CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: BREAKFAST AT CELESTIA'S

Canterlot

The Palace, East Tower

There was a headache brewing somewhere behind Celestia's left temple. It didn't hurt, exactly, but she could feel the precursors that signaled the onset of a rotten one.

The pain spiked when she blinked or turned her head too fast. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep. This meant that she blinked more often than she normally would. Each blink was an ant's sting, a tiny raindrop of agony in a sea of torments, and her eyelids twitched uncontrollably. Her body felt leeched of all its energy. Duty, and only duty, kept her body upright in the elaborately carved chaise, and moving was out of the question.

If shifting her head to one side felt like a serving fork was being stabbed between her eyebrows, Celestia didn't want to stand up again. It had been hard enough making her way down from her chambers to the dining hall.

It was not a migraine. Celestia knew those, and this had none of the signs. It felt like a stronger version of the usual aches that built up from a day of wearing a heavy golden crown and listening to hours of court testimonials. This is the fourth one of the week, she thought, taking a measured sip of her tea. It is nothing more than stress.

Outside, her sun shone heavily in the wintry eastern sky, veiled by a bank of gray clouds that enveloped the Palace like malignant thistledown. Two hours ago, she had raised it. An hour before that, she had lowered her sister's moon to make way for its larger and hotter cousin. The unusual magical exertion of the morning left her horn feeling curiously empty, as if the slender white spike on her forehead was made of cardboard and not sturdy bone, and the usual restrained storm of alicorn magic burning within her chest was powerless. She hadn't shouldered the responsibility of both heavenly bodies in over two years, but it should have been easy, because she had been the steward of sun and moon for a thousand years during Luna's exile.

Today, for whatever reason, it was not easy. Perhaps the ruler of Equestria truly is losing her touch. Or perhaps she is nothing without her better half to rule by her side.

Princess Luna lay in the Palace medical ward, swathed in miles of bandages and under heavy sedation. The physician had left a note with Celestia's guards and it was delivered into her hooves by a very exhausted Flash Sentry when she arrived downstairs. Your Highness, it read, Her Highness Princess Luna is already making a rapid recovery. Her alicorn strength saved her from the worst of it, but I thought it best to keep her sedated for at least another day or two to ensure that she does not tear her stitches. The wounds inflicted were quite serious. Fluttershy's injuries were even more so. She will likewise be sedated for a week or more and I will personally administer my most potent healing spells.

Hours after the fight and its fallout, a very rumpled Princess stood on her balcony, braving the cold in nothing more than her silken gown. She cast the ancient magics in quick succession. One complex spell to guide the moon on its earthward descent, and another to bring light and warmth to Equestria. One alicorn, two stars.

A standard Equestrian year had three hundred and eleven days. Celestia raised and lowered the sun every single day. Mathematically, she had performed the demanding incantation over five hundred thousand times in her lifetime. She knew its words, its hoof and horn positions, deeper than by heart. This morning, however, was different.

"A fragmented mind will only produce disaster." Her foalhood teacher had imprinted these words on the young alicorn's mind. They held true for leadership as well as spellcasting. How, then, could the results of Celestia's fragmented mind produce anything else? When she coaxed the sun on its path into the heavens, it followed a haphazard course, rising at the wrong time and disrupting the routines of ponies across the land; the moon only dipped beneath the horizon after a full hour of magical outpouring, which was forty minutes more than normal. The silvery orb was no doubt used to her sister's more dexterous touch. Celestia doubted that this was the reason for the spell's difficulty, though. The moon felt wrong. It felt like a pair of shoes made three sizes too large, or like an obstinate animal.

Her mind was full of Twilight Sparkle. And Sunset Shimmer. And her sister, who might have knocked at Tartarus's door if not for the ministrations of the physician. Celestia had done nothing to help Luna when she needed it most. Perhaps the moon could sense this.

And Twilight… Stars, what have I done?

She rubbed absently at her forehead with a gilded hoof and took another sip of her tea, which was steadily cooling. Thrice the servants had brought her a fresh pot. On most mornings she would be ready to face her day after just two or three cups. Her breakfast- cinnamon brioche with roasted apples, light pancakes of the finest oats and strawberries, mint cakes, and freshly squeezed pomegranate juice, which were only a few items among many other luxurious treats fit only for royalty- lay largely untouched on their silver trays.

Untouched, at least, by Celestia. Try as she might, she couldn't work up much of an appetite. The other pony at the table was under no such restrictions. He reached for another pancake with a hurriedly muttered word of apology. "They are simply divine," he said, being careful to speak before filling his mouth. "You should try them, your Majesty."

"I am a bit under the weather, to be honest."

