It isn't enough that Princess Celestia has to deal with politics, courtiers, and continual threats against her kingdom: now she must deal with an internal threat—specifically, the Pony Rights Administrative Tribunal, who summoned her in response to a complaint filed against her by one of her subjects.

How could she have ever signed something so ludicrous into law?

Follow the goddess of the sun and her inexperienced attorney in this gripping courtroom tribunalroom drama, fun for all the family!

“Of what does the existence of the stable dweller consist? Two words describe it entirely. Finiteness is one of those words. . . . The other is monotony.”

No two words better encapsulate the life of Littlepip, Stable 2’s Pip-Buck repair technician. She understands the arguments to the necessity of such an existence. But in the recesses of her deepest thoughts, she despises it, though she’d never admit it to herself, for she can neither tell herself why she despises it nor what she desires more. When a strange encounter in the basement of the stable churns up her subconsciousness and stimulates her contrary notions, she reaches out for support, not knowing for whom to look for support nor whom she must avoid. Her only outlet is the stable’s radio frequency. However, the radio is merely sound. So far under the earth, it would only take the slightest tremor of the stable to mute it forever.

A massive thank-you to Golden Tassel, my faithful editor. This romance would be missing many of its critical elements if it weren’t for him. He's shown an amazing tolerance for putting up with my nonsense and eccentricity—not my eccentricity but my romanticism. There is indeed a difference.

A thank-you to Malicious Muse, for his help with Chapter III.

The subjunctive is the verbal mood of abstractions and possibilities. To ponies and their indicative-based language, it is a frightful mood, awkward and unwieldy. To changelings and their language of nearly inaudible shrills, it is indispensable.

Equestria’s inhabitants are a diverse race, no two the same color, who speak a language of concretes. But to Errenax, a changeling linguist well-versed in both languages and fascinated by their dimorphism, everything about them intimates a singular notion: that this division of moods and language is perhaps deeper than it initially appeared.

Thank you to my editor, Golden Tassel.

After the total loss of the federal forces at Ghastly Gorge, the threat of the rebellion has suddenly become very real. The gears of the machine of the Union are now spinning solely for the purpose of a civil war—a war that they are now not entirely certain they will be able to win decisively.

Crystal Miner, a young unicorn with a strange iron band around his horn, has spent the last five years of his life working on a machine that he thinks will allow the Union Army to crush the rebellion once and for all; and, on July the second, he casually strolls into the Department of Magic and Defense, eager to show them his work of art.

Of course the Department will buy it; it's genius. Why would they reject genius? If they say no—no, he can't let that happen. He won't allow his gift to the world to be glanced over by ignorant bureaucrats as long as he is still alive. He, and it, needs—deserves to be remembered. They will buy his invention whether they like it or not—even if it means he has to march straight up to the Horseshoe Office with a fully-loaded rifle and confront the president of the Union himself.

This is a side-story to Ordo ab Chao and takes place near the end of the events of Chapter X.

No pony is the same after witnessing a work-related death, no matter who they are. The victim was young, eager, fresh-faced, and recently hired. In his last breaths, he let out a scream so heart-rending that the employees who heard it had difficulty sleeping that night. And Rainbow Dash was no exception.

But she's not losing sleep over that. What disturbs her is something far worse—something she said afterwards.

One hundred eighty years before the first Nightmare Moon incident, the United Republic of Equestria is ruled by two prevailing parties and simply switches hooves between them every few years, as the citizens get more impatient and indecisive.

In the midst of the worst depression in Equestrian history, an egregious scandal befalls the United Party when the president of the country is found guilty at her trial following her impeachment, obliterating her and her party, and cementing any future victories of the Royal Party and their leader Princess Celestia.

Out of apathy, the United Party chooses Disce Cordis as their new leader�a strange draconequus with a piercing stare, an odd accent, and who can't even pronounce his opponent's name properly. He appears innocuous and ineffectual enough; but as his campaign goes on and he starts to gain more popularity, his strange speech and manner makes the citizens of Equestria suspect that, perhaps, the welfare of the Union isn't what is first and foremost in his mind.