I confess that I am not entirely certain why I have chosen to write this account.

One could speak of all the normal reasons a retired soldier such as myself would choose to put her experiences into writing. I could offer long-winded commentary about how I wish to offer the benefit of my wisdom and experiences to both my own generation and generations hence. I might choose to carry on at great length about the uniqueness of my experiences, and how ordinary ponies across the world might apply the insights I have gained to their own lives.

In truth, I would find such an account to be unbearably pretentious. While I shall not engage in such false modesty as to claim that I have nothing of value to contribute to the sum of all knowledge, I do not think myself so brilliant that the world would suffer for not having my own opinions added to it.

Perhaps, then, I have written this account to secure my own legacy in the pages of history? I would be far from the only old soldier who has done such a thing. I could go on at length about my triumphs, regale my readers with the story of how I faced impossible odds and claimed victory by dint of my own skill on the battlefield. My failures, by the same token, could be explained away or shifted onto the backs of others, and my more disputed decisions might be explained in full.

However, such a self-aggrandizing account holds even less interest to me than one that merely seeks to feed my own ego. In truth, I feel that, if anything, my reputation is already far too exaggerated. Many have sought to make more of me than what I truly am, to place me upon some pedestal as a perfect, unerring figure. Even before such veneration bore its ultimate fruit I found such things tiresome, and after some of the events that ultimately transpired as a result of my inflated reputation the thought of doing anything that might add to it fills me with no joy.

Perhaps the simplest answer is the correct one. That like many soldiers who have survived the maelstrom of war and lived to old age, I find myself compelled to look back and reflect upon my experiences. Ultimately, I have chosen to commit such reflections to the written page so that I might consult my thoughts and sharpen memories that old age has begun to take from me.

It is in some ways a terrible thing to finally grow old. To wake every morning feeling the fresh aches and pains of old war wounds, to watch helplessly as my mind and body both begin to fail me. I see now why many an old soldier chooses to seek one final battle, that they might die in a blaze of glory rather than seek a death in bed, long after their best days are behind them. However, for all the sorrows that age brings, I think I prefer it to the embrace of oblivion, or the other alternatives that have been offered to me.

You will forgive me if my account begins to ramble or depart upon tangents at times. Such is the privilege of old age. One can only hope that whoever faces the difficult task of editing my words into a coherent and readable account curbs the worst such excesses. (1)

1: To be honest, she's not that bad about it. Then again, I'm just the latest in a string of nine hundred years worth of editors, so maybe the ones who came before me chopped all the worst of it out.

So, having established the reasons I have chosen to share this account with my readers and the rest of Equestria, it would behoove me to offer some additional thoughts on what this account entails. While it is not the only event of significance in my life, I have chosen to restrict my account to the civil war that occurred in the one hundred and tenth year of Celestia's sole reign over Equestria, commonly known as the Lunar Rebellion. While there are many worthy tales to be told of earlier and later times, it is the Rebellion which weighs most heavily upon my mind. I shall leave any accounts of later events in the hooves of far more capable authors than I.

I have decided to write my account in three parts, the first discussing the events leading up to the beginning of hostilities, the second discussing the early stages of the war, and lastly covering the war's conclusion and perhaps briefly touching upon its aftermath.

While I have attempted to faithfully recreate all the events of the Rebellion, I will confess that certain details might be literary embellishments on my part. While I should like to think that I have remembered all the important events, one can hardly expect to recall the details of every single conversation one had many years ago. Even the memory enhancement magics offered to me by Archmagus Midnight Sparkle can only bring a limited degree of clarity to events so long past.

So, without further ado, I shall begin my account on the seventeenth day of the Month of Fevers...

---

It is a troublesome thing to have business in the city of Canterlot.

It seems a rather curious thing to say about one of our sister-races, but in many ways the capital of Unicornia is more alien to me than the lands of other species. The Griffin Kingdoms are alien indeed to ponykind, but griffins and pegasi both share a proud warrior heritage that gives us common ground to build upon. Amongst the unicorns, I have often felt that aside from the basic details of our anatomy we have nothing at all in common. Though that perception has waned as I came to know them better in following years, at the time it was still fresh in my mind.

My mood was not helped by the fact that I could look forward to many future visits to Canterlot. As the newest member of the Ephorate (2), it naturally fell to me to engage in those tasks which the older members found undesirable. Such are the benefits of seniority.

2: The ruling body of Pegasopolis. I will provide a full explanation of the inner workings of the Pegasopolan and Equestrian governments in an editor's note once I can do so without disrupting Shadow's narrative flow.

After some consideration, I came to the conclusion that my daughter should accompany me on this excursion. It would be of value to her if she had greater experience with the other races of ponykind. Like many pegasi her age, Gale had almost never ventured down from the clouds to mingle with groundborne races. If she was to succeed me in ruling the clan one day, as I had so recently succeeded my father, then such experiences would no doubt be of benefit to her.

In addition, if serving as a liaison to Canterlot and Commander Celestia was to be a regular part of my duties, I would benefit greatly from having Gale close to hoof. Once she had appropriate time to gain the lay of the land, her subtler skills would be of great value to me. In Canterlot, knowledge was of far more use than a sharp wing-blade, and it was knowledge that was Gale's stock in trade. I had no doubt that within hours of our arrival she would begin constructing a web of contacts and informants to keep me apprised of events in the city.

In politics, even moreso than on the battlefield, knowledge is the key to victory.

Now that the topic of knowledge had come to my mind, it seemed prudent to assess my daughter's knowledge of her groundborne counterparts. "Tell me, my daughter, what experience dost thou have with the other pony races?"

My daughter faltered briefly in the air as her wings fell slightly out of tempo for a brief moment. Thankfully, she recovered herself quickly enough. We were still high enough in the sky that a fall would be most unpleasant, and there were few enough clouds to break any such tumble.

My concern for her must have shown on my face, for she gave me an easy, confident smile. "Fear not, Mother. Thy question simply caught me unawares." I suppose I should have had a bit more faith in her flying abilities—she is a mare grown, after all. In my defense, Gale rarely flies in full armor, but certain proprieties must be observed for a ceremonial occasion on par with meeting Commander Celestia. I must say, even if she normally preferred to gird herself in lighter armor than full plate, my daughter did cut a rather fetching figure in the clan's red armor. It fit quite nicely with her green coat and blue-and-white mane.

Perhaps I was simply being maternal. As a mother, it is entirely fitting that I worry about her, even needlessly. I can only hope that this does not advance from the occasional bit of worry to outright doting.