Having already eaten it, he devoured another. And an apple tart. And two mintcakes. He chewed energetically and washed it down with the lukewarm tea.

Despite herself, Celestia allowed the corners of her mouth to turn up into a half-smile. "I will be sure to pass along your compliments to my cook."

"Well… you know what they say about the appetites of Pegasi."

"That they are endless?" Celestia gently lifted the teapot with her magic and poured herself a fresh cup, as well as a cup for her guest. Even that small bit of spellwork felt more difficult than usual. He noticed her pained expression.

"Are you unwell, Princess?" he said thickly, around a mouthful of pumpkin cinnamon roll.

"A difficult night, but I assure you I am perfectly healthy- healthy enough to listen to whatever unsavory news with which you ruin my meal. It is, shall I say, what you do best."

"And now you're just being rude, Your Highness," the stallion answered, but with a twinkle in his eyes that meant he was only kidding. He stretched his black wings as if he owned the room and finally, after several minutes of noisy eating, set down his knife and fork. "As always, your generosity and good graces are never wasted."

"What do you have to report?"

"Hmm… where to start. Such an interesting week," he said, with a knowing smile. His eyes, wide and attentive, surveyed Celestia. Not for the first time did the Princess feel as if she was standing under a spotlight. His gaze had that effect on her, as if he could read her thoughts and feelings with just one look.

He was, thought Celestia, a very unusual pony, starting with his name. 'Nebula Streak' had the ring of a pseudonym. She had known several ponies in his line of work that operated under assumed names or nicknames or even single letters such as 'L' or 'Q'. His lifestyle required a specific type of individual: a chameleon, adept at infiltrating and blending in wherever he needed to. Names could be cast aside as easily as old clothes. Even appearance could be altered with the right cosmetics. But in the seven years of their association, he had remained Nebula Streak, as if he was trying just a little too hard to be an ordinary Cloudsdale Pegasus.

Then again, it does suit him. Maybe he is Nebula Streak just for me. A rather dashing name for such a pony.

He was between youth and early middle age. Celestia thought he couldn't have seen more than thirty-five years, but age seemed to not apply when he was concerned. There was an easygoing vigor within him that never waned. A stallion with his coloring, especially a Pegasus, was exceptionally rare. His slight body was as black as spilled ink on a moonless night. His mane was every bit as dark, with a narrow band of fiery orange passing from right to left. He wore it in the style currently popular with young Canterlot businessmares, cut at shoulder length and severely layered with the long bangs trimmed straight, and somehow was able to pull it off despite being a stallion. There was no other coloring anywhere else on him besides his eyes. And what eyes they were. A hypnotizing greenish-blue, like seawater illuminated by candlelight, with the fierce fire of intelligence behind them. They were almost too large for his face.

As if his look was not arresting enough, his wit was devastating. Celestia felt sorry for anypony foolish enough to duel him with words.

Nebula set the teacup down. "Certain sources are absolutely buzzing about a midnight disagreement between two of Equestria's rulers. My little birds tell me that you and Princess Luna did not see eye-to-eye on a personal matter and that our Princess of the Night is in critical condition, from unknown causes."

His little birds. It was his pet name for the anonymous sources of information, all across Equestria, which supplied him with the freshest scandal. Celestia had long since given up on figuring out exactly how he kept track of so many 'birds' and how the news passed so quickly to him. Disturbingly, this meant that somepony in the Palace was an informer. Which of her guards- or Luna's guards- had overheard them bellowing at each other in their Royal Canterlot Voices?

Had they heard everything?

Was the news of Celestia's romantic preferences currently circulating through the streets? Worse yet, if Luna's condition was known to others outside the Palace, was she being blamed for her sister's wounds? The thought chilled her to her core. Her head ached terribly.

I must not give him the satisfaction of provoking me. Besides, whatever juicy scandal he had gathered for his presentation was probably kept a secret for her ears alone, and not public knowledge yet. That was the unspoken contract between them. Every two weeks, Nebula paid a visit and brought her a special service, a service that none of her Guards or the standard Canterlot news channels could provide. As ruler of Equestria, she needed to know Equestria. She needed to know everything within its borders. She traveled within certain circles as a Princess and a diplomat. Those same circles in which she demonstrated her power put her at a disadvantage when it came to the other circles of society; places like the Undercity, or the Manehatten slums, or even the Equestrian frontier of South Amareica, where the throne's power was not as prevalent, were inaccessible to her. That was where Nebula and his little birds came in. Through him, she learned the news from darkest corners of her empire, when and where it happened. She then passed these nuggets of information to Luna and together, they could make decisions far more effectively.

For seven years they had been meeting like this, sharing secrets with each sip of tea. Nebula's easy familiarity with her was sometimes very irritating. However, he knew to show the proper respect when appropriate, he had never once misled her or fed her false leads, and all his information cost her was some food and an hour of her time.

