brightened. Sparkles ran through her white mane. “I have now ‘lightened up,’ Princess.” She stared flatly across the room.
Benito regarded her with a scrunched muzzle. “That is an interesting trick.”
“It takes practice.”
The alicorn rolled icy eyes. “I finally brought a colt to my room. Can’t you just be proud of me?”
Grover blinked and looked around the office. Desks piled with reports and papers ran the length of the walls, and the chairs occupied by the command staff had been abandoned and scattered. He tried to imagine the dimensions of the room, then placed it mentally in his map of the palace. “This was your bedroom?”
“Changelings turned it into an office,” Flurry deadpanned. “I sleep in my parent’s bedroom.” Her muzzle quirked. “Shit, that sounds weird.”
“I sleep in the same room my father died in,” Grover offered.
The alicorn’s eyes literally flashed and it brightened the purple and blue swirls of her mane. “Fuck. What’s that like?”
“Different mattress and sheets. Same bedframe.”
“Cloud mattress?”
Grover gave her a hooded look. Obviously, yes. He made a show of extending his wings and listening to the crystalized feathers pop into place.
Flurry loosed a low chuckle. “Crystal bedframes. Is the Kaiser too uncomfortable?”
“I can bear it another night,” Grover said flippantly. He waved a claw back to the map. “Any longer and I am stealing a cloud to sleep on.”
Benito growled and his tail thudded into the wall with a clink. “No, my Kaiser.”
Grover allowed himself a slight laugh. His voice cracked, and this time he did notice a dark ripple across his beak. He clacked it shut.
Flurry bit her lower lip. “My accent sounds like shit.”
Grover sniffed and looked own at the map. He leaned on the table with both arms and swept an intense stare over the lines of little metal tanks facing small changelings. “Dragon Lord Ember has orders to burn the oil fields in Olenia. We starve them out.”
Flurry nodded after a moment.
“Do you believe she will follow that order?”
“Velvet will probably try to talk her out of it,” Flurry assessed with a hum. “Until dragons die. They’ll burn it to the ground.”
That was my assessment. The griffon finally looked to the largest figurine on the table. A purple crystal alicorn in heavy armor stood above all the knights and changelings, almost large enough to be an actual toy. It had stood off to the side and kept one of the corners flat.
“My armorer made that,” Flurry shrugged a wing. “Said the one you brought was too small.”
“I doubt he ever saw the one we made,” Grover scoffed.
“Nope. Still thought it was too small.”
Grover ground his beak together. “We need to make as much progress as possible for the coming months. We push them to their original borders, then close on the peninsula.” He drummed his claws along the map edge.
The Changeling Lands in northwest Equus had precious little geographical information. It was a scattering of massive Hives and frozen marsh or forbidden forests. Maar’s Hell for tanks. Taking western Equestria, the Empire, and Olenia backed them against a wide front. If we can link all the frontlines before winter we can drive them to the western coast.
It would be grueling. Grover swung his head to the airfields. His bombers had so far been restricted to close air support along the frontlines while fighters bled the Hegemony’s Luftwaffe. Invading a race of shapeshifters that can turn into rocks. No wonder none tried before.
Olenia had skirmished with them for centuries, long enough for myths and fables of changelings replacing fawns in the crib with their own disguised young to feed on the love of unsuspecting parents. The truth was doubtlessly more practical and crueler; they raided a town, kidnapped the deer, then sucked all they could out of them. His left wing tightened against the pistol.
“Western airfields and we bomb them every step of the way,” Grover planned aloud.
“Thorax will be King of the Changelings,” Flurry returned.
“Do you expect them to surrender?” Grover peered up at her over the rims of his glasses. “This war is the Second Grand Crusade. There can be no negotiations. Chrysalis dies.”
“She will never surrender to us,” Flurry whickered. “She dies with her lies. You will support Thorax officially. Velvet will try to fight it.”
“Just so,” Grover agreed. “Do you plan on making another radio announcement?”
Flurry looked to Jadis. The crystal pony shrugged. “Sure,” the alicorn said. “I’ll just repeat what I said yesterday. Do you want a mention this time?”
“Keep it to fire and blood.” Grover reached over and grabbed the little armored alicorn with a full claw. He set it in the mountains to the west. “Good luck, Princess of Ponies.”
Flurry stared down at it and her muzzle glittered a darker pink before she frowned. Her wings flapped restlessly against her sides. “Is that where you think I should be?”
Grover kept his claw on the alicorn. He cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
“I can fire lasers through mountains,” the alicorn shrugged a wing, “but we have rockets now. I don’t know how useful I’ll be up there.”
“We shall be happy to have you wherever you stand,” Jadis nickered. “Including this palace.” The dog nodded beside her after a moment of hesitation.
Flurry Heart stepped away from the table. Her horn glowed gold and the dozens of chairs moved around the room, sliding across the smooth floor to their desks. She made the spell look effortless, and it probably was for her. The pink horn sparkled at the tip, then dimmed. Grover watched the spark flicker down the length of her horn to the base.
When he squinted, he still saw the blue flash in her barrel every heartbeat. He had not said anything about it openly over the past few days, and the griffon had a suspicion she already knew. He picked up the figure and held it upright in his palm.
“I need to fight.” The alicorn paced along the exterior tables. “I’ll hit the hardest where the fighting is thickest; that’s going to be in western Equestria.”
“Tall Tale to Vanhoover,” Grover said. “Our armored cores will face each other on the plains, and the urban combat will be intense.”
Jadis shook her head. “Princess-”
“Which one?” Flurry interrupted. “I am the Princess of the Crystal Empire and Equestria. The Empire is mine. I own the whole territory. Equestria is still under the Changelings. I have to fight for it.”
Grover looked over a wing to the city beyond the broken balcony. “You could remain in Canterlot with the Lord Regent.”
“Are you?” Flurry asked. “Are you going back to Griffenheim?”
“No,” Grover squawked. He caught his tone and sighed. “I will remain in Canterlot until the frontline advances further. I will follow it.”
“My Kaiser!” Benito snarled.
“I cannot leave the continent!” Grover snapped back with a gnashing beak. “Not while a stripling dragon and a crippled doe fight with my army!” His claw shook the alicorn figurine at the dog. “Certainly not with her in the field!”
There was a clink of hooves to his left. Grover shut his eyes and placed the alicorn back down on the map. “I misspoke.”
“Is that still a problem?” Flurry asked in Aquileian. Her voice was soft.
“I am far more worried about the River Federation than my reputation,” Grover stated shortly in the same language. “They have increased their border exercises. I need this war won quickly.”
Grover heard the hum of a spell and he opened his eyes. A golden bubble shield surrounded the table, and he had a split-second to see Benito open his muzzle to shout before the shield flashed and turned opaque. Flurry Heart stood across from the table with drooping wings.
“If this is going to cause tension post-war,” the alicorn sighed, “I’ll stop fighting.”
“You are an alicorn,” Grover scoffed with a hard clack. “It does not matter what you do, only what you can do.”
“Well, I can’t cast love spells,” Flurry replied. “That was my mother’s thing. Even then, it didn’t work the way Benito thinks it did.”
Grover tapped the alicorn figure with a glove. “It does not matter. I am not here because you seduced me.”
“Of course you aren’t. I’m fucking ugly,” Flurry laughed.
Grover would have let it go as her crass humor, except her muzzle did not glitter or ripple despite the gaiety in her tone. It remained flushed with a dark pink. That was not a joke.
“You’re…” Grover’s cheeks pulled into a frown. Beautiful. “You are not ugly.”
Flurry lifted her wings and touched the edges of the fairly large bubble shield with her wingtips. She rolled her eyes and smirked. “There is such a thing as too much wing.” She waved her scarred leg and gestured to her barrel. “I’m wings attached to legs, remember?”
“That is not what I meant.”
“It’s true,” Flurry dismissed. “I shovel food into my mouth, and I’m still a stick. My mother was the Princess of Love. Stallions were compelled to turn their heads in her direction.” She leered at the ceiling. “Both of them, I’m sure.”
Grover stared at the lean muscle rippling through her foreleg. “You have the body of a sprinter,” he offered.
“Nopony calls Rainbow Dash attractive,” Flurry snorted. She smacked her lips. “My muzzle’s too narrow. Mom and Aunt Twilight had good, rounded-”
Say it. “You are beautiful.” Grover felt his feathers flush along his head and both his wings. “For a pony,” he amended. Coward.
“Hooves are a deal breaker,” Flurry wiggled her hoof on the table and set it down on the floor. “Compliments from you don’t count.”
Grover removed the Reichstone and set it down atop the table. He ran a glove through his head feathers. “You…” his eyes drifted to the map. “Ride with the tanks through the plains. Fight with the knights. The Reichsarmee owes you after the Celestial Plain. And you will inspire your army regardless.”
“If it’s too much on an issue-”
“I do not give a damn about it,” Grover purred. He felt the vibration deep in his chest. “Let them call me a coward at the war table.” The griffon nudged the figurine into the center of the map. “Fight for your people like you wrote once before.”
Flurry nodded slowly, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “Okay,” she said softly.
“What do you think of the plan?”
“Seriously?” Flurry whickered. “I’m an idiot. It seems fine, but you’re better off asking Rainbow Dash.”
“You asked her about the storm dispersals,” Grover pointed out.
“And I trust her word that they’ll stop in a week,” Flurry puffed her cheeks out with a glitter. “She’s a great weatherpony and a decent Air Marshal.”
Grover suppressed a laugh and his tail bobbed against the sleeve of his pants. He braced an elbow on the table and stared flatly at the alicorn. “You know why Celestia attended meetings naked, right? It is well-known in Griffonia.”
“Crown and carcanet are recognized as a state of dress in Equestria,” Flurry countered.
“Her tail flowed around her flank. And she was very tall.” Grover made a line of sight with two talons and traced it across the room. “All she had to do was walk in front of a pony.”
“Gross,” Flurry stuck her tongue out. “Is that what Griffonians think about? You can’t see anything through her tail. You’d know that if she ever bothered to show up and visit, but I guess your entire religion would collapse.”
“Celestia wishes she was the bride of Boreas,” Grover waved a claw. “Words are wind.”
“I know dirty jokes,” Flurry insisted. Her eyes narrowed. “I heard griffons can get stuck.”
Grover openly laughed at her squint. “Are you actually a virgin?”
She blinked several times. “A what?”
Grover stopped laughing. He searched for a way to explain. “Have you ever…” he trailed off and did not restart. The alicorn folded her wings on the other side of the table. Flurry bared her teeth.
“Yeah, my ‘spring flower’ has bloomed. That’s what crystal ponies call it. I’m seventeen.”
Grover braced both his elbows on the table and made a gesture under his beak. Flurry squinted further in confusion. He looked between his claws and her hooves. Shit.
“Wait,” Flurry tossed her head, “are you asking if I’ve had sex or not?" She looked mortified. "Herzlanders have a word for that? That’s repressive. I thought the ‘wait until marriage’ thing was about noble assurances or whatever?”
“Is that how it’s treated in Equestria?” Grover asked with mild horror. He spread his claws out. “It’s a sacred bond between the husband, wife, and the Gods-”
“It’s an expression of love!” Flurry sputtered. “We walk around naked normally. You think we’re prudes about it?”
Grover failed to say anything.
The alicorn giggled. “No, I haven’t.”
“You are expected to wear a wedding dress,” Grover sighed.
“Of course,” Flurry rolled her eyes. “We aren’t barbarians. It’s a formal occasion.”
Grover places his beak in his claws.
“Have you?” the alicorn asked teasingly. “Are you a, uh, vegan?”
“Virgin,” Grover corrected. “I am not answering.”
“That’s an answer all on its own,” Flurry said sagely. Her horn flashed and the shield burst into sparkles. Grover swung his head to Benito and Jadis. They had not moved from their positions at the door. The dog had not even drawn his sword. Both looked immensely disappointed.
“I was worried you might have killed each other,” the Princess said to her crystal pony.
“We have much in common,” Jadis whickered.
“Just so,” Benito agreed.
Flurry clomped a hoof onto the floor with the sound of a gong. Her muzzle brightened and she smiled. Grover watched a trail of sparkles flash across her coat from her mane to her tail.
“Hey,” she turned her neck to peer down at him. “You wanna do something fun before you leave?” She swung her head back to Jadis. “The ballroom’s just storage, right?”
The crystal pony’s expression softened. “Yes, Princess.”
Flurry trotted in place. “Awesome. Jadis, lead the way. Kaiser Grover? Come see how crystal ponies dance. My mother loved it.”
The griffon pushed himself up from the desk. The swirls of the alicorn’s mane bounced around her muzzle, but it remained shaded a darker pink. Her grin seemed more fragile than he had previously assessed. A lifetime of watching eyes instead of beaks.
“Sure,” Grover agreed.
The alicorn beamed and trotted out with a flashing tail. The purple and blue curls bounced happily with her trot. Grover watched a burning Crystal Heart on her flank vanish as she scampered into the hallway.
Benito coughed into his paw.
“I was not staring at that,” Grover said in Herzlander. He placed the Reichstone back atop his head and snapped a claw for Benito to follow behind him. The dog muttered something under his breath that the griffon pretended not to hear at all.
The scattered guards along the hallway bowed as their Princess swept past them. All of the crystal ponies were wearing the snow-white uniforms with black boots and wore weapons at their side. The alicorn pumped her wings with flexing crystal feathers for them to rise, but she did not break her stride. Jadis led the way down a staircase.
The crystal ponies stared at Grover as he walked by. Before the war, how many had seen a griffon? The look of intense disinterest in their eyes made the fur on his neck prickle into his feathers. Benito mirrored him with a paw on his holster and the other drifting around his sheathed sword on the other hip.
“These ponies are not Equestrians,” Grover said to him in Aquileian. The crystal ponies offered no reaction to the foreign language.
“No,” the dog agreed. “They lack the subdued hostility.”
“Yet you seem more tense.”
Benito’s upper lip twitched. “An enemy seething in hate may make mistakes. These ponies...” the dog’s ears flicked. He had cut down the fur atop his head back to its usual short length.
“These ponies do not hate us,” Benito continued in a lower voice. “There is only duty in their eyes. They welcome us because the Princess ordered it. They will kill us the moment the Princess orders it.”
“You sound impressed,” Grover observed. “You are describing Bronzehill.”
“And like Bronzehill,” Benito huffed, “I fear what will happen should the Princess fall. When your ancestor fell beyond Lake City, the dogs fought to the death around his body. Not a single one left the field.”
Grover followed the Princess and her pony down a staircase without a further comment. Benito took the steps slightly slower with a puff. He is getting old. In all technicality, he should have already stepped down, but they needed age and experience in this war, not fresh-furred pups.
“How is Maya?” the Kaiser asked in Herzlander.
“Well, my Kaiser,” Benito replied. He did not say more about his wife.
Grover took the hint and let it go. Ahead of him, the Princess and Jadis slowed. Flurry matched her steps with the limping crystal pony. She looked back over a wing with a glittering muzzle for a moment.
He had not seen this part of the palace for obvious reasons. Boxes and crates were strewn about the hallways, and the guards thinned. One large room had been converted into a barracks and filled with cots; another was a mess hall with long tables and low benches. Beyond the throne room, the ground floor of the Crystal Palace was nothing but war materiel.
The pair stopped before a set of double doors with no guards and the alicorn’s horn pushed them open. The crystal doors rang like bells, then one caught on the floor and squealed. Flurry snorted and kicked it the rest of the way with a casual buck.
“That’s a good sign,” she said to Jadis.
“The enchantment is still functional, Princess,” the mare offered.
“Cool.” Flurry stepped through the doors.
The griffon and dog followed into a wide, spacious room of sparkling blue crystal that was partially filled with crates. The floor was depressed in the center and the high, vaulted ceiling twisted with sharp angles at the corners. Grover paused before the short steps leading down to the central floor. The crystal glittered under unlit chandeliers, fracturing into thousands of snowflakes that blew across the surface and swirled.
Benito hummed. “A curious enchantment.”
“That’s not all this does.” Flurry Heart walked around the raised floor. She levitated dozens of boxes at once across the lower floor with the sound of low gongs, shoving them to one side of the room. She cleared a small space just before the doors and stared critically at the floor before tensing her legs. The alicorn leapt into a glide and slammed into the floor on shiny pink hooves.
Grover recognized the resulting chime as E major. He cocked his head. Flurry smirked at the motion, then jaunted her left legs to the side, using her wings for balance. Her hooves skipped several flats and moved into C major. Grover watched the crystal flash under her hooves and chime.
Jadis tugged on the doors by a crystal loop and dragged them shut. Benito noticed and shut the other. The sound of the ‘notes’ immediately improved, reverberating through the ballroom instead of spilling out into the hallway.
Flurry stamped a hind leg slightly off-balance and a warbling b-flat echoed. She stopped. “Ah, shit,” she squeaked. “Hang on.” Her movements became slower and stiffer as she rocked on her hooves. The triangles of her ears pivoted while she listened to the pitch change.
“Is this a giant piano?” Grover asked.
“Rude,” Flurry snorted. “This is over a thousand years old. It predates pianos.” Her wings flared out and swept around the room. “Welcome to the Crystal Ballroom!”
Grover looked at the boxes of foodstuffs that partially ruined the acoustics.
“Don’t look at those!” Flurry caught his stare. Her wings clanked to the floor and her primary feathers tapped out a rhythm on both sides, playing the floor like piano keys. She moved up C-major on her right wing, and down C-major on her left.
“This used to be the Crystal Hall,” Jadis said from the doors. She took up a position opposite Benito and watched her Princess dance an awkward jig with bent legs and tapping wings. “Princess Cadenza wished to modernize.”
"It only works for crystal ponies or if you're crystalized." Flurry stood and began to stomp harder. The notes changed and turned more bombastic. She moved closer to the boxes and dragged the notes lower. Grover recognized the time signature, though the notes were off-key.
“In the Hall of the Mountain King is usually not in-”
“I am doing this by memory with four hooves,” Flurry snorted. She skipped several notes and visibly tried to remember. A hoof tapped on the floor and a different note sounded each time. “You made me lose concentration.”
Grover rolled his eyes and walked down. His claws touched the crystal swirling with snowflakes on the interior. After a pause, he tapped his talons along the floor with his eyes on the alicorn in the distance.
Nothing happened. The griffon felt a pulse of color wash across his beak. He frowned at his claws and repeated the movement. His gloves failed to make the floor light up. His paws did the same when he stepped fully onto the floor. As a last resort, he lowered a wing and tapped the crystal with a bent feather.
It chimed. He stared at the alicorn suppressing a giggle, then slapped the bob of his tail down behind him. The floor rang with F-sharp. Flurry laughed with the sound of windchimes and kicked her hooves out. The four notes failed to sound like anything but noise.
“Sorry,” she apologized. “No gloves or shoes.”
Grover looked down at his leather gloves, then suddenly kicked his paws. He knocked his shoes off one at a time. He tossed his gloves over a wing. The sudden motion made the Reichstone tilt. Grover removed it more gingerly and set it down on the edge of the tallest step. He turned back to Flurry on all fours. His paws and claws pricked the crystal with four discordant notes.
“Think about it,” Flurry advised. The mare stepped a quick jig forward, and most of the notes flowed together. She halted two wingspans from the Kaiser. “Watch the energy you put into it.”
“What does that even mean?” Grover complained. He modulated how hard his talons plucked at the crystal and listened to the notes. Lighter with less force. He thought of the opening of a song and tried it with his right claw. The sound barely echoed up from the floor.
“Designed for hooves,” Flurry commented. “This isn’t a piano. This is hoedown shit.”
Grover stared flatly up at her. “You want me to bruise my paws and claws trying to match hooves?”
“Come on,” Flurry threw her head back. The crystal band glittered in time with a ripple through her chest. The blue spark flashed deep in her barrel. Grover glanced back to Jadis and Benito, but they offered no reaction. I would not spot it if I was not looking for it.
“If I have to learn fancy dancing for the wedding, you have to learn fun dancing for the honeymoon,” Flurry continued. “No time like the present.”
“You may not even live till the wedding with your habits,” Grover retorted.
Flurry’s grin stalled for a moment and her eyes flickered. “Archon Proteus is around. Can’t he do a battlefield marriage?” She raised a hoof to her muzzle and tapped against her chin. “Might be hard to hear the vows over the gunfire and screaming.”
“Fine,” Grover accepted. He stepped along the edges of the floor, trying to see if the notes sounded different depending on where he stood. The crystal flashed under each step and the snowflakes scattered. “How does this work?”
“Duel,” Flurry shrugged her wings. “Or a duet. Depends on the attitude. You start with four notes. I copy your four, then add my own four. We keep going until one of us fucks up.”
“That is not a hoedown,” Grover remarked.
“It is a joust,” Jadis announced from the door. “The musical joust is well-loved in the Crystal Empire.” The crystal pony leaned against the wall and unslung her rifle. She laid it casually at her hooves. “If the Kaiser is truly talented, both can dance at once and try to match their notes.”
“I’ll go easy on you since you don’t have hooves,” Flurry grinned. “Freestyle. You start.”
Grover stood on all fours with a neutral expression. He shifted an eye to Benito. The dog leaned against the wall, scanning the room and the boxes. Always alert. He looked back to the grinning alicorn and sat on his haunches with a warbling note. The griffon unhooked his glasses and rubbed them on his overcoat’s sleeve. “What happens if I win?”
“That confident?” Flurry asked back. “I’ll sing.”
“Is that truly a reward?”
“Probably not,” Flurry laughed with the sound of windchimes. “But if I win, you sing. Are you an eagle, or a songbird?”
Grover squinted at her, then hooked his glasses back onto his beak. He shrugged off his coat and flung it to the upper floor. His sash landed in a pile atop it. Grover paused with the clips to his holster, but tugged away the straps and set the pistol down carefully after checking the safety. He stood in his pressed slacks and his long-sleeved dress shirt.
Flurry eyed the slight stains at his wingpits. “Woof.”
Benito barked properly from the door.
The alicorn grimaced and her muzzle flashed a lighter pink. “Sorry!”
Grover spread his talons out and braced his palms on the floor, then began with the first four notes of the Reich’s anthem. They sounded slightly off with the magical reverberations from the floor, and the echo bounced off the boxes. Flurry Heart clearly recognized it from his birthday and rolled her eyes.
“I thought you hated that song.” Her hooves skipped along the floor and replicated it flawlessly, then four unrelated notes moved up the scale. “It’s called freestyle.”
Grover copied his first four notes, then hers, then added the start of In the Hall of the Mountain King with a paw and claw each. The alicorn rolled her eyes again and skipped along the floor with long strides of lean legs. Grover repeated her random notes at the end. He hesitated with a clacking beak and stared down the alicorn’s scowl.
Grover beat out four quick notes with his wings. Flurry raised an eyebrow and repeated the song; she used her wings when he did and kicked her two right legs in unison twice for the four notes in addition.
The griffon matched it with a paw and claw.
They traded two more times before Flurry narrowed her eyes and started while he was in the middle of the set. She stuck her tongue out in concentration as the notes overlapped. The rapid stomps and wing slaps caused the pair to gradually circle each other on the floor as they tried to keep up. Grover’s claws started to sting from the force of striking the floor.
The alicorn and the griffon no longer copied each other; the song twisted into a duet above the swirling snowflakes on the floor, trying to pick notes in time and add to the developing rhythm. Grover had pulled from Clawpin and a half-dozen others, but he could not longer hear their songs echoing in the ballroom.
Flurry kicked her legs out somewhat spastically with a rippling blush. She used her wings to compensate for the movements. Feathers tapped on the floor whenever she bent her legs, and Grover copied the minor notes with his bruised talons.
She has dull hooves. She will win by attrition. Flurry clearly knew it from her knowing smile. Her tail bobbed behind her as she swished it in preemptive victory. The swirls brushed into her hind legs.
Grover affected wide eyes of panic and added more of his rear paws. Flurry copied him to match the notes and they started circling each other again. Her long tail swung more perilously before she finally kicked a leg out too far.
A purple swirl tangled in her pastern and the Princess whinnied in dismay. She hopped on three legs desperately to keep the notes going. An awkward, sad B-flat rang out thrice before she tugged her leg free.
The griffon slapped the bob of his tail down three times and matched the pathetic B-flat. He sighed in relief and shook out his claws. “Blessed Boreas.” He held up his crystal talons and inspected the ends. No need to clip them for a time.
“You cheater,” the Princess spat, but her gleaming smile and high voice made her real opinion clear. She ran her magic through her tail with a wicked side-eye. “Should have cut you off,” she said down to her flank.
“I like to win,” Grover preened. “I am competing with an alicorn.”
Flurry stuck her tongue out. “Fine.” She breathed heavily for a moment before shaking her wings out. “Give me a second.”
“I do not care if you actually sing,” Grover waved a claw. He walked back to his coat and gloves, peering to the double doors over the frames of his glasses. Jadis did look disappointed, and she stomped a petulant hoof at some low remark from Benito. I wonder if they had a bet.
“No,” Flurry whickered. She trotted to the center of the clearing. “You get a song, nerdbird. You bet your ass I was gonna make you sing. Fair’s fair.”
Grover sat down on the steps beside the Reichstone. He watched the alicorn pull in long breaths on a narrow barrel. Her wings hid most of her body when they folded against her sides, but there was no hiding the musculature along her long legs. He tried to remember the filly with baby fat in the broom closet.
Flurry raised a foreleg to her chest and exhaled with a slow breath. She pushed it out and clomped her hoof onto the floor. Her narrow muzzle quirked and the pink horn turned to the ceiling while she pinched her eyes in thought. Wings quivered and Grover watched a streak flash from crystal wingtip to crystal wingtip.
“Sorry for what you’re about to hear,” Flurry apologized with her muzzle pointed at the ceiling. She breathed in a few times and hummed. It pitched high with a slight scratchiness. The noise trailed off into nothing. Grover tapped a claw on the Reichstone.
Flurry opened her mouth.
My young love said to me,
Grover stopped tapping his claw.
"My mother won't mind
And my father won't fault you
For your lack of kind."
Jadis sniffled behind him. Flurry let the last note hang in her scratchy, patchwork Equestrian.
It echoed through the room.
And he stepped away from me
And this he did say:
"It will not be long, love,
'til our wedding day."
She dragged a rear hoof on the floor, drawing out a long, low note.
It swayed under the song.
As he stepped away from me
And he moved through the faire.
And fondly I watched him
Move here and move there.
She pulled in a breath and the blue spark flashed in her chest. Her eyes were closed.
And then he turned homeward
With one star awake.
Like the swan in the evening
Moves over the lake.
The alicorn smiled to herself and a ripple passed through her coat in time with the spark.
And I smiled as he passed
with his goods and his gear,
Her voice dropped and the scratchiness made it sound impossibly sad.
And that was the last
That I saw of my dear.
Grover turned his head at a muffled sob.
Jadis had stuffed a boot into her mouth with glittering tears.
Last night he came to me,
The griffon turned his head back to the alicorn.
She continued to drag a hoof across the floor to leave a winding note.
My lost love came in.
So softly he came that
His hooves made no din.
The note haunted the song and drifted to the inert chandeliers.
As he laid his head on me
And this he did say:
Flurry Heart paused until the echo faded, then spoke softly into the ceiling with a lilt.
"It will not be long, love,
'til our wedding day."
She folded her wings back to her side, letting the last word fade with her breath. She set her hoof back down.
Flurry opened sad, icy eyes and stared into the ceiling for a moment. Her muzzle was flat, but the colors that raced across the pink, crystalized fur rippled a dark, melancholic blue. She breathed out again with a long sigh and her body untensed.
Jadis burst into whinnying sobs. The crystal pony stomped her boots into the floor. Whatever she tried to say was lost in her blubbering, but her entire muzzle flashed bright blue.
Flurry grimaced. “I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you.”
“It’s beautiful,” the pony sobbed and waved a boot. “It’s…I…”
“Sorry,” Flurry repeated.
The crystal pony shook her head viciously and heaved a deep breath to stop crying. Her legs shook for a moment. “There is nothing to forgive.”
Grover stared across the ballroom. He licked the edge of his beak. “I…uh…”
“My mother hated that song,” Flurry explained to him. “Not every crystal pony was in the city when it was cursed. Some families never saw each other again. It was just a moment to them.”
Benito shuffled from the wall. He twisted his muzzle to Jadis, then looked around the room. “Many dogs that escape the mines of Diamond Mountain leave family. The founders of Bronzehill were no different.” His voice softened. “It is a terrible fate.”
“Sometimes,” Jadis sniffled, “not being able to remember is a blessing instead of a curse.” The crystal pony rubbed a boot across the floor. “We carry what we can. Songs help.”
Flurry nodded. “Sorry I mangled it.”
“You did not,” Grover said before Jadis.
The alicorn sighed. “You’ve never heard it before. It always made my mother sad. She loved to help ponies reconnect, but sometimes you have to help them move on.”
Grover’s wings jittered across his coat. Say it, coward. “You have a beautiful singing voice.”
“Really?” the alicorn trilled. She thickened her accent again. “Well, gosh darn, Grover! Ya sure shoulda heard my mother-”
“Stop!” Grover snarled. He blinked in surprise, but rallied when Flurry opened her mouth to say something. “No more fucking jokes! Is that how you truly see yourself? An inferior version of your mother?”
“I’m nothing like her,” Flurry chuckled weakly. “Not much of a comparison.”
Grover stared at the spark in her barrel, beating in time with a heartbeat. “I wish you could see yourself like I see you,” he said in Herzlander. He blinked and felt his feathers puff out. Benito and Jadis shuffled behind him. Grover toyed with the Reichstone between two gloved claws, but kept staring at the alicorn.
The filly that was once in a soggy blue dress waved her wings. “Do you see an alicorn or a Princess or both?” Flurry bit her lip. “Compliments from you don’t count. I bet you say that to every debutante.”
Grove settled the Reichstone atop his head and stood up. “I say that to none of them,” he said flatly in Herzlander, “and I dance with none of them.” His deep blue eyes swept across the ballroom. “We shared a dance, correct? What else is customary in the Empire?”
“We bow.” Flurry bent her forelegs and swept her wings out. “A fair duel, Kaiser Grover.”
Grover mirrored it. “Agreed, Princess Flurry.” He stood just after her. “Is that all?”
“What do you mean?” Flurry fluttered her wings.
“Couples are expected to share a peck on the cheek in the Reich,” Grover returned. “Do ponies not nuzzle in a courtship?”
“We don’t have to do that in the Crystal Empire,” Flurry answered. Her wings flapped at her sides. “Don’t worry about it.” She considered it. “Well, I guess cameras would be around.” Her horn pulsed and Grover felt the magic blow past his feathers. “Might look bad if we just kept up appearances in the Reich.”