After several moments' consideration, Gale finally answered my question. "I fear I know little of the ground or those who dwell upon it, beyond the basics of my education. I know that earth ponies farm and build, unicorns use magic and craft. Was there something specific thou wouldst ask of me?"

I decided to put her knowledge to the test. It would be most embarrassing if my daughter lacked even the most basic comprehension of our destination and hosts. "Let us focus on unicorns for the moment, given that our business takes us to Canterlot. Our duty is to liaise with the Commander and interact with her court as needed to promote the interests of Pegasopolis." There was a hint of a smile upon my lips as I amended. "'Twould be passing difficult to do such a thing if we lack any knowledge of Canterlot, its denizens, and the workings of its own government, wouldst thou not agree?"

"'Twould prove slightly challenging," Gale answered with a giggle. Gale's eyes drifted slightly to the side as she put her mind to work dredging up half-remembered lessons from earlier times. "Unicornia is a monarchy with an entrenched aristocracy who controls most positions of power and influence, though there are magocratic elements as well." Gale turned to me with a slight frown. "I am curious, Mother, as to why they would believe that bloodlines are of such importance that they should dictate who holds positions of authority."

"Like many things about our brethren, I confess that it eludes me as well." I took a few moments to ponder the matter more deeply. "Whether they dwell in the clouds or 'pon the ground, all ponies share a love for clan and family. Perhaps a belief that bloodline should dictate leadership ultimately grows from such. There is also the matter of practicality—even amongst our own kind, it is rare indeed to see an Ephor or Geronte (3) who does not hail from one of the major clans."

3: A member of the Gerousia, an advisory body of retired generals.

Gale favored me with a fond smile as she answered, "But our leadership comes from the major clans because any clanless pony who shows talent is adopted into a clan, not simply because bonds of blood make for superior leadership."

I conceded the matter with a nod. "Still, much like with our major clans, the noble houses of Unicornia control considerable resources."

"Ah, but of course." Gale rolled her eyes and gave me a slightly bemused grin. "I forget about the importance of monday in ground society."

"Money," I gently corrected her.

Gale gave a very slight grimace at her error. "Why place such importance upon a few shiny pieces of metal? It seems foolish to me. The farmer gets money for his crops, gives it to the blacksmith for his tools, the lumberjacks for wood, the tailor for his clothes, and whatever else is needful." Gale gave a dismissive wave of her hoof. "'Twould seem far more efficient if instead of accompanying every single exchange with a hooffull of baubles, they simply provided each other with that which was needed, as we do."

"Such a thought has often occurred to me as well." I shot a look in the general direction of Canterlot. The city was still some distance away, but close enough that we could begin to see its gleaming spires and proud towers. "I suspect it might prove difficult for our earthbound kin to emulate our ways. In the clouds we have neither need nor use for most material goods, but on land there are a truly bewildering variety of things that everypony needs or desires. The Ephorate can have difficulty enough satisfying every request for weapons, armor, food, and other such necessities." I waved a hoof down at the farmland below us. "Imagine the burdens a government would face if it needed to balance every single need and desire for all the hundreds of goods our groundbound counterparts desire."

"So they use money instead." Gale brought a hoof up under her chin as she gave thought to the matter. "Thy reasoning is sound, and there is some logic to their ways, strange as it may seem to me. It still seems a needlessly complicated way to resolve such matters, at least to one such as me."

"Our kin can be passing strange, indeed." I let out an amused chuckle. "I confess that it took me some time to grasp the purpose of money. The presence of such things as markets still mystifies and annoys me in equal measure. I do not understand why those who dwell on the land feel the need to construct special places for the sole purpose of attempting to cheat each other out of their goods."

"And thou wouldst have me work amongst such alien ponies, and attempt to exercise my skills in a society I barely understand." Gale gave a rueful chuckle and slowly shook her head. "Ah, but thou canst be so very cruel to me sometimes, Mother. Have I failed thee in some way, to have earned such harsh punishment?"

"I have every confidence in thy ability to persevere through such challenges." We were beginning to draw near Canterlot, so I angled my wings so that I would begin gently gliding downwards. "I would never ask something of thee that I believed to be outside of thy ability to accomplish."

"Let us hope thou art wise in what thou wouldst ask of me, then." Gale grimaced at a particularly unpleasant memory. "My introduction to cauliflower was … trying."

"And yet, thou art fully capable of eating it." I felt the barest of smirks work its way onto my face. "It is simply that thou dost not wish to."

"One can hardly hold my distaste for it against me when it is so very distasteful," Gale grumbled. "Let us hope the Commander's chefs do not serve any while out business keeps us here." Gale shot me a look and asked. "How long dost thou anticipate our business will require that we linger in Canterlot? Is this to be an extended stay, or a short visit?"

"We will remain here until Commander Celestia no longer has need of us." My daughter clearly found such an open-ended answer less than enlightening, so I opted to offer her a bit more information. "I do not anticipate an extended stay. The delivery of the Ephorate's report on the state of Pegasopolis is largely a matter of routine business. So long as there is nothing amiss, we should only need to remain for a few days while the Commander reviews the report and composes a reply."

"So we are nothing but glorified messengers then?" Gale did not seem pleased with the thought. "Such lofty duties to grant to one of the five leaders of Pegasopolis. Are we to conduct an inspection of latrines once this matter is concluded?"

I will confess that my own thoughts had travelled down similar avenues when I first learned of my assignment. In truth, I think I would prefer an inspection of latrines to becoming mired in the court at Canterlot and dealing with politics. Latrine duty was far cleaner. "Commander Celestia requires that one of her Ephors be present while the reports are under review, in case there are any points that she would inquire upon. 'Tis far more efficient to have an Ephor ready at hoof than to send messengers back and forth."

Gale's nose crinkled slightly as she took note of an inconsistency in my words. "If this be such routine duty, then why am I to accompany thee?"

"Perhaps I merely wished for time to bond with my beloved daughter," I spared a brief smile for her before returning to the matter at hoof. "While the matter is routine enough, the court at Canterlot is a political center, and one that is nothing like High Command in Cloudsdale. I am on unfamiliar ground, and I wish to know the lay of the land."

"And the knowledge I can offer thee might be of use if the interests of Pegasopolis come into conflict with those of certain members of the court." Gale grinned and shot me a sharp salute. "Fear not, Mother. Canterlot holds no secrets that are beyond my ability to uncover."

The two of us began slowly circling the palace, taking ample time to allow the Commander's guards to see us and take note of our peaceful intent. While this was largely a matter of ceremony in these harmonious times, we were still fully armed and armored warriors approaching the center of government. A sudden, unexpected arrival might provoke an unfortunate incident if we happened upon a particularly high-strung guard. The Unicornian Royal Guard is not the most disciplined of formations, and in truth I suspect they have no skills other than the ability to cut a striking figure on the parade ground.