Still, she couldn't be too cautious.

She regarded him with her best imperious royal stare. "You are well-informed," said Celestia. "Almost too much so. But I do not pay you to tell me that which I already know, I pay you to keep me informed of the events in my empire that pass unnoticed. So what other news do you bring?"

"Flatterer." Nebula's voice was a sensuous rumble that seemed out of proportion to such a slender, willowy pony. "And yes, my darling, that is only the first thing I have to report. Yesterday, the Cloudsdale weather department advertised for a new head manager. It appears that the last one was ejected over mishandling of thunderheads and a labor dispute that broke out at the Rainbow Factory. All of Cloudsdale is up in arms at the moment. Dreadful affair, that accident in the Cirrus District. That filly, burned to a crisp by a stray lightning strike last week. Such a tragedy." Celestia could hear the manufactured sympathy in his voice.

"A disaster strikes and ponies naturally choose the easiest scapegoat," said Celestia. "All my sister and I can do is offer aid whenever we can. I believe Luna has already offered reparations."

"These… power struggles, they're natural to Pegasi and always will be. We're all descended from warriors, you know, way before Equestria was Equestria. It's taught to all Pegasus fillies. Something happens to stir up that warrior spirit and there's no stopping it until somepony is beaten to death. On the subject of Cloudsdale…" He shuffled a small stack of notes. "Some in the Pegasi leadership are worried. It seems that winter is here, much sooner than the weatherponies predicted. Its severity is remarkable. You can feel it in the wind, yes? Perhaps the Palace and all of Canterlot's finery is more of a buffer than the exposed buildings of the Pegasi, but it is rumored that these recent storms are of-" he paused for greater emphasis- "unknown origin. Perhaps magical origin."

"Magical origin? Surely you are not suggesting-"

"My dear Celestia, I only report to you what my informants in the Weather Office give me. The words 'possible magical origin' were discussed. Suffice it to say that the Pegasi are not controlling this recent weather. The lightning storms… the snowfall… it points to something unnatural. October has never shown these patterns, in recent memory, and Vanhoover and many more northern settlements are already suffering under subzero temperatures. There are some who say that strange things are stirring in the Crystal Mountains, too."

The alicorn opened her mouth to elaborate on her point, but he interrupted. "No need to get alarmed. Just something to file away in that wonderful mind of yours."

Magical origin? What magic can affect Equestrian weather, besides the natural efforts of Pegasi? Nothing comes to mind. I shall research it later. With a sigh, she reached for more tea and let Nebula continue.

"On to the next, but before I do, I would ask you: what do you know of griffons?"

The change of subject took Celestia by surprise. "What I know of griffons would fill one or two very expansive texts. I know, because I have written one. Griffons strictly forbid foreigners coming to their lands and since I am the only Equestrian ambassador, I know more than any living or nonliving pony about their ways. Long ago, three hundred years after Starswirl the Bearded's lifetime, they invaded Equestria and killed tens of thousands before we stopped them. Ancient history to you."

"Ah. Then you know how they think. For example, take this steel factory in Lower Canterlot, Level Nine. It's been operating f or several years, making machined parts and structural steel for bridges and high-rises, and in a sector known by many to be dangerous. A profitable business, even when considering the dangers. Those towers in Manehatten don't hold themselves up by magic." He laughed at his own witticism.

"But what does this have to do with griffons?"

"I'm getting to that. This factory… it was built in a sector of the Undercity best known for dive bars and crime. The usual mess that happens when far too many ponies are crammed in an underground cave and given no hope and no future: mares of loose morals, alcohol, the worst Baltimare gangs. A dead pony or other unfortunate is found in the dock district almost weekly. Now couple that with the rapid growth of industry in those areas. Whether you admit it or not, Equestria is changing. It is not the same place as it was fifty years ago. Ten years from now, it won't be the same as it is now."

"You know, Nebula, sometimes I think you visit me just to hear yourself speak."

He tipped her an enormous wink. "You see through me so easily! How do you do it?"

"The factory. The griffons." Celestia massaged her forehead irritably, and not meaning to be too harsh on him, she said, "As much as I love to hear you speak, I have engagements later this morning."

"Anyway. If you were a newly growing industrial firm, making, say, airship parts or building frames, where would you put your factory? You would put it where labor is cheap. Plunk it in the bottom of Lower Canterlot and suddenly you have hundreds of ready-made worker ponies. Below Level Six… the farther down you go, the worse things are. It's a haven for homeless, and migrants, and criminals, and more than a few displaced zebras. The perfect labor force to exploit. When they are worked to the end of their short lives, there are always more to replace them."