What if I wanted to? Grover did not say that. He walked across the ballroom floor on boots and gloves while the Princess shuffled her hooves. He watched the spark pulse slightly faster, mixed with the sparkles trailing through her pink fur.
“You…” Grover paused and lowered his voice. “You are more beautiful than the day I met you. You are not soaking wet in a broom closet.”
Flurry smiled softly down at him and shook her pink horn. Her purple and blue swirls bounced and framed her narrow muzzle and icy eyes. “You’re not that bad yourself. Crystal’s a good look on you.”
Grover rubbed his beak and lashed his tail. The bob on the end slapped the floor and made a high note ring out. “I hope this is temporary. How long until it wears off?”
“You’ll be fine in a few days,” Flurry assessed. She flexed her wings and inspected the shooting sparkles running through her crystal feathers. “I’ll look like this for a while, I think. Might have to ask my Archmage.”
Grover dipped his head and felt the Reichstone slide against his feathers. “Princess Flurry Heart?” he requested in Equestrian. The alicorn stood still for a moment, then understood what he was asking.
She bent her neck down and turned her head to the side. Her eyes closed and the eyelids sparkled, but it was impossible to miss the scarlet ripple across her muzzle. “I hope you practiced with some lucky griffoness,” she said teasingly. "I'll tell Henrik you beat him if you're better." Her lips pressed into a line and she waited.
Grover swallowed, then leaned up to her cheek.
The doors to the ballroom crashed open.
Flurry’s head snapped up and Grover twisted his beak away at the same time.
A red crystal stallion in an unbuttoned white jacket charged into the room, having slammed the doors open with his forelegs. Jadis swung her rifle like a bat before he could take three steps into the ballroom, cracking it into his knee. The stallion whinnied and rolled down the short stairs. Jadis flipped the rifle around deftly enough and aimed down at him.
Grover stepped back as Flurry stepped forward. Her horn burst into a golden glow.
A light brown dog skid past in the hallway, crystalized fur rippling with streaks of blonde. He made eye contact with Grover and pivoted into the room. Benito had drawn his saber and slammed the flat of the blade across the dog’s muzzle as he passed the threshold. He wrapped an arm around the younger dog and flung him into the crystal wall, pinning him there with the blade to his neck.
Magic pulsed through the room. Grover felt it first. The detection spell washed through the feathers and made his ears buzz under the Reichstone. Flurry stomped forward. “They’re clear! Wait!”
Benito and Jadis shared a look, then marginally relaxed their weapons. The stallion rolled on the floor, clutching his forelegs to a rear leg stuck in a spasm. Flurry’s horn dimmed, but she kept her distance. He made eye contact and muttered nonsense.
The crystal pony’s legs shook and he panted on the floor. He took a deep breath and stuttered. Flurry waved her wings. “Breathe. Did the Changelings launch an atta-”
“princesscelestiaisinmanehattan,” the stallion forced out in one breathless rush.
Jadis and Benito stilled. The dog’s ears ruffled. His paw raised the sword, then lowered it to his side. He flicked the blade errantly. The crystal mare’s bad leg twitched, sending a ripple through her white pants leg. The stallion heaved another breath from the floor, and his hooves made four discordant notes when he stood up on frothing legs.
“Princess, Celestia is in Manehattan.”
Flurry Heart stepped back. Her wings flared out and a few feathers knocked against Grover’s crown. He felt it shift and nearly fall off his head.
Benito looked to the younger dog. A red slice ran across his muzzle and blood leaked into his whiskers, but he nodded rapidly. “The pony speaks the truth,” he panted in Herzlander. “She landed on the dockyards. The Port Authority wants orders. Work has halted.”
We still own most of Manehattan. Grover shook his head. The Reichstone slid off and clanged to the floor. The crystal flashed and a low, warbling note rang out. He pawed at it clumsily.
Flurry said nothing.
“Landed?” Grover eventually forced past his beak.
“She is alone,” the stallion coughed. “Princess, what are your orders?”
Jadis laughed at the doors. “It’s a changeling! You Reich idiots didn’t think to check?”
Benito shook his head. “We have unicorns at the port. They sweep the convoys. Can those parasites even become alicorns?” He caught himself. “Chrysalis would not be so…”
“One love-drunk changeling,” Jadis whinnied. “The Hegemony just shut down the entire port! We lowered the shield!” The pony’s bad leg shook. “Unless the Griffonian Reich is so incompetent it failed to notice the mare that raises the sun cross their entire country!”
“Ponies unload the cargo!” Benito snarled back. “Ponies will be the ones screaming!” The dog barked some swear at the crystal pony and she snarled back. They descended into a screaming match themselves.
“My Kaiser,” the bloody dog knelt on the floor. “Manehattan Command is asking for orders. Urgently.”
Grover clutched the Reichstone with two claws. He exhaled, “I…”
His breath visibly puffed out into the air.
Grover became aware of the static building in his feathers. There was a charge in the air, and a low hum in the back of his ears. He noticed a golden flicker in the top of his peripheral vision and turned his head. His glasses kept him from squinting.
A burning pink horn was enveloped in a roiling golden flame. Grover followed it to a blackening mane as the swirls around the base turned crisp. The sounds of Benito and Jadis arguing faded as the hum became audible. A bolt of blue electricity escaped the horn point and scorched the ceiling. Grover looked below the shining purple gem attached to a cheap crystal crown.
Muzzles were always more expressive than beaks. Even crystal muzzles that flashed every color of the rainbow. Lips pulled back from teeth at an angle below a twitching eyelid. A tear passed through eyelashes and left a trail of glitter in crystal fur. The black pupils were pinpricks at the center of an iceberg.
Grover watched the expression twist from anger to hope to fear to anguish to rage. The alicorn breathed out through clenched teeth and a bolt of blue static leapt from her wing to his. He felt it jolt through his feathers.
The griffon raised a paw to step away, then looked down to the flashing blue spark in her barrel. It beat like a strobe underneath her fur. Another bolt of static leapt from a spasming foreleg and danced along his claws clutching the Reichstone.
Grover registered Benito and Jadis lowering their weapons and stepping forward. The hum in the air became a long, low whine as the spell finished charging. Grover stared at the blue spark. He set his paw down and stepped up to her, brushing his wing against hers.
He started, “Flurry-”
Her eyes snapped to his, wet with tears that turned to steam.
The teleport spell released like a bolt of lightning.
Grover saw a kaleidoscope of colors tumble past his glasses for an infinity and eons and epochs. He spun without gravity and without wind, falling and ascending and twisting. His claws clutched the Reichstone to his chest on reflex while his wings pinned to his jacket. A sob and a snarl chased him down the rabbit hole, then he was spat out into a cloudy sky.
His feathers still brushed against hers, and he followed her through the next lightning strike.
Come back now.
Flurry Heart appeared in a crack of lightning. Blood dribbled down her lips.
Or never come back.
She looked east, wings flared. Her horn burned at the tip.
Just before the teleport, she felt Grover’s claw grab her hind leg just above the hoof. The griffon gave the start of a word before the spell unleashed again, dragging him along in the blue rift that ripped apart the sky. Flurry burst out of the next teleport with a fresh gush of blood from her nose.
The Manehattan skyline was in the eastern horizon. The Crystaller building’s distinctive outline was faintly visible through the clouds and mist. As was the chunk taken out of one of the crystal pony heads from an artillery shell. The ELF, the Changelings, or the Reich? Take your fucking pick.
Flurry snarled at the misshapen scar and her horn burst into golden flames. The static charge in the air built, ionized like the moment before a lightning strike. She flapped her wings above scattered banks of gray clouds. The remnants of the storms lingered aimlessly over central Equestria without its weather control. They were left to break apart naturally, wandering rains turning cracked and broken roads to mudslides or pouring onto abandoned towns.
“Wait!” Grover coughed. Flurry heard the flap of wings. She ignored him and focused to appear above downtown Manehattan. Bridleway. Right next to the sign. Governor Lilac’s attempts to make it ‘better.’
A tear rolled down from an eye and mixed with the blood from her nose.
“Stop!” a voice crowed in Herzlander. She turned to it and the spell on her horn crackled.
Grover hit her. Flurry completely missed the lunging wings, and a fist crashed into her muzzle. The griffon punched her directly in her bloody nose, and the alicorn seized in surprise and dropped several wingspans in the sky. She recovered enough to flap above a gray, dreary cloud.
She looked up at the griffon with a wild growl, finally focusing her eyes on something beyond the eastern horizon. After a moment of consideration, her horn dimmed. The alicorn landed on the cloud below and paced, feeling the moisture squelch under her hooves. It dampened the keratin and each stomp discharged a small amount of rain into the expanse of Equestria far below. Flurry breathed in cold air and placed her scarred hoof to her barrel.
Destiny is a choice.
She shoved the breath out and waited.
Grover landed several wingspans away at the edge of the cloud. He shook his head and puffed his feathers out, knocking soot and ash from the tan neck fur and feathers. He held the Reichstone in his left claw, leaving it dangling by the torn padding. His right claw was bloody.
The Kaiser of Griffonkind’s dress uniform had seen better days. His sash and dress shirt were rumpled under the long coat, and the black was marred with discolored streaks from blue lightning. When he landed on the cloud, blue sparks jumped from his right claw into the watery cumulus and he growled in mild annoyance. He shook his talons out and inspected his knuckles.
With the soot and ash on his gray beak, it was hard to tell he was still crystalized. The tan head feathers looked dim, and his claws and bare paws sank into the cloud. Grover breathed and Flurry watched the dress shirt flex and tighten under the heavy coat. He spat out ash into the cloud, trading a stare at her with a stare at his knuckles.
Flurry gazed back, exhaling warm breath into a frosty sky. She licked her lips and wiped away the blood with her tongue. There wasn’t any doubt it looked grisly. Her wings heaved against her sides.
“I was aiming for the side of your muzzle,” Grover apologized in Herzlander. His voice cracked. His left claw dropped to the cloud, but the Reichstone sank through the surface. He pulled it back; the gold was wet and blue bolts of static raced across the jewels. Grover ignored it and settled the crown atop his head. Flecks of water ran down his feathers.
“My nose was already bleeding,” Flurry returned in Equestrian. She snorted blood into the cloud to prove it. The red disappeared into the surface. Mid-pace, the alicorn lowered her muzzle into the cloud and bit down on the condensation. She shook her head violently and wiped her muzzle clean.
The alicorn lifted a wet, lean muzzle and wiped her shining fur on a dull leg. Colors flashed across her body like a rainbow. This high in the sky, the sunlight was partially unimpeded, but more clouds whirled above them. Flurry rolled her wing joints and watched a sparkle trail from wingtip to wingtip. She folded her wings against her side and resumed pacing. Small thunderclaps echoed with each step.
Grover swallowed. “We need to think this through.” His left wing jittered against the holster. “This could be a trap.”
“If it’s a Changeling, they die screaming on the docks,” Flurry said evenly. “I have a shield; I don’t care if it’s a trap.”
Grover screwed his deep blue eyes shut. “I am not talking about if it is a changeling.”
Flurry ground her teeth. “I begged her.”
Grover said nothing.
“I begged her,” she repeated. “I begged her to come back. I begged her to pass a message along. I begged her before Canterlot. She doesn’t get to come back now.” The alicorn tossed her head on a long neck. “Not now.”
“Okay,” the griffon said calmly. “You sent her a letter?”
“Yes!” Flurry snapped, and the force from her voice nearly knocked Grover off the cloud. He steadied himself and his claws sliced the cumulus when he gripped it. Her voice echoed across the open sky and rolled into the horizon.
Flurry swallowed and heaved, staring at the partially sunny expanse around them. Her pacing meandered into a circle. They were alone. It was a vast, empty sky above a broken land. When Flurry looked down off the edge, she could see the shadows of an abandoned village somewhere along a major road to Manehattan. Equestria was dotted with skeletons like that. The Changelings had relocated everypony into major industrial centers or work camps.
Ghettos. Like Weter. Flurry’s mind went to the picture of Celestia standing atop a podium at the River Games with a medal around her neck. Her horn sparked again.
“So she knows.” Flurry snapped her head back to Grover. He met her wild, unfocused glare evenly. “She knows, then?” he repeated.
“Knows what?” Flurry nickered. “Knows how bad it is here? Whatever the River Federation-”
“She knows how you are going to react,” Grover interrupted. He lifted his right claw and gestured to the pacing hooves. “She knows exactly what this will do.”
“I don’t care.”
“She is a thousand years old at the very least,” Grover retorted. “She ruled the empire that all others in the world compared themselves to.”
“Even you?” Flurry snapped.
“You think my ancestor did not know of her?” Grover asked back with a clipped squawk. “You think he did not sit in Griffonstone and think of her when the conquests began? One Kaiser. One Princess.”
“There was more than one.” Flurry shook her head. “There is more than one,” she corrected.
“Not for a thousand years,” Grover shrugged a wing. “The Princess of Love was barely a footnote until the Crystal Empire returned.”
“My mother never liked the spotlight.” She looked east again. “Am I supposed to ignore her? Let her come to Canterlot?”
“So she can declare your reign illegitimate?” Grover pressed. He tapped his claws on the raincloud. “No, we have to confront her now.”
Flurry tossed her head back. Her horn sparked. “Great fucking talk. What are we waiting for?”
“For you to calm down,” Grover answered. His eyes flicked to her flank.
Flurry tracked his gaze. Her left hind leg was bouncing and the Crystal Heart was tense across her muscles and pink fur. Her leg was partially tangled into her tail again, the edges of the hair were singed. She breathed out and forced herself to relax. Her crystal hoof stopped bouncing on the cloud, and the spongy surface stilled. The last, low reverberating rumbles whimpered out underneath the alicorn.
“You charge into Manehattan looking every part the screaming teenager, and she has already won,” Grover said patiently.
“Won what?” Flurry whickered. “If she wants the throne, she can have it. Just keep to the agree-”
“She will never keep to any of them,” Grover snapped. His head feathers flexed around his beak. “She lost the war and went into exile. She is the personal guest of Chancellor River Swirl. She is a pretender to your throne.”
Flurry looked across the horizon. “I’m a pretender to hers.”
“It does not matter,” Grover waved his wings with suppressed agitation. “There is a plan here. To spark unrest, to spark civil war, to turn Equestria against the Reich…” He pulled the Reichstone close to his chest and held it against the purple sash.
“You think the River Federation will invade?”
Grover purred into the sky with a clenched beak. Sparkles rippled across the dark gray keratin and into his feathers, lit by the sun above. He clacked his jaw and answered, “No.”
He shook his head. “No, no matter what Chancellor Swirl wants. She cannot declare a war to restore the Sisters. They would have to fight across Griffonia and Equus, fighting for a foreign monarch. She will lose her majority in the River Parliament.”
“But they can send her here to sabotage the war,” Flurry picked up. Her wings sagged into the cloud.
“Or something else,” Grover said dismissively. “Celestia has her own plan. She always has. The exchange with Griffonstone after the Idol’s loss was a calculated display of Equestrian influence.” The griffon gave the alicorn a side-eye. “She would have better spent her resources on Severyana.”
“We aren’t going to find anything out standing on a cloud.” Flurry extended her wings and her horn glowed. She felt the beginning of a migraine and sniffed to suppress a trickle of blood.
“We are well within flying distance,” Grover offered. He pointed his left claw to the city on the horizon. “It will be a quick flight.”
Flurry swallowed down all her immediate whinnying responses and forced her horn to dim. Grover stared up at her from all fours. She was taller than him, even though the height was mostly her spindly legs and neck. The alicorn raised a wing and smoothed down her ragged mane. She could feel brittle chunks of her blue and purple swirls around the base of her horn, charred from the chain teleport.
“How bad do I look?”
“You look as if you’ve blasted across half a continent in five minutes,” Grover deadpanned.
“You look pretty good,” Flurry assessed. “Have you teleported before?”
The griffon’s blue eyes were hidden behind his glasses. He mimed reaching up to touch a horn. “What do you think?”
“Most first-timers throw up.”
“I did vomit three teleports ago.” Grover reared onto his paws and flared his wings. Keeping the Reichstone clutched against his chest, his left wing flexed inwards to check if the holstered pistol was secure before the griffon slowly glided off the cloud.
The alicorn followed with her larger wingspan. Grover flew directly towards downtown Manehattan and the towering skyscrapers. Or at least the ones still standing. Several had visible battle damage that only grew clearer and starker as the mismatched pair advanced.
Flurry Heart listened to her heartbeat in her ears. Her muzzle continued to ripple in the sunlight, pink crystal fur flushing with darker streaks. For the time being, they were high up and utterly alone in the sky.
“Patrols from Hayston or Albion should have already spotted us,” Grover called out. He ducked briefly between his legs to look back at Flurry. His tail flitted out of the way. “We are still set up in Carneighie Hall.”
“You want to meet her there?” Flurry called back.
“Meet her at the docks and stall for time,” Grover returned. “We split up. Stand before her alone, without Griffonian influence.”
Without you. Flurry felt ice in her stomach. “You don’t want to meet her?”
“With film crews and cameras,” Grover answered. “With proof. The news will spread like wildfire across the continent. Across Griffonia.” He twisted his head back east. "We need cameras."
Flurry swallowed and followed him for several more minutes. The skyscrapers grew closer, though they were still high up in the clouds. Her ears prickled for the roar of plane engines, but there was nothing in the distance. It was as if they were the only two in the world, or that the world was holding its breath.
“I’d like you to be there,” Flurry said in a lower voice. She was not sure if it carried across the sky.
“I will,” Grover promised ahead of her. “I am a little too sparkly for pictures, no offense. And I doubt there are cameras at the dockyards, unless she brought a gaggle of Riverlanders with her.”
“What if she did?” Flurry pressed. “What if it’s a formal declaration of war? Can the Reich-”
“No,” Grover said bluntly. "If it comes to that, I may resume praying to the Trinity." He flapped his wings and gained speed. They reached the outskirts of Manehattan easily, and a patrol of griffons swirled up from the clouds below them. The shouted commands to halt echoed in the sky.
As before, they recognized her first and slowed. Flurry had never heard of an infiltrator attempting to disguise themselves as an alicorn, but it was doubtlessly possible. Thorax can. Or perhaps they are wary of me. The lead griffon’s eyes were shadowed from the sunlight washing over his helmet. He slung his assault rifle downwards and showed his claws, flapping midair several wingspans away.
“Princess?” he asked. The word was the same in Herzlander and Equestrian. The soldier’s eyes went to the sparkling griffon hovering ahead of her, drifting down to the Reichstone in shining claws. His wings beat unevenly for a moment before he clasped his right claw to his chest and bowed his head.
Kaiser Grover VI nodded and his beak sparkled in the sunlight. Not a single griffon commented on it. Flurry was unsure if their shock was at seeing their Kaiser, or his appearance, or both. “Unteroffizier. With me.” He stared over a flapping wing back to Flurry for a moment. The sunlight reflected in his glasses and she could not see his eyes. His cheeks twitched on each side of his beak.
“I’ll see you at the docks,” Flurry offered. Her tone lost confidence halfway through and it sounded more like a question by the end.
“Yes,” Grover promised. His head twisted partially back, then returned. “Princess?”
Flurry waited.
“If it comes to a fight, do not throw the first strike. Especially before the cameras.”
The alicorn laughed with a mix of snorts and brays. It pitched upwards into hysteria. “I doubt optics will matter with half of Manehattan reduced to a new bay.”
“That is when it will matter most,” Grover returned. “That she returned to fight you instead of the Queen. I do not expect her to make that mistake. Do not make it for her.”
“Okay.” Flurry watched Grover descend. He looked back at her one final time, and a shaft of sunlight reflected in his glasses. Flurry could not see his expression. The soldiers lingered in the sky for a moment, trading uncertain looks. The officer whistled high and they broke into a ragged arrowhead, trailing after their Kaiser. A cloud blocked them from sight after a few wingbeats. The sounds of flapping wings and wind whistling through feathers ended a moment later.
Flurry Heart was alone in the sky. The Crystaller was visible in the distance, flanked by other shattered skyscrapers. She glided towards it and banked around a broken statue of a crystal unicorn on the top. Half the muzzle was cleaved through by an artillery shell. The damage wasn’t worth repairing, not when guns and armor were needed in every available factory.
We’ll have to tear it down. It was Lilac’s tower. We can use the steel for other things…
The alicorn descended, gliding over downtown and skipping past the boroughs towards the coast. She flew over Bridleway. The old posters for Governor Lilac’s plays had been torn away, but nothing replaced them. Manehattan had never been vibrant, but with the overcast clouds above it was a city of sad, gray brick and steel.
The patrols did not stop her. Griffons saw her on rooftops. Some looked up in rifle scopes, only to lower them the moment they picked out the silhouette of wings and a horn. The city streets below had halted. Before the war, Manehattan was the city that never slept, but now it was still. The industrial district’s smokestacks in the horizon had faded.
As Flurry lowered her glide, she saw the trucks stopped in the roads along the way from the harbor. There had been a pile-up as work had halted. Ponies sat in the back while griffons drove in the cab. The models were from the Reich, built for a creature with paws and claws. Ponies were only good for loading and unloading the equipment.
Our future will be working in Griffonian factories making Griffonian products. A few of the ponies in the open flatbeds looked up. They did not wave. Flurry was too far away and flying too fast to read their expressions. She was close enough to see that they filled out their overalls and jumpsuits. They lived and breathed and ate. Is it enough to live?
She passed a buzzing radio tower atop a repurposed cab depot. Armored cars sat in the bays. She felt the hum from the radio waves in her horn and imagined what was being transmitted. It had not been that long, perhaps an hour in total. Rejoice, the true Princess has come. No need to follow a foreign filly.
The skyline of the city evened out before the docks, flattening to squat brick warehouses studded by cranes before concrete piers. She followed the trail of parked trucks all the way down the streets, winding through milling soldiers and wandering ponies. Manehattan was not sleeping, but it was holding its breath.
Ships sat in every pier, most half-filled with crates. One pallet still swung from a crane, but the operator was absent. The crew was standing on the port side of the ship, staring down the dockyards. They did not look up as the alicorn’s shadow passed over them. The dockyard was mostly abandoned, all except one pier near the end. A large crowd in the shape of a horseshoe bracketed the dock.
Flurry slowed. There was a ship docked there, nearly fully unloaded. It was a freighter with a frontward bridge. The crew was gathered at the forecastle ahead of it. The griffons were still and watching the dock below. Water lapped at the rusted red hull. It was a very simple, old Fezeran hauler. The name had faded away.
The herd of ponies in the horseshoe were split up by pallets stacked high with boxes. Two trucks were parked in a warehouse bay beside the dock. Flurry drifted lower. A few helmeted griffons near the edges of the crowd tensed and twisted their beaks upwards. The ponies as a whole shifted, the herd following the movement of others in the crowd.
Flurry landed atop one of the higher pallets, surrounded by a sea of earth ponies. Most were wearing scarves and boots, if not full coveralls. A few still wore raincoats, though the rain had stopped days ago. The herd stared up at the alicorn perched on the box like an oversized seagull.
She looked down at the label stamped below a rearing, roaring griffon in black shadow on the top of the crate.
Featho-Lay: Cheese Puffs
The laughter died in her throat. She looked around, meeting a sea of blank, uncertain stares. Tails lashed behind short-cut manes. The herd was agitated, uncertain. Ponies shuffled and jostled against each other, drawn by the commotion but without a clear course of action. It seemed like every soldier guarding the docks had flocked to one pier, but they did little except wander the edges of the crowd. Not a single griffon held their weapon in their claws, most slung under a shifting wing.
There was one figure at the end of the dock.
It was unmistakably a pony with white fur. Her mane and tail swirled around her, masking her lean muzzle from view. When the clouds broke and the sun flitted through, her hair flashed with every color of the rainbow. She stood near the crane, but away from a series of pallets laid before it. The figure did not move her lean legs.
Flurry looked behind her to the warehouse. There was a poster on the wall. The colors had faded but Princess Celestia was still clearly visible, engorged and stuffing her muzzle with cake. She was far fatter than anypony Flurry had ever seen, and Lilac’s propaganda had asked a question below her:
Is this your Princess?
THIS IS was splattered across the words in white paint. There was an arrow pointing to the crane. Whatever else was written was blocked by the herd. Flurry followed the arrow.
Two shapes of ponies swung below the crane. The wind and salt from the ocean had weathered them. She swung her gaze down into the crowd, meeting the orange eyes of an earth pony near her age. The filly was stocky and weathered with a scar running across her muzzle. It had been broken once and healed crooked. She stared unblinkingly at the Princess.
Then, she switched her stare to the figure at the end of the dock.
Flurry Heart flapped her oversized wings once and stepped down from the box. The herd bulged and cleared space on reflex for the taller pony. She forced her legs forward one at a time, and the herd parted before her. They still traded stares. Her ponies smelled of sea salt and grease. And Cheese Puffs. Their fur was weathered by the wind and long hours.
They looked strong. And healthy. Alive. She reached the edge of the herd too quickly and was muzzle-to-beak with a Reichsarmee officer. She stared cross-eyed at his cap for a moment. He was shorter than her, though he was probably average height for a griffon.
The officer stepped back and removed his brown cap, clutching it like a cub would clutch a toy in his claws. He wrung the bill with brown talons. Flurry felt the herd fill-in behind her. More hooves clattered on concrete and ponies milled about with excess energy.
Flurry stared over the griffon’s blonde feathers. The figure at the end of the dock still had not moved. Her long neck had stretched out, gazing upwards at the two swaying figures dangling from the tower of the crane. A wind blew from the east and whipped a vibrant tail around white flanks. This time, Flurry noticed a sparkle inside the mass of colors in her mane.
“Princess?”
Flurry did not respond.
“P-Princess?” the griffon asked again.
The alicorn shifted her sparkling muzzle down to him. He stepped back from her. Darker pink colors whirled around her crystallized hooves. Her wings rippled when a dapple of sunlight splashed across her back.
Flurry felt herself say, “Yes?” It felt like she was drifting above her body.
“What should we do?” The griffon looked utterly lost and clenched his beak together. When the alicorn did not respond quickly, he continued in more desperate Equestrian. “She…she just flew here. We didn’t-”
“Keep the crowd where they are.” It took her a moment to recognize the voice and realize she had ordered it. Her legs moving past him felt equally distant, more a puppet moving on strings towards a destination set by another. He scrambled to the side and snapped a wing at a few of the soldiers. Squawks echoed in her ears, though if they were words she did not hear them.
Flurry marched towards the figure on the dock on numb legs. Her hooves flashed with every step, and her mane and tail blew in the wind. The purple and blue locks separated and combined, losing their cohesion and curving into unkempt swirls. Whispers twitched in her ears, from the griffons watching atop the deck of the ship to the herd behind her. She could not hear the words, but she imagined them well enough.
“The real Princess…”
“The true Princess…”
“She’s back…”
Flurry stopped beside the crane. She was just over halfway across the dock in an open space. The figure lifted one white hoof and approached slowly, legs moving gracefully in easy coordination. A long, spiraled white horn poked through her mane, and the wind shifted so her mane blew across her back.
A golden tiara with a purple gem sat at the base of her horn. It was a small thing, and simple. Flurry reached up on reflex, touching the purple crystal band that almost vanished in her unkempt mane, obscured by brittle, blackened chunks of hair from her spellcasting. She still forced a spell into her horn, ignoring the headache.
The other figure stopped and waited. Not uncertainly, but casually with easy grace. Her halt looked practiced and expected, with wings calmly at her sides. Flurry felt blood trickle from her nose and released the spell.
The golden wave washed over the dock and blew through white feathers. It passed backward through the crowd before the warehouse, and the whispers faded with the wind. The white wings twitched and settled against bare fur, folded before a bright yellow sun. Flurry’s own wings pressed over her cutie mark, obscuring the burning Heart.
The figure’s horn glowed the same shade of gold and the spell repeated. There was no wave to wash over dockyard. The magic was like stepping out into a calm spring day under a gentle sun. It danced up Flurry’s crystal fur and left trails of pulsing pink embers before tapering off into her wings.
She did not move, and the figure closed the distance to a wingspan. Flurry had to look up to her muzzle. She did not have to look upwards very much; the base of her horn was at the other alicorn’s muzzle.
Princess Celestia’s muzzle curved into a half-smile with shining teeth. “Yes. It’s me.”
Flurry Heart had a thousand things to say, but none of them left her mouth.
Soft, kind magenta eyes regarded the smaller alicorn. They wandered down her muzzle. “Magical Exhaustion is serious, you know.” Her voice was sonorous, radiating warmth. “Did you teleport all the way from the Crystal Empire?” She laughed to herself with the sound of bells. “You were always so talented at teleportation.”
Flurry said nothing.
"We felt the magic all the way in the Riverlands," Celestia continued. "The Crystal Heart is an old artifact." Her head shifted to the side to and an eye peered downwards. "You gained a mark like your mother's. Spike was concerned for nothing."
“I told you not to come back.” Flurry’s high-pitched voice cracked into a hiss. She breathed in through her teeth.
Celestia’s half-smile stayed on her muzzle. Her wings flapped once. “You did,” she acknowledged. The taller alicorn did not move or light her horn again.
Neither said anything more for a long time.
“I begged you,” Flurry managed. She breathed out and struggled to breathe back in. She lifted a hoof to her chest and pushed the air out of her lungs.
Celestia watched the movement, still with the half-smile on her lips. “Your mother always found that calming. I am glad-”
“I begged you,” Flurry hissed again.
The half-smile finally faded. Celestia pursed her lips and lifted her head. Her long neck stretched out and upwards. “Yes,” she acknowledged again. “You did.”
The word would not come for another minute. It emerged as a whisper. “Why?”
Celestia sighed. “What was left to say? You made your position clear. You never responded to a single one of my letters, except once and…” She shook her head, and her mane bounced and weaved together. The rainbow separated after a pause. “Was there anything I could have said to dissuade you from this path?”
“You could have come,” Flurry forced out breathlessly.
The calm, collected eyes wandered up to the crane. Flurry followed the stare. She recognized Suri’s body, no amount of salt could strip away the bulk the earth pony had but on, but the stallion beside her was a mystery beyond the gender. White wings flapped once again.
“The Reichsarmee did similar things during their first Crusade,” Celestia said. Her voice was quiet and detached. “The Riverlands bled for decades, forced back hoof-by-hoof. Only the death of their Kaiser stopped the madness. They call this war another Crusade to justify atrocities.”
Flurry was lost for a moment. Despite herself, she laughed a reedy, windy chuckle. “You did not come this way to lecture me about my choice of allies.”
“No,” the elder alicorn admitted. Her eyes did not leave the bodies. “But they asked a price of you. I know they did. Whatever it is, it is too steep to pay.”