"We have not yet landed, and already I look forward to our return to Cloudsdale." Something about the decorative nature of the Unicornian Guard offended me. That they would play at being warriors when in truth they were little better than living decorations.

"I can believe it." Gale shot me a distressingly knowing smirk. "Though I cannot help but wonder if thy eagerness to return stems from a longing to see our clanhold again, or if you simply pine for the company of Rightly Doo."

Now it was my turn to falter in my flight. There are times when having a daughter with such a talent for information gathering can have distressing unintended consequences. "Ephor Doo is pleasant enough company, but methinks thou reads overmuch into the fact that we have enjoyed each other's companionship."

"Mayhaps I do." The smile on my daughter's face made it abundantly clear that she did not believe a word of it. In fairness, she was right to do so. "Mayhap I have imagined how thy eyes linger overlong upon him whenever he is nearby. One can hardly blame thee when he is so fine to look upon. I am sure the fondness in thy voice when thou speakest of him is nothing but mere friendship and the respect of comrades."

I felt a hint of choler building within me at her teasing. "Perhaps thy talents could find a more worthy use than to pry into my possible romantic prospects, daughter."

If my mild rebuke offended her, she did not show it. My daughter knows me well enough to be aware that there was no heat behind it. Less fortunately for me, the fact that I was not truly wroth with her encouraged her to continue in her current course. "Fear not, Mother. Thine eyes are not the only ones which linger."

Damn her for her spying, but I was glad to hear it. I have not yet had occasion to speak with Rightly upon the matter. His wife and newborn foal both are but a year dead, and despite any feelings that I might have had for him, it would not be proper for me to make such an approach until an appropriate mourning period had passed.

I was, perhaps, a touch hasty in landing, but I wished to place hooves upon the ground so that my daughter might be forced to put an end to the matter—at least for the moment. Gale is well aware that for all of our private closeness, certain proprieties must be observed when we are in the public eye. For all her humor and enjoyment of such diversions, she would not dare make light of me in a way that might be seen as lessening my public regard.

The two of us made our landing a short distance from Canterlot Palace's main entrance. I confess that while I normally prefer the proud cloud columns and simple efficiency of Cloudsdale to Canterlot's marble opulence, there was a certain appeal to the palace itself. Certainly it served to convey the splendor and grandeur of the Unicornian monarchy. For all that my rational mind wanted to be offended by the wasteful extravagance of the palace's rich tapestries, stained-glass windows, and lush carpets, I was still impressed.

As we trotted through the entryway, Gale's mouth dropped slightly, and her pace slowed as she tarried to look upon a particularly fine tapestry showing Commander Celestia's defeat of Nightmare Moon. I stepped beside her and gave her a very gentle nudge. "Have a care, daugter. 'Twould be most unfortunate if we occupied ourselves overlong with taking in the sights and were mistaken for wandering tourists instead of visiting dignitaries."

Gale blinked several times and forcefully tore her gaze away from the tapestry. "My apologies, Mother. I was simply..." She scuffed a hoof through the carpet as she struggled to find the right words to explain herself.

After a few moments of awkward silence, I had mercy on my poor daughter. "It is quite alright, Gale. Thou art unused to such sights."

My daughter very slowly nodded, and with a visible effort tore her eyes away from the tapestry. "It is very ... colorful."

One could hardly blame my daughter for finding the sudden variety that had been introduced to her color palette somewhat distracting. For all that I love Cloudsdale, one can hardly deny that while it is a wonderfully flexible building material clouds do inevitably lead to a certain drabness. With the thankful exception of the ponies who dwell within the city itself, it is a rare thing to see any color in Cloudsdale beyond white cloud and blue sky. For all that its inhabitants might vex me at times, I cannot deny that there is beauty to be found upon the earth. From what I have seen of the ground, there are few places more beautiful than the royal palace in Canterlot.

Perhaps I had erred in bringing Gale here for her first excursion to terra firma. It might have been more prudent to schedule her first missions to simpler places, that she might have time to adjust before we moved on to Canterlot. The sudden introduction of so many new sights might prove to be rather overwhelming for her—it was clearly a struggle for her to remain focused upon our task in the face of Canterlot's wonders.

Thankfully, my daughter was up to the task. I would have to arrange a proper tour of the palace and the city for her once our business with the Commander came to a conclusion for the day. Best to indulge her curiosity when there was time and opportunity to do so without interfering with our duties, rather than leave it to linger unsatisfied.

"Perhaps our visit to Canterlot shall prove more enjoyable than thou feared, Mother." My daughter has always been an optimist at heart.

As the two of us approached the Commander's throne room, a party of Canterlot Royal Guard met us. The commanding officer of the unit was easily identified by the ridiculous amount of ornamentation upon his armor, making him look more akin to a peacock than a proper soldier. Though I had little familiarity with such things at the time, I suspected that if one sold his gold-lined and bejeweled armor in the markets of Canterlot, it would provide a substantial sum that could be put to far more worthy uses than constructing this insult against proper smithing.

To make matters worse, his rank insignia indicated that he was a mere lieutenant. In light of the fact that such armor rested upon what was in truth little more than a doorpony, one shudders to think at how elaborate the higher-ranking officers are likely to make their wargear. Perhaps it is the combat doctrine of the Canterlot Guard to blind their enemies with the magnificence of their armor?

Despite being somewhat shorter than I, the lieutenant still somehow deigned to look down his nose at me. "State thy name and business with Her Majesty Queen Celestia and the Royal Court."

The condescension in his tone offended my sense of honor, but in my experience it is a rare thing indeed to find a unicorn noble that is not haughty. I shall never understand why the Commander thinks it wise to reserve all officer ranks within the Unicornian armed forces for the nobility. Perhaps it was simply another concession made to those who hold power and privilege, though I should think the Commander could find a way to satisfy her nobles without undermining the effectiveness of her armed forces in the process.

For the moment, however, I would simply have to endure the fact that the Commander has allowed some less than suitable ponies into positions of authority. Since unicorns seem to place such value on every little bit of ceremony and appearances, I drew myself up to my full height and spoke authoritatively. "I am Ephor Shadow Kicker of Pegasopolis, here to deliver the Ephorate's report on the state of Pegasopolis to Commander Celestia."

My daughter did her best to imitate my poise. "Captain Gale Kicker of Pegasopolis, and..." She hesitated for a moment, then waved a hoof at me. "I am accompanying the Ephor."