The Pegasus chomped into another cinnamon roll. "Now suppose you are a griffon, a griffon with no love of ponykind who wishes to gain wealth and power through the suffering of ponies. Equestria is rich in minerals and metals as well as unskilled labor. Such a griffon might see owning a factory in the Undercity as the perfect way to accomplish both."

"Did a griffon cause the accident?" spluttered Celestia, choking on her tea in a very unladylike way. "Was this sabotage?"

"Here's where it gets juicy, your Highness. A griffon owned that factory. I gathered this much from my inside pony on the police force. This griffon was, in a manner of speaking, making steel for industrial use, but as a smokescreen for something else entirely."

Celestia couldn't make heads or tails of what he was trying to tell her. It was as if Nebula had cut words from an encyclopedia, thrown them in a blender, and assembled them at random into sentences. It all made her headache worse.

"The factory had over six hundred workers, and as far as I could tell, none of them knew anything about what was truly happening. The griffon seemed to be experimenting with dark magic and some sort of metal alchemy. Gold, maybe, or special alloys. Regardless, the evidence was destroyed in the explosion and the fire, and the griffon or his closest conspirators were nowhere to be found when the police arrived on the scene. The police don't know who or what caused the explosion, either. It's a mess down there. Three generators self-destructed and the main boiler damaged most of a city block. Dozens of ponies killed. Half the sector's burning from the blast and the riots. You take six hundred homeless ponies and make them jobless as well, and it's a full-blown uprising before long."

"More tea," Celestia called to one of the servants against the wall. She suddenly felt very tired. This was happening right under her feet. Thousands of feet below the opulence she enjoyed, ponies were dying. Ponies she, as ruler, was responsible to protect. It was a heartbreaking thought.

Seeing the Princess's exasperated and hopeless face, Nebula Streak reached across the table and gave her hoof the tiniest of touches. It was just enough to make Celestia raise her head in shock. For any common pony to touch royalty, without invitation, was a serious offense, and Nebula knew this. He did it anyway.

"You aren't well," he said, his voice calm but insistent. "Should I call for help-"

"I am all right," Celestia murmured. She smiled wryly. "And thank you for your concern, improper or not. I have- I am afraid I have made a bit of a mistake. Princess Luna was, I think, trying to tell me this last night and it got lost in our disagreement. Tell me, was there another griffon present by any chance?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"I only ask because as you probably know, griffons are very territorial, easily offended and unpredictable. They are as foreign to us as a timberwolf. A single word might provoke a griffon and his entire pride to violence, and they have their own bloody ways of settling grievances. This could be nothing more than a rival griffon taking revenge on a competitor, or it could be something else entirely, something more sinister. I beg you to bring any new information to me as soon as you know it." She rose from the table and began slowly pacing back and forth, talking to herself rather than Nebula. "It makes no sense… the crime rates are down in the Undercity, why now…"

Celestia turned to face him. Rather sheepishly, he set down the half-eaten slice of raspberry cheesecake that he had been raising to his mouth. "If you were me, Nebula, what would you do?"

"If I were you, I would withdraw from the Undercity. Let the violence simmer down. Do nothing to upset the griffons until we know more."

"Relations are tense right now. No doubt you know of King G'vril, who took the throne in the Griffon Kingdom four years ago. I suspect he murdered the last King to do it. The Carrion Throne, it is called. Recently he sent envoys with peace offerings but did not visit Equestria himself. I know virtually nothing of him or his plans for his people, except that he is a harsh ruler. What I want to know… what I want you to help me discover… is how the griffons intend to move forward, and how Equestria fits into their plans. It is not as if I can simply ask their King if his citizens are exploiting mine. But if he is hiding an evil plot, he will regret it, and I will make him regret it."

Now there is the Celestia that I haven't seen for a while. As long as we have her, Equestria will survive. "I'm afraid I won't be of much help, your Majesty, especially since I have no sources within their Kingdom. Yet. But I will do everything I can. I am afraid that there is no more significant news to report, unless you count a casino brawl in Los Pegasus. Drunken buffalo, et cetera."

The alicorn's face was once more the face of the implacable leader. "You have given me much to consider, Nebula. I am afraid our time is up but I will eagerly await your next visit. If you hear anything, inform me."

The Pegasus stood and bowed gracefully. "On one condition. Bring more of that delectable brioche." He winked.

Celestia, lost in thoughts of griffons and mysterious weather and everything else rattling around in her overworked brain, still managed a smile. Nebula would never change. Right now, something unchanging was a welcome thing. Everything else was a maelstrom of chaos. I have to find Twilight and repair what I have done.

And then... Equestria must rise to meet its challenges. I must rise to meet its challenges.