“That is my decision.”
Celestia did not respond to that challenge. She flicked a wing like it was a rain droplet rolling down a feather. Flurry watched her breathe in while her eyes remained on the figures.
“Was this your decision?” Celestia’s voice wavered into a higher pitch, still in harmony.
“They didn’t order this,” Flurry said in her patchy Equestrian. Her counterpart spoke it flawlessly, every accent and syllable perfectly enunciated.
Celestia closed her eyes and looked like the words physically hurt her. “I hoped they did.” Her muzzle turned down to Flurry before the eyes opened again, swimming with grief. “I had hoped that what the Riverlanders said about you was not true.”
“I admitted it was.” Her hind leg began to shake, and she forced it to keep still.
“Oh Flurry,” Celestia sighed. “Can’t you see where this leads? Ponies will march forward in your name and commit evils you never imagined for your glory.”
“Speaking from experience?”
For the first time, Celestia’s pause looked unplanned. “Some things are best left buried.” Her calm stare returned and she waved a hoof to the herd beyond. “It’s already happened, hasn’t it?” Their discussion had not carried to them, but the ponies shifted at the gesture. The griffons braced, but no surge of hooves occurred.
Flurry thought of Red Dawn and Scarlet Letter.
Her silence was all the answer Celestia needed. She smiled down at her, sadly. “What will you do when they go too far?”
It was a rhetorical question, but Flurry answered it. “Correct them.”
“With more violence?” Celestia guessed. “Until generations live in fear of the point of your horn?” Her hoof lowered to the ground, and a brief burst of sunlight made the tiara at the base of her horn sparkle.
“I’m not thinking that far ahead,” Flurry retorted.
“Clearly not.” Celestia continued before Flurry could say anything in response to the jab. “Evil is not defeated with greater evils. Defeating one evil with another still leaves evil in the world.”
“Evil?” Flurry’s voice petered out. “The Reichsarmee isn’t shoving us into cocoons.”
Celestia looked back to the bodies. “What do you call this?”
“Justice.”
“A brutal, monstrous justice,” Celestia concurred. “One that ponies will take as an example and continue it. In your name. You will have to do more ‘justice’ to correct it.”
Flurry’s wings dropped to the concrete pier, but she bared her teeth. “I’ve met Cozy Glow, you know.”
Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Is that your choice of ally?”
“All the better ponies are dead,” the smaller alicorn spat. “They died when you left the ELF.”
“I did not leave them,” Celestia said calmly. “Despite what the griffons say, I do raise the sun.” Her neck turned to the east as if she was checking where it was. The clouds covered the horizon. "The time was not right for an uprising. I told them as much. Desperation drives ponies to do horrible things."
“You did your sister’s job for a thousand years.”
When Celestia turned back, something darker swirled in her eyes. The warmth in her voice grew heated. “Do not imply my sister is lesser.”
“She could do your job,” Flurry retorted. “You could have come.”
“Why?” Celestia sniffed. She blinked, and her voice regained its calm. “One alicorn will not win a war.”
“We can win a battle,” Flurry answered, “and battles can win wars.”
Celestia’s wings flapped at her sides. “You are not listening.” Her voice was pained. “Can you not see the cost?” Flurry opened her mouth, but Celestia interrupted her. “How many have you killed?”
“I don’t keep count,” Flurry snorted.
Celestia pinched her eyes shut. “How many?”
The smaller alicorn shuffled her hooves. “I told you. Many.”
“Changelings?” Celestia’s voice wandered. “Griffons?” It turned impossibly sad. “Ponies?”
Flurry looked back to the corpses. She knew there was a bullet hole in Suri’s head, but she could not make it out from the pier. “That mare worked ponies to death in factories and-”
“Are you justifying it to me or yourself?” Celestia asked. She stared down at the pink crystal hooves. “Blood is poor ink to build a nation, and leaves trails wherever you walk.”
“It’s the only ink we have,” Flurry replied evenly. “The Reichsarmee is the only ally we have. What else are we supposed to do?”
Celestia pressed her lips together. “You know the answer.”
“I don’t, actually,” Flurry shook her head.
White wings fluttered. “Wait.” It was said so obviously and casually that Flurry had to think of a response and failed.
“What?”
“Wait,” Celestia emphasized. Her eyes were wry. “Chrysalis is not immortal, though she claims to be. She is old. She will die, and her empire will fall. The Hegemony will never last. It will crumble, and then-”
“What?” Flurry repeated in a breathy wheeze. “Have…have you seen Equestria?”
Celestia folded her wings and did not verbally respond.
“They’re killing us.”
“And you are killing them,” Celestia returned. Her wing lifted and pointed over Flurry’s withers. “And you are killing them.”
Flurry snarled. “They are fighting to save their home. Like you should have-”
Celestia cut her off. “You will sacrifice your soul and Equestria’s. It is not a victory. What is left will not be Equestria.”
For the first time since the conversation started, Flurry’s muzzle curled into a smile. “Then stop me.”
The taller alicorn cocked her head. Her mane and tail stilled. “Is that what you want?”
I don’t know what I want. It doesn’t matter what I want. “I’m not stopping.” Flurry’s voice picked up into a wheezing rant. “You want to save Equestria? You want the crown back?” Her wing jabbed upwards with raggedy pink feathers to the tiara. Celestia jerked her head backwards from the feathers. “I’m still standing. You ran away and I am still standing.” She panted at the end and her forelegs shook.
Celestia scanned the smaller alicorn. Her eyes were sad. “Your nose is bleeding.” Flurry snorted and wiped it on a foreleg. She stamped her crystal hoof into the pier with a flash.
“I’m not here to fight you,” Celestia’s voice was resigned. Her horn glowed and Flurry braced for a spell, but the golden telekinesis only adjusted the tiara atop her head. “It’s just a crown, Flurry.”
A golden bubble shield burst into existence around them. The wind and noise cut off, and the world faded away. Celestia observed the magic with interest and reached out a white wing. She prodded the magic and felt the bubble flex. “I remember your spell when you were a foal.” Her voice still carried a hint of pride and warmth, but the ember cooled. “I’m sorry you used it for war.”
“Why the fuck are you here?” Flurry challenged.
“I wanted to be polite about this,” Celestia ventured with a slight laugh.
“Is the Riverlands invading, you fucking nag?” Flurry swore with added emphasis.
“I forget that you are a teenager,” Celestia’s voice was laced with teasing. “You’re taller than Luna. She will be jealous.”
Flurry heaved a deep breath and braced her shaking legs. “If you want to kill me and-”
“Flurry!” Celestia shouted in horror. Her white wings waved at her sides, feathers flexing in the air. “I do not want to kill you!” She blinked and tears sparkled in her magenta irises. “All I ever wanted was for you to come to the Riverlands with us! That is all I ever asked!”
Flurry’s wings pressed against her sides. “I can’t leave. I won’t leave.”
“I know,” Celestia sighed. She physically deflated. “I’m not here for you.”
The pink alicorn froze. “No.”
“Please-”
“No.” The voice rattled the inside of the bubble. Blue flames flicked off the sides of the shield and sparked on the ground. Celestia took a deep breath and exhaled, standing up straight. The tip of her horn touched the top of the bubble, and it expanded effortlessly as her spellwork overpowered Flurry’s in an instant.
Flurry felt the bubble wrench away from her control and laughed despairingly.
“That was not a threat,” Celestia stated. “I just wish to stand.”
“That’s not why I am laughing.” Flurry blinked and swallowed. “You aren’t taking her.”
Celestia visibly thought about her words. “Twilight Sparkle deserves the best medical care. That is not here. The Riverlands has the finest hospitals, and the mages of Wittenland are well-versed in healing spells.”
“You don’t get to come here and drag her away from her home,” Flurry said in a weaker voice.
“Your aunt,” Celestia said calmly, “needs help.” She reached out a wing as if it touch the younger alicorn, but it wavered. “Can she get it here?”
Flurry thought about the Changeling machines and overworked staff. The sandbags lining the hallway and posters on the wall. She thought about the scans she burned to ash after they had been brought to her room one cold night.
Twilight Sparkle will die first.
“You don’t get to take her,” Flurry whispered. “She chose to stay.”
Celestia said nothing for a long moment, but folded her wing to her side. Flurry stared at her own shaking hooves. The crystal flashed and wavered, swirling with the golden flares along the shield. She heard Celestia breathe in.
“If you love her-”
Flurry lunged forward and forced her muzzle up to Celestia’s with flared wings.
“IF YOU LOVED HER YOU WOULD HAVE FOUGHT!”
Flurry Heart did not know what to expect from shouting in the Princess of the Sun’s muzzle. Celestia took a single step back from the force before freezing. Her expression of calm shattered like ice. Flurry did not know what to expect, but was unprepared for white wings to clamp around her forelegs and Celestia to shout back at her with wild anger in her eyes.
“I DID NOT ABANDON HER. SHE ABANDONED ME.”
The Princess of the Sun roared.
Celestia brought her forelegs up to Flurry’s muzzle and forced the younger alicorn to look up at her. She balanced on her hind legs, looming over Flurry and nearly pressing her muzzle into hers.
“She abandoned us,” Celestia despaired. The shield calmed around them, raining golden embers from the backlash of the Royal Canterlot Voices. Her voice now had nothing but smoldering sorrow.
“I will tell you this,” Celestia continued with heat in every word, “because I am the only one that will: I begged your mother to leave. I begged Twilight to leave. They stayed. And for what?”
Flurry was pinned by the wings and the hooves and the words stabbing into her heart.
Tears trailed down Celestia’s muzzle. “The Empire fell anyway. Equestria fell anyway. Our family fell apart because of decisions they made. Your father took you to a nation bound to be invaded by an ally of Chrysalis and abandoned you.”
Flurry found her voice. “They died as heroes.”
“They died for nothing,” Celestia sobbed. “Your mother gave into despair and your father gave into grief. I warned her that it would destroy her family. I warned Twilight. They had centuries to spread love and friendship, and gave it all up for nothing.”
Celestia released Flurry, only to pull her into a hug and wrapped her wings around her head. “They should have been here for you. They should have left with us. Don’t you understand?”
Flurry’s horn was tucked near Celestia’s muzzle. She remembered her mother’s hug in cold crystal barding, and the hug from the ‘mother’ that had come for her in Aquileia. This was warm and soft and loving and better than either of them.
Then Celestia spoke. “You could have been happy.”
Flurry Heart ripped herself away with her wings, batting at Celestia’s muzzle. The older alicorn did not expect the ‘attack’ and stumbled back. The golden tiara fell from her head when a few pink feathers slapped it away, and it plinked to the ground. The purple gem fell out of the socket and rolled along the edge of the shield.
“I don’t want to be happy!” Flurry whinnied back. The crystal band and six gems swirled in the light. Her coat flashed darker pink, ripples running like fire over her fur. Flurry watched the gem roll to a stop near her hoof.
She smashed it with a cry of rage, feeling the hard edge slice her frog. She lifted her bloody hoof and limped forward to the tiara. Celestia watched her, steadying herself with a wing braced against the shield. Golden sparks raced up her feathers, but she did not notice.
“You don’t deserve it,” Flurry snarled. She stomped her hoof down on the metal and flattened the tiara. "You never deserved it!" She repeated the stomp thrice more, whinnying at the pain. She left a bloody hoofprint on the ground.
Celestia watched her like a disappointed parent watching a foal throw a tantrum. She breathed out and folded her wings. “It’s just a crown, Flurry.”
“It’s everything,” Flurry spat back up at her. She heaved for breath, and Celestia watched. Her white muzzle was clean and collected, as if she had never cried in the first place. Flurry felt a fresh trail of blood hit her lips.
“You know it’s the right decision,” Celestia implored. “Please.”
The shield rippled. Flurry's voice stuttered out and she turned to the imprint fading in the magic. Celestia jerked her head to the side in curiosity, and her horn glowed. The golden magic turned transparent.
Grover lowered his claw, shaking a smoking glove. His outfit had been cleaned up, sash wiped down and shirt tucked-in. The griffon wore a new black coat with a higher collar, masking his side profile. Flurry immediately realized he had tan foundation smeared across most of his feathers and polish on his beak. It did not fully hide the crystallization, but at a distance he appeared normal. The Reichstone atop his head had been dried and the gems appeared fresh and pristine.
Flurry looked past him. Several cameras had been set up and the crowd pushed back to the warehouse wall. A camera and film crew were stationed atop the box she landed on, facing the pier. Knights in full armor formed a cordon around the dock now. When Flurry switched to the deck of the ship, a contingent of Reichsarmee regulars lined the deck, dotted with more cameras.
Grover mouthed something with a clacking beak. Flurry realized the sound was still cut off. Her horn glowed and she probed the bubble shield. To her surprise, the magic yielded to her and fizzled away. The bubble shield popped with the sound of a soap bubble.
The Kaiser of Griffonkind adjusted a cufflink with casual indifference. “I had to borrow some of Bridleway’s old film pieces,” he explained in Herzlander. “Governor Lilac had recordings for their cultural significance.”
“And the makeup?” Flurry asked in a wobbling voice. She tried to smile. She failed.
“What makeup?” Grover deadpanned. He flicked a wing out to the crowd behind him. His tail slapped against the concrete. His eyes moved down to the bleeding hoof, then back to the pink alicorn. “Hello, Princess.”
“Kaiser Grover,” Flurry answered. She breathed in and struggled to breathe out.
Grover waited. His deep blue eyes flicked to the other alicorn, then back to Flurry. He raised a cufflink and fiddled with it. Flurry understood the message. It has to be you.
“Kaiser Grover,” Flurry said with forced formality. “This is…” she turned to stare at the other alicorn, bracing for an interruption.
Celestia did not interrupt her. The white alicorn stood calmly a wingspan away. Her gaze was unreadable, but it lingered over their heads at the crowd and cameras.
“This is Celestia,” Flurry said. “My mother’s aunt.”
Grover dipped his head. “I am pleased to finally make your acquaintance. I am always open to the friends of Chancellor River Swirl. Would that I could meet more of them.”
Celestia did not respond to him, but her magenta eyes wandered over his beak. She hummed in the back of her throat, but did not say a word.
“I believe this is the first time you have ever met a Grover,” the Kaiser said. He spoke his professional, accented Equestrian. "On behalf of my ancestors, I greet you."
“Yes,” Celestia accepted. “Your family had little interest in meeting me.”
Grover turned to Flurry. “This is a momentous occasion. Do you mind if it is recorded, Princess?”
“I…” Flurry licked her lips. “I do not.”
Grover’s cheeks pulled into an exaggerated smile, and he turned back to Celestia. “What can we do for such an esteemed guest of Chancellor River Swirl?”
“I am not here on behalf of the River Federation,” Celestia said stiffly. The same half-smile returned and she stood relaxed on the dock. "I am a citizen of the River Federation like any other."
Grover noticed the smashed, bloody gold on the pier. “I see. Well, a citizen of the River Federation is welcome in the Griffonian Reich, regardless.”
“Is that where we’re standing right now?” Celestia asked with an easy edge.
“No,” Grover said smoothly, “but you did fly through my lands to get here.”
“I teleported.”
Flurry shifted closer to Grover. He gave her quick side-eye and flicked a brown feather. Not too close. She stepped back and shot a backwards glance at the flashing cameras. The herd was still silent and milling around, even with the griffons cordoning them away from their Princesses.
Celestia looked between them. “I am not here to interfere in your war. This is a private matter between…” she trailed off and glanced one eye at Flurry, lingering on the crystal band. “I wish to speak to my grandniece. That is all.”
“I wish you gave us an advance notice,” Grover responded. He flapped and refolded his wings. The griffon had to look up at the tall alicorn, and Flurry noticed the Reichstone sat uneasily over his feathers. The exposed gray padding was flecked with tan smears.
The Princess of the Sun stared on some point between them, muzzle slightly lowered. Flurry stilled her feathers and pressed them flush against her lean barrel. Grover had his own wings laying over the black overcoat. The feathers left smudges on the leather and a few sparkled in a stray beam of sunlight.
“I do not know what is going on in the River Federation,” Celestia said in a low, calm voice to match the waves lapping against the pier.
"You were absent in the past River Games," Grover retorted.
Celestia huffed at that and smiled down at him like he was an amusing parrot. “I only wish to make an appeal for the health of Twilight Sparkle.”
“To the mages of Wittenland?” Grover guessed. He tapped a glove on the dock.
Celestia blinked. “Yes. Their spellwork is impeccable.”
Flurry’s chest felt tight. She kept her eyes on the alicorn and did not look to Grover. She ran her tongue around her mouth before responding. “My fellow Diarch remains in Equestria.”
“I suppose that settles it,” Grover shrugged a wing. “Princess Flurry is a direct relative of Twilight Sparkle, and her last living family. Her say is final.”
Celestia hummed again. Her horn raised to the cameras lining the ship above them, and the soldiers in between the flashing bulbs. “I remember the letter you sent me, Flurry.”
“And you had nothing left to say,” Flurry heaved out.
“Not that one,” Celestia shook her head. She turned down to Grover and blinked languidly at his polished beak. A small patch flashed in a beam of sunlight. “I wonder when this is done what your griffons will say of this war. That you came all this way for one of us?”
Grover’s makeup-smeared beak ground together. For a moment, there was only a rumble in his chest. He snarled with a cracking voice, “I did not come here for her.”
“That,” Celestia declared, “is the truth.” She smiled again, but with pressed lips and rolled her head to Flurry. “Please. You know this is the right choice. For Twilight.”
Flurry hesitated. “And then what?”
“I will not stop you.” White wings sagged again and feathers splayed out beside two beaming suns. Her muzzle curved downwards. “What you are building…you know it will not last. No more than Chrysalis’ reign.”
“Neither did Equestria,” Flurry snapped out. Her inhale stuttered. “You…we could have won.”
“What is the point if we win the war and forfeit our souls?” Celestia swung her head back up to the corpses. “What price do we declare is enough? Is worth it?”
“My family knew the cost.”
Celestia snapped her head downwards again. “Your family…” she stopped and breathed deeply. “Please, help your family. We will make an announcement, and I will leave. Let her have a future.”
Flurry Heart stood on the dock and stared over a white wing to the east. She did not think about the offer, or the throbbing pain in her hoof as it bled on the concrete. She thought of Whammy wearing her old tiara on her nightstand.
A brown feather drifted against her wing and left a smear of foundation. Flurry blinked and shifted one pale blue eye to Grover. The griffon was staring at his ship, apparently disinterested in the conversation.
“I was wondering if you were here to volunteer,” he said idly.
Flurry looked back to the cameras atop the crates, and the milling, churning herd below the crews. A few more griffons lined the warehouse roof as well, and the bulbs flashed across her fur under a cloudy sky. Her tail twisted and curled, and she looked back to Celestia with ice in her eyes.
The taller alicorn did not flinch. “Please. Don’t.”
Flurry stepped back and clenched her teeth at the throbbing in her hoof. The pink alicorn turned away from the pale white and Grover stepped nimbly to the side as if it was rehearsed. She stamped down hard on the wound and forced the pain into her voice.
“Ponies of Equestria!”
The herd stilled.
“Ponies of Manehattan!”
They stared at her, and not the mare behind her. That figure did not move aside from folding her wings at her side.
“Long have we worked, and long have we suffered,” Flurry’s voice cracked, and her patchwork Equestrian drew out the final word. “But we have faced it together! And we will fight as one! As long as we live, we have not lost!” She took a deep, ragged breath.
“With Princess Celestia at my side, we will tear Chrysalis from her tower and fight the Hegemony!”
Flurry Heart did not look behind her at either the Princess or the Kaiser.
The cameras crews spun film reels, beaks turned to the side as they stared down lenses. A few moved viewfinders between the disparate trio, or adjusted the height of the stands to have them all in focus. The bulbs lining the rooftop and the deck of the freighter flashed with renewed intensity.
The herd of Manhattanites were quiet and hooves stopped shuffling. They stood as one great uncertain mass, and even the griffon soldiers turned and stared at the dock for some indication of what was to be done. Flurry tried to raise her wings, but they were shaking too badly and remained pinned at her side.
Her ponies stared at her.
Somepony in the crowd whinnied wildly and threw a cap into the air.
The rest broke into cheers, and the guards whirled back around to stop them from charging the dock. The griffons linked wings and formed a line, wedging the crowd back against the warehouse. Flurry looked to her left, and more began to spill onto the unoccupied pier. Additional soldiers landed and waved them back.
Flurry turned back around with the cheering crowd at her tail and a wobblily, forced smile on her muzzle. She tried to keep her ears from pinning into her mane. She walked slowly, both to keep her tail from tripping her up and to measure her steps from shaking. Her right forehoof left splatters of blood.
Celestia had closed her eyes and lowered her horn. She exhaled with a low sigh. The alicorn looked up at Flurry with pity in her soft magenta eyes. This time, she said nothing. Grover stayed to the side, closer to the crane. The Kaiser looked regal and detached from the proceedings. His presence is enough.
“You can have her,” Flurry offered under the distant whinnies. Her voice shook. “If you fight. You have to fight. Spike will kill you if you try to take her. Me, or Chrysalis, or all of us. You have to fight.”
“All you can appeal to is violence?” Celestia asked softly. “Is that all that’s left?” Her eyes wandered upwards and stopped near the base of Flurry’s horn. The smaller alicorn lifted her head and felt the weight of the crystal and six gems.
I don’t know what else to do. “My family chose to fight,” Flurry said instead.
“Not like you,” Celestia pointed out with a resigned whicker. “Oh, Flurry. Your mother would be so disappointed to see you now. But it isn't your fault. She should have been here for you.”
Love is the death of duty, Flurry. “You did not understand her at all.”
Her voice felt different. She backed up, legs moving stiffly, towards the cheering crowd. Grover snapped a wing. A few knights appeared from the bow of the ship, landing in dull gray armor and quickly surrounding their Kaiser. The square advanced towards the herd.
Celestia smiled and laughed with a laced sob. “Your father told me the same. Told us the same, Luna and I both. Right here on this dock.”
The younger alicorn froze.
Celestia noticed and continued in a slow, soft voice. It beat out a cadence under the wild cheering. “My sister and I faced him with the same poisonous fury in his eyes. He set you on this path, just as your mother set him on his.”
Flurry looked up to the crane, then back to the faded mural on the warehouse. Her head lolled and her muzzle wandered over the crowd with a fixed, fake smile. “On this dock?” she echoed.
“Please,” Celestia pleaded, “do not repeat their mistakes.”
Flurry turned her fake smile back to Celestia as the cameras flashed. She felt her hoof throb, and looked down at her mismatched forelegs. The white scar on her left foreleg blinked white under the cascading lights, and the edges of her right hoof were bloody.
She twisted her plastic muzzle upwards and extended her right wing. She pointed it casually to the side, and shrugged it like she was discussing the weather. Celestia flapped her own wings in response.
“Two over,” Flurry said in Aquileian.
Celestia frowned. Her wings stuttered. She exhaled for a moment and her eyes searched the other alicorn.
“It was two over,” Flurry repeated. “I remember.”
The other alicorn heaved a breath and began in Aquileian, “If you wish to claim some victory from this-”
“What was the name of the ship?” Flurry interrupted her with the smile fixed on her muzzle.
Celestia stopped and regarded her with sad, large eyes.
“It was a destroyer,” Flurry answered. “The Endeavour. The Wingbardians sank it when they invaded New Mareland. I remember. You chose the wrong dock.”
The other Princess swung her head to the right, then rolled her neck back. She looked at Flurry piteously. “Do not let it come to this. For Twilight’s sake. For your family.”
Flurry could not make her tongue cooperate and turned back around. Her legs moved on their own and followed Grover under the rolling cameras. The griffon had stopped and opened the protective square. He waited on all fours with another show of fixing his gloves. The knights fanned their wings, partially blocking him from view, but the gold of the Reichstone glittered under the assault of flashes.
The whinnies were deafening. Flurry fanned her wings out above her head, and the spasms in her feathers looked like she was waving. A few earth ponies reared at the front of the herd and were shoved back with rifle butts. It took all her effort to keep her wide smile on her muzzle. The pain in her hoof somehow helped.
She stopped beside Grover and clacked her hooves. She turned back around and faced the end of the dock. The griffon glanced up at her and asked in a low whisper, “Are you alright?”
Flurry’s ears twitched and she forced them to stay up. Her tail wrung into a knot, blue and purple curls winding together from the spasming muscle. She swallowed a glob of spit and bile down.
A lone white figure stood on the dock. The clouds broke, and sunlight spilled across the dockyards. Flurry saw her muzzle ripple with every variant of pink in her watery vision. She breathed in through her clogged nose.
Celestia stared upwards at the crane, and the corpses hanging below it. Her head swung downwards to the shattered flecks of gold stamped into the pier. She looked upwards again to the faded mural on the warehouse, eyes skipping over Cadance’s daughter.
Flurry gazed at her, icy eyes shaking.
Don’t you dare leave.
The other Celestia only had eyes for the slice of cake levitating into her maw.
Don’t leave.
Celestia closed her eyes.
Please don’t leave.
She opened her eyes, looked at Flurry with absolute pity, and turned around.
Her horn glowed and she snapped away with a windchime. There was a burst of golden light on the eastern horizon, and a small, pale dot grew smaller as it moved east. It flicked away again with another flash, and there was nothing to see in the time it took to blink.
Flurry inhaled with a shudder.
A claw grabbed her bloody hoof and squeezed just above the keratin. She felt the leather glove split as talons stabbed through and dug into her fur. Her breath cut into a hiss of pain and she shifted her right eye down to Grover.
Grover removed his claw and placed it on the ground. “Do not cry,” he said quietly in Aquileian. “They cannot see you cry.”
The whinnying behind them did not die immediately. The pitch lowered, suddenly uncertain, and a few voices faded. More followed their example, degenerating into whickers of confusion and discombobulated mutterings. Those died out in less than a minute.
The dockyard was silent again except for the shuffling of hooves and rustling of wings against armor. A few of the camera crews stopped; Flurry’s ears twitched as spools ran down in the grave absence of anything else making noise. A bulb flashed on the deck of the ship.
“Turn with me,” Grover commented lowly, speaking with a whisper out the side of his beak. “Can you say something?”
Flurry could not trust herself to say anything even to him. Her jaw twitched. It took everything she had to keep her lips pressed together. Feathers twitched at her sides, but her wings stopped everypony from seeing her shaking barrel.
“Say nothing,” Grover stated. Flurry did not look to him, nor he to her, but his voice cracked. “Silence speaks louder than words. Turn now.”
She obeyed like a puppet on marionette strings, turning with Grover as if it was choregraphed. She stared over the sea of confused eyes. Flurry almost looked to the filly with a crooked muzzle, but wrenched her gaze to the poster. The herd had spread out, dispersed by the reinforcements, and she could see the bottom of the wall.
Underneath the arrow, somepony had scrawled LONG LIVE THE PRINCESS OF HOPE ROPE
Flurry felt her crown weigh down her head. The purple gem was just under her horn, partially blackened from the heat from her spells. Her ragged mane hid it. The cameras began to roll again with renewed vigor, and bulbs flashed along the rooftop. She felt Grover shift beside her, brushing his wing against her as he adjusted the Reichstone. It looked unintentional.
Two brown feathers squeezed one of her pink primaries before he adjusted his wings.
“The Reichsarmee of the Griffonian Reich is dedicated to prosecuting this war with absolute confidence in Equestria and her allies,” he announced in Equestrian. Nopony responded to him. The herd looked upwards to the last Princess of Ponies.
Flurry Heart set her muzzle into a grim frown of determination.
She wanted Whammy.
The newscaster’s voice was unbearably smug.
“Yet again, the former Princess Celestia abandons her ponies, turning tail on a cold cloudy day.” The Herzlander was rapid and fast, matching the edits from the three cameras. It was shoddy work, and quick. One cut seemingly showed her hooves jittering as it edited down how long she paused on the dock.
A camera had zoomed in on her eyes when she turned back to Flurry for the final time. “When the call came, all she can muster is one final look to the Kaiser of Griffonkind and the Princess of Ponies.” The angle changed and the edits blasted past, showing ponies milling about uncertainly. “Ponies are uncertain and lost, creatures of the herd. They look for reassurance.”
The angle changed to show Flurry Heart and Grover von Greifenstein facing them behind a line of knights. It was a bad angle and to the side, but the black-and-white masked the makeup on the Kaiser’s beak and wings. The alicorn beside him seemed to be even shinier; a wave ran through her wings even without color. She frowned.
In the makeshift auditorium, Flurry Heart tucked Whammy under her chin. The little tiara chafed her fur. She held it there in the crooks of her forelegs regardless.
There was a cut to cheering ponies. “And they are given it. Under the banner of the Reichsarmee, Equestria is liberated. The last Princess of Ponies assumes her rightful place and leads her herd to war.” There was a series of quick slices to footage of tanks rolling across plains, a burning Hegemony banner, a series of empty cocoons. “The armies of the Second Grand Crusade march forward relentlessly, carving to the heart of the Hegemony.” There was a shot of a griffon and pony sitting together beside some sandbags. Flurry immediately recognized the griffoness as one of her Aquileians beside a crystal pony, but the visual was gone in two heartbeats.
“Under the leadership of Blessed Grover VI, the Reichsarmee shall finish what Celestia failed to do.” The shot returned to the dock, this time of Grover standing before Celestia in his crown. Her muzzle moved silently and he replied. “In the light of Boreas, through the winds of Arcturius, under the rain of Eyr…the Griffonian Reich shall prevail!”
The jaunty music screeched out before the final notes of the anthem and the last splice of the film reel burned out. No one reacted to it but the projectionists. The two griffons clacked their beaks at each other on the balcony and slapped at the spools of celluloid, beginning to wind it back together. The footage was now crooked and played in reverse. Celestia appeared to turn back around and walk to them.
Someone restarted the music, and the newscaster’s voice returned.
“Sudden news from the Second Grand Crusade!”
“That is enough!” Grover called out. Flurry watched his wings extend from the table ahead of her. He leaned upright on the table and swung his head about. “Dismissed!” The Reichstone sat on the table beside him and held down several dozen stills and papers.
“Copies to Griffenheim,” Benito picked up. “Airfield is waiting to relay.” The dog marched up and down the rows, waving a graying paw. He no longer sparkled. Griffons rapidly ushered themselves out of chairs ahead of Flurry, claws tucking away notepads and pens. It felt as if the entire Press Corps of the Reich had been stuffed into the east wing of Canterlot Castle. They scurried like pigeons with whispers and clacking beaks.
The projector shut off and guards watched the film reels be packed into cans. The room cleared slowly. Griffons flew over the tables where they could, but all landed near the double doors and the hulking figure leaning against the back wall. A few overly ambitious reporters stalked up to the Lord Regent, then reconsidered and left the room.