"I see." The lieutenant sniffed and turned his nose up at us. "I regret to inform thee that I am unfamiliar with anypony by the name of 'Commander Celestia' present at Court today." His voice reached new levels of condescension as he added. "Art thou, perhaps, thinking of Her Majesty Celestia, first of her name, Queen of all Unicornia, Sol Invictus, Pony of the Three Tribes, Ruler of all Equestria, Duchess of Canterlot ... and so forth?"

I became quite wroth with him, both for the clear insult in his words and improper familiarity with which he addressed me. (4) My tone was quite terse as I answered him. "I speak of Celestia, Commander-in-Chief of the forces of all Pegasopolis, and no other."

4: At this point I should comment on a language issue that would be lost on most modern readers. Older Equestrian has two different forms of second-person address: "you" and "thou." Which one is appropriate to use depends on context. "Thou" is normally reserved for close friends, family, and social inferiors, while "you" is more polite and formal. Thus, our less than intelligent lieutenant is offering Shadow Kicker a fairly serious insult by addressing her as "thou" instead of "you."

The foolish lieutenant opened his mouth to spout some new level of idiocy. Thankfully his sergeant did the duty of veteran sergeants, and stepped between the fool and his folly. "Sir? In light of the fact that they are visiting dignitaries, perhaps we should overlook their desire to adhere to their own customs instead of following Canterlot norms?"

For a moment I wondered if the lieutenant would have wisdom enough to take the opportunity his sergeant had offered him. After several seconds' consideration, the pretentious guard reluctantly nodded, and conceded with poor grace. "I suppose we can hardly expect those ponies from less sophisticated tribes to grasp the subtleties of proper court behavior." I suspect he had not intended for us to overhear that statement, but his whispers were not nearly so silent as they should be. The overdecorated lieutenant turned to the two of us and addressed us properly. "Ephor, we shall inform Her Majesty of thy presence here." He took a very slight step to the side and indicated a door. "Through here, thou will find chambers to adjust thy appearance after thy flight from Pegasopolis, and to store thy weapons and armor."

I confess I was sorely tempted to press the matter, but there was little to be gained from browbeating a lieutenant who was rather too full of himself. The Commander was waiting for us, after all. I might send Gale to have words with the Captain of the Guard before we departed from Canterlot, though. I rather doubted that a mere lieutenant was authorized to offer such disrespect to visiting leaders from the other tribes. If he acted so before a foreign leader, Equestria might easily face a diplomatic incident.

Still, my pride was not so fragile that I must answer every insult with juris ungula(5). Gale and I proceeded to the waiting room, which was every bit as richly appointed as one would expect from the Unicornian royal palace.

5: An Old Equestria term, which literally translates as "Justice of the Hoof." A formal term for dueling, which was still legal in Equestria at the time.

Gale settled down onto a chaise and gratefully stretched her wings. "I cannot say much for their manners, but the unicorns do at least grasp the value of comfort." My daughter shifted about, making herself comfortable. "I do not think there is a room so fine as this in all of Cloudsdale. And to think, this is merely a place us to tarry until the Commander has time to see us."

"The unicorns are fond indeed of their luxuries." I did not avail myself of the room's comforts as my daughter so eagerly did. In truth, I suspect that it is comforts such as these which breed the likes of the foolish lieutenant we so recently encountered. In Pegasopolis such actions would never be tolerated, but the ease and luxury of Canterlot had allowed a certain attitude of indolence and egotism to take root. I suspect that the unicorns as a whole would benefit greatly from incorporating a touch more austerity into their society.

Still, there were a few practical things within the room. First and foremost, a mirror. While I am not given to vanity and indulging upon my appearance, I was to meet with the Commander shortly. It was only fitting that I take a moment to look myself over and ensure that nothing was out of place. The mirror might be larger than I required and studded with pearls and silver along the rim, but it still served its purpose well enough.

Aside from some slight messiness in my mane (and it was inevitable that there would be many stray golden hairs after the flight from Cloudsdale to Canterlot) all appeared to be in order. The braid had held in my tail despite the journey, and I kept my mane short enough that restoring it to order took naught but a few strokes of a manebrush. Thankfully, some practical-minded pony had thought to include one in the room, and even more gratefully it looked more like an actual tool rather than an overstudded luxury to chip my teeth on.

My armor required a few minor adjustments, but that was only be expected. As would anypony facing an extended journey, Gale and I had loosened straps and made other efforts to reduce the discomfort of wearing it while we travelled. Having my breastplate sit ever so slightly crooked is a minor thing on the road, but now was the time to address that issue. Thankfully, the weather had been accommodating enough that Gale and I had not worked up a lather in the process of our travels. 'Twould be unfortunate indeed if we arrived before the Commander reeking of rust and sweat.

Once the adjustments were made, all was in readiness. Whoever was responsible for stocking the room had not thought to include such useful tools as polish for armor or wing-blade, but I had already anticipated as much, and Gale and I had both seen to the matter last night. My armor was almost gleaming blood-red, sitting quite nicely against the dark grey coat that had inspired my parents to name me Shadow.

Now that I had seen to myself, it was time to look after my daughter. Gale had already taken it upon herself to correct her armor, but there were other matters to address beyond that. Her mane and tail both became rather badly disordered over the course of our journey. Not that this was an unusual state for her to be in—in truth I would scarce recognize my own daughter if mane and tail both were not in a messy, windblown mass. However, we were to meet with the Commander soon, and such things should be attended to. Gale let out a slight murmur of protest as I took the manebrush to her, but offered no further complaint. In truth, I suspect she secretly enjoyed my occasional bouts of maternal doting.

Just as I had begun to make some progress at restoring my daughter's mane to something at least vaguely resembling order, there was a knock upon the door of our temporary chambers. I set the brush down beside my daughter and took a half-step away. There is a time and a place for maternal affection, but it is not something I usually care to parade about in front of all the world. Especially not if the one at our door was the foolish lieutenant. "You may enter."

Thankfully, it was not the lieutenant, it was his sergeant. The veteran unicorn dropped halfway into a bow on instinct before remembering just who he stood before, and altering it to a salute instead. "Ma'ams. I wish to apologize for my commanding officer's behavior. Lieutenant Proud Line is very new to his duties, and still adjusting to the demands of his station. I hope he did not offer you any grave offense."

I returned his salute, as did Gale. "Despite what the social customs of thy kind dictate, I would say that it is thou who is the true noble and gentlepony, not thy commanding officer." The sergeant stood a little straighter at that complement. I felt a hint of a grimace on my lips as I announced, "I believe that before my departure I shall have words with the Captain of the Guard about this incident, though I shall be certain to include thy role in resolving it."

The accommodating sergeant winced and reluctantly shook his head. "I would not advise such a course, ma'am. The Captain of the Guard thinks quite highly of his son, and would not hear a word against him—even from one of your status."

"Ah. So that is how it is." Small surprise our less than wise lieutenant would think so highly of himself when his father holds such a position. Even his superiors would not dare to correct his behavior, lest they incur his father's wrath. Another unfortunate byproduct of Unicornia's ways, I am sure. When I was younger and more foolish, my own superiors never hesitated to speak of when I erred, even though my father held the post of Ephor until he retired to the Gerousia and I took his place. Or perhaps it was because of his station. In either case, my father would not have tolerated any show of favoritism, and none would dispute that I earned the right to succeed him through talent and hard work. But I digress.

The sergeant gave us both a nod. "With your permission, ma'am, I should return to my post before my absence is noted."

"Very well, return to thy post, and I thank thee for thy words." Once the nameless sergeant had made his departure, I retrieved the manebrush and returned to my work upon Gale.

I am hardly a vain mare, but my daughter ought to look her best before the Commander. Call it … maternal professionalism, if you must. It is not every day one makes introduction of one's daughter to the ruler of all ponykind.

Gale accepted my ministrations for a time, but eventually my doting began to try her patience. As I struggled with a particularly troublesome knot in her mane, she gently put hoof on my shoulder and halfheartedly grumbled. "Mother, while I appreciate thy efforts, I am quite capable of taking care of myself."

"Hush, my child," I gently chided her. "Whenever thou attemptest to restore thine own mane to proper order, the result is wanting."

Gale crossed her forelegs in front of her on the chaise and rested her chin upon them, a slight pout on her lips. "So I am to be treated as but a filly, despite being a mare grown?" My daughter shot me the barest of smirks. "If I am to be treated as such, then thou couldst at least ply my favor with sweets once our business is concluded."

"That would please thee, I am sure. I have no doubt that something could be arranged—the palace chefs are likely to be most accommodating of any request that one of the Commander's guests might wish to make of them." My daughter has always had something of a fondness for anything with a distressingly high sugar content. I confess that I enjoy such things myself on occasion, though rarely as greatly as she does. Pegasopolis might be a place of bare necessities, but even we like to enjoy the simple pleasures of a good confectionary.

While for the most part I care little for luxuries of Canterlot, I will admit that the first time I returned to Cloudsdale after enjoying the Commander's chefs, it was a painful transition. The clanhold's mess hall has neither the time nor the desire to produce some of the more complex dishes I have enjoyed at the Palace. Such is the price of having fewer chefs with more ponies to feed between them.

Gale fell silent, no doubt distracted by the possibilities of having a small army of skilled cooks eagerly waiting to fulfill her every whim. Though I pitied the cuisiniers she would shortly victimize, such thoughts did at least still any further token protests to my maternal attentions.

I had finally begun to bring my daughter's mane to a satisfactory state when there was another rap upon our door. Sadly, this time it was not the sergeant come to make peace, but Lt. Proud Line returned with word from the Commander. Sadly, she had not been made aware of his actions or had an opportunity to correct the deficiencies in his behavior. With any luck, I would have the opportunity to do so before long.

"Her Majesty has deigned to grant thee an audience." The lieutenant's tone made it clear that he could not grasp why she would do such a thing. "I shall escort thee to the throne room once thou art prepared to depart, though one can hope that thou will not leave Her Majesty waiting overlong for thy arrival."

"We are already prepared to meet with the Commander," I answered tersely.

"Truly?" Line raised an eyebrow and gave the two of us a critical look, as if there were something dreadfully wrong with our appearance. "I see. No doubt thou art unfamiliar with the laws and customs of Court." Condescension in the form of false politeness dripped from his voice. "Allow me to explain: thou may not enter Court while so armed and armored, it is an insult to Her Majesty and her guards."

Oh. We certainly would not want to show a lack of respect for certain members of the Unicornian Royal Guard.

Line continued on, oblivious to my thoughts. "To bear arms in Court shows that thou dost not have faith in the Guard's ability to provide protection to all who dwell within the palace. Furthermore, 'tis an insult to the hospitality Her Majesty has so graciously offered thee. As such, I am afraid I must ask thee to surrender thy arms and armor—thou hast my word of honor that thy possessions shall be stored in the armory and returned undamaged upon thy departure."

Gale and I shared a look, and no words were needed for each of us to know the other's thoughts on the matter. We were in accord. "My blades are in the service of Commander Celestia," I announced formally. "It is the gravest of insults to both myself and the Commander to ask that I surrender them."

Line's second-in-command attempted to step in and defuse the situation once more. "Sir, Her Majesty has always allowed Pegasopolan representatives to remain armed within the palace, and even within her very presence."

For a moment I hoped that might be the end of the matter. Precedent and policy were clearly not on Proud Line's side, and prudence dictated that he back down and allow the matter to rest. Unfortunately, it was not prudence that dictated Proud Line's actions, but wounded pride. Already he had once been forced to give ground and concede a dispute in full view of the ponies under his theoretical command. To those who are young and proud, there are few things more intolerable than the public loss of face. In a way, it was a small miracle that his sergeant had been able to convince him to let the matter rest once.

But a second withdrawal while the memory of the first still burned brightly in his mind was too much for the young noble. And so his pride drove him to action that common sense ought to have prevented. "Guards, secure their weapons."

The ponies under Line's command knew the folly of this order as well as anypony, and so instead of following it they looked to their sergeant, hoping he might find some way to countermand the order. While Line was a fool, he was not so much of one that he could not grasp the mood of those under his command. His already wounded pride was no doubt further stung by such a clear sign that they had no faith in his leadership. His cheeks burned with mixed shame and fury. "I have given an order, and thou shalt obey it! Now secure their weapons."

I spoke my daughter's name, and she needed no further prompting. Gale flicked a wing in Line's general direction, and a breath later a steel spike embedded itself in the wall only a hair's breadth away from Line's head. The fool jumped back in shock, while the Guards under his command cringed back. For her part, Gale smiled at Proud Line as if they had exchanged casual pleasantries. "You wish to take our weapons? There is one." She helpfully pointed an armored hoof to the spike, as if there were any chance he might have missed it. "Would you like the rest?"

Line shot wide-eyed looks between Gale and the weapon she had thrown at him as his brain slowly struggled to wrap itself around what had just passed. Shock slowly transformed into a fury. "Thou—thou wouldst dare to attack one of the Queen's guards within the Queen's own palace? Monstrous! Guards, take them into custody at once! They may cool their hooves in the palace dungeons until Her Majesty decides upon a fitting punishment!"