None of them approached the Princess of Ponies. Flurry kept her eyes on the wall where the film had been projected. It was dark, past sunset, and the night was cloudy. The dining hall had been dimmed, and the windows boarded. It made a good auditorium, only lit by two faint chandeliers hanging from the entrance.
Thorax set his cap down beside the alicorn. He ran a hoof over his head fin before tucking a pen into a hole in his hoof. He rolled his sleeve back down afterwards and slid a black notepad into a jacket pocket. It was hard to tell where he was looking, but he leaned a little too forward to keep his muzzle in Flurry’s view.
I know you’re looking at me.
Thorax’s senses apparently did not extend to outright telepathy. He placed both forelegs under his chin and leaned on the table, buzzing his wings against the back of the chair. Benito marched ahead once the last of the press were gone. He gave the changeling a lingering look, trying to track the blue eyes to Grover ahead of him. The dog leaned against the table on the edge and shifted the chair away with a boot. He faced backwards.
Grover was writing something down. His claw and elbow moved under his coat. Flurry saw his head feathers flex and bob. There was no makeup needed now; the crystallization had worn off both of them days ago.
Flurry slowly set Whammy down on the table ahead of her and regarded her forelegs. The pink fur shifted in the light, but only faintly. The effect had dimmed over the past week, and she guessed it would be gone by tomorrow. Her mane and tail had been hacked down to their original, short swirls. She would need to shave them again completely soon, but not yet. For the moment, she held Whammy on the table in her forelegs. The tiara on the shell had become unstuck; she pushed it back into place.
Grover continued to scratch something out and his wings fluttered against the back of the chair. He extended his left wing and shoved something to the side with brown feathers. Flurry saw the bulge of his holster under the coat for a moment.
“The lighting is poor, my Kaiser,” Benito said. “Shall I request the other chandeliers-”
“No,” Grover clacked his beak. He lifted his beak and stared forward for a moment, then unhooked his glasses and wiped them on a sleeve. He balanced them on his beak.
Grover did not turn around for a few seconds. The chair’s legs screeched on the floor when he did. The griffon was slouched awkwardly with his paws folded under him. Flurry had let her hind legs dangle despite the protests of her spine.
The dog was correct; the lighting in the room was poor. The frames of his glasses masked Grover’s eyes, and his beak was unreadable. Flurry instead focused on the twitching of his wings and the slight ruffling of the feathers and fur around his beak.
Neither said anything.
“Princess Twilight was not mentioned,” Thorax observed. “Why?”
“Celestia can mention it,” Grover answered. “Her visit was planned to drive a rift between the Reich and Equestria. That is true enough. She can claim all she wants it was to save Twilight Sparkle. That will be her defense to the accusation.”
“And it is a weak defense,” Thorax agreed. “That gives us the position to respond with our choosing. She can deny she challenged the Princess or spoke ill of the Reich, but she will be forced to explain why she came. That she came to take the pony that declared we must fight the Hegemony away.”
“The River Federation’s border exercises slowed,” Benito growled. “They withdrew in Lake City. This is not the actions of a country gearing for war.”
“It could be a feint,” Spike called out from the back of the room.
“Or River Swirl could have been using the pretext to weaken the warmongers,” Thorax countered. “We don’t know. Have they responded?”
“No,” Benito shook his head and his ears bent. His jowls shook. “Well, yes.”
“Their embassy forwarded a note.” Grover’s voice was sardonic. “'We have no comment on the actions of a private citizen.'”
“You have an embassy?” Thorax hissed.
“Of course,” Grover shrugged a wing. “Where do you think they get all the pictures they censor? It sounds rehearsed, and released too quickly. The gambit is obvious.”
“Drive a wedge between the alliance by making the war about Twilight Sparkle.” Spike thudded up the row of tables. “Try to make it look like your puppet government is holding her hostage. You think Celestia didn’t see it?”
“Perhaps the Chancellor made a few suggestions about medical care and allowed her to leave?” the Kaiser guessed. He waved a claw. “Does not matter. We can respond, not initiate. Will the ELF allow their Princess to leave?”
Yes. To save her.
“No,” Spike said flatly. “The ELF is gone. The Imperial Army is sworn to the crown.”
“Some would want her to get the best medical care possible,” Thorax countered. “The very same that were abandoned during the uprising. If it comes to it, we can use the divided loyalties to sow enough confusion that it won’t be an issue.”
“Just so,” Grover shrugged his wings. “Have you received your copies?”
“We are working on it,” Thorax said. Spike walked up and leaned against another table behind all of them. His tail knocked a chair aside and the wood audibly creaked from the dragon’s weight.
“We are splicing Twilight’s speech into it,” Spike said above Flurry’s horn. "Ponies don't have time to sit and watch newsreels. They will hear about it on the radio long before ever seeing any evidence."
"It happened so quick some will think it another fake for months," Thorax chittered. "Small blessings."
Flurry nudged Whammy with a hoof. “They didn’t cheer.” It emerged as a whisper.
Grover cocked his head. Benito leaned over and cupped a paw to the flexing feathers. The dog withdrew and looked to the side. The Kaiser of Griffonkind tapped his claws together. “They did.”
“Not at the end,” Flurry said. Her voice was faint. “They just stared. You made it look like they cheered.”
“You used a different angle but the same footage twice,” Thorax observed. “I doubt most will notice, but cut a few frames before mass distribution.” He pulled out his notebook and ripped a page free with a fang before levitating it over.
Grover took a deep breath. “Okay.” Benito took the floating page.
“They didn’t cheer,” Flurry repeated.
“They cheered for you before,” Grover countered. “It’s a harmless lie.”
“Auntie Celestia will say they didn’t cheer.”
“She was gone by then,” Spike said behind her. A claw pressed itself against her wing and began to nudge her out of the chair. Flurry let Spike push her upright. “We have it under control, Princess. Not like most ponies have time to watch newsreels.”
Flurry Heart grabbed Whammy in her aura and flopped the snail on her back gracelessly. Her magic sparked a few times and her aim was off. She used a wing to nudge the snail to her wing joints. Her wings sagged to the floor and dragged beside her as Spike kept his claw at the base of her neck. She did not look up.
“My aunt started a civil war.” Grover’s voice cracked.
Flurry swung her head over a wing to look back at him. Considering her nakedness, it was bold of him to actually make eye contact and stare past her ragged tail. The griffon pressed a talon into his cufflink like he was adjusting it, but snipped the golden button off.
Grover looked away after a moment. “Just,” he started in Equestrian, “it could be worse. If she wanted to save..." he did not say the name, "she should have come long ago. She demands a war to dethrone you, and ponies will wonder why she didn’t do it then and there.”
She just has to wait. Flurry said nothing.
Grover rolled the golden button on his knuckles, looking away. “Did…did Whammy, Second of His Name, have any thoughts?”
“No,” Flurry whickered. “It’s a dumb toy.” She swung her head back and stuttered forward. Spike resumed pushing her to the double doors. Her guards, all crystal ponies, formed two rows. Thorax spoke quietly with Jadis and the rows split once the doors opened into the hallway. They formed a square around the Lord Regent, Royal Advisor, and the Princess.
All of her guards were armed with primed weapons. Flurry could feel them. But their eyes were worse. They stared at the other ponies in the hallway longer than any griffon, sizing them up with a mismatched hoof step or shift of weight to swing their submachine gun into easy grip.
Flurry judged from the floor paneling they were going back to Celestia’s bedroom. I wonder if that’s safe. She could probably just teleport back whenever she wanted. She slept in that room for centuries. She hummed as the thought of waking up in the dead of night to Celestia standing over her head struck her as a funny way to die.
Spike stopped. “Did you say something?” The claw gripped her neck gently and the scales were warm. Flurry did not respond, so he resumed guiding her after a moment.
The guards slowed a moment before an alcove. Two ponies shifted their submachine guns into their hooves. A figure stepped out from behind an empty plinth and knocked the guns to the side with a wave of her amber horn.
Sunset Shimmer shuffled fully out into the hallway. Flurry saw her chipped hooves first, then looked up to the threadbare gray coat hanging from her back. The amber unicorn had left it unbuttoned and one sleeve was torn. Her pants were missing from the uniform and the sun on her flank was dim.
The flame around the unicorn's horn wavered, but twisted with red and yellow streaks. The horn tip was nearly black. It was pointed low, at eye level, but the stance did not hide the shaking of her hooves.
Flurry let Spike push her behind his wings. "Archmage."
Sunset breathed out and breathed back in. Her eyes were unfocused. "What did you say to her?"
Flurry did not respond.
Sunset licked her lips and rasped, "What...w-what did she say about-"
Thorax brushed the draconic wing aside and clacked his fangs. He marched up to the burning horn. Sunset's eyes wavered up to the changeling.
"Celestia asked about her family, Archmage," Thorax said with a hiss.
The unicorn pinched her eyes shut and vanished with a crackle of sparks.
There was a moment of silence. Flurry felt Spike’s claw push her forward. They resumed walking to her room in quiet; her wings dragged on the floor and she listened to the ruffling of her feathers. Nopony commented on the dirt and grime her pinions accumulated.
The guards checked the room for a long time with Thorax before Spike guided her inside. The sun was still faintly visible on the wooden door, even after it had been scourged off years ago. Flurry knew it was there but kept her eyes on her hooves. Spike took his claw off her back to shut the door behind him, leaving the alicorn, dragon, and changeling alone.
Flurry did not move. She felt Whammy leave her back and mustered a weak flap of her wings. Thorax levitated the snail over to her nightstand and set it near the timepiece. The changeling stared at it critically, then pushed the tiara back to be over the shell.
Spike leaned against the door and his tail twisted around a leg. He rubbed his sleeve. “That was cruel, changeling.”
“It needed to be said,” Thorax responded.
“You think she’ll be a problem?”
“No.” The changeling buzzed his wings. “Some problems fix themselves.”
“I have more security around Twilight.” The dragon let out a growl. “Even…even that damn foal. Her security suggestions are valid and she's cloyingly sweet. What the fuck else are you having her do?”
Thorax hummed noncommittally. “Better you don’t know, Lord Regent. Plausible deniability.”
“I told Auntie Celestia you’d kill her,” Flurry whispered. The alicorn still tottered in the middle of the room between them. She scrunched her muzzle and sniffled.
Spike’s wings twitched against the wall. “I don’t know if that was a lie,” he snarled. His voice immediately collapsed and turned softer. “It’s late. It’s been a long day. You should rest.”
Flurry shuffled to the mattress and laid her head atop it. Her ears twitched.
“Has she eaten?” Spike whispered poorly.
“This morning,” Thorax hissed back quietly. “Let her be.”
Flurry lifted the crystal band off her head and let it plunk to the floor. It rolled for a moment and settled near her hind legs. “Tell me what’s happening,” she ordered in a weak voice.
“The Reichsarmee is in final preparations to resume the advance,” Thorax said easily. “High Commander Tempest is already in the field. Heartsong and the Imperial Army are at holding the mountains. The Yaks are scouting for artillery.”
“Dragon Lord Ember and Queen Velvet are in Las Pegasus,” Spike continued. “They’re about to launch.”
Flurry shifted her wings across the floor. “Tell me what’s happening.”
Spike let out a low, long snort and the room smelled of smoke. “I spoke on the radio. She returned. And she left. That’s it.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Flurry mumbled from the bed.
“That is it,” Thorax agreed. Flurry heard his hooves transition from the floor to the rug. Changelings always stepped lighter due to the holes in their hooves. She lifted her wing to ward him off.
Thorax instead walked to the balcony and opened the doors. The four guards outside eyed the changeling with surprise and wariness, but recognized him and stepped aside. He turned back around and cocked his head, buzzing his wings. The view faced the west, where the sun would have set behind the Duskwood Forest. It was too dark to see beyond the mountain. Canterlot glittered from the castle in the night, including flashing lights around the dockyards and industry of Lower Canterlot.
“What do you hear?” the changeling asked.
Flurry listened with errant, twitching ears. They rubbed against her swirls. Machinery. Wind. Feathers. Sliding rocks. “Nothing,” she sighed.
“Nothing,” Thorax said between his fangs. “No coup, no rioting herd, no civil war.”
“You do good work,” Flurry mumbled.
The changeling did not smile, but he lowered his head. “I didn’t need to. Any belief in her died with the ELF.”
“I killed the ELF.”
“We killed ourselves,” Spike said from behind her. “The first time we charged up this mountain.”
Thorax signaled the guards to close the doors. “It is always a queer feeling.” He waited until the guards resumed their post outside and moved closer to the bed. “Being a changeling in those meetings. Hope tastes like fire.”
“Fire has a taste?”
“Yes,” Spike stated as if it was obvious.
“There’s an emptiness afterwards,” Thorax continued. “When hope is answered with…nothing. Starlight believed she could save Twilight. She believed if she did they would come back. The ELF died in this city, that much is true. But it died long before you ever left our tenement.”
“Better to give them nothing than give them rope.”
“You don’t mean that,” Thorax shook his head.
“Auntie Celestia did.”
“Because she’s a thousand years old and can wait,” Spike said. His tail slapped harder into the wall. “Any dragon that makes it that long turns into an ornery old fuck. She wants to take Twilight without a fight? She’ll have to wait a long, long time.”
“She will,” Thorax smiled. There was a falseness in it, like a mask over a muzzle. “I love you, Flurry.”
Flurry closed her eyes and rolled her head on the thin bedsheets. “Uncle?”
Spike and Thorax shifted in unison. Flurry listened to leather and gossamer wings rustle. The dragon laid a claw on her back again and rubbed between her wings.
“Do you remember dad?”
“Of course,” Spike said softly.
“Always,” Thorax sighed. “Your father was a great pony.”
“Can…” Flurry swallowed, “can you be him?”
There was a long silence and Flurry listened to her heartbeat and her feathers dragging through the rug beside her bed. Spike’s claw shifted as the dragon made some movement beside her, but she kept her eyes closed.
Her ears twitched at the flare of magic across from her. She opened her eyes.
Shining Armor stood across the bed in a purple uniform that was slightly too tight for the stocky unicorn. His mane was bluer than she remembered, and he lacked the crow’s feet that wrinkled his fur around his eyes. In the lighting of her bedroom, his white fur seemed to truly shine. He had his hooves firmly planted on the rug, different from how her uncle stood.
Her father did not smile at her. He dipped his horn to her in a nod and waited. Flurry took a deep breath.
“When you left to the front, you asked me to take care of everypony. You said they’d look to me because I was a Princess, even Simone and she hated me.” She smiled to herself. “You were right. When the fighting moved into the city she panicked and clung to my foreleg. I led everypony into the basement and rationed the food out. The adults all went out to fight or run. Or loot. No one tried to steal food from an alicorn.
“We stayed down there until the gunshots stopped, then a few days longer like you said. I had to go get more food. That’s how they caught me. I should have waited until nightfall and snuck out.” Flurry blinked. “I’m sorry.”
Shining Armor stared at her with soft blue eyes. “Your father would be proud of you,” he said in Thorax’s voice.
“You think you were going to wait down there forever?” Spike asked.
“I knew you were dead,” Flurry said to her dad. “Some of the other foals didn’t understand. They kept waiting for their parents. I…I couldn’t tell them.”
“You were ten,” Thorax said with her father’s muzzle. “That is not a failure.”
Flurry stared at her father. She remembered him looking far wearier. He had still been one of their best commanders, even after everything. Aquileia sent him to a river that had to be held in a city called Flowena. He had shown her where he would be on a map. Flurry never knew his soldiers like she knew her crystal ponies, but he spoke about them the same way.
I wish you left them all to die and came back to me.
Flurry did not say it.
Did you abandon me?
Flurry could not say it.
Or did you just want to see mom again?
Instead, she said, “Don’t fight her if she comes back when I’m gone. I’m ordering you.”
The green fire fell away. Thorax took a deep breath and Spike’s claw stopped on a wing joint. The alicorn felt his talons tense and prick her flesh under her fur. The changeling stalked to the side of the bed and laid his head opposite Flurry’s.
“I promise,” Thorax lied.
“I promise,” Spike lied a moment later.
Flurry hauled herself onto her mattress and laid down atop the sheet. She rubbed her wings on the cheap linen. The alicorn laid on her back with her wings splayed out; with six limbs, she was limited in comfortable sleeping positions. She twisted her neck and bit the pillow to move it into place under her head.
Spike and Thorax backed away from the bed and shared looks in the dim lights. Flurry’s horn glowed and snagged her crown from the floor. She laid it beside Whammy and the timepiece on her crowded nightstand. The glow dimmed, and the crystal lights dimmed as well around the room.
“We love you,” Spike said at the door.
“I know,” Flurry whispered.
“Good night, Princess,” Thorax said from beside the dragon. He lingered for a moment in the darkness, and Flurry could only see his bright blue eyes staring at her. How many watch me sleep every night now? For a moment, she considered casting the detection spell, then dismissed the thought.
“Hope answered with rope,” Thorax said in the darkness. “You want the truth? There was no plan to save the Empire or Equestria after the ELF. There were no more meetings. There was nothing. There would not be an Equestria if not for you. Chrysalis won. She shattered them into squabbling idiots with her good little ‘lings, and no one wanted to try and put the pieces back together again except you.”
Flurry did not reply. The ceiling was made of carved wood, and embossed with clouds. She wondered if it was meant to look like a sunrise or sunset. Her family left quietly and the door shimmered with magic from an exterior warding spell. Flurry could overpower it easily if she wanted to.
She closed her eyes.
The dream started the same way, just like it always did.
Flurry Heart stumbled upright with a bitter wind nipping at her flanks, facing a dark mine shaft. Screams and whinnies echoed from within. The only lights were weak lamps hanging from rafters, and the walls were ragged rock with the occasional sparkling crystal catching the light. She never got a good look at the outside; there was snow and cold and sunlight.
She always charged in and ran down the tunnel. “I’m here!” she shouted. “Call out!”
The whinnies and screams responded, wavering in pitch and intensity. Flurry ran down the paths, hooves churning loose rocks and bounding over tables or overturned mine carts. She followed the tracks, but they split at intersections and the voices never seemed to grow any closer.
“Princess! Please!”
“I’m here!” Flurry belted down one tunnel. Her horn glowed, but no spell came out. She snarled and tossed her head with a nicker. The tunnel was wide enough for her entire wingspan to fit, but it was too low to fly. She had to run.
“Princess!” It was closer, down the left tunnel at a split. Flurry chased it. It was probably a trap, but she wasn’t thinking. She didn’t have time to think. Every time she stopped to think and wait the screaming grew louder and more desperate.
Flurry rounded the corner and reared. The voice stopped.
Sunburst dangled from a rope attached to a rafter. His body twisted around with a creak of tension in the cheap rope, and his bulging eyes met hers. A swollen tongue licked chapped lips.
“Monster,” Sunburst rasped.
Screams sounded behind her. Flurry twisted around and chased them. The tunnel was different and branched again, and she followed the more urgent shouts. She flapped her wings by her side and stomped down a mine cart blocking her path, scattering gemstones that she crushed under her hooves.
She skittered to a stop before an occupied cart being shoved by a pair. Sunglider pushed it with his head down. He lifted his beak and stared at her with an eyeless head. “My cub…Please...”
From the other side of the cart, Falx leaned against the rail. His hooves were bloody and he wore the same suit as his partner. The sleeves were loose around the changeling’s holed hooves. Blood dribbled between his fangs. “I trusted you…”
Flurry shoved her way past the cart and followed the screams. A pony lurched out of the darkness swinging a pickaxe at the wall, trying to extract a gem. Flurry had to flare her wings out to stop in time.
Red Dawn twisted a shattered muzzle and spat a glob of blood at the alicorn’s hooves. “Git! Some of us have to work for a living! Got foals to feed!” The earth pony slammed the pick back into the wall.
Flurry shoved her aside as well and chased a squawk. There were two sounds. She came to a taller tunnel and two figures below a small, swinging body. They sobbed into their claws, and turned around at the alicorn.
Triton Blackpeak clacked a bloody beak at her. “My daughter was innocent. Look at what you did.”
“Look at what you did.” His wife said beside him. Blood splattered her nightdress from the wound in her chest.
Flurry ran under the swinging little body and deeper into the mine. Her breath heaved in her throat. She came to another tunnel, and this one was occupied. Ponies lined either side of the rock walls, and set their pickaxes down at seeing her.
“Stop,” Flurry panted. “I’m here. It’s okay.”
The lanterns flickered. A mare approached with a cocked head. “The Princess is here,” Lavender Lace smiled. Her head lolled with a crunch of bone. “Long may she reign.”
The others in the lines echoed her, all in dresses and suits and ties and too many to count. “Long may she reign.”
Flurry ran down the lines at another scream further in. This time, the tunnel narrowed. The ponies continued to chant the oath, and she had to bat at their glassy eyes and broken necks with her wings. They continued to smile at her and chant.
“Long may she reign.”
“Long may she reign.”
“Long may she reign.”
Flurry came to another mine cart being shoved by a large, fat pony. She snarled at her and tried to shove the earth pony aside, but she blocked the tunnel. The pony wailed and wrung her hooves.
“Please!” Suri squealed. “I can work! I can work! I'm sorry!”
Flurry pushed her to the ground as the mare sobbed and stepped over her. Her coat had begun to froth with exertion, but she couldn’t stop. She almost tripped over a rock and slammed into the crystals glimmering in the walls, but extended her wing and let her feathers get torn away by the jagged edges.
Flurry reached a chamber of glowing cocoons. She panted. Her horn sparked feebly and the alicorn threw her head back with a wild snarl. She leapt at the first cocoon to her right and beat it with her hooves, tearing through the membrane wildly.
A skeleton fell out and broke apart on the ground.
She moved to the next.
A smaller skeleton fell out.
She moved to the next and bloodied her hooves on the outside. The muffled screaming stopped every time she managed to open one. She resorted to stabbing her horn into it and tearing when her hooves were too mangled to continue. On the last cocoon, she hauled out a feeble mare with a patchy coat.
Garnet coughed and struggled to breathe. The crystal mare was clearly dying. Her hooves shook as she reached up to Flurry's muzzle. The alicorn stumbled over her tongue. “Hang on…I can…I’ll get-”
“Why did you take so long?” Garnet exhaled. Her barrel stilled.
Flurry Heart held the body in her hooves, then dropped it to the floor of the mine at another shriek. She forced herself back up and staggered down the tunnel. She had to lean against the wall with her wing, and the jagged rocks tore her feathers away. She couldn’t stop.
“Princess!”
Flurry stumbled around the corner just as the screams reached a crescendo. This time, she wasn’t too late. The little colt had backed all the way up the rocky wall as a bottomless void opened up in the tunnel. The floor gave away piece by piece. His stubby hooves scrambled for purchase on the far side, trapped against the back of the mineshaft.
“Please, Princess!”
Flurry’s horn finally blazed. “I got you!” She grabbed the crystal colt in her magic just before the ground caved in under his hooves. He floated in her golden aura above an endless abyss. She sighed. “I got you. Don’t worry.”
“Princess,” the colt sobbed. His white coat was flecked with gray. “Please!”
“It’s okay,” Flurry gasped for breath. “I’m right here.”
Quartz sobbed louder.
As Flurry Heart drifted him across the ravine, his hooves flaked away into ash. His cries faded into whimpers. “P-princess…”
Flurry’s magic roiled around him as she physically stumbled up to the edge. “Wait. I got you. Don’t worry.” Her telekinesis slipped around the embers as more drifted downwards. “W-wait.”
Quartz shook in her magic and more of him peeled away. His bright eyes stared at her in horror. Flurry’s magic encased him, but fur chipped through her grip. “P-please…”
“I got you,” Flurry repeated. Her eyes wandered over the falling flakes. “I…it’s okay…just…” She drifted him over to her faster, and it only caused more to break away. Her aura lashed out, trying to catch the embers and stick them back together.
“Please stop,” Quartz wept.
Just before he reached her, his muzzle caved into ash. The tiny pieces slipped out of her magic and drifted down into the ravine. Flurry was left holding nothing. Her horn dimmed.
She stared down into the hole. Her hooves tottered at the precipice. Somepony else screamed from the tunnels behind her and Flurry twisted away like she always did. She extended ragged wings to the wall to balance herself on mulched hooves. Her breath was wild and raspy. She rounded a sharp edge.
And collided with a solid blue barrel. Flurry stumbled back, gasping for breath. Her hooves suddenly felt more solid and her wings folded against her sides, feathers intact. Flurry shuffled her clean, polished hooves in the loose gravel, then looked to the blue hooves in her peripheral vision.
She followed them up to a lean barrel and elegant wings with a starry tail. Then higher to a long neck and narrow, hawkish muzzle. Teal eyes gazed at her above pursed lips. A mane floated behind pricked ears; nightfall swallowing a lantern hanging from a rafter above the alicorn.
Flurry Heart blinked. The mare’s eyes flicked upwards to meet her own glacial blue.
The other, smaller alicorn said nothing.
Neither did Flurry.
She burst out laughing in a whinny with spasming wings.
The laughter continued for several minutes, devolving into snorts and sobs. Snot and tears mixed in the light pink alicorn’s muzzle, and she tried to do her breathing exercise to stop. Her hoof shook at her chest.
The other mare did not move.
Finally, Flurry snorted, “This is what it takes for you to do your fucking-”
Princess Luna reared and slapped her with a wild foreleg. Flurry spun through the wall of the mineshaft in a spray of rocks. It did not hurt like it should, more like a punch to the nose. The alicorn rolled to a stop in another empty tunnel, laying on her back. She looked up to the hole in the wall.
Blue hooves wandered into view from the other side, rounding her horn. The steps were slightly off-kilter on the rocks. The standing alicorn circled her, looking at the walls. Flurry began to laugh again on the floor.
“Comedy,” Luna began in a solid contralto, “is an improvement on tragedy. They should rarely mix. Plays that do so are…” she trailed off “…are reductive.”
“Is that what you’re doing over there?” Flurry spat from the floor. “Watching plays while painting?”
“Of course,” Luna shrugged a wing. She stumbled over a rock and braced it against the wall. “One must pass the time.” Her head lolled and her horn waved lazily. The ceiling began to weep with strands of liquid silver.
Moonlight. Flurry thought of the Dreamspell. She closed her eyes and laid her head on a sharp rock on the floor. It did not hurt like it should.
“You are dreaming.” Luna’s voice sounded strange.
“Obviously.”
“This is a recur…” Luna stopped, “recur-rant dream?” A hoof kicked a stone and it plinked off the wall. “You have it often?”
Flurry opened her eyes and squinted. Luna had stopped, but her wings were slightly extended at her sides. Like she has to balance. Flurry stared up into her eyes.
Luna blinked glassy cyan eyes a few times to focus.
Flurry’s laugh was breathless. “You’re drunk.”
“Indeed,” Luna said flatly.
“You had to booze it up to confront me?”
“The world does not revolve around you.” Luna’s head swayed to the side when she rolled her eyes. “I am usually drunk. Stand, or I shall pound you through the floor. It will still hurt.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fie!” Luna brayed with a coughing laugh. “The swears of today are nothing to what they were. As are most things.” She leaned her neck down, and exhaled. Flurry scrunched her nose at the blast of alcohol on the alicorn’s breath. “I shall hit you in the waking world should we ever meet. Did you know that was my sister’s last crown?” She pulled her head back.
“Good.”
Luna looked down at her and clicked her teeth. "Retirement suits us, don't you think?" She waltzed to the side and stumbled over her hooves, but recovered with a splash of moonlight. "I await my mane turning gray, but I do not think stars dim like that. They should."
Flurry opened her mouth and froze.
“That crown was expensive,” Luna continued. “You should have stolen it and used it as collateral for your tithes to the Reich.” She sniffed. “I should find mine. ‘Tis in a box. Somewhere.”
The pink alicorn rolled to her hooves. She inhaled and pushed the breath out from her chest. She struggled to inhale again and forced out, “What?”
Luna hummed. “Pardon?”
“You…” Flurry stuttered, “you think this is a fucking game? You’re retired now?”
“Ah,” Luna nodded in realization. “Nay, foal. You misunderstand. ‘Twas the plan before the war.” She slapped a few feathers against a support pillar. “Your mind conjures strong mines, young Heart.”
Flurry looked out into the darkness of the tunnel. It stretched out into an endless sea of black, but the pools of silver moonlight speckled the floor and leaked from the walls. They left cracks wherever they trailed. “W-what?”
Luna sighed and leaned against the support pillar. She slid downwards slightly and her eyes widened for a moment at the stumble, but the alicorn caught herself. Her hooves skittered on the ground. “My sister wished to retire,” she explained in a slow voice. “Before you were even born.”
Flurry felt her wings twitch at her sides and feathers rub against her cutie marks. “There’s…no…No. No.” She continued to repeat it.
“Yes,” Luna said with forced amusement. “There was an amulet. Shame it was shelved. Would have been nice to-”
Flurry thought of the timepiece with the sun and moon rotating around the star. She whirled around with flared wings. “NO.”
Luna clacked her jaw shut and watched the magical voice sunder the walls of the mine with casual disinterest. Her eyes widened slightly as her leaning post wiggled to the side and made her hooves stumble again. She shoved the support beam back into position with a grunt.
Flurry bared her teeth. “You…you fucking coward. You just wanted to run away?”
“Nay,” Luna denied. “We wished to move on.”
“Move on from what?” Flurry whinnied. “Your fucking wings? Your horn? You wanted-” she stopped. Stalliongrad, Nightmare, Sombra, Tirek, Choices, Tests, Destiny…
“It wasn’t supposed to go this way,” Luna sighed. “Have you ever imagined yourself without it?”
“Without what?” Flurry snarled. “My horn?” She stuck out her wings. “Th-these wings are most of m-my body!”
“That.” Luna braced herself to point a forehoof. She swayed and clomped it back down.
Flurry reached up with a wing to touch under her mane. Her feathers brushed against metal. She scrunched her muzzle and wrapped a few feathers around the band to pull it off, lowering her horn.
The alicorn held her golden, dented, cheap crown in her forelegs. Her eyes searched the metal before she sniffled and snorted. She moved to chuck it deeper into the leaking mine but the throw collapsed into a pout. “It’s gone.”
“Not here,” Luna answered. Her eyes lingered on Flurry’s forelegs. The younger alicorn traced her stare to the swirling scar above her left hoof. She looked to Luna’s legs.
They trembled with exertion from standing, but they were bare. The alicorn looked beautiful and could have carried herself with grace. Luna’s teeth were blazing white when she grimaced. “Have you ever imagined yourself without it?” she repeated. Her sparkling mane drifted around her horn.
The Princess of the Moon had nothing but her fur.
“Once,” Flurry admitted in a cold voice. “It was a lie.”
“It did not need to be.”
“But it was.” Flurry shoved the crown back on her head. “You didn’t deserve it. You never deserved it.”
Luna hummed. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.” A wing brushed back against her cutie mark of a full moon in the night. “We raised the sun and moon.”
“You don’t need a crown to do that.”
The mare’s smile in return was only on half her muzzle like her muscles failed her. “We did not. But it sounds nice, does it not? Makes our jobs seem grand: The Princesses of the Sun and Moon.”
“It’s not a job,” Flurry’s muzzle spasmed. “It’s a duty.”
“To the moon?” Luna questioned. “To the sun? To the land? To the ponies? Time may change your answer. Eternity bears a long shadow.”
Flurry shook her head and leaned against the slate wall. “I’m not making it that long.”
“That may not be your choice,” Luna chuckled. She mirrored the other alicorn, using her wing to balance her hooves.
Pink primaries dragged themselves along the jagged edges of extruding rocks. “Sure it is,” Flurry snorted. The wing reached up to a hanging lantern and slapped it. The flame inside wavered. “It’s a choice.”
Luna gazed at the lamp. “You must elucidate me on this choice, filly.”
“I am not going to turn out like you.”
“Ah.” Luna dragged out the sigh with a long lick of her tongue on chapped lips. “I see.” She shoved herself off the pillar. “One more brick upon my back makes no difference; it was already broken years ago.” She stumbled through a silver puddle on the rocks.
“Mayhaps that would be a blessing,” Luna admitted after a moment. “You will not live to see your failures twist and take new forms.” Her shadow stretched in the light of the lamps, gaining leathery wings and splitting into several silhouettes that trailed the stumbling alicorn. The bat ponies moved over the rocks on the wall like a dance.
“I know about Chiropterra,” Flurry nickered.
Luna spun around surprisingly quickly on stiff legs. “You know nothing of them.” She hacked out a breath. “Whatever you’ve heard…the truth is worse.” The shadows whirled on the wall with screeching laughter before returning to the alicorn’s shade.
Flurry leaned her head against the wall. “We could have won.”
“Not we,” Luna shook her head. “There was one signature on all forms, on all decrees. Can you imagine it? A millennia of solitude and isolation and sacrifice?”
“Don’t lecture me about your decisions.”
“I was not speaking of myself,” Luna frowned.
“You don’t get to take the crown off once you put it on because it’s hard.” Flurry’s voice was lost. “Do you have any idea what I’ve done?”
“Yes,” Luna said firmly. Her voice wavered into something approaching kindness. “Why do you think she refused to walk it? The path you trot leads to your ruin, filly.” She pointed a wing behind the alicorn.
Flurry looked over her wings to the ragged wall. A shape stretched out, tall and terrible, flickering in the dim lamps hanging from the support beams. A burning helmet sat below a flaming spire. Wings stretched out with knives extending from the feathers. The shadow mare promised nothing but fire and blood, and the helmet tilted to the side when Flurry Heart cocked her head. It raised an armored hoof in mirror with the alicorn.
The shadow and its caster twisted to the midnight alicorn. “What’s the point of eternity if you spend it jumping at your shadow?” Flurry asked.
“They will never forget.”
“I don’t want them to.”
“They will always be afraid in their hearts.”
Flurry sighed. “I can bear it.”
Luna’s muzzle pulled into a rictus smile below glassy eyes. “I believed the same, once.”
The walls crumbled away with final crack. Flurry steadied herself, hooves dipping into a silver tide. She looked up as the world whirled around her, stars spinning in the sky and radiated outward into infinity. The sea she stood in extended in all directions, and though her hooves were barely submerged she felt no solid ground beneath her.
The other alicorn nearly fell over, but somehow used her falling momentum to keep trotting around the lake of moonlight. Her mane and tail floated above her and stars seemed to shoot from them into the sky above. Midnight blue wings flared out for balance.
Flurry stared at the cosmos around her and felt like it was staring back.
“It looks better drunk,” Luna advised. “I have plenty of inspiration for artwork.”
“We could have…” Flurry struggled to think. “After my parent’s wedding, we-”
“We?” Luna interrupted. She hiccupped. “There is no ‘we’ in this, filly. There is one mare’s mark upon the parchment, one will, one horn spearing through everything it built for a thousand years. Do you blame her for turning aside?”
“Yes,” the filly snapped.
“Fair,” Luna accepted, “but she is my sister. She could have dragged her little ponies kicking and screaming through the mud and blood. She could have built an Equestria where a guard shot the dreaded Nightmare Moon with his long rifle on the longest day of the thousandth year. But where does that leave her?”
Flurry’s eyes went from the stars to the pony across from her and she bared her teeth again. Luna waved a wing at her from several wingspans away. “The threat was dealt with and magic prevailed. You ask a mare who has sacrificed so much for a thousand years to give a little more. It was not supposed to be this way.”
“Because that’s her duty.”
“We have a sun and moon upon our flanks, not crowns.” Luna circled the alicorn on unsteady hooves. “Ah, filly. You have a mark meant to burn twice as bright and half as long. The Crystal Heart was always a fickle thing.”
Flurry turned back to her burning Crystal Heart surrounded by a flaming shield. She looked away. “It’s not the mark of a Princess.”
“What makes a Princess?” Luna warbled.
“Horn and wings,” Flurry answered bluntly.
“You seem to meet the standard,” Luna chortled.
“We don’t get to walk away.”
“Not after a millennium?” Luna stumbled. “What then? Who are you, young Heart?””
"I am the Princess of Ponies."
"So was I," Luna mused. Her steps were off-kilter on the silver lake. "So was she. So were we all. One title after another, and one was always last." She whirled back around.
"The first shall be last and the last shall be first," Luna quoted. She gave a dry chuckle. "Griffons believe such nonsense." She wrung her starry mane with a flourish that turned into a stumbling bow. "Not like we are any better, but I remember when they hung entrails from trees for the old gods."
“You don’t get to walk away from what we are.” Flurry raised her wings.
“Have you never wanted to be normal?” Luna coughed.
“I was never normal.”
Luna studied her with glassy eyes. “There is something sad in that. Fate is cruel. Your mother and your aunt would have been good rulers.”
“My mother never wanted to be a Princess.”
Luna threw her head back and laughed. The stars above them twinkled. “Fate is cruel!” she repeated. “It chose the one filly that did not want to be told she was special and whisked away to a pretty palace.” Her laughter choked out. “She dreamed of her village. She dreamed of taking you there.”
Luna looked askance and her wings dipped into the moonlight. “Gone now. Consumed by the rot of Vanhoover and gnashing fangs. War was different once. You used to have time. Formations marched and spells sang.”
“Blueblood was right,” Flurry swung her head to follow the alicorn’s stumbles.
Luna seemed to move without any clear purpose. “What else was I to do?” she huffed. "Give ponies in muddy trenches dreams of home so they awaken feeling worse?"
“You should have never been in command.”
“Were it so easy,” Luna spat. “Blueblood…that stallion…” Her eyes drifted somewhere far away and shimmered, reflecting the silver lake around them. “He did not see their dreams in the night of the battles to come, of their fallen friends, of their homes. Of his voice ringing in their ears heralding new nightmares and the whistle of falling shells.” The alicorn grew quiet.
“Were it so easy,” she repeated in a sadder voice, “to admit he was right.”
Flurry sniffled. “Well, you won’t have to wait that long. Have a nice vacation.”
Luna was quiet for a long time. “She won’t come back, filly.”
“She just has to wait for us to die.”
“She will not come back, not truly,” Luna repeated. “Dreams can tell us truths or lies, and they can be such beautiful lies,” she sighed. “And there can always be a greater, grander, brighter dream if you close your eyes again. There’s always more time.”
The midnight-blue alicorn hummed. “Until you wake up alone. Then, everything must have been done for something worth it, or else you face the hollowness in your heart.”
Flurry heard steps behind her and twisted her head. Quartz teetered on stubby hooves, pawing at the lake. His muzzle was scrunched.
“Princess.” The colt shimmered into sparks.
“You torment thyself nearly as well as I,” Luna said dryly. “Of all the vices to take from me, did it have to be self-loathing?”
“I deserve the dreams.”
"It takes a strong mare to face your choices," Luna nickered. "Tell me: Did my sister even leave the dock?"
Flurry paused. “She was waiting for me.”
“Oh filly,” Luna sighed. “The only thing that could stop my sister was my sister. She returned as if she was out at the market, declaring you ‘too far gone’ to aid. And that was all. I watched her begin to reread a book worn down to the binding this morning after throwing out all the papers…”
She hung her head. “You are not the only one who is lost. When I realized she was gone, I had hoped…” her voice echoed. Luna slowly shut her jaw and pinched her eyes. “Hope is a dangerous thing.”
Flurry sat down in the lake. The moonlight lapped at her flank. “Was that all this was?”
“A mare attempting to escape a destiny carved into crystal bark?” Luna hiccupped. “What future was at the end of this war, win or lose? A wandering through a land rent asunder by war? Or more devotion to a crown when the fire had already begun to gutter out?”
“Destiny is a choice.”
“What if you come to regret the choice you made?” Luna asked the sky.
“Do you?” Flurry returned.
Luna struggled to pull her lips into a smile. "I may have failed at everything else, but I am still her shadow." She hiccupped and her glassy eyes misted. Her head lolled to the side. "I used to dread that. There is no point in regret."
Flurry swallowed. “Did my mother know?”
“Of course,” Luna answered. “As did your aunt…and your father.” Luna’s smile became stretched and her eyes stared past Flurry. “He was right. On that dock. We burned everything to chase a daydream.”
Flurry wrung her hooves in the moonlight. It was thicker than water. Like blood. Her voice was very small. “He left me.”
“So did we,” Luna shrugged her wings and flicked drops of silver about her. Her pinions were stiff and she had the look of a puppet. “At the least he left you for something real. Something beyond him.”
Flurry forced the words past her mouth. “Did he just want to die?”
“Nay,” Luna denied. “Shining loved thee. As did dear Cadenza.”
“Love is the death of duty,” Flurry said to her.
“And sacrifice is the greatest love,” Luna answered. “Your mother understood that. Her family or her throne. My sister made the same choice a thousand years ago; it was the greatest failure of her life and left her alone.”
“My mother did not die a failure.” Her voice shook, twisted into something pleading.
“Crowns are ugly things, no matter how they sparkle.” Luna’s voice was soft. “She died dreaming of you. Never doubt that she loved you, young Heart.” The alicorn dragged a hoof through the silver.
“Is that what you think you’re doing?” Flurry whickered. She sniffed back tears. “Making some sacrifice?”
“Yes,” Luna shrugged her wings. “I must. If we look back, we are lost. Yet the tide will always overtake us. One day, she will awaken and the daydream will not return for a moment too long. She will not find an empty room, not again. I will be there for her.”
Flurry sat in the lake and let the silver lap at the Crystal Hearts on her flanks.
“I love her,” Luna said simply. "I'm sorry."
“I hate you,” Flurry sniffled.
Luna accepted it. “She no longer speaks of her daydream. She ceased the day those metal beasts rolled down from the north. But it was always there, flittering and sparking and fading with every decree and every battle. She did not want to be the mare that sent millions to their deaths.”
“She is,” Flurry said listlessly.
“Yes.” Luna did not say more about it and her eyes wandered. “Your birth surprised us.”
“What was I meant to be?” Flurry laughed. “Was I supposed to replace you? Or her?”
“Neither,” Luna said. Her voice was raspy. “Only your mother’s daughter. Whatever you wished to be. She insisted.”
“We don’t get to be what we want to be,” Flurry shook her head. Her wings sagged into the moonlight beside her and feathers trailed through the silver.
“You are so much like your mother,” Luna whickered. Her steps slowed, turning stiff like clockwork and gears winding down. “And the others. The north was always ice masking an inner fire.”
“Am I truly related to Amore?”
“Am I truly my sister’s sister?” Luna asked back. “Does it matter?”
Flurry had much she could say, but she simply sat in the moonlight and looked down at her hooves. The swirling scar on her left foreleg glowed, casting a reflection in the waves. She dipped it into the silver and watched it drip from the white fur like blood. “What did you offer them?”
“Not as much as you.” Luna’s voice was pained. “They are still proud of their suffering. I hope they realize it was not worth it one day.”
A wave rose up behind the midnight alicorn. It stretched into a square and halted at her flank. The liquid parted to reveal a shimmering, glowing portal. Luna’s tail drifted through it and she snapped it back with a stumbling flourish.
“Equestria is yours, Princess.” The alicorn’s eyes turned to the spinning stars. “I hope you do a better job than we did.” Her grin bared more clenched teeth than it should. “I suspect you will.”
Flurry stood. “Wait.”
“You sound like my sister,” Luna coughed. “Do not wait, young Heart. Burn bright.” She turned around and stepped through the portal. Her long horn and head plunged into a silver mirror and vanished.
“Twilight,” Flurry’s voice shifted and turned desperate. “Please.”
The other alicorn froze halfway through the portal, then teetered back on stiff legs. Her head withdrew slowly. Princess Luna refused to turn around. “Do not ask.”
“If…if you can help her over there-”
“Do not ask.”
The stars dimmed in the sky above. In the distance, Flurry saw the placid silver lake turn rough. Waves formed, rising high and encroaching like a tide. They spilled over each other.
Flurry stood her ground and asked, “A coma’s like a dream, isn’t it?”
The alicorn across from her breathed raggedly facing the silver portal. A foreleg twitched as if to walk through it. When she spoke, it was as if she was being strangled and begging. “Do not ask.”
Flurry begged. “I don’t even remember the last time we met.”
Blue wings pinched stiffly at a lean barrel. “It would have been before Olenia.” Her horn lolled to the side as if to look behind her, but her neck seized and twitched.
The younger alicorn sniffled. “You owe her.”
“I owe them both everything,” Luna belted out. The portal before her collapsed into the lake. “You…you do not know what you ask.”
Flurry stepped forward even as the waves rushed around them. The stars above no longer reflected in the silver, and the sky turned dark as they winked out one by one. She stopped just behind Luna.
Luna’s head swung and lolled. Flurry watched her horn bob from behind. It looked like she was talking to herself. Abruptly, she extended her wings and stiffly shrugged them. When she spoke, her voice was blank. “I cannot possibly sink any lower.”
The alicorn turned around rigidly with a plaster muzzle. There was nothing in her eyes. “She does not dream. Not anymore. My sister chased a daydream, and refuses to wake. Do not be her.”
Flurry Heart staggered back as the last stars dimmed in the sky. The waves began to roar as they closed in. The tide roiled at her hooves. She felt the pull in every direction.
No.
“She…” Luna licked her lips. “She dreamed of her family. She was happy. She knew you would make it.”
Flurry fell to her side in the lake and let the silver waves lap at her tears. She could not even wail; her breath was caught in her throat, choking under pinched eyes.
“At the very least they cannot hurt her anymore,” Luna offered.
“It should have been you!” Flurry screamed with her hooves tucked against her barrel.
The words sliced across the dream, across the barren, cold lake, across the spiraling stars in the black sky above. They cut through the taller alicorn, a force made manifest by sheer will. She did not flinch. Her expression did not change. Her muzzle was still.
The words meant nothing to a mare that was already dead.
“Yes,” Luna agreed. "I am sorry."
She stomped her hoof into the lake just before the waves overtook them both.
The false world flashed white.
“Flurry?”
Flurry Heart snorted and snapped her eyes open. “I’m awake.”
She tried to lift her head, but her cheek was stuck to a page of the book. She peeled it back with her hoof carefully and smoothed it down. The words weren’t too badly smudged, but ‘Daring Do’ looked a little like ‘Darling Do’ in the middle of the page. She cringed at the chime of magic to her left and sheepishly looked up.
Auntie Twilight raised an eyebrow and levitated her bookmark into the dictionary. “I appreciate you using my technique to avoid water damage.” She shook her head and the light purple stripe in her mane bounced around her horn.
She smiled and her violet eyes crinkled. “Not quite as prodigious as Pinkie Pie.” Her horn glowed softly.
Flurry felt the book under her hooves vibrate. The page straightened and the words ran together for a moment before correcting themselves. She prodded the dry page with the tip of her right hoof.
Twilight hummed and her horn dimmed. “You know what ‘prodigious’ means?”
“A lot,” Flurry guessed. “Context clues.” She traced her stubby hoof over the page to the paragraph she left off on. It took her a moment and she stuck her tongue out.
“Well,” Twilight drew the word out. “Close enough.”
Flurry felt a purple wing wrap around her barrel. She leaned into it and wriggled on the checkered picnic blanket. The shade of the tree beside them mostly blocked the sun. It was a cold winter day beyond the shield, but the tundra around the Crystal City was clear.
Snowberry Park was quiet. The statue of Princess Amore watched over a gazebo in the center and several winding paths that swirled like snowflakes. Auntie Twilight and Flurry had a good view under the small pine tree.
Flurry shuffled the book under her wing to shield it from her juice box. It wobbled slightly in her magic, but she sucked the last of the grape juice dry and crumpled it into a ball. She looked to Auntie Twilight.
The purple mare smiled and nodded her horn.
Flurry aimed. She closed one eye and stuck her tongue out. The crumpled ball bobbed in her magic before firing out with a zap, sailing high towards the trash can along the sidewalk.
It bounced off the rim and landed on the path. Twilight chuckled and a chime of magic rang out. The smashed juice box reappeared next to Flurry. “Would you like to try again?”
Flurry pouted and folded her forelegs with a huff. The entire trashcan glowed and moved slightly to the right. She lined up the throw again with another squint.
The juice box fell to the left.
Flurry stomped a little hoof into the blanket. “Urgh!”
“You could just hold it the entire way,” Auntie Twilight remarked. “Adjusting the target doesn’t mean you’ll throw it to the same place every time.” Her horn chimed and the juice box snapped back to them.
“I don’t wanna hold it,” Flurry whined. This time, she did carry it in her magic all the way to the trashcan and slowly lower it. She rolled her eyes afterwards. “Gonna just drag the can over here next time.”
“Please,” Auntie Twilight wrinkled her muzzle. “Do not bring a stinky garbage can over here. Not near my books.”
Flurry thought about it and giggled. “Yeah.”
Twilight regarded her own book, a very thick dictionary, and pinched her eyes. “What word did you happen to fall asleep on?”
Flurry bit her lip.
“Different question,” Twilight laughed shrilly and awkwardly. “What word were we looking up?”
Flurry looked down to Daring Do and the Thestrals’ Curse. She moved her lips, then stopped self-consciously with a worried glance at Auntie Twilight. Her auntie had leaned over and read along by the skipping of her eyes over the page.
Flurry shifted her hoof along the page. “The effer-ves-cant light washed over the room-”
“Effervescent,” Twilight corrected, lingering on the syllables. Her bookmark snapped the dictionary open and she held it up to her muzzle with a hoof. “Bright, lively, and spirited. What is it?”
“An adjective,” Flurry sighed. “Why didn’t Daring Do just say ‘bright’ then?”
“It’s not just bright,” Auntie Twilight answered. “Finish the sentence.”
“The effervescent light washed over the room, washing away the unicorn and his wicked blade.” Flurry hummed and leaned her head up. “Not the Thestrals?”
“No,” Twilight shook her head.
“Didn’t they think the staff would undo the curse?” Flurry asked. She tilted her horn to the side and checked the cover. Daring Do stood with flared wings against a shadowy vampony in the trees with wicked red eyes. Flurry was almost convinced the vampony was evil, but the unicorn pointing a hoof at the bat pony had a goatee and hid a smirk under his raised foreleg.
“There is no curse,” Twilight explained patiently. “There’s nothing to fix. They’re fine just as they are. The ponies trying to ‘fix’ them are the real villains.”
“Duh,” Flurry nodded. “I like their floofy ears. Is that why Daring teams up with Caballeron?”
“Yes,” Twilight answered. She put her hoof on the page and turned down to Flurry fully. “Just because they might eat cooked insects or fruit or have fangs doesn’t mean they’re that different. Or evil.”
“Like Thorax,” Flurry chirped. “Sometimes he just needs extra-long hugs.”
Twilight smiled. “Yes. The evil Professor Nightingale was hoping that the staff would take away what made them special and make them like everypony else. He thought it would be better.”
“Like Starlight?” Flurry asked.
Twilight sputtered for a moment and waved her hoof in the air. “Well, that was just a stick, but, uh, yes.” She looked to the side. “Maybe don’t tell her that, okay?”
“Okay,” Flurry nodded. She frowned down at the book. “I thought it would be more scary.”
“I think it’s plenty scary.” Twilight’s wing shuddered too much and tickled Flurry’s side. “But I suppose you’re a very brave five-year-old filly.”
“Seven,” Flurry corrected.
Auntie Twilight opened her mouth with a gasp. She raised her other wing and counted down her feathers. Her lidded eyes went to her niece beside her as she mouthed numbers slowly.
“Fine,” Flurry snorted. “Six.” She caught the newspaper under Auntie Twilight’s other wing and partially hidden by the picnic basket. Twilight lowered her wing and leaned her head back down, nuzzling the top of Flurry’s swirly mane.
“I was wondering if I needed to tell Sunburst to add more multiplication tables.” She tugged on a knotted curl with her teeth for a moment to fix it. Flurry patted her head down with a hoof.
“He says I shouldn’t count with my feathers,” Flurry countered. She fanned her right wing out from under Twilight’s on her back and wiggled her primary feathers. “I have plenty.” Her left wing remained snug against Twilight’s barrel.
“Do you want to look like some northern barbarian?” Twilight whickered. The lilt in her voice was teasing. “Will you come down to Canterlot with rings in your mane?”
“Uh-huh,” Flurry nodded. “I’ll have a sword.”
“What kind of sword?”
“Big.”
“Perfectly perfunctory for my M.M.N.N.”
Most Marvelous Nice Niece. Flurry smirked and showed off the gap in her teeth. “Of course, Awesome Auntie Twi.”
“Even barbarians need to read,” Twilight answered. “How else will they know if they’re burning treasure maps?”
The smaller alicorn flicked her tail, but could not find fault in that logic. She returned to the book. She was near the end anyway, and the villain was going to have a breakdown from failing and learn a lesson about friendship.
Her mind drifted to the newspaper. “Auntie Twi?” Flurry felt two feathers tap her ribs. She was skinny and they tickled. She giggled but focused. “Can you look up another word?”
She could hear the smile in Twilight’s voice in her tone. “Of course. Is it on this page?” Her aunt leaned down atop her head, mindful of her pink horn sticking out of her blue and purple curls. She squinted and scanned both pages of the open book.
“No,” Flurry explained. She placed a hoof on the page to save her spot. “Surrender.”
Twilight was quiet.
“Did I say it right?”
“You did,” Twilight said softly. She leaned her head back and exhaled, pushing her breath out with a foreleg. “I suppose you saw the paper?”
Flurry nodded. “Mom turned the radio off this morning. I wanted to hear Sapphire Shores.”
Twilight’s horn glowed and she slowly withdrew a folded newspaper from under her wing and the basket. Some pages had been used to wrap the daisy and cucumber sandwiches, but not the front page. It was mostly a giant headline.
OLENIA SURRENDERS
“Olenia’s the deer, right?” Flurry asked. “Deer live there.”
“Yes,” Twilight said. She stared at the newspaper floating before both of them for a minute. Flurry flicked her ears and waited. When Auntie Twilight got into her thinking space, it was bad to interrupt her. She was very smart, the smartest pony in the world by Flurry’s count.
“Let’s…” Twilight paused, “let’s read along. For a bit.”
Flurry looked up at the floating paper and squinted. Annoyingly, most of the front page was just the giant two words. “Umm…The Winter War is over today with the…the ca-pit-u-lation of King Johan’s army around Vaverfront. The King broadcast a message of peace to the Changeling Hegemony, and officials are…op-tim-istic the…the death toll was low.”
There was more on the next page, but Twilight did not flip it over. She lowered the paper and folded it at her hooves. Flurry waited patiently for her assessment. She rubbed her hoof on the page, careful not to smear off her lacquer. Her hooves were shiny and bright.
“What do you think surrender means?” Twilight asked. She had closed her eyes and was facing the park.
Flurry rolled her eyes to the side and thought. “Give up? Is that what that other word meant?”
“Capitulation,” Twilight enunciated. “Yes. It’s another way of saying ‘give up.’ It makes it sound very official, doesn’t it?”
“Isn’t…” Flurry frowned and sucked on the gap in her teeth. “Mom said Velvet was Queen.”
“It’s complicated,” Twilight replied. “Johan is her brother.”
“So they share like Aunties Celestia and Luna?”
“Perhaps more like Nightmare Moon and Celestia,” Twilight snarked before she could stop herself. She flinched.
Flurry giggled. “Is Velvet like Nightmare Moon, then? Is that why she’s in Canterlot?”
“No,” Twilight shook her head. “It isn’t the same. What about the rest?”
Flurry glanced down at the paper and thought about the second sentence. The clues were harder on that one. Message of peace…officials are…what? What would Sunburst be?
The little alicorn frowned. “I dunno what the other word means. Happy?”
“Hopeful,” Twilight said. “Optimistic. They are hoping for something good.”
“So they’re happy not many ponies died?” Flurry questioned. “Or, uh, deer and changelings?”
Twilight opened her eyes and looked over to her niece. Her wing tightened against her. “You’re a very smart filly,” she said softly. “Would you be happy if anypony died?”
“No,” Flurry answered.
“They’re happy it was over quickly. And hopeful very few were hurt.”
“Who?”
“Everyone. Ponies, changelings, deer.” Twilight nuzzled the top of Flurry’s head again. “Sombra wanted war. It’s awful.”
Flurry stared out to the statue of Amore in the center of the park. Her ancestor was all white marble with a dazzling smile. It was a quiet day. There were a few crystal ponies enjoying the small pond nearby, and Flash Sentry was leaning against one of the railings of the gazebo with his helmet off. He caught her look and waved a wing. His muzzle was caked in peanut butter from his own sandwich.
Flurry snorted and crossed her eyes. Twilight wasn’t looking at Flash. I need to tell mom later it’s hopeless. Her eyes drifted to the newspaper and the giant blocky letters.
“Thorax said Chrysalis wanted a war.”
Twilight shifted. “Yes. She got one.” The alicorn withdrew her head and smiled down at her niece. “I am optimistic that’s all she will get.”
Flurry smiled back. “Mom and dad are gonna kick her bug butt.”
Twilight lifted both her wings and nickered, “Flurry!”
“What?” Flurry pouted. “Thorax said it was okay.”
“You shouldn’t call them bugs,” Twilight stated flatly. “That’s like calling Thestrals ‘bats.’ And who did that?”
“Professor Nightingale,” Flurry sighed. “The villain.” Her stomach growled and she froze, optimistic her pink fur hid the blush.
“Those ‘little wings’ need a lot of sandwiches,” Twilight smirked. “I packed extra. There’s only two chapters left.” Her horn glowed and a pink bookmark floated out of the basket. “Save your spot-”
“I wanna finish,” Flurry interrupted. She switched to her wing holding down the open book and rubbed her hooves together laying on the blanket. “Please, Auntie Twi? Professor Nightingale’s gonna freakout and Daring's gonna kick his butt.”
Twilight cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. “Have you read this before?”
“That’s what they always do when their plans are foiled.” Flurry hoped that using ‘foiled’ when be enough.
It was. Twilight smirked. “I suppose our sandwiches can wait,” she allowed, “but if you run into a word you stumble on, we’ll take a break. I might not be back for a while, Flurry. We should finish today.”
“Okay,” Flurry accepted. She turned back to the book.
They finished the chapter without interruptions, then had some sandwiches and another juice box. Flurry watched Twilight throw the newspaper into the trashcan after crumpling it into a ball. She missed too. Flurry had giggled at her.
Flash Sentry walked them back to the palace just before the evening. The sandwiches made Flurry sleepy so she rode on Auntie Twilight’s back through the Crystal Plaza and waved at the statue of Sir Spike. Twilight had stayed another morning before catching a train back to Equestria. Flurry waved goodbye from her place at the breakfast table.
She never saw Auntie Twilight again until she opened the door in Canterlot.
Flurry Heart froze with her hoof pressing down on the last sentence of the page.
“You know that word,” Twilight commented. “Encouragement. It’s what I’m doing right now.”
“She was coming for us next.” Flurry’s voice sounded strange to her ears. It was higher and squeakier; she lacked the clipped consonants of Nova Griffonia or the rolling vowels of Aquileia. She sounded like her mother.
Luna. Flurry looked around. “P-princess Luna?”
“Auntie Luna’s in Canterlot,” Auntie Twilight reminded her. “There’s another meeting about the Thestrals in a few days. I have to get back to the School of Friendship.” Her voice turned teasing. “Boring Princess stuff, not for a little-winged barbarian.”
“Chrysalis was coming for us next!” Flurry squeaked. She stabbed her stubby hoof at the book and bent the binding. Twilight didn’t react. “You had to have known!”
“I did,” Twilight confirmed, “but that’s not something you needed to worry about.”
Flurry stared out over the calm park. It was a day like any other. Her icy eyes sparkled. “She destroyed all of this. She’s a monster.”
“Nopony, no one, is born evil. Not even Chrysalis.” Twilight shook her head. “She was born into a brutal caste system that enforced all the worst qualities of a monarch: unthinking obedience and absolute control. She has reasons for what she does, however cruel they are. Her entire life has been about ambition.”
Flurry shut her eyes and snorted.
“I did not want my M.M.N.N. to worry.”
The smaller alicorn laid her head on the book. “She invaded. We weren’t ready. We should have worried. We should have been galloping into factories and churning out guns.” Her eyes searched the park.
“Ponies were optimistic,” Twilight said. Flurry could not place her tone. Flash Sentry was gone in the gazebo.
“Flash died on the front,” Flurry whickered. “Mom kept trying to set you up. Dunno why.”
“That was kind of her,” Twilight laughed. “I was a little too busy for romance.”
Flurry ran her tongue over her teeth. She flew into a crystal doorframe and knocked out one of her baby teeth turning a corner too sharply. She did not remember if she cried. I must have.
“I met Cozy Glow,” Flurry remarked.
Twilight withdrew her wing and folded it at her side. She rubbed a hoof on the blanket. “I am glad you did.”
“You left her in Tartarus.”
“I did not mean to,” Twilight’s voice was low and resigned. “The School of Friendship was failing. I wanted to open it to everyone, and the first class was rallied against the only non-ponies in attendance. I believed in it. And I trusted her.”
“So she deserved it?”
“If she wanted to act like a villain like Tirek, I figured a summer or two beside him might change her perspective.” Twilight looked to the side. “It was not going to be forever.”
“She hates you. All of you.”