After several seconds of stunned silence, the guards under Line's command approached us with clear reluctance. "I am deeply sorry for this, ma'am," their sergeant informed me, "but we must follow our commander's orders."

"As I am sorry for what shall fall upon thee and thine because of those orders." I gave the guards who were slowly moving to encircle the two of us a careful, evaluating look. I did not feel particularly threatened. The palace guards are far better suited to ceremonial and decorative duties than proper soldiers' work. I shifted stance, prepared to move at a moment's notice, but not yet outright threatening. Gale stepped to the side and turned, so that now she covered my back, not that I particularly expected a surprise attack from these toy soldiers.

The unfortunate sergeant winced and dropped his voice, speaking as privately as he could to me under such circumstances. "Madam, I beg of you, let it end here. Her Majesty will not tolerate your imprisonment, and I would be most upset if something unfortunate happened during any struggle you might choose to offer."

"Thou needs not be so fearful of what is to come." I felt the ghost of a confident smile on my face. "I am well-versed in how to subdue an opponent without resorting to lethal force or leaving behind crippling injuries."

The poor stallion sighed. "Madam, I know of the reputation your race holds for being skilled warriors, but you are outnumbered, and we have magic. There are six of us, and but two of you. Please, it would not end well."

His count was perhaps a touch optimistic by virtue of including Proud Line as a combatant, but it was not inaccurate. "Thou art quite correct. There is an inequality here that must be attended to at once. Gale? Focus thy attention on the lieutenant, and leave the remainder to me." I turned back to the very confused sergeant. "Is that an acceptable accommodation, or shall I also bind a hoof behind my back as well?"

At this point, my readers might begin to think me foolishly overconfident. Under other circumstances that might not be an unfair assessment, for even the strongest of warriors would struggle to defeat five opponents simultaneously. For all the disparity in skill between myself and my opponents, numbers do convey a considerable advantage. Especially in a fight where I did not wish to use lethal or crippling force unless absolutely necessary.

However, in this case there were several factors mitigating the numerical disadvantage. The ceremonial polearms of the Canterlot Guard were ill-suited for a close-quarters skirmish such as this, and Gale and I both likely had far more experience in true battle. However, our most important advantage lay in the matter of morale: as Commander Hurricane once famously declared, a single motivated but untrained soldier was worth a dozen trained but unmotivated ones. Though in truth I think he o'ercredited the importance of morale and undercredited discipline. As Lyequinigus herself once said, while morale is important, it is discipline that truly wins battles.

Whatever the case may be, this was a battle my opponents did not wish to fight. Given half an excuse to do so, they would gladly abandon the field. As importantly, they would hesitate to strike, both for fear of eventual wrath from the Commander and because in their hearts they knew that their cause was unjust. Against such opponents, a single decisive and overwhelming strike would suffice to cow them into submission.

"Lieutenant." I turned to face Proud Line, my expression grim, but confident. "I offer thee one last chance to end this matter without bloodshed. Thee and thine shall stand aside, allow myself and my daughter passage, and that shall be the end of the matter." Well, at least until I informed the Commander of what had passed here, but why quibble over relatively minor details?

Ever the fool, Line refused to accept the final olive branch I so graciously offered him. "Surrender peaceably, and Her Majesty may offer thee mercy." The lieutenant let out a malicious little laugh. "Thou shalt find that thou hast erred, and erred greatly, in making an enemy of me, for I and my father—"

I am sure Proud Line would have continued on at some length if we accommodated his desire to do so, but I saw no reason to. I have far more productive uses for my time than indulging the blathering of an idiot child. Additionally, ponies of Line's dubious caliber rarely expect to be struck unawares, before they have finished strutting about and posturing.

Cruel necessity dictated that the sergeant who had struggled so greatly to prevent matters from coming to a head be my first victim. The other guards clearly looked to him as a leader in the place of their woefully unqualified commander, and when he fell it would devastate their already low morale. Proud Line would need to fall as well, but I had already placed him in my daughter's capable hooves.

I struck without warning, and opened with the traditional first strike against any unicorn—a sharp blow to the horn. When facing a unicorn in battle, 'tis always prudent to remove their spellcasting ability as quickly as possible. In almost all cases, a unicorn without their magic is a far lesser threat. While I did not smite him overhard upon the horn, even a relatively light strike would disrupt any spellcasting for the next several seconds. That was more than enough time for my purposes.

The unfortunate sergeant instinctively flinched away to protect his horn from any further harm, allowing me an easy opening to follow my first attack with a wing blade blow to the side of his head. Naturally, I gave him the flat of my blade instead of its edge. It would no doubt leave a very impressive-looking bruise, but there would be no serious harm from the strike. The attack was still more than sufficient to drop the unfortunate sergeant to the ground, though I suspect that had he truly been motivated to do so it would have been within his capacity to continue the fight.

With the sergeant down, that left four ponies standing. I moved for the two standing to my left and swiped a wing blade in their direction. The strike came nowhere close to hitting, but that was never my intention. Instead, the attack served to block my opponents' view of my hooves for a critical fraction of a second as I shifted my stance. For all the importance of the wings in wielding the blades they carry, one can still deduce a great deal about what one's opponent is planning merely by noting the placement of their hooves.

If my opponents had been able to see my hoofwork, they might not have been taken quite so badly off guard by my sudden break to the side. Instead, the larger of the two guards was caught completely by surprise when I flanked him, planted my forehooves solidly on the ground, and proceeded to buck him in the side for all I was worth. The strike sent him staggering back into his companion, and the two fell to the floor in a tangle of armor, weapons, and limbs.

That left only two guards still standing, but by now I had largely expended the element of surprise. Thankfully, that was far from my only advantage. One common weakness of our groundborne kin is a certain tendency towards two dimensional thinking. I suppose it is an understandable oversight amongst ponies who can never move any further from the ground than a single jump can carry them.

A quick jump and a few flaps of my wings carried me over and above the both of them, and a spin-flip ensured that I was at the proper orientation when I landed between the two of them. While I could have used my downward momentum to strike a pair of powerful blows, I opted for mercy instead. The edges of my wing-blades on the backs of their necks was a more than adequate statement. "Yield."

My demand was shortly followed by the sounds of two weapons clattering to floor as both guards wisely complied with my request. With that, the matter was decided. True, the sergeant and the other two were still physically capable of resisting if they truly desired to do so—and might have even made things difficult—but none of them had the heart for it.

As for Proud Line, my daughter had not been kind to him. Two of her throwing spikes had found a home in his forelegs, and the proud unicorn was clearly struggling to hold back tears of pain as he stared down at his wounds in shock. If my daughter's aim had proven true and Line was the pampered dandy I had every reason to believe he was, then I could safely say that he was in far too much agony to even contemplate spellcasting.

Before I could move on to contemplating how best to address the matter of our having captured several members of the Commander's Royal Guard, I heard the sounds of hooves stomping upon marble floors. After a few seconds of guarded wariness I realized that this was not the sound of fresh guards come to relieve their fallen companions, but rather that we were being applauded.

A moment later another unicorn appeared from thin air, presumably having concealed herself through the magical arts up to this point, and offered a brief moment more of applause before ceasing. While I had not yet had the pleasure of a proper introduction, I knew this mare quite well by reputation. The Archmagus of Canterlot—and Grand Vizier to the Commander, in her role as Queen of Unicornia—was a rather infamous figure. While Sunbeam Sparkle officially only held power over Unicornia's affairs, the simple fact that she stood ever by the Commander's side made her a figure of importance for my purposes as well.

That is not to mention that her position of power over Unicornia's mages made her important in her own right. While our smiths could craft fine steel at our thunderforges, even the sharpest blade and sturdiest plate could be further improved by unicorn magic.

The Archmagus approached us, contemptuously stepping past the wounded and mewling Proud Line, and respectfully inclined her head to me. "A commendable performance indeed, Ephor." A faintly amused smirk ghosted across her face as she casually ran an off-white hoof through a mane of red and gold. "'Twould seem that the skill of Pegasopolis' warriors is not at all exaggerated." She cast a contemptuous look down at Lt. Line, though in truth her expression was somewhat difficult to read when one of her green eyes remained hidden behind her full mane. "Or perhaps the abilities of our own guards have been allowed to slide into a particularly wretched state."

Gale shot a faint frown at Sparkle, and I suspect she shared my thoughts in wondering how long the Archmagus had been content to silently witness a steadily worsening situation. Perhaps it would be wise to move on to another topic before Gale said something honest, if perhaps politically unwise. "Archmagus, I do not believe we have been formally introduced." I formally extended my hoof to her. "I am Shadow Kicker of the clan Kicker, Ephor of Cloudsdale. It is my pleasure to meet you, and to introduce you to my daughter Gale."

To my annoyance, instead of shaking my hoof as I'd intended Sparkle brought it up to her lips. There are but two ponies I care to be kissed by in any way—one of them is my daughter, and the other is not the Grand Vizier of Unicornia. Once she was done with that minor but still irksome act, her gaze shifted to Gale. "I was under the impression that you had not yet wed, Ephor, let alone so long ago as to have a daughter grown to full adulthood." The Archmagus fixed Gale with a scrutinizing look for several long moments, then returned her gaze to me. Presumably, the differences in build, color, and other physical traits led to her conclusion. "I see, you adopted."

I stepped over to Gale and made a point of draping a wing across her back. "She is my daughter." In hindsight my tone was harsher than the Archmagus' words merited, but I had heard that adoption was held in fairly low regard amongst unicorns. I suppose it is inevitable, given their obsession with maintaining bloodlines and family ties. Whatever the reason for their odd beliefs, I would not tolerate any disrespect towards Gale simply because she was not the daughter of my flesh, but one of choice. She is my daughter, and any who would gainsay that would face my wrath.

Sunbeam hastily raised her hooves before her, bowing her head in a conceding nod. "Peace, Ephor, it was merely an observation. I meant no offense to either of you." She looked behind her, and a slight frown creased her face. "I had thought to introduce my daughter in turn, but it would seem that the child has made herself absent." She took a few more moments to look about her, and then raised her voice with a hint of aggravation. "Midnight? Where art thou?"

A few moments of searching revealed a filly, presumably the missing Midnight, standing before the forgotten Proud Line. She was dark of coat and had an ill-favored look about her, not at all helped by the open fascination with which she stared at the bleeding stallion. With a touch of eagerness that was truly unnerving to hear in the voice of one so young she asked the guard. "Art thou likely to perish from thy wounds?"

Before the lieutenant could offer any answer beyond a pained groan, the Archmagus swooped in and snatched her daughter. "Midnight, I have told thee more than once not to stray from my side, especially when we are in the palace on the Queen's business."

The child blinked very slowly, and spoke in a fillyish whine of protest that served to make her words all the more unsettling. "But mother, I have never seen a pony die. I want to know if the light really does leave one's eyes at the moment of death."

The Archmagus spared a contemptuous glance for Proud Line, then returned her attention to her daughter. "He will not die, Midnight. His wounds are relatively minor, he simply makes too much of them because he is weak." The filly opened her mouth for another question, but her mother gently cut off. "I will answer anything else thou might wish to ask later, but for now thou shouldst introduce thyrself, as I taught thee."

The filly slowly blinked and nodded, then turned to face us and gave a dainty curtsy along with a polite smile that came nowhere close to reaching her eyes. "Greetings. I am Midnight Sparkle, daughter of Archmagus Sunbeam Sparkle. It is a pleasure to meet you both."

I politely returned her greeting, but Gale saw fit to surprise me. "Archmagus, your daughter is most adorable." Gale's voice dropped to a muted whisper as she murmured, "More than passingly strange, and with macabre tastes for one so young, but still adorable." Gale cleared her throat, and returned to the Archmagus. "Might I have your leave to hug her?"

Sunbeam blinked several times, as if the request had taken her unawares, but then very slowly nodded. "If it would please you to do so, then I see no harm in it."

A few seconds later the filly let out a surprised squawk of protest as Gale swept her up in her hooves, hugging the child so vigorously that I feared for the safety of young Midnight's ribs. Gale's hugs have always been rather ... enthusiastic.

My daughter eventually relented, releasing the Archmagus' daughter from her grasp. Midnight simply stood upon the floor, staring at Gale silently for several seconds, and then tonelessly announced, "Mother. A strange pony just hugged me. Why did she do that?"

If Gale was remotely disturbed by the filly's nature, she gave no sign of it. "I hugged thou because thou art an adorable little filly, of course." Gale dropped her head down to Midnight's level, and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "And dost thou know what we do for adorable little fillies?" When the child uncertainly shook her head, Gale eagerly provided her with the answer. "We get them ice cream!" Gale glanced back to the archmagus and offered her a nod. "With thy mother's leave, of course."

Midnight's eyes widened at the offer, and for the first time since meeting her I saw a relatively normal expression upon her face. Childish glee. The filly turned to her mother, an eager grin on her face. "Mother, can the strange pony who has offered me ice cream take me away? Please?"

Archmagus Sparkle shot a brief smile down at her daughter. "I suppose there is no harm in allowing you a small indulgence, though I trust that afterwards thou shalt return to thy studies with renewed vigor?" Midnight eagerly nodded her agreement.

"It shall have to wait until after our meeting with the Commander is concluded, of course." Shortly after the words left my lips, I found my daughter and the Archmagus' daughter looking at me as if I had proudly announced my allegiance to Discord and Nightmare Moon both in the space of a single breath. "I am certain the Commander will not ask us to tarry overlong," I somewhat hastily amended, lest I face the full force of a sad filly and a disappointed daughter.

My answer seemed to satisfy the both of them, and soon they were merrily chattering away with each other. Well, to be more precise Gale was chattering, while the filly answered her questions and showed occasional flashes of normal childishness that only made her oddities stand out all the stronger. 'Twas most disturbing to see a child who showed almost as much enthusiasm for sweets as she did for the prospect of witnessing a pony's death.

I could hazard a guess as to why my daughter had taken such interest in the strange young filly. Gale had shared a few of the tricks of her trade with me, one of which was the value of children as an information source. Children will often overhear far more than adults will credit them for, and rarely do they understand the full import of all that passes around them. They are also quick to trust and easily swayed by such simple things as an offer of candy and friendship—I was certain that before long Gale would thoroughly subvert the Archmagus' daughter.

With my daughter occupied with making a new friend/contact, I fell into step alongside the archmagus herself. "'Twould seem our daughters are bonding quite nicely." I was not normally one for small talk and pleasantries, but such things are often expected in Unicornia. When in Roan...

Archmagus Sparkle spared a brief look for her daughter, who was in the midst of eagerly asking Gale about her experiences as a soldier. A brief but entirely genuine smile appeared on the grand vizier's face. "Indeed, 'twould seem that my daughter enjoys the company of yours. That is good—she has fewer friends than a filly her age should. Fillies do require a certain level of social interaction if they are develop the appropriate interequinal skills."

So the dark-minded child with macabre tastes had few friends? One can scarce imagine why that might be. I found it strange that a mother could speak so coldly of her daughter's lack of friends, but it was becoming quite clear by this point that both of the Sparkles were more than passing strange. Perhaps it was time to take a better measure of the elder of the two. I have heard no shortage of rumors about the Archmagus, but rumor is a poor substitute for fact. "I am curious, Archmagus. How much of the confrontation between myself and the lieutenant did you witness?"

Archmagus Sparkle let out a low chuckle and ran a hoof through her mane. I confess, I was somewhat curious that she did not find the fact her mane fully obscured one of her eyes more troublesome—though there was more than one rumor circulating as to why she chose to keep one eye hidden. "I was not present for the initial confrontation between yourself and that worthless foal, but I saw the latter half unfold in its entirety." She offered me an approving smile. "I must say, you disposed of the fool quite admirably."

"You were present for much of the time before weapons were drawn and violence became inevitable?" I left the obvious implications of that statement unspoken. I need hardly have pointed out that the Archmagus of Canterlot could easily have intervened to resolve the matter before bloodshed, even if only a relatively minor amount of it, was the only way to resolve the matter.

"Indeed." The Archmagus' lips curled up in a faintly mocking smirk. "Truly, Proud Line is a far greater fool than I had thought." She gave a cavalier toss of her head. "I suppose I might have intervened to spare him the pain and humiliation you delivered, but truthfully I think it was past time he experienced such a thing."

"I do not think I could gainsay you on that matter." I might have smiled ever so slightly, until my darker thoughts reasserted themselves. "'Tis not Line my thoughts lingered upon, though, but rather the ponies unfortunate enough to serve under his command." I grimaced at the memory of wounding the sergeant who had done everything he could to prevent matters from ending so badly. "I took no pleasure in fighting soldiers who were only my foes because their commander lacked basic common sense."

"Yes, I suppose that was their misfortune." Sunbeam gave a careless shrug and said no more on the matter.

It took a fair portion of my self-control not to scowl at the archmagus for showing such casual disregard for the soldiers within the Commander's palace. 'Twould seem that not all of the rumors about her were baseless. Hopefully Gale's efforts to win the confidence of her daughter would grant further insight into the Archmagus' designs.

The two of us proceeded along in somewhat painful silence for a few moments, until the Archmagus delicately cleared her throat. "I am curious, Ephor. How long do you and your daughter intend to remain in Canterlot?" She moved a bit closer to me, within what most would consider to be their personal space, and her voice dropped to a low, sultry whisper. "If your daughter is to be entertaining mine for the duration of your visit, 'twould only be fair if you allowed me to offer you a few pleasant diversions in turn. I am sure Her Majesty would approve of us fostering improved relations between Unicornia and Pegasopolis."

After several seconds of careful deliberation, I answered her offer. "It is my understanding that Canterlot holds the finest libraries in all of Equestria. We've fewer books than I would like in Cloudsdale; if you could offer me a tour of the facilities, that would be most appreciated."

The archmagus gave a barely perceptible stumble and blinked several times. I suspect she was unused to being rejected so flatly. She was certainly comely enough, at least as far as I could appreciate the beauty of a mare, but from what I had seen of the vizier, her character was every bit as foul as her flesh was fair.

After several seconds of furious silence, the Archmagus answered me, her voice tense with fury and perhaps a hint of humiliation. "I am sure I can have one of the servants arrange something suitable for you."

'Twould seem that rejecting her might have made an enemy of her, or at least undone whatever amicable relations might have blossomed from the friendship between our daughters. I suspect that if not for the upset it would no doubt cause her daughter, the archmagus might have attempted to put an end to that as well.

We came within earshot of the throne room before we were within sight of it. 'Twould seem that the Commander was still presiding over the Unicornian Court at the moment. The Traditional Royal Canterlot Voice carries rather well.

Gale reluctantly broke from young Midnight's side and returned to mine. The Archmagus excused herself and entered a few moments before us to take her place at the Commander's side and announce our arrival. Then, it was time for us to make our own entry.

I took the lead, with Gale marching on my right side a half-step behind me, as befits a subordinate officer. The two of us made for quite the sight, marching into the throne room armed and girded for war. Certainly, we made for a marked contrast to the painted dandies and finely-appointed ladies who filled the Commander's court.

I truly wonder why she chose to make Canterlot her primary residence when it requires such a large cadre of idle nobility demanding her presence. I suppose that I can understand why the Commander does not dwell in Cloudsdale, given that two thirds of her subjects cannot even reach the city. However, surely the earth ponies could offer her accommodations that came with a greater measure of practicality and