“I understand,” Twilight shrugged a hoof. Flurry laid her head atop the book for a minute. The newspaper was folded before Twilight’s forelegs. The smaller alicorn huffed a single laugh. “What’s humorous?” Twilight asked.
“You surrendered to Tirek,” Flurry deadpanned. “Or capitulated. I never thought of it like you gave up. But you did. You gave up. He sent mom to Tartarus. And Auntie Celestia and Luna.”
“Yes.” Twilight did not say more.
“You could have fought him. You could have won.”
“I might have,” Twilight agreed. “He gave me a choice. My friends or my magic.”
Flurry licked her lips. “How…how did you know it would work?” She stared up at Twilight.
Auntie Twilight smiled down at her. “I didn’t,” she said simply.
Flurry’s lips trembled. “B-but…Equestria…everyone…”
“I didn’t know if we’d beat him,” Twilight explained slowly, “but I knew we’d have a better chance together than I would have had alone.”
“All he had to do was break your neck.”
“Yes,” Twilight accepted. “But he didn’t. And we won. Together.”
“You had mom’s magic!” Flurry raised her voice. It cracked. “You had Auntie Celestia’s and Luna’s! You gave it all up! You had nothing! You didn’t have a better chance!”
“With my friends?” Twilight raised an eyebrow. “I’d be a pretty poor Princess of Friendship if I didn’t choose to trust in my friends.”
Flurry’s eyes wandered upwards. Twilight had her mane styled into bangs. She usually did, with the lighter purple stripe next to her horn. She tilted her head to the side while she waited.
“You weren’t just the Princess of Friendship.”
“No,” Twilight acknowledged. “I was a Princess of Equestria. I had to choose.”
Was. Flurry closed her eyes and exhaled. “You still are.”
“Am I?” Twilight asked.
Flurry stood on her shorter legs and leaned into Twilight’s barrel. She reared to wrap her legs around her aunt’s neck and hugged her with forehooves and wings. Twilight returned it and gently pushed her away.
“Always.” Flurry opened her eyes and sniffled. “I need your help.”
“With what?” Twilight smiled.
“Everything.”
Twilight shook her head softly, still with a smile. “That’s not what you’re really asking.”
“I want to know how you did it,” Flurry whispered. “How mom and dad did it. You beat them. You did it the right way. I tried. With the Crystal Heart. I tried so hard.”
“I know you did,” Twilight said kindly. “But that still isn’t your question.”
“Why didn’t it work?” Flurry hung her head low. “Do I not love them enough?”
“Do you think your parents loved each other less during the war?” Twilight asked in return. “Or that my friends stopped being friends? Do you think it’s our fault?”
“No,” Flurry answered.
“Then why do you think it is yours?” Twilight brushed one of her wings across Flurry’s mane. The little alicorn felt the feathers touch metal. Flurry’s horn glowed. In the edges of her vision, she saw the aura twist from gold to blue to gold. She did not remember wearing her tiara in the park.
She pulled her golden crown off her head and it plinked down atop her old book. Flurry sat down on her flank and picked it up. It looked bigger in her hooves. “I don’t understand.”
“I wish everyone could see the world like me,” Twilight sighed. “Everyone can be friends if we could see past our differences.” She folded her legs and stared placidly out into the park.
Flurry blinked a few times to clear her eyes before following her look.
Pharynx and Thorax sat beside a chess table. She wasn’t sure how she knew it was them. Thorax had strange orange antlers and a green body, while his brother was more purple and red. They were taller than they should be. Even with Sunburst leaning against her uncle’s side and whispering strategies, Thorax was losing badly. Both brothers were still smiling, and their carapaces sparkled in the light.
Across from the chess table, Triton Blackpeak and his wife sat beside a picnic basket. Triton built a sandwich for his daughter with deft claws. Elise accepted it happily and flapped her wings to settle in the branches of the tree above them. The husband and wife split the remaining pieces between each other.
Her name was Elise. She looked happy between her parents.
Red Dawn whinnied in laughter as she knocked a ball to her daughters. The two smaller earth ponies scrambled to keep up, little legs churning the grass. They ran around the tree and bounced the ball up into the branches. Elise kicked it back down with a squawking laugh.
Near the pond, Trimmel, missing his cap and headset and looking years younger, sat on a bench beside a tiny crystal colt. He passed Quartz ice cream with a glowing horn, then leaned back with buzzing wings. Quartz savored his between his forelegs. They sat together calmly. Garnet fed a swan, tossing bits of bread into the water and watching with a wrinkled smile.
Sophie Altiert and her husband flew in circles above the center of the park, shouting encouragement to their son. He flapped along slowly and wobblily. Sophie cheered in Aquileian. He struggled to get higher than the statue in the center.
Flurry paused.
The statue in the center was no longer Princess Amore.
Three figures stood frozen on a plinth.
Cozy Glow had pressed her hooves to her cheeks in shock.
Tirek was flinching with his eyes shut.
And Queen Chrysalis was in a lunge with a fang-filled maw in a wide snarl.
Jachs and Alcippe stood before the trio on the path. The mare laughed high and stuck her tongue out, imitating the Queen. The stallion laughed with her. Second Wind waved them along with a lazy wing, golden armor catching the sunlight and sparkling.
The pegasus walked away with them, following a path to the gazebo in the distance. Flurry could see a changeling before an easel and covered in paint splotches while another leaned against the railing. The leaning one waved a wine bottle in welcome to the others as they approached. All of the changelings glittered and twisted into different colors the longer she stared.
It took Flurry years or seconds to find her voice. “Please. This was real, wasn’t it?”
Twilight Sparkle did not answer.
Her niece swallowed and choked out, “I need to know it was.”
“I believed it was,” Twilight answered.
Flurry Heart stared at the golden crown in her forelegs. It was a cheap thing, made of melted wedding rings and fillings and discolored. She could see the scuff marks and scorched chinks from her spells. It felt heavy. And it was.
"I believed in it," Twilight repeated. The other alicorn twisted her head.
Flurry Heart flinched away from the mare next to her. Twilight’s feathers were falling out onto the grass, and her forelegs struggled to hold the dictionary in front of her. She was far, far too thin, and her horn had a wide divot at the base.
Flurry exhaled, shuffled her stubby hooves, then forced her eyes back to her aunt.
“Are you afraid?” Twilight’s voice was the same, still warm and kindly when it should not have been by any right. The fur around her muzzle was patchy and the skin red underneath. Her eyes were still bright.
“Yes,” Flurry answered in a small voice.
“It’s okay to be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid of that.” Flurry swung her head to the park. “I’m afraid of what happens to them.”
“You can’t worry about them,” Twilight said reassuringly. She smiled and the skin stretched. “It will be okay.”
Flurry closed her eyes again. “How do you know that?”
“Because I have faith in friendship,” Twilight answered.
Flurry sighed and looked over. Her aunt was back to the way she was that day in the park. Her mane was a little ruffled from the wind, purple stripe winding near her horn. Twilight smiled down at her niece.
She was not wearing a crown.
“How did you do it?” Flurry pleaded.
“Oh, Flurry,” Twilight sighed. “You have a good heart. Listen to it.”
Flurry listened and sniffled. “It’s telling me it won’t work anymore.”
Twilight did not respond.
“You aren’t really her, are you?”
“I never held a weapon, Flurry.” The mare’s smile was faint, just a quirk of the lips. “I am just what you believe I would say to you…not what you fear I would.”
Flurry shut her eyes and placed the crown back upon her head in her magic. The aura around her horn swirled from blue to gold. The laughter and joy ringing through the park ceased. She opened her eyes.
She sat beside Twilight Sparkle in an empty park. The plinth in the center cracked with a low roar, and the statues began to break apart. Tirek crumbled away first, pieces flaking and falling to ash that blew away in a sudden wind. Cozy Glow was second.
Chrysalis remained in her frozen snarl, baring her fangs at the world in rage. Her statue did not crack nor crumble. It remained in defiance of everything. Beyond the pink shield high above them, clouds swirled and darkened the sky. The storm wall gathered again. The statue’s eyes were gleeful, even when angry.
It would be very easy to leave it. Flurry could still remove the crown and turn away. It might crack and crumble on its own. It probably would, given time. The cost might be too great. To her ponies, and to herself. She would never know peace. Flurry raised a hoof up to the cheap crown and hesitated.
If she did, if she left, could she live with herself? Or would she always wonder what else she could have done? She would do nothing but count the days to a date constantly trailing the horizon, just beyond the gathering storm that seemed to have no end. She would have to tell herself it would end.
Flurry Heart looked to her blank flank and her little legs. If she stood, she might never sit down again. She would only fall, still with a cheap, worthless crown stuck to her head. She would let the crown define her for the rest of her life far more than her wings or horn. If she lived long enough, she may grow to resent it, and that resentment would chafe away all her virtues and hollow her out.
“I was born an alicorn for a reason,” Flurry muttered.
“To live,” Twilight answered. “Nothing more. Everything else is your choice. Destiny is a choice, after all. I could have turned away if I wanted to. I believed in a future. I did everything I could to see it come to pass.”
“Not everything.” Flurry exhaled, then stood to face the statue on taller legs and folded wider wings at her side. She raised her lean muzzle and looked down to her aunt. She was taller than her, if thinner. They were not the same.
Twilight Sparkle, crownless, remained where she was on the blanket beside her dictionary and Daring Do. She had a soft half-smile. She looked up to the golden crown, then to the flaming Crystal Heart at her niece's flank. "It means hope to them. It still does."
Flurry stared for a long time before closing her eyes. “I love you, Auntie Twilight.”
“I love you, Flurry Heart.”
“But I can’t be you.”
Twilight laughed slightly and her voice echoed. “You don’t have to be me, Flurry.”
Flurry opened her eyes. She stared at the ceiling of Celestia’s bedroom.
It was very dark. Her horn glowed gold in the night. There was movement at the window as one of the pegasi peeked through the glass as subtly as they could. Flurry had no immediate way to tell the time beyond that it was still night.
She rolled to look at her nightstand. Whammy sat wearing her old tiara atop a misshapen shell. Her crystal crown was beside the snail, and the six gems glowed with the light from her horn.
Beside both of them, the timepiece sat on the very edge of the little table.
Flurry reached out with a wing and hooked the chain with a few feathers. She lifted it over and took it in her hooves. Her horn swirled above her, winding the exposed gears. After a moment, the sun and moon began to rotate around the star in the center, ticking slowly.
Flurry looped the chain around her head before rolling out of bed. She settled the crystal band under her mane next, twisting it so the purple gem was just under the base of her horn how she liked it. Finally, she made sure the tiara was affixed to Whammy’s shell with her glue spell before she tucked it under her left wing.
The two dozen guards outside her room did not seem surprised to see her. Some had probably been listening to the movement inside the room. Flurry swung her head around the Imperial soldiers. All were wearing her snowflake on their sleeves. The officer was a unicorn, but she stood beside a crystal stallion in a bright purple uniform. The commissar knelt first.
The others followed his example. Flurry flicked her right wing upwards. “Rise.”
“Where to, Princess?” the unicorn requested.
“Princess Twilight’s room.”
They escorted her without complaint. Flurry judged it was almost dawn from the non-boarded up windows. She had not been asleep that long. The alicorn did not particularly feel tired. The guards along the way bowed as she passed them, even in the early hours. None of her griffons were present.
The crystal commissar glanced backwards. “Shall we inform the kitchen to prepare you breakfast, Princess?”
By that, you mean taste test the cans. “No, thank you.” Flurry did not smile, nor did he seem to expect a smile. The commissar nodded in confirmation and resumed looking ahead.
Twilight’s room remained heavily guarded. Flurry was scanned by three unicorns after they bowed to her at each checkpoint. She approached alone. The posters declaring Cozy was to be shot on sight remained. One had a mustache on the picture, and Flurry suspected the mare managed to draw it herself as a challenge. She must have still been tired because she rolled her eyes at it and snorted.
The final guards before the door opened it for her and dipped their horns low. Flurry stepped through the threshold. Her nose was immediately overwhelmed by disinfectant and her ears twitched at the whoosh of the respirator and the beeping of countless machines. The three nurses, all pegasi, shuffled to the side.
“As you were,” Flurry said to them. She bit her lip before looking over.
Twilight Sparkle laid muzzle-up on the bed with her forelegs tucked against her barrel. She did not wear a gown. There were a few bandages and shaved patches of fur from where the lesions and bedsores had been attended to. A fresh sheet was over her flanks.
Her wings had been extended and braced in an elevated sling. The few feathers remaining looked healthier; at the very least, they were not brittle. But most of her wings were pale flesh.
Flurry Heart stepped forward. The tube down her throat made it bulge, though the angle had been adjusted. It whooshed every time her chest rose or fell. Wires ran from her legs and neck into the surrounding machines on the wall. Her pulse beat steadily. The divot drilled into the base of her horn from the Love Extractor had been filled with adhesive and a crystal placed in it to help focus her magic. Flurry had seen that in a few other unicorns punished that way. Their telekinesis still wobbled.
Wittenland could help you. Flurry imagined her aunt in the Riverlands, dragged there by her loving teacher and mentor. They would tell her to pull the plug, and she would refuse to believe it. She imagined her entire family there, waiting for a day that seemed to only get further and further into the horizon. Her mother feeling every heartbreak while her father poured over lost battles and her aunt dreaming of friendships left to wither.
“You are not the only one who is lost.”
Flurry looked down at her hooves. They faintly sparkled. The heart monitor beeped quietly. Twilight’s eyes were closed, but her ponies attended to her every day. It was clear some groomed her remaining fur and checked her hooves. Her teeth around the respirator even looked brushed.
Flurry looked around at the room. A few tables were in the corners. No chairs. They must have to stand during their shifts. There was precious little decorations, except on one table. Gemstones sat atop a purple-bound book. There were two pictures behind it.
The alicorn crossed to them. One was of six mares in a town square, Twilight front and center. The other was Twilight sitting slightly off-center on a couch with her wings wrapped around her parents. It had been taken just after her coronation. Flurry’s mother and father stood behind the couch with bright grins. There was a small spot on the side of the table. It would be in the very corner of the room and out of the way.
“May I leave something?” Flurry asked the nurses. One’s eyes drifted to the ticking timepiece hanging at her neck, but looked up to her eyes.
“Of course, Princess,” the one wearing the tallest cap said. “We will make sure it remains clean.” Flurry looked from the mare in the bed to the mare in the pictures, then closed her eyes to see the mare in the park with a dictionary on a blanket.
Flurry Heart was not Celestia. Or Luna. Or her mother. Or her father. Or her aunt.
“I know you will wake up,” Flurry said. Her voice was low, squeaking under the beeping of the heart monitor and the whistle of the respirator. “I have faith in you.”
Her wing twitched and lifted the snail toy she clutched to her barrel. “But I can’t wait for you. I have to finish this.” She swallowed. “I can't do it your way. I hope you can forgive me one day.”
Pink feathers left the snail on the bedside table in a small clearing. The brass button eyes made from cufflinks stared at the bed. Flurry pinched two feathers and settled her tiara atop the stuffed shell. It was a little lumpy.
“I can’t wait for you,” Flurry whispered, “but Whammy can. He’ll be right here. When you wake up.” She left the snail in the corner and backed away. One nurse bowed and two nodded to her.
Princess Flurry Heart left. The whoosh of the respirator and beeping did not follow her outside the room. The alicorn waited through three checkpoints before facing her commissar and officer at the end of the hallway. None had commented on the sun and moon winding down around the star.
They bowed just as the amulet stopped.
“Rise,” Flurry Heart ordered with a glowing horn. Before they did, she snapped away.
Once he was certain none were looking, Grover slowly raised his left wing. He raised his right claw to his beak as if he was stifling a yawn while his left claw snaked under his feathers to grab the small knight. Talons touched metal and he pulled it into his palm, keeping it hidden. He lowered his claw and wing to lean his head back. The Reichstone’s golden filigree clinked on the back of the throne.
Commander Benito’s ears twitched and the dog looked back. For a moment, his brown-eyed stare was deeply intense and serious, but it collapsed into a warm look of concern. The dog spoke over his shoulder. “Are you alright, my Kaiser?”
“I am tired,” Grover squeaked in his reedy voice. “Apologies, Lord Commander.” He pitched his head forward and felt the crown press down into his feathers. He raised a claw, his right one, to the mass of padding underneath the frame. Grover poked at it.
“The servants will add more padding, my Kaiser.” The dog turned back.
It is already heavy enough. It did not take a genius to see the crown was meant for a griffon thrice his size and age. His ancestor had it made well into his seventies, forged with the foundation of Griffenheim with gems from every corner of the Reich. Grover the Great had knelt before the Archons after they knelt to him in the conquest, and they placed a crown he commissioned upon his feathered brow.
The throne room still looked like the fortress it once was centuries ago. The pillars were rounded and the wide windows leading to balconies did not quite hide the flying buttresses meant to rain artillery down on a besieging army. And the high, vaulted ceilings lacked rafters for ease of flight, but some of the later stained-glass windows were shaped like the killing holes they were initially designed to be.
Grover looked across the Great Hall of Griffenheim Palace. It was oddly quiet and subdued. Grover had only been there once before, just after the old bird had dried his tears. He was not a stupid griffon; he knew his father was sick. And he knew his history. They would only come to make him Kaiser when his father was dead.
And they did. He was placed atop an oversized throne and listened as a swirl of unending names and titles were read out before adults with strange beaks and gaudy outfits marched forward in a procession and bowed to him. In truth, he did not remember much of it.
I wonder if father did. Grandfather died unexpectedly. Grover prodded the cushion underneath his slacks. He was dressed in his official military uniform befitting the Kaiser of Griffonkind and Supreme Commander of the Reichsarmee. It included a sash over a shirt and buttons and black dress shoes over his paws and Aunt Gabriela had once called him the most adorable Kaiser in history.
Grover cupped the toy knight tighter in his palm. The wings bent. That was okay; they could bend. Unlike most figures, the knight had joints. His armor was made out of steel and silver, not tin. He doubted many had knights like that; his wooden sword seemed cheap in comparison.
There was a clatter at the table below the raised dais. The throne was placed so that the Kaiser could see over the entire throne room, windows and entrance. The back touched a plain wall draped with elegant banners. So no one can sneak up on you.
His eyes slid to the side. There was a loose brick somewhere to the right that opened up a small passage. Grover had found it on accident one day. The palace was full of them, only the Barkingian Guard had a complete list.
“The course of action is clear,” the old bird’s voice rang out. It was deep and sonorous, though with a hint of rasp. Grover returned to the table before his throne. He had to shuffle forward to look down to him.
Archon Eros VII sat in the middle of a trio of terribly mismatched griffons. The old bird was probably the oldest griffon in the Griffonian Reich; his feathers had turned a stormy white. They matched his simple vestments beneath red robes, and he drummed a claw on the table. Weary brown eyes regarded the griffon to his left with exasperation.
“Are we in agreement?” Eros asked again with a clacking brown beak.
A thud rattled the table as Archon Proteus III slapped down his other gauntlet. He had removed them from his claws and left his helmet at the door, but was otherwise fully encased in plate mail. He ran a claw through pale white head feathers, flicking sweat away from his brow.
“It remains to be seen,” the knight growled. His voice was deeper than Eros’, but it lacked the warmth or comfort. The Archon of Arcturius served a god of war, and Grover was terrified of him. His toy knight had eyes had promised protection, but Proteus had a cold, vivid stare with haunting blue eyes. For now, he had turned it on the old bird.
“I wish to hear their contrition before deciding,” the Warrior-Priest declared. A bare claw drummed along the pommel of the greatsword he had left resting beside his chair.
“You want them to beg,” a sly voice said from the far right, half-ringing with a satisfied chuckle. Archon Erion XII leaned his elbows atop the table and rested his claws under his beak. He was the youngest Archon of Eyr in history, and he always had a smile whenever he spoke with Grover.
“I want to see what they offer the Gods,” Proteus replied. He swept his gauntlets to the side so they rested beside the greatsword. The Archon’s armor was great and gilded, and the lights on the walls illuminated a few pockmarks on one of his hind legs. He limped when he entered, Grover thought.
“Can you offer me a knife?” Erion asked with another laugh. “I have something caught in my talons. He made a show of inspecting a claw with a critical laughing eye.
“Use your own,” Proteus said tonelessly.
Erion lifted his arms and showed off his priestly garb. Unlike Eros, his robes had brighter colors and a golden trim along the edges. His sleeves were loose and he wiggled his claws. “Do I look armed?”
“That is how I know you are,” Proteus answered.
Erion sighed and rolled his eyes, but removed a dragonbone dagger from his left sleeve and picked at the end of his talons. “I have guests,” he commented idly. “They are running late. Do not begin without them.”
The old bird hunched lower in the chair and swung his head over to the younger Archon. “They have no business here.”
“Considering it was their armored rush out of my Romau that broke the Feathisian front, I have every reason to invite them,” Erion returned lightly. “I agreed to forward a message of thanks to the Queen-”
“That will be seen as an act of encouragement!” Eros whispered with a strangled hiss. “Denied, fool. Their presence here is damaging enough.”
“You do not get to sit out most of the war and make concessions,” Proteus agreed.
Erion clacked his beak languidly. “Consider it like this: They could ask for much more. Instead, the former Hive Marshal is eager to prove his mettle while his successor tears into Equestria. The armor brigade tore through Gerlach’s meager knights in exchange for a piece of paper and a participation award.”
The griffon flipped the knife around with his wrist. “Fair trade.”
“This victory belongs to the Reich,” Eros said with finality. “I will review the message.”
“That is all I ask,” Erion mewled.
Grover did not like him. The Archon of Arcturius was scary, but direct. The Archon of Eyr could smile while sliding the knife out of his robe. Grover had eavesdropped on one of his maids speaking about how Erion had seized power in the city of Romau, but had spoken out against Eros. She was certain he would side with Auntie Gabriela; Romau was a small city with barely a militia.
It is obvious none of them truly like each other. Grover had not seen them together very often before this. His palm was sweaty. Grover set the knight back down and slid it under his wing. He sat on the throne atop a pile of cushions, claws and paws together on his haunches. His tail batted at one of the tasseled pillows.
There was a loud knock at the doors. One of the elite Ironpaws entered first and knelt at the doorway. The brown dog next to Grover descended from the throne and crossed the lonely, vacant hall.
It only appeared vacant because the crowds were gone. Griffonian knights lined the balconies and walls behind the pillars. Sometimes Grover thought they were toys like his knights; they moved so very little. He had to squint and push his glasses up to his eyes to see the rustling of their wings or the slight flick of their tail.
None of them ever look at me. The helmets blocked their eyes. Grover could tell most were the Arcturian Order from the pauldrons at their shoulders, but some were from the Borean Order and a few were Eyr’s Own. The Reichsarmee regulars had been stationed beyond the palace ever since that stupid mad griff had tried to revolt.
Grover closed his eyes. The crown was very heavy; it was meant to be. It symbolized the weight of the task to be the Kaiser of Griffonkind. A sigh escaped his beak.
“Are you alright, my Kaiser?” The old bird had spoken up, having turned around to watch Commander Benito. Eros did not leave the chair, but pushed it to the side to get a better look up at Kaiser Grover VI.
“What…” Grover’s voice cracked and his feathers flushed. He clenched his wings to his sides; the feathers had just begun to turn slightly brown, but his fur was still a little fluffy at his neck. The griffon grit his beak and he carefully enunciated, “What will happen to Auntie Gabriela?”
“Do not worry about that,” Eros said in a warm, reassuring voice. “We will discuss it later.” He pointed a claw down the hall. “This will not take long, my Kaiser.”
Grover nodded and felt the Reichstone slip. He leaned his head back. “Okay, old bird.”
Erion suppressed a chuckle. “Do we not get nicknames, my Kaiser?”
Chicken because you are yellow like one. Grover looked to the side. “Young bird?”
“I suppose that would make Proteus the ‘war bird,’ then,” Erion said. “Appropriate. You are quite gifted, my Kaiser. I am indeed the youngest Archon of Eyr.”
Proteus clacked his beak. “I knew your predecessor. He was a gifted swimmer. Odd for him to drown.”
“He was old,” Erion sighed with sadness. “He should not have tried swimming drunk.”
“Enough,” Eros whispered.
The double doors were slowly pushed open. They were embossed with iconography of the great conquest and made out of solid metal. The centerpiece was Grover the Great leading his army across the Creeper Mountains to advance into the Evi Valley. The picture book back in his room said that Grover had flown through the snowstorms himself to find the route, but that seemed a little silly. He had scouts, right?
However it had happened, Grover the Great fought a battle against three armies in three days, crushing the Lushians then the Brodfledians then the Minotaurs of Asterion when they attacked his rear for crossing over their mainland territory. At the end of it, he had pushed Asterion off of Griffonia and back to their islands.
The doors stopped, and Grover the Great was raising a sword on one side with his following knights separated by an open gap. The doors closed again with a resounding clang. Grover was so focused on the picture that he missed who entered.
He blinked at the pistols floating over to Commander Benito glowing with green magic. The dog collected them and passed them to another Ironpaw standing beside the doors. Two figures in black uniforms stood on all fours, shorter than all the griffons and knights. They were as black as the leather coats they wore.
Grover had heard about the Changelings. He was the Kaiser, and they were technically here on his invitation. Well, father’s. He knew very little about them. They were not here the last time.
One wore a fez and marched ahead of the other. He had red lapels on his coat collar and high black boots under his sleeves. They stomped on the long red carpet running the length of the hall. Grover’s tail tucked against his leg at the fangs; they were bright and gleaming white in the lights.
It took him a moment to realize the Changeling was smiling, cheeks pulled wide under ecstatic purple eyes. His horn flashed and he removed the fez, carrying it in his magic along with him. Grover had heard the Changelings called ‘bugs’ by one of the dogs, and it seemed appropriate. They had no mane or tail or feathers or fur. Grover glanced down at his claws and back at their chitin.
The one trailing behind did so with a slight limp. A hind leg dragged stiffly every other step. Like Proteus. His uniform was not as grand as the other’s, and the sleeves were rolled up. Grover flinched away at the gaping wounds in the legs. He felt queasy and the breakfast pancakes bubbled up in his beak.
No one else seemed to notice. Erion stabbed his knife down into the tablecloth and stood with flared wings. He extended open claws to the Changelings. “Friends! We were just speaking of you!”
“Archon Erion,” the one carrying the fez replied with a dipped horn. The horn was gnarled and crooked; it did not look like how a horn should look. Not that I have many as an example. The Changeling’s accent was odd; his vowels buzzed.
Erion waved his claws with a flourish to the table. “Marshal Synovial, Colonel Thranx, you of course know Archon Eros.”
“Lord Regent,” the one with the fez answered. Grover guessed it was Marshal Synovial. The Changeling paused. “Apologies. Do you prefer your religious title or your temporal one?”
“They are one and the same,” Eros responded kindly. “The light of Boreas guides the Reich in these trying times. Welcome, honored guests of the Great Queen.”
“The Changeling Hegemony greets you,” Synovial said happily. Two fin-like ears twitched and his head swung around the room. Grover had trouble telling where he was looking; his purple eyes seemed to lack pupils.
“This is just the quick formality,” Erion said smoothly. “There will be pictures afterwards.”
Synovial nodded. “Of course.”
“And beer,” Erion added to the other Changeling.
The other simply nodded. The Changeling tugged back a high-ridged, black cap with a twist of his horn. Grover assumed he was Colonel Thranx. His muzzle was pressed taut and only the tips of his fangs escaped his lips. Like Synovial, his eyes lacked pupils, but they were bright blue.
“I assume,” Erion continued, “you have met Archon Proteus from the battlefield if nothing else.”
“Briefly,” Synovial deferred.
“The Arcturian Order fought well,” the other Changeling said. His voice was higher, and Grover noticed he spoke oddly in an imitation of a Griffenheim accent. He is trying to control the buzzing vowels. Or he is hurt.
Proteus accept the complement with a slight bob of his head, saying nothing. Archon Eros shifted his head as if to glare at Proteus, but reconsidered. “As my fellow Archon said, there will be a grander celebration after this. You are welcome to attend as guests of honor for your contribution. You had no duty to assist us in Eagleclaw’s folly.”
“A chance to show Trimmel how a true Blitzkrieg looks is reward enough,” Synovial laughed. His voice chirped. “You have not seen what passes for an armored tank in Equestria.”
“I can only imagine,” Erion sniffed. He sat back down. “We have no table for you, friends, but you are free to wait and watch beside the pillars.”
“Desperation has a poor taste,” Synovial smiled.
Proteus spoke. “Keep your sense to yourself. The Gods will judge them justly.”
“I’m sure they will,” Synovial agreed. He stopped. It took Grover a moment to realize he had looked past Eros and upwards to him and froze. The trick is to follow the horn.
Synovial, despite lacking a beak, smiled the exact same way as Erion and bowed with a flourish. “I greet you, Kaiser of Griffonkind.” His fez swirled around his horn in a jaunty dance.
“Do not address the Kaiser,” Commander Benito growled, “unless you have permission.”
“I humbly apologize,” Synovial said, rising from the bow.
Eros stood from the chair and turned around. For a split second, something flitted across his brown eyes while his back was turned to the Changelings, but he blinked slowly and pressed his beak to the floor. “Kaiser Grover VI, may I introduce Field Marshal Synovial of House Vesali of Vesalipolis, cousin to the Great Queen Chrysalis.”
“And this is Colonel Thranx Elias zu Eisland,” Synovial said of the Changeling behind him. He stood and twisted his head over a gossamer wing.
Thranx bowed stiffly. “I greet you, Kaiser of Griffonkind.” His right hind leg was still straight; he had to shuffle it to the side.
Grover licked the tip of his broad beak. “I…greet you, honored guests.” What else should I say? He glanced at the holes and swallowed again. “We…have medical staff.”
Synovial tracked his stare, or felt his discomfort, and chittered. “Roll your sleeves down,” he said behind him. “I assure you, gentle Kaiser, he is not wounded.” The fez landed just behind his horn and a green aura tugged the Field Marshal’s leather sleeve up. There was a hole just above his hoof. Now that Grover looked closely, he could see the indents from depressions higher up in the sleeves.
Grover flushed with embarrassment. “I a-apologize, sir.”
“None needed, Kaiser,” Synovial said as if it did not matter. “Come along, Colonel.” Thranx stood and followed, still with a limp. They took up a position along the pillars, disappearing into the shadows and the knights.
Grover was watching their black chitin and coats blend into the darkness for too long. He jumped on the cushion when Archon Eros clacked his beak. The old bird had stood and turned around, leaving his chair behind. He gazed up to the throne with a calm, flat expression.
A maid had once groused that the Archon was the oldest bird in the Reich, and Grover believed it. He was so old that even his brown eyes had seemingly become tinged with gray; his robes were long, flowing, and loose. But despite all of that, his voice was gravelly and strong. “Kaiser Grover VI,” he intoned. “May we begin the proceedings?”
What was I supposed to say? Grover looked over his small glasses to the Lord Commander. Benito raised a paw and bent two fingers in a sweeping gesture. When Erion turned his beak to look at the dog, the Lord Commander scratched his nose and folded his arms behind his back.
“You may begin,” Grover announced. “In my name.” His voice squeaked.
Archon Eros bowed and dipped wings so gray with age they were nearly white. A chorus of clangs resounded on each side of the hall as the dogs and griffons standing guard bowed with him. The other Archons bent their heads at the table, and Proteus clasped his claws before his beak and prayed. Erion mirrored him after a moment, though he rolled his head to the side.
The Lord Commander turned his head and shouted across the hall, “Bring them, Loudbark,” before striding up to the throne and standing beside it. Grover squinted up at the dog, watching his whiskers twitch.
“This will not be long, my Kaiser,” the dog whispered. He barely moved his muzzle.
That is what the old bird said, but the stupid crown is heavy. Grover leaned his head back against the throne and resisted closing his eyes. He shifted the toy knight under his wing, using the little sword to poke him in the side. Proteus’ voice rang out as the massive iron doors swung open at the end of the hall.
“Prelate Michael, announce the accused and their charges.”
Grover watched a griffon step forward into the light spilling from a balcony window and unroll an antiquated scroll. He reared onto his haunches, priestly robe spilling over his paws. The prelate of Arcturius had a sonorous voice more fitting a choir than a trial.
“Gerlach Weijermars, fourth of his name, Grand Duke of Feathisia. Accused of treason and blasphemy against the Trinity.”
With the pronouncement, his wings flapped behind him. Clacking began to emanate from the desks lining the wall beside the balcony. Several students from the colleges in Yale worked typewriters, hunched over with reams of paper stacked beside them. One griffoness reset the stylus after it dinged and waited. Their claws moved faster than a knight swinging a sword.
Two dogs in full plate dragged a tall dark gray griffon with his wings, paws, and claws in chains from the doorway and deposited him on the rug. One put his greave upon the griffon’s back and forced him to kneel to the floor with his beak stabbing into the carpet. The walk took time, and the hall was silent.
Grover recalled his history lessons.
Grand Duke Gerlach IV. Known as “The Silent” for saying few words. Feathisia is your…my…port of trade and only navy since the loss of Skyfall. Gerlach, true to the nickname, said nothing. Grover stared through his thick lenses down at the griffon staring unblinkingly back at him. One of his eyes was milky white and blinded. Fought against the rebellion at sixteen and struck by shrapnel outside his family’s estate.
“Ignatius Bronzefur, first of his name, Count of Bronzehill. Accused of treason and blasphemy against the Trinity.”
A growl went up along both sides of the hall. The next occupant was dragged in, staggering on two paws and half-held up by two knights. Another dog in dark brown fur stalked behind the trio. Grover picked up a low, whimpering whine. The chained dog was all gray with a short muzzle, wider now due to the bruising and bandages around his jaw. His breath came in rapid, short gasps through his nose, and his eyes were wild. The dog did not need to be forced to kneel. He collapsed onto the floor willingly and groveled, trying to clasp his paws together.
The Hound of Bronzekreuz was your father’s friend, ever since his coronation. Your father went to his wedding, and rose from his sickbed to attend the naming of his pups. He was beside your father when the news came from the nurses about your mother.
The dog worked his jaw. “Mer-”
The brown dog in black armor stomped on his tail savagely and cut off the word into a yelp. “Be silent, traitor.”
Bronzehill was given unto the escaped slaves of Diamond Mountain by your ancestor, and your honor guard is formed of the strongest, smartest, and most loyal descendants. Your father fled to them when the revolutionaries stormed Griffenheim, and they fought savagely in their mountains and hills to restore him to his throne.
“Testimony might be hard to hear with that jaw,” Erion commented drolly to Eros. He tipped his beak up to make sure his words carried beyond the table, though he spoke in a tone that suggested the was trying to whisper.
The dog and the griffon had been left with a large space between them, kneeling at the edges of the rug in the center of the hall. Benito waved his arm down to the black-armored dog. “General Loudbark?”
“Aye, Lord Commander,” the dog grunted. He stomped back to the doors and vanished around a corner. The hall was silent for several minutes. Grover rolled the knight between a few feathers and pinched his eyes shut.
“Archon,” a voice called out.
Grover opened his eyes.
A knight stood in the open doorway, holding his helmet in his claws. “She is rending her dress to shreds. She wishes to walk herself.”
“Allow it,” Archon Eros crowed back. He snapped his beak. “Tell Loudbark to quiet her if she speaks. Gently, as befitting her nature.”
The knight nodded and replaced his helmet. The griffon lowered the scroll and waited, looking to Archon Proteus. He unrolled it fully at the echo of clanking chains, and took a deep breath.
“Gabriela Eagleclaw, first of her name, the Duchess of Strawberry.”
Grover’s aunt entered before the charges could be read, forcing the dogs escorting her to step quickly to match her pace. Grover stared down at her, but her purple eyes were pinned somewhere below him. She was strawberry-pink; feathers and fur stuck out from tears in a flowing green dress stained with dirt at the frills. Chains across her wings kept her from preening, and her steps were jittery. She stretched the chains on her yellow claws to the limit and moved as if she was on the ballroom floor.
Prelate Michael did not read the charges. He stared over the top of the scroll at her, and the noise of her chains filled the hall. She stopped short of the other two, standing behind them, then sniffed and turned her head to the prelate.
“Accused of treason, Maar worship, blasphemy, sabotage, murder, fornication out of wedlock, and conspiracy to commit regicide,” the prelate read aloud in his sing-song. He snapped the scroll shut.
Gabriela Eagleclaw remained standing, and the dogs at her wings hesitated to force her down. She regarded them coolly and raised an eyebrow, swiveling her cool eyes to the table. “You want to add ‘steals candy from orphans,’ Eros?”
General Loudbark stepped around the other dogs from behind her and raised his gauntlet. Gabriela swiveled her head to him and opened her beak. He slapped her across the face before she could say another word. Grover flinched as the strike sent her reeling and she tripped over her chains to the floor. She cried out with a long, low shriek.
He closed his eyes again and pinched the knight against his side.
Gabriela Eagleclaw is your father’s cousin…not quite your Aunt, my Kaiser. The Eagleclaws have always been your strongest supporters. Their vineyards made the Herzland rich for centuries, and they have never wavered in their loyalty since Grover the Great.
Auntie Gabriela sobbed again on the floor. “Is that how you treat a griffoness?”
“How I treat a whor-” the dog cut himself off with a bark.
“Let them stand,” Eros sighed.
There was another keening sob underneath the clanking of chains. With his eyes closed, Grover listened as the prisoners were steadied on their limbs and the guards stepped back. Swords and leather holsters rustled along the walls, and there was low murmuring. There was also a strange, hissing chitter in an unfamiliar tongue coming from near the pillars.
Auntie Gabriela sobbed again and drowned it out. The wide doors clanged shut at the end of the hall, and the murmurs subsided. Only the crying carried.
“Enough, Gabby,” Erion chuckled. “Save them for the actual event. There are no cameras here.”
The crying stopped. Grover opened his eyes. His aunt sniffled again, standing straight and craning her neck around the room. Her eyes swept over the guards impassively before she turned her head to the Archons. Her fur was matted under her eyes, smudging old mascara. Her stare was cold and disdainful; she cocked her head.
“Are you the judge and jury?” she said to Erion.
“The Gods shall judge you,” Proteus answered instead. “As we are their representatives on this world, we shall judge you in their stead.”
“Do they not judge a liar?” Gabriela asked. She jerked her head at Erion. “We had an agreement.”
“I did warn you not to trust me,” Erion said slyly. He picked at a talon with his knife, then shook the blade at her. “I am sorry that your boytoy overextended his lines. It was just too tempting an opportunity.”
Auntie Gabriela exhaled through her nostrils and clacked her beak. “May I request clarification on the charges?”
“You may not,” Eros stated flatly. He folded his claws on the table. “This is a formality. Your guilt is plain.”
“My guilt?” Gabriela asked. “What of yours?” She looked around. “I see no nobility here, only thugs in armor and sniveling sycophants in robes. You have destroyed the Reich. Where is Baron Leer of Angriver? Or even Diellza?”
“The Mad Monarch of Katerin would have already lobbed off your head to make a friend for that skull she carried around!” Erion screeched. “Poor show, Gabby.”
“She is dead, then?” Gabriela asked. “Such is the fate of those who capitulated quietly to you.”
“Baron Leer still rules,” Eros said, “under the guidance of the Trinity and the Archonate. As does Erebus, though he is now a Duke for his loyalty.”
“You have no moral standing here,” Proteus snarled. “Look to your own sins before you cast a stone. All of you waged war against good griffons, and dragged more good griffons into your madness.”
“It should be said,” Eros interrupted, “you are standing for your entire family.” There was a pause. “All of you.”
“Read, Prelate Michael,” Proteus ordered.
“Regina Eagleclaw, Gavin Reijemars, Barnaby Bronzefur, Margaret Bronzefur-”
“My nephew had nothing to do with this,” Gerlach forced out. His voice was heavy and broken. “Leave the boy be.” Ignatius whined and mumbled and agreement. The dog fell to his knees again to plead, but was hauled up with a stumble.
“They have all been arrested and charged with treason,” Eros continued. “We are not without mercy. They live under house arrest, not the Black Cells.”
Gabriela’s eyes were hooded and she gazed at the rug. “You are low, Eros. Unworthy of a name to do with love.”
“And yet I am still higher than you, Gabriela,” Eros snarled. The old bird stood in his chair and extended his wings. “You, who brought murder and war and death to our homes, carried on a swift wind.”
Gabriela looked up, and looked past Eros. Grover blinked and stared at her enlarged expression. Her eyes shimmered as she stared up at him, and her cheeks pulled into a sad frown. “Grover…”
“Do not speak to the Kaiser,” Benito snarled in warning.
“Everything I did, I did for you,” Auntie Gabriela pleaded. “Please, know that. No matter-”
Loudbark punched her in the back of the head, and this time the cry of pain was all to real, as was the blood on his gauntlet. Red droplets speckled the fringes of her head feathers. The hall descended into snarls, screeches, and shouts.
“Stop!” Grover screamed out. His voice cracked again, high and reedy. He leaned too far forward on the throne and titled his beak down to the dog. “Stop it!”
Loudbark hesitated and stepped back.
Grover took too deep a breath and clutched the toy knight in his claws. Even with his glasses, his eyesight was blurry. His head lolled to the side too far.
Grover felt the Reichstone’s padding slip past his feathers. He scrabbled his claws upwards, dropping the toy knight. It plinked on the stairs and tumbled downwards. The Reichstone bounced against his grasping talons, and the stupid slick jewels slid away. The crown fell and tumbled down the stairs with a series of padded thuds as it impacted the carpet. It rolled to a stop behind the old bird’s chair.
He stared at his dumb clumsy claws and tried not to cry in front of everyone. A shadow crested his beak and the Lord Commander gently pushed him back into the throne. “It’s alright, my Kaiser,” the dog whispered.
“I dropped it,” Grover said stupidly.
“No harm,” the dog assured him. “It was reinforced with Bronzehill metal long ago.” The dog opened his coat and fished out a square cloth. He rubbed it against Grover’s glasses and cleared them. Grover frowned at the strange, boxy pistol hanging beside a standard-issue Reichsarmee sidearm in one of his large pockets. The dog pulled back and folded his coat closed.
Grover VI realized the hall was staring at him. He licked the end of his beak. “I apologize,” he said to no one in particular. The old bird, Archon Eros, had stood and retrieved the crown. He held it in his claws, turning it over to see a gash in the padding beneath the edge.
“There is nothing to forgive,” the old bird said in a loud voice.
Erion leaned back in his chair to eye the crown. “Lazy servants,” he crowed. “Make the crown fit the Kaiser, as they say.”
As who says?
“Lord Commander Benito, return the Kaiser his crown,” Eros ordered. He held it out with both claws. The dog stepped down from the throne to accept it, pausing at a faint clattering as he stepped down.
Grover sniffled and watched the toy knight sail down the steps, kicked by the Lord Commander’s boot. It skittered under the table and stopped against a leg, finally rolling out of sight. The dog’s ears twitched and he ignored the noise before taking the crown from Eros’ claws.
Lord Commander Benito set it back upon Grover’s head then stood beside the throne with his paws crossed behind his back. His brown muzzle was raised high with utter solemnity. Eros bowed his head to Grover. “May we resume, my Kaiser?”
He turned back around before Grover could respond and settled back into his chair. Auntie Gabriela had stood again, head twitched to the side. She rubbed at her wrists and the manacles shackling her claws together. A pink feather fell from her head, broken quill red at the very end.
“General Loudbark,” Eros called out, “enough discipline.” The dog nodded with his tail tucked between his legs and slunk towards one of the pillars.
Auntie Gabriela exhaled with a croon. “You dishonor yourself, dog.”
“Do not speak of honor, Eagleclaw,” Proteus chided. “You forsook yours when you raised your banner against your sovereign.”
“I raised it against Eros,” Gabriela retorted.
“Ah,” Erion sighed. “Against the griffon chosen to be Boreas’ representative on this world? That is so much better.”
“Is that your defense?” Eros asked.
“Is this a trial?” Gabriela responded with a squawk. “There are no noble houses here. There are boys in robes and metal plate.” She turned a purple eye back to Loudbark. “And dogs.”
“This is not a civil matter,” Eros deadpanned. “This is an inquisition to assess the guilt of those accused of crimes against the Gods.”
Gabriela lowered her head and mouthed something to the carpet.
“Speak louder, Gabby,” Erion requested with a smile in his voice. “I wish to hear your heresy.”
The pink griffon ran a few talons over her green dress, then looked to the griffon and dog beside her. Her head stayed down. Duke Gerlach had moved towards her after the strike, but the other Ironpaws had restrained him by the wings. Count Ignatius remained on the floor in a quivering bow. Auntie Gabriela raised her cold purple eyes from the floor to the old bird.
“I made war against you, Peter. Not the Gods. Or the Kaiser.” Her wings strained against the chains wrapped around her sides, so she cast her head about the hall. “To avoid this.”
Grover frowned. Peter? The old bird was technically the seventh to be called ‘Eros.’ Archons took on a new name when they were chosen to be the representative of the Trinity.
Eros chuckled with a creaky voice. “You say it like a curse. You were not even a seed when I left that name behind. All of you made war against the Griffonian Reich. That cannot be denied. We had hoped that time would make you reflect on the reasons for your heretical actions.”
“Time in the Black Cells?” Gabriela asked with clear disdain. “We are not common thugs.”
“You are,” Erion replied. “Your titles and assets have been stripped while you languished in the dark. The temples have the power now, dear Gabby.”
Gabriela rolled her eyes. “Given to the Orders? The Duchy of Strawberry was named by drunken ‘knights’ of that caliber, but nobles were what made it great. Carefully curated bloodlines like the vineyards they stewarded.”
She raised her manacled claws together and the chain pulled taut. “I saw your path in the regency. You stirred the commongriff with empty promises of belief and bread while empowering your church and zealots. Look to the east. Hellquill and Longsword have fallen apart under your ‘pious’ orders. You think it will be different in the Herzland?”
Eros cocked his head. “Words are wind. What did you promise the commongriff, Gabriela? Strawberries and wine?”
“I cared,” Gabriela snarled. “That is the role of the nobility. To guide-”
“No.” Eros pounded the table. The other Archons startled. “No lies! Do not dare stand there and claim you loved your people. Not after all that you have done to them.”
“I did nothing!” Gabriela crowed back. “You would have them pray away their rights and fear the shadows in the corners of your precious temples!”
“Nothing?” Eros threw his head back and clacked his beak. “Is that what you call the bombs in our factories? The blockade of Griffenheim? The famine in the streets that you crowed was my fault?”
“You cast us out of the regency council,” Gerlach finally said. His voice was slow and somber.
“I recall you stormed out chasing Gabby’s tail,” Erion waved his dagger at the Grand Duke. “Couldn’t stand having to bow to some priests?”
“I do not care for your maneuvers,” Proteus rumbled. The Archon tapped the pommel of his resting greatsword with a talon. “We knew this war was coming.”
“I prayed it would not,” Eros said to the other Archon. He turned back to Auntie Gabriela. “I prayed for Boreas to give you sense.”
“You would have done the same,” Gabriela scoffed.
Eros leaned back in the chair. Grover could not longer see the top of his head when the old bird slouched down. The hall grew very silent. “You were little more than a cub the last time an army marched towards Griffenheim.” The old bird’s voice was a hiss that carried through the hall, a harsh whisper. “I was here. The Temple of Boreas had already been closed due to the riots.”
“I know history,” Gabriela responded in a flat voice.
“Do not speak again unless I allow it,” Eros answered her. “This is your last warning.”
Auntie Gabriela opened her beak again, but whatever she saw in the old bird made her close it with a clack. She looked to the side. From the throne, Grover could not see Archon Eros and was too afraid of knocking his crown off to scooch forward.
“The first to breach the palace did not expect to get in. Whatever plan they had, it fell apart. They tore the gilded frames off paintings, seized silverware, dragged out nobles and servants alike to be lynched from the balconies. Some guards turned on each other as a show of loyalty to the ‘Griffonian Republic.’ I carried our Kaiser through the tunnels with only a single cadet at my side.”
A claw raised from the chair and gestured up to the throne. “Lord Commander Benito and I made it to your father’s relief force. Had the Kaiser been taken that day, a little body would have swung from a rope, no matter what Kemerskai crows in the north now. You grew up in the shadow of what nearly was.”
Eros leaned forward in his seat again. “Tell me, Gabriela Eagleclaw, have you never imagined yourself upon the throne?”
Auntie Gabriela snapped her head up to the throne with cold eyes. Grover flinched at the expression. Benito shifted forward and stood him. He held one paw backwards and gestured for the griffon to lean further back.
“I would have never hurt him,” Gabriela strangled out.
“Your army would have,” Eros replied with absolute certainty. “Storming through the city, flying over the bastion and overwhelming the flying buttresses. Seeing friends fall all around.”
“Or one of your household knights with whispered orders?” Erion guessed. “Your negotiator in Romau assured me Eros could be dealt with discreetly. He is old, after all.”
“That is not what was meant,” Gabriela said. “The conclave could have chosen another due to his advanced age. That is all. There is precedent.”
“One of your liking?” Proteus leaned forward with anger. “You would pervert the will of the Gods? Your father would spit on you, Eagleclaw. Your ancestors look upon your sins in awe.”
Count Ignatius whined on the floor.
“Be silent!” the Lord Commander barked. Grover flinched at the iron in his voice. “You made dog kill dog as in Diamond Mountain! You are not worthy of breathing the same air as our Kaiser!”
“I was misled!” the count howled on the floor. “Forgive me, my Kaiser!”
“Do not speak!” Benito snarled. His tail curled with bristled fur, and his knuckles turned white around the hilt of his sheathed sword.
“You will have your chance,” Eros waved a claw to the prone dog. “Help him back to his paws, General Loudbark.”
The dog stomped back over and hauled Ignatius up by the collar of his dirty tunic. His lips curled. “You are even more pathetic than you were when I stormed into the Bronze Council.”
“I thank you for it,” Ignatius wept.
“Many more dogs would have died if not for General Loudbark and the Knights of the Bronze Cross,” Proteus added. “Prelate Gunhild still calms Bronzehill.”
“Your coup was appreciated, Rufus,” Erion said to Loudbark. The dog gave him a withering glare, but checked himself with a snort and shoved Ignatius upright before stalking away. “We should ask the Grand Duke,” Erion continued. “He was Duchess Eagleclaw’s field commander.”
“Gerlach,” Proteus called out, “you fought against the rebellion under your father.”
The storm-gray griffon did not verbally respond, but nodded with resignation.
“You took shrapnel to the eye outside Ravensburg. You know how terrible war is, and there is no war more terrible than a war against kin.” His claw gripped the pommel of his greatsword and he raised it onto the table with one claw, clanging it against the wood. “Your army was three days from Griffenheim before…” Proteus ground his beak. “Bah, say it.”
“Before Field Marshal Synovial rather brilliantly stormed out of Romau and encircled the mass of your infantry with the eager support of the Knights of Eyr,” Erion added teasingly.
“Had that not occurred,” Proteus picked up, “your army would have reached Griffenheim. How would you have taken the city?”
Duke Gerlach looked away with his good eye. “We would have besieged it from the west with artillery to clear the lower sectors and defensive hardpoints. We would have stormed the central section afterwards to take the palace before any escape like the last time.”
“You would have murdered many of the civilians you claim to love so dearly in Feathisia,” Eros observed.
“You did not evacuate them,” Gerlach said.
“To where?” Erion smirked. “Angriver and the forsaken forest? Or the swamps of Katerin?”
“Was Duchess Gabriela aware of this plan?” Eros asked again. Gerlach did not move or reply for several heartbeats, but nodded his head when an Ironpaw stepped forward.
“You know your griffons,” Proteus continued. “And you know the griffons of the capital that your…machinations…were denying food for months. Had the city fell, do you believe you could restore order and secure the palace in time to ensure the safety of the Kaiser?”
“You could have surrendered,” Gerlach countered. “The palace has an internal bastion resistant to sieges. The chances were low.”
“Chances,” Proetus scoffed. “When Grover the Great flew north from Griffenheim, he fell upon the Herzland like holy fire. The Kingdom of Katerin was fat and dissolute, its armies lazy. But the greatest sins were in the temples where the so-called nobles bought their piety and gambled before the Trinity. Boreas charged him to restore the faith of Griffonkind. They were driven out to be hanged from the trees. Do not speak of chance.”
Duke Gerlach’s chains clinked as he tried to flex his wings. He fell silent again and looked down at the floor. Proteus made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat.
“The things we do for love,” Erion trilled. He leaned over to Eros and poorly whispered, “We could consider it an extenuating factor.”
Eros shook his head. “The Duke acted of his own accord, unless he wishes to claim otherwise.” The clacking of the typewriters fell silent as the hall waited.
“Both your families are old and noble,” Proteus told Gerlach. “Did she offer you role as consort in a play for the throne?”
“She asked,” the Duke answered flatly.
“No magic?” Erion wiggled his talons. “No spells? Count Ignatius is one more night in the Black Cells away from claiming dear Gabby danced naked in the moonlight for Maar.” The dog flinched and looked away.
“I would challenge you to combat,” Gerlach said, swinging his eye to the youngest Archon. “You were too much a coward to take the field yourself. Let the Gods prove my innocence.”
“Alas,” Erion rested his beak atop his claws, “I am a priest. You must suffer my cutting jabs with no chance of making me silent.” His head rolled to the typewriters. “Do record that the Grand Duke testified to acting under his own power and threatened the Archon of Eyr, please.”
“Enough about the Gods,” Gabriela sighed. “I do not see them in this hall. I see you, Peter, and I know you would have done the same.”
“I have done the same,” the old bird snarled in a low voice, “to end your madness. The famine that may come will not be blamed on the throne. It was not our forces that burned your vineyards and orchards.”
“How quickly one returns to the barbarians you claim to be beyond,” Erion added.
“I will not see my family’s land be divvied by your theocracy,” Gabriela spat. “Katerin’s fortunes fell low, but not low enough to be split between marauding bands of knights.”
“You speak of ordained griffons,” Proteus warned.
“Hector is good at championing lost causes,” Auntie Gabriela lectured, “not ruling; his attention will be too divided. Erik Grimclaw can only swing a sword. You scorched out the rot and smeared mud atop the burn. Griffons will suffer.”
“And all those poor commongriffs...” Eros' voice pitched upwards with sorrow. “The ones you claim to love. They spoke so highly of you in Strawberry until you burned their homes and villages. Now they stumble through the ashes to our altars seeking a helping claw. And we offer one unto them, as we should.”
“The future of the Reichsarmee,” Gabriela sighed. “You use them far worse than I ever dreamed of.”
“Enrollment is up,” Erion chuckled. “The wolves are at the door.” He flicked out a claw to the chained dog. “Speaking of mutts, Ignatius Bronzefur. What say you to the charges?”
The dog slowly bent his knees and knelt on the floor with his head low. “I was misled. I beg your forgiveness, my Kaiser.” Loudbark snarled before looking to the table.
The Lord Commander’s tail stiffed in front of Grover’s throne. He could look over the tops of his glasses to see the fur bristle and flex. The dog stepped down from the throne towards the desk. “Did you expect us to join in your treason?” Benito asked. The Count’s chains rattled as he shook his head.
“You do not dispute it was treason?” Eros asked in confirmation.
“I grieved him.”
Grover had to cock his head to hear the dog’s whisper. The Reichstone chafed against his feathers. He swung his head back and the bones in his neck popped.
“All dogs grieved the Kaiser,” Loudbark swallowed. “We did not resort to raising our paws against his son.”
Ignatius’ head turned to the pink griffoness, but his eyes were pointed at the floor. “She came to Bronzehill. She whispered in our ears in our grief. Our eyes were too blurry with tears to see the truth. The Bronze Council voted; it was not unanimous.”
Grover frowned for a moment. Un-ani-mous. Not…together? Some voted no. His language tutor was not present, and all his lessons had been cancelled for the week.
Erion was inspecting his talons again. “Do you believe she cast spells?”
Auntie Gabriela sighed. “The only spell I would cast would be one for your silence.”
“You were not supposed to talk out of turn,” Erion quipped back.
Eros waved a wing in dismissal. “I would hear your answer for the record.”
Ignatius swallowed and his whiskers twitched along his muzzle. The dog looked very tired, and very afraid, but something in his eyes hardened. “I…I would ask what happened with the crown our smiths made. We poured our grief and heartbreak into it. It was meant for the Kaiser.”
Grover reached up and poked at one of the emeralds on the Reichstone. Was it going to be heavier? If the dogs poured their tears into it, it would certainly be heavier. Bronzehill always entered a period of Great Mourning with the death of every Kaiser.
“It was sold.” Eros folded his claws on the table. “Disassembled into the jewels. Is that what Gabriela Eagleclaw told you to sway you to her side? That I disrespected Bronzehill’s grief while lining the coffers of our temples?”
Ignatius swung his head between the Archon and Auntie Gabriela. His muzzle creased deeply and his whiskers drooped. “It was delivered to the Temple of Boreas at the funeral…” he trailed off.
“Delivered to an agent of Gabriela Eagleclaw herself. Dismantled and auctioned to fund her war.” Erion’s voice was sad, but there was a mocking lilt at the end of his sentences.
“That is a lie!” Gabriela screeched. Her voice echoed across the hall. Her wings strained against her chains. “I would never! It was in the claws of your priests, Peter!”
“And we have established that some priests can be bought,” Eros remarked. “We have written orders and receipts. Found at your estate.”
Gerlach and Ignatius looked to the griffoness between them, just for a moment, before looking away. Gabriela’s beak twisted and she raised her head to the domed ceiling. She took a ragged breath. “And these priests? The ones…under my employ?”
“We will hear their testimony shortly,” Eros answered. “They have fallen to their knees before the Gods and begged for mercy. You may receive the same, Gabriela.”
“The Gods are just,” Proteus intoned.
“And merciful,” Erion said from the other side. “We have not yet asked Regina what she knows of your schemes. We may.”
“Are you willing to receive their forgiveness?” Eros questioned. “Do you acknowledge your sins, Gabriela Eagleclaw?” His voice tightened and Grover was unsure why. “Do you acknowledge all your sins?”
Auntie Gabriela, Duke Gerlach, and Count Ignatius were silent.
“This is your legacy, Gabriela Eagleclaw,” Eros began. “Kemerskai in the north, the Aquileian Republic returned to the south, Ghislain’s niece controlling Skyfall at the coast. All of them,” the Archon spat, “crows circling to feast upon all our corpses while you play for the throne like the petulant cub you are! You saw all of this and still you persisted! What else could you call it but blasphemy?”
“Hubris,” Proteus agreed, “but perhaps a series of small steps leading to a great fall. You could rise again if you accept the supremacy of the Gods.”
“As the gathered Archons of the Trinity,” Erion picked up, “we stand as their representatives upon this world. Will you let Eyr, Arcturius, and Boreas into your heart? Will you prostrate yourself before the Gods?”
Ignatius, already on his knees, fell forward silently. He clasped his chained paws above his head. “I ask for mercy, though I deserve none.” The dog’s voice was utterly broken.
Gerlach shuffled his claws. He finally made eye contact with Gabriela, fully turning his head. She stared back, then shut her eyes and bowed her head. She remained standing while he knelt, then bowed.
“I ask for mercy, though I deserve none,” Grand Duke Gerlach sighed. His voice caught. “I…I plead for the soul of Gabriela Eagleclaw.”
“That is up to her own repentance,” the old bird responded.
Auntie Gabriela opened her eyes and stared blankly across the hall at Eros. Her beak was expressionless with no hint of movement on her cheeks. She stood like a statue with even her wings and tail still. Her eyes flicked up, and Grover tried to meet her pupils, but she was staring above him.
The crown. Grover sniffled and leaned back. He swung his tail up between his paws and pinched the puffball at the end. No one reacted to the seven-year-old Kaiser playing with his tail like a newborn cub.
“I am guilty of all you claim,” Gabriela said in a toneless cadence. “I’ll speak slowly so your scribes can keep up.” She waited until a few typewriters dinged. “I flashed my tail to the Grand Duke and I danced naked in the moonlight in my vineyards. I prayed to Maar and drew a sigil in my bedroom. Whatever else you found in my estate, I plead no contest to. I whispered lies to the Kaiser’s loyal dogs. I ordered bombings in factories. I ordered the assassination of priests.
“I spoke to Erion so he would betray you. I promised him riches and Romau. I coveted the throne. I would have locked my rightful Kaiser away in a tower until he grew weak and addled, then crowned myself Kaiserin and had any griffon I please as consort.”
The typewriters stopped. Auntie Gabriela remained standing with her blank expression. Grover heard the words. Words are wind. He repeated the saying a hundred times until it did not hurt.
“Come on, Gabby,” Erion groaned. He sounded annoyed for the first time. “Bend that stiff neck.”
“You mock this court with a false confession,” Proteus rumbled. “You believe none of it.”
“Do you?” Gabriela asked him back.
“The Gods know your heart,” Proteus answered. “We are griffons, imperfect vessels all.”
“You have your confession to be printed,” Gabriela shook her head. “That is all you need. You have no cameras here. You should have had us bow before them.”
“There will be a public display of penance after this,” Eros said. He had to pause to take a breath and suppressed a cough. “This is, as you say, a formality.”
“Then may I ask a question without your infernal scribes?” Gabriela said. “Just a single one. One scrap of honesty in this hall.”
“The Gods do not answer to you,” Eros said with amusement, “no matter how badly you might wish them to.” He snapped his talons. “Prelate Michael, cease.”
The white-robed priest signaled the desks along the wall to lift their claws and wait. Benito shifted beside Eros’s chair and whispered something, but Eros waved him away. “Ask, Duchess.”
“Would it matter if I bowed?” Auntie Gabriela said to the old bird. She cocked her head and waited.
Eros laughed. It was a dark, cold laugh, and it cut off suddenly. He turned in his chair, beak twisting back to Grover, then his head snapped forward again to face the griffoness. “I judged that you would still preen your wings above the Gods when you walked into this hall. And you do. So, I suppose it does not.”
Auntie Gabriela smiled and bowed on the floor, looking up to the old bird. “I will see you in Maar’s Hell, Peter.”
The old bird did not laugh this time; he sighed and fanned a wing to the typewriters. The other two griffon seated beside him straightened in their chairs and clasped their claws before them. It struck Grover as odd, like they had become statues or paintings and ceased to be the griffons they were a moment ago.
“Gabriela Eagleclaw, Gerlach Weijermars, and Ignatius Bronzefur,” the old bird stated, “you are guilty of treason against the throne of Griffonkind. Your titles and privileges are forfeit. We, the Archons of the Trinity before the Kaiser of Griffonkind, judge you guilty of heresy.”
The griffon, griffoness, and dog looked up from the floor to the three seated representatives of the Trinity. Grover flinched at the utter despair in Ignatius’ eyes.
“The light of Boreas does not shine upon you,” Archon Eros stated.
“The winds of Arcturius do not lift your wings,” Archon Proteus continued.
“The rain of Eyr does not fall upon your beak,” Archon Erion finished with an audible smirk. “Gabriela Eagleclaw, Gerlach Weijermars, and Ignatius Bronzefur: You are excommunicated. Your public penance will commence shortly.”
“Remove them from this hall,” Eros ordered Loudbark. “If she speaks, bind her beak.”
“Gladly,” the dark dog huffed. He motioned for the Ironpaws to haul the prisoners up from their bows. The armored dogs closed in around them.
Grand Duke Gerlach pushed himself to his paws and leaned to the side towards the griffoness. Before Auntie Gabriela could turn, a dog stepped between them and another hauled on the griffon’s wing. Gerlach stumbled back and away from her.
Gabriela Eagleclaw looked up to the throne, and Grover looked away. He exhaled through his nose. She invoked Maar, he thought. He is evil. Maar was the reason all things bad in the world happened, like the day his father died or his mother never recovered. There were other reasons, more worldly ones, but the ill winds were blown from his realm.
Loudbark planted a paw on the nape of Auntie Gabriela’s neck and forced her head down. “You are unworthy,” the dog growled. “Test me, witch.”
Grover focused on one of the balcony windows with blurry lenses while they were led from the room. The stained glass depicted the Battle of Azincork on the Aquileian periphery. Grover the Great stood surrounded on all sides, commanding a square tercio while holding the Idol of Boreas aloft in one claw. In the hall, many of the knights went with the dogs, and the far tables clattered as the scribes gathered the papers together.
“She is banking on our reluctance to punish a griffoness,” Erion drawled.
“Your commentary was unneeded,” Eros snapped back in a low voice.
“As if the transcripts will not pass your diligent claws,” Erion replied with casual confidence. His voice perked up and the chair legs screeched as he stood. “Please! I am sure you grow tired of standing!”
A dual-toned voice laughed back in strange Herzlander. “Reminds me of home.”
Grover looked back to see the changeling with the fez approaching the Archons with clacking hooves. His purple eyes were bright and seemed to glow when the light caught them. “I daresay Eagleclaw could be quite the queen back home,” the changeling continued. “Not the heights of my cousin, of course, but her ambition oozes from her feathers.”
“She certainly tried to be,” Erion agreed. Grover folded his arms and slouched further into the throne. It is already too big. Maybe I can just disappear.
“My knights were among the first to reach her estate,” Proteus interrupted. “We found no evidence you claim.”
“Arcturians aren’t known for their reading comprehension,” Erion quipped back. He raised a claw preemptively. “Peace, friend. Eros’ agents found all the evidence we need.”
Proteus ground his beak together and tapped the pommel of the greatsword atop the table. “There were grounds for their punishment regardless.” He purred. “And penance.”
“They might be more useful…” Erion trailed off with a roll of his eyes to the throne. “Well, as they are now instead of a little shorter or with new necklaces.”
Proteus flexed his wings. “You advocated the opposite earlier.”
“They still have too much support and too much knowledge,” Erion defended. “I consider all angles before making a decision.”
“Is that why it took you so long during the war?”
“You fight one battle in front of you.” Erion waved a claw. “I fight every battle, everywhere. It is probably best that we proceed as planned. We could even go further and make a new Bronzehill out of Strawberry.”
“You overreach,” Eros said to him. “This is not done lightly.”
“Come now,” the younger griffon chided. He walked around the table to stand beside the changeling. “I have Republican agents hanging in Romau’s square without all this farce.”
“When history looks back at this moment,” Eros answered in a stern, hard squawk, “it will not be the church stamping on the nobility’s wings. It will be treason and heresy, and it will be done with the laws of Gods and griffons.” His beak swung to the changeling, but he said nothing.
Field Marshal Synovial’s horn glowed and he bumped his fez against his horn, scratching the felt on one of the jagged edges like he was removing an itchy feather. His smile was wide and easy as he faced the table. “If there is any issue with extracting confessions again, we stand ready-”
“Unneeded,” Proteus growled.
Synovial flashed his fangs in a wide smile. “As you wish, Archon. My changelings tell me the knights fought well and hardly needed any assistance.”
“Pride is a sin as well,” the white-furred griffon replied.
“It tastes rather spicy to us.”
Erion laughed, high and squawking. “That’s enough, friend. Step out of reach from Proteus’ little toothpick.” The other Archon still had his claw on the pommel of the greatsword. Erion nudged the changeling aside. “Your scathing commentary is best saved for the soiree. You are my guest of honor.”
Synovial nodded; he brushed the tassel of his fez to the other side of the red cap with a flick of his horn. “I will await you at the doors, Archon.” He stalked across the hall alone, pausing once to regard the murals on the iron doors from afar. Grover wasn’t sure and had to squint, but his muzzle seemed to curl in a suppressed laugh.
Erion leaned on the table. “I can soothe his prickly pride,” he said in a lower voice without the gaiety. “Constrain yours and channel less of Arcturius, hmm?” The knife reappeared from the swirl of his robes and he twirled the blade before it plunged back into his sleeves. “We remain in agreement?”
“Just so,” Eros clacked his beak.
“I am considering their testimony,” Proteus replied. “Their desire for repentance was genuine.”
Erion rolled his eyes. “The Bronze Council feared the loss of privileges just as the Feathisian Parliament. Ignatius weighed his friendship and found it wonting, just as the Grand Duke. They are attempting to dodge responsibility, and poorly. Besides, she damned us to Maar’s Hell. What more do you want?”
“They could make up their sin on the battlefield,” Proteus answered in a contemplative tone. “The Arcturian Order began that way according to the tales.”
Erion cocked his head. “We can hold Margaret, Regina, and Gavin here while they administer their land under the guidance of the temples, true. Or we give them the resources to plot and scheme. But…it is not as if the criticisms of our little theocracy are baseless. My lovely Romau struggles despite my diligence.”
“You advocated otherwise most strongly in our prior deliberations,” the old bird huffed.
“You flit with the wind,” Proteus insulted Erion more directly. “Is this why it took you so long to choose a side?”
“I consider all options,” Erion drawled. A talon poked the tip of the sword on the table and he shook his claw. "And the victory wrought by the changeling’s pride was worth it, no? They will win their Great War, and an alliance could be found in the future. Speaking of which, I need to chaperone him. Their ridiculous names are hard on the beak.”
Erion pushed himself off the table without bowing and met the changeling at the doors. They walked out together after the Field Marshal retrieved his pistol from the guards. The Archon of Eyr said something that caused a hissing laugh to echo before they vanished.
Proteus stood and slowly sheathed the greatsword between his wings. He twisted his beak to Eros and his blue eyes were dark. “You understand he moves against us?”
“I am old,” Eros snapped with a dry voice, “not blind. I’ll sate his ambition by restoring the old borders, let him play in Romau for the upcoming years. Nothing lasts forever.”
“He will certainly outlast you,” Proteus hummed. “I have no desire for these games. I do not have the mind for it.”
“Are we in agreement?” the old bird asked.
“No,” the other said simply. A blue eye rolled up to the throne and Grover flinched at the searching gaze. “There are other options. Ones less damaging to the soul.”
“Examples must be made at the highest-”
The Lord Commander cleared his throat. Grover blinked and looked to the dog beside the throne, then followed his pointing paw. “Perhaps this is best discussed in private, honored Archons?” the dog suggested.
The other changeling had limped across the rug and waited a good distance away from the table. He had folded his cap into a hole on his leg like it was a pocket, blinking solid blue eyes at the griffons. Grover could not tell where exactly the changeling was staring without pupils. The changeling bent into an awkward bow at the attention.
“Colonel…” Benito paused and his whiskers twitched. “Elias?”
“Thranx Elias zu Eisland,” the changeling repeated. “Thranx is fine, Lord Commander.”
“Approach,” Proteus snapped. His beak swung to the small amount of remaining guards. Many of the staff had departed through side doors, leaving only the Barkingian Guards and a few gold-plated knights along the balconies.
The Arcturian Order, Grover thought. They traded glares with the dogs. None of them look like they were thieves or cut-throats. He imagined Auntie Gabriela in golden armor and shook the image out of his head.
“I apologize for the intrusion,” the changeling repeated. “I wished a word.”
“Your commander has already left,” Eros said patiently. “I have agreed to relocate the attaché back to Griffenheim if that is what the Field Marshal wishes.”
“I wished a word with the Archon of Arcturius,” the changeling elaborated. Grover caught the light in his eyes swiveling to Proteus. Perhaps they do have pupils of a sort. The jagged horn atop his head glowed and a square sheet of paper levitated out of a pocket.
The Archon stared at it blankly until the changeling set it down atop the table and the magic faded. He palmed the paper with a claw and unfolded it. His frowned and wings rustled against his armor. “Explain.”
“It is my understanding that candles are lit for those fallen in war,” the changeling said slowly. A few words caught in Herzlander, and it sounded rehearsed. “It falls under the domain of Arcturius?”
“The temple in Yale,” the griffon said absently. He unfolded the paper and flipped it over. “These are changeling names.”
A gossamer wing buzzed. “Yes. The initial push from Romau was very successful, but…” the changeling trailed off and bit his lip with the left fang. “We lost a few crews closing the pocket.”
“The Trinity are not your Gods,” Proteus said. His voice sounded slightly more comforting. “We respect your rites.”
“There are no rites.” The changeling looked to the side. “I understand, Archon.”
“Hold.” The griffon raised a white wing and set the paper down. “You imply your commander dishonors the fallen?”
The changeling shook his head. “It’s…” A wing buzzed. “It isn’t our way. But they died far from home.”
Proteus tilted his head in consideration, looking at one of the balconies. “Is ‘Elias’ a common name for the Changeling Lands?”
“I am the youngest of seven siblings, and the Great Queen has always been fond of the Griffonian Reich.” The changeling pulled his cap out and toyed with it. Something on the floor caught his attention and he placed it back on his head. “My parents began to run out of names.”
“One of our officers has the name,” Eros cut in. “Benito will be happy to introduce you.” The dog beside Grover nodded and stepped back down from the throne. “If there is anything we can do, we will be happy to discuss it further after the official pronouncements.”
The changeling nodded shallowly and his horn glowed. The paper slowly slid across the table to him. Proteus leaned out and stabbed a talon down, spearing through the edge and pinning it to the table. He did not look to the changeling, but across to Eros.
“There is precedent. One does not have to be a griffon to die in service to the Trinity.” He did not break eye contact with Eros and pulled the paper free with a slight tear. Proteus took a deep breath. “Prelate!”
The white-robed griffon squawked near the typewriters and fumbled with a stack of transcripts. He set them down on a table and rushed over quickly enough that his hat nearly fell from his head. “Honored Archon?”
Proteus held the paper out without breaking his stare. “Telegram Yale, Prelate Michael. Be sure not to misspell the names. The candles at the base of the main altar, if there is room. I wish them lit before tomorrow’s antiphon.”
The prelate accepted the paper with a worried glance between the two Archons. “Just so. Will there be anything else?”
Eros opened his beak, but Proteus answered first. “No.” He replaced his gauntlets, broke eye contact, and stood. The tall armored griffon rounded the table to stand before the throne.
The changeling shuffled to the side with a limp.
“I would not wish offense on our ally,” Eros stressed.
“What offense?” Proteus shrugged his wings. “We honor their sacrifice as if it was our own who fell. I am sure the Field Marshal will be honored.” He swung around and circled his tail in the air. A knight began to walk the great hall with the Archon’s helmet under a wing. “Or perhaps he will not care and make japes with Erion. It matters not.”
“Perhaps we should not flaunt our ally’s suffering dead as a political move,” Eros said. His voice was cold. “We can discuss this later.”
Proteus took the helmet and held it in his claws. “I doubt the Great Queen’s cousin thinks much of their suffering, if he thinks of them at all. I made my decision; matters such as this are my concern, not yours, Archon of Boreas. Their names will not be sung. A few candles join the others already burning. Most will never notice.”
“Then the display has no purpose,” Eros snarled. His voice was raspy.
The changeling near the Archon of Arcturius shuffled his hooves closer to the table. “I do not wish to cause a disturbance.”
“How badly were you hit?” Proteus asked him. "Your limp is noticeable."
The changeling’s ears wiggled under the cap, pressing back and against the fin atop his head. “Passed through a hole and grazed it. Leg injuries tend to heal slowly.”
The Archon loosed a rumbling purr. He looked to the old bird, the last one at the table. “You refer to honoring the dead as a ‘display.’ I find that I have no patience for more 'displays' today. Do what thou wilt, Archon of Boreas.” The griffon placed his helmet atop his head and signaled his knights with both wings. They marched out with a clank of steel beside him, and the dogs let them pass.
The old bird rested his beak in his claws. Grover shuffled in his throne, barely able to hear a muttered series of words. It did not sound like a prayer. The throne and hall were now only guarded by a few dogs. The balconies were closed off and the hour was late. The sunset filtering through the windows tapered away and cast half the hall in gloom.
“If there was nothing else,” the old bird raised his beak, “there is much to be done.”
“I apologize,” the changeling cringed. "I will take my leave." His horn glowed. The little toy knight landed on the table encased in green magic. “I suppose this is not yours, honored Archon?”
Eros stared at the toy for a moment, then turned around and looked up at the throne.
Although the throne was too large, Grover could not hide in it. He wrung his claws together and played with his sash. A wing lifted in front of his beak. It was beyond childish, and Grover knew it. Idiot. You want everyone to think you are a cub?
“I am not mad, my Kaiser,” the old bird said. “I understand such things are boring.” Claws padded on the rug and up the steps. Grover lowered his wing to see Eros before the throne with a smile.
“Toys are best left in the toy chest,” the old bird said in a kind voice. He offered the knight back with one claw, holding it upright upon his palm. “You wouldn’t want to lose such a fine knight as this, yes?”
“Just so,” Grover said quietly. He took Auntie Gabriela’s birthday gift and tucked it back under his wing. “I am sorry, Archon Eros.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” Eros insisted. “Come, the servants prepared a meal in your chambers. That is enough for today.” He lifted his wing and waited.
There is another announcement.
Grover was not stupid.
Auntie Gabriela was sent away.
His tutors crowed that he already read books for twice his age.
They are going to kill her like that other griffon.
“You can’t kill her,” Grover said aloud in the most authoritative voice he could muster. It cracked. He sat up straighter on the throne and the Reichstone tilted precariously.
Eros’ smile strained and his plumage flattened atop his head. “My Kaiser…”
“I wish for her pardon,” Grover continued. “And Uncle Gerlach and Uncle Ignatius.”
“They are not your uncles,” the old bird said in a shorter voice. “Did Gabriela tell you they were? Look how much they cared for you. For your empire.”
“Kinslaying is a sin,” Grover replied, and felt very proud at the blink from the old bird. I paid attention.
“My Kaiser,” Eros tried again.
“It will be done in my name,” Grover answered before he could say more. “I will take them under my wing-”
“No,” Eros glared. “That is enough, my Kaiser.”
Grover shut his beak and shuffled back on the throne.
The old bird took a deep breath and sat on his haunches. When he opened his eyes again, he seemed calmer. “They have been excommunicated and denied the light of Boreas. They are kin to none. My Kaiser, this is no different than Ferdinand Dawnclaw. They wished you harm just the same.”
Grover twitched and looked down to the Lord Commander. Benito’s fur bristled and he tapped the hilt of his sword with a troubled look. “Had they breached the palace, I would have faced them just as I faced the albino traitor,” the dog announced. "The dogs of Bronzehill had no stomach for this, it is true, but Gerlach led his forces towards Griffenheim just as Kemerskai. And Dawnclaw reached the palace himself."
“And he was hanged with his one remaining wing, excommunicated and alone,” Eros finished. “He wanted you dead just the same as they wanted you dead.”
Grover’s wing tightened against the toy and he shook his head. “No…”
“Yes,” Eros’ voice lingered. “I am sorry, my Kaiser.”
Grover said the first thing to come to mind. “Auntie Gabriela wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Perhaps not now, not in a year, not in five,” Eros calmly began, “but when you turned older? Her line is old and established, as is Gerlach’s. I knew your father’s regency council. Not all began as the proud, arrogant griffons that brought your empire from the sky to the ground. They began as good griffons."
The old bird clasped his claws together. “But they were tempted, and they did not offer their temptations to the Gods and pray for forgiveness. It grew in them like a sickness, and it consumed them from the inside out. They brought suffering and death, and griffons blamed your father for it. What they brought upon us cannot be forgiven in this world. Only the Gods may grant them solace.”
Like father? Grover sniffled. A sickness inside? “She wouldn’t hurt me.” His voice was cracked again.
“She already has,” Eros stated softly. “Your empire is bleeding. Thousands of griffons are gone to the Gods like your father. All for her.”
The Kaiser tried to think of a response. He failed. Grover was just a stupid cub and began to cry atop the throne.
Eros laid his claws on his Kaiser’s shoulders and shushed him. “Lord Commander, please see our Kaiser to his quarters.” His voice was soft and warm. “I swear to you, my Kaiser, if there was another path we would fly it. None here desired this.”
Boots padded up the throne, and Grover removed his classes and wiped the frames on his shirt. He sniffled again and gnashed his beak. Kaisers don’t cry. Stupid. Stupid. The little toy knight jabbed his side and he let the tiny sword poke him again.
“Should I,” the dog’s voice was hesitant, “should I escort our guest out first?”
Eros’ eyes clouded and he turned away from the throne. Grover squinted at the blurry black figure standing before the table. The head had turned to the side, staring at a pillar.
“Yes,” Eros ordered the dog. “I am sure Field Marshal Synovial is wondering where you are, Colonel.”
“He tends to forget I’m here,” the changeling replied with a shrug of his forehoof. His head had turned back to the front, though Grover could only make out two blue balls where his eyes were and a mouth.
The Kaiser of Griffonkind hooked his glasses back on and took a shuddering breath. “I am s-sorry, sir.”
The changeling did not respond for a moment. A wing shifted against his uniform. "If I may..." the changeling swallowed and a forked tongue licked his left fang. He continued before the dog or griffon said anything. "Your aunt truly believes she did this for you."
Eros fully turned away from the throne. "And that is a lie," the Archon interrupted.
"Yes," the changeling agreed, "but she believes it. People can believe things that aren't true. And they can lie to themselves. She needs to believe she did this for more than herself."
The old bird and the dog did not respond. For the first time, Grover sensed the changeling was staring directly at him. "But she is not lying about loving you."
Grover looked down to his left wing and the toy knight between his pinions. The crown slid further off his head, and he pushed it back with both claws. Eros descended from the throne. “Thank you,” his voice was strained, “for the assessment. The Lord Commander will see you out.”
“Of course,” the changeling answered in a flat voice. “I meant no offense, honored Archon.”
Eros dipped his head and Benito stepped around the table. He clapped a paw on the changeling’s back, right between his wings and helped turn him around. They took several steps in unison.
Grover licked the edge of his beak. Knight. Toy. Gift… He raised his head. He crowed out, “I wish to thank your Great Queen for her birthday present!”
Benito stopped and removed his paw. Colonel Thranx turned around and looked to the dog. The Lord Commander waved his paw. “The finest steel running roughshod over Equestria, Kaiser Grover!” the changeling called back.
Grover looked to the old bird and saw his squint of dismay, but pressed forward. “I…uh, I had some difficulties driving it. The tank was not designed for paws and claws.”
“It is easier when the entire crew has a horn, Kaiser.” The changeling raised a hoof to step forward back to the throne, but looked to the Archon and did not move further. “I will convey your personal gratitude to Field Marshal Synovial, and from him to the Great Queen.”
“I would like your assistance if you have the time,” Grover suggested.
“I am sure Colonel Thranx is quite busy,” Eros said. He did not turn back to the throne, still looking over the hall and at the changeling.
“He is injured,” Grover said to the old bird. “And if they stay in Griffenheim for now, why not?” He pointed at the Lord Commander and thought about the changeling’s wording. “Please convey my request to Field Marshal Synovial.”
The dog looked between the throne and the priest, then clapped his paw atop the changeling’s back. “As you say, my Kaiser. It will be done.” He turned the changeling back around.
Archon Eros approached the throne with weary eyes. He stared at Grover, and Grover stared back this time. Just before the little Kaiser flinched, the priest heaved a great sigh and deflated. He called out, “Lord Commander?”
The two paused at the doors. Benito was speaking with a trio of dogs and holding a pistol in a paw. He raised his empty paw to his ears.
“Tell the heralds to hold off on announcements,” the old bird shouted. His voice broke and he coughed. “We may yet make some changes.” He thumped a claw to his breast and cleared his throat.
The dog barked in acknowledgement.
Eros lifted a wing and held it up. “Come, my Kaiser. Let your Reich see you for a moment on the way to your quarters.” Grover shuffled off the throne and tucked the toy knight in a pocket. Despite his frame, he still had to duck the crown under the Archon's white wing. He walked under the Archon’s wing across the hall, feeling his head loll from the crown. The remaining dogs formed a square at the doors and waited.
The changeling and the dog walked out the door. Benito coughed into a paw. “Forgetting something?” The changeling stopped in the marble hallway and buzzed a wing against his empty flank holster.
Thranx laughed, voice echoing against the walls. “Great Queen, I’d forget that damn thing if it wasn’t strapped to my side.” His horn glowed for a moment, then he caught himself. “Do you mind?”
Benito held out the pistol broomhandle first.
It floated across the gulf in a green aura, then the changeling tucked it back under a wing. “Thank you.”
“Old model,” the dog commented.
“I’ve used it since I joined,” the changeling shrugged. “Feels wrong to replace it. I get that we’re all about modernity, but…”
Benito patted his sword. “I understand. How very…Griffonian of you.”
The changeling licked a fang and brushed his cap back with a chime of magic. “You have a beautiful country. I would like to see Bronzehill one day and compare the caves.”
“Tanks can fit through the tunnels. Perhaps once this is settled.”
The changeling whistled and the noise sounded like a cricket. “Thank you.” He smiled and twisted his head back to Grover. “And you as well, Kaiser Grover. I will be honored to show you how the Great Queen’s gift works.” His eyes flicked to the Archon. "Provided the Field Marshal agrees."
Archon Eros did not reply to him except for a nod of his head. He did not seem happy.
But Kaiser Grover VI smiled back for the first time that night. “T-thank you, sir.”
And Grover von Greifenstein awoke in bed; he laid on his side. A pop hummed in his ears, fading like a distant bell. His vision swam for a moment in the darkness. He blinked rapidly to clear his eyes.
The broomhandle grip came into view on the nightstand. It rested atop the Friendship Journal beside his pair of glasses. Grover reached out and grabbed the pistol first, then the lenses. He rolled with a pop of his wing joints and flared the sheets off the mattress with a pump of his wings.
He sat up on all fours, bringing the pistol up to his beak. It was an old, outdated, and inefficient model. It did not take a proper magazine; it required stripper clips to be loaded top-down into the gun. The handle was not as worn as it should be, used more with telekinesis than claws or hooves. Grover placed his glasses on his head feathers, leaving them up.
The pistol was also boxy and sat poorly in most holsters. The wing holster hanging next to his dresser had to be specially designed to account for the boxy body and narrow barrel. He checked the safety near the hammer. Truly a weapon designed by horns. Grover ran his thumb over the grip before placing the pistol back atop the Friendship Journal.
He stared at both of them long enough he lost track of time.
Someone knocked at the door a floor below of the tower. One of the guards inside the room opened the door and spoke quietly, then padded over to the Kaiser’s bedroom. “My Kaiser?” the dog said softly.
Grover snapped his head away from the gun. “Enter.”
The dog merely cracked the door and poked her muzzle through. “There is a situation.”
Grover waited.
The dog also waited.
Yes, Maar-damn you? “What do you have to report?” he said aloud.
“The Princess is atop the roof, my Kaiser,” the dog whispered quietly.
The pop. Grover stood atop the bed and stepped down with a flex of his wings. He slid his nightshirt on from its crumpled spot on the floor. “Dismissed.” He did not bother to fully button it. Bare paws thudded on the tile and he hitched his pajamas higher. Grover shook his head so his glasses fell to his beak. He pushed them back with a wing.
He moved up the circular staircase to the main floor and the empty shelves. The two guards at the balcony were staring upwards with rustling wings against their armor. Another four dogs waited on the interior. All four clasped paws to their chest.
“We are awaiting a unicorn and sent word to the Princess’ forces.”
Grover yawned. “It’s her.” He looked out the windows past the hourglass. The world had begun to lighten as dawn approached. He rubbed his beak together. “Leave.”
“My…my Kaiser?”
“It is her castle and her aunt’s tower. Leave.” Grover considered grabbing the pistol and holster, but looked up to the roof. He waved his wings for the dogs to step aside.
The two knights on the balcony bowed. Grover jerked his crownless head back to the interior. “Wait inside.” The motion felt smooth and normal; he resisted doing it again.
The knights hesitated longer than the dogs, but slowly slunk inside. Grover motioned with a wing for them to pull the doors shut, then flapped upwards. The top of the tower was bulbous and circular. Grover could not imagine anyone standing atop it comfortably.
Flurry Heart was laying on her side at an angle, facing the east. Of course. She sleeps on crystal bedframes. The castle and the lights of Canterlot framed her muzzle from below. Her fur was a darker color across her muzzle, and the ripples faded from her pink fur.
Grover paused. Her tail and mane swirled around her back and her wings sagged at her sides, but she was naked except for her crown. She also wore the strange timepiece around her neck like a necklace. It obscured her heart and the blue pulse Grover had noticed. He wondered if it was still there.
“I’m sorry if I woke you,” the Princess said in her peasant Herzlander. “Told ‘em I couldn’t sleep.”
Grover landed a wingspan away. “I was awake.” He braced his claws on the side, trying to find a good angle. There wasn’t one.
“You gotta come near the top,” Flurry provided. “I won’t be here long.”
Grover glanced up at her and moved closer to be side-by-side. Their wings nearly brushed together. He looked east with her. She was quiet for a time, and the wind whistled around the tower. A few patrols started to circle beneath them. There were taller spires in Canterlot castle, but Grover realized that this one had the best view of the sunset. He could see a dip in the horizon where a forest used to be.
The Princess’ head lolled to the side. Her muzzle brushed against the top of his head. Grover felt that the fur was wet, even with the light gusts of wind blowing her mane back. She rolled her head back east. “Dawn soon.”
Grover twisted his head to look back over the shadow of Mount Canterhorn. Light had begun to peak around the mountaintop, far from the east. It reflected in his glasses. “She still does that job, I suppose.”
The Princess of Equestria and the Crystal Empire did not answer.
Grover looked back east with her. “If she ever comes back-”
“She won’t. They won’t.”
Grover lowered his beak to the city below them. Battle damage was still evident from where the lights did not shine in the darkness. "I am sorry." She shifted a wing as if it did not matter to her.
Neither said anything. The sun continued to creep over the mountain behind them.
“The frontline is pushing forward,” Grover began. “Queen Velvet and Dragonlord Ember will make landfall in Olenia in a week’s time. We are winning this war. They could have won it too.”
“Not the way they wanted to win it,” Flurry sighed. She leaned her head against his beak and Grover froze. The nuzzle turned into her muzzle atop his head. “Sorry. She ruined your kiss.”
“I would have ruined it anyway,” Grover chuckled. Her hum reverberated in his ears.
“Can I ask why you wanted to stay in Twilight’s tower?” Flurry asked.
“Same reason as Luna’s,” Grover answered. “I wanted to see the world as they saw it.”
“They saw the world differently,” Flurry said quietly. She shifted against the top of his head, and Grover felt moisture trail into one of his head feathers.
“They saw the world the way it should be,” he returned. He glanced down out of the corner of his eye to the swirling scar on her left foreleg, where he had grabbed her other hoof on the dock. The griffon reached out a claw, but laid it back on the roof.
The sunrise continued behind them, and the crater in the westward horizon began to glitter in the dawn’s early light. Beyond it, farther to the west, one of the last storm clouds blackened the sky. There was a flash and distant rumble of thunder.
The Princess whispered, "Thank you for staying."
Grover felt her larger wing press into his. Their primaries laced together. With his head against her neck, he picked up the rhymical ticking of her heartbeat. He glanced down and brushed a claw against the timepiece, but the blue spark in her chest was masked by light pink fur that no longer sparkled.
“They saw the same world my ancestor did when he gazed beyond the mountains of Griffonstone,” Grover told her. “And they learned the same lesson: The world does not make sense unless you force it to.”
The Princess shifted her head, but said nothing. Grover looked back east. He spoke to the heartbeat in his ears.
“The Queen shall not grow old in her high tower. That is not the way the world works. There is a price for what she has done, and she will pay it in this life. Not the next.”
The alicorn did not reply, other than exhaling in what Grover hoped was agreement.
“She deserves to die,” he said.
Grover thought of the pistol atop the purple-bound book.
“For everything.”
And the flattened, paint-flecked bullet in the drawer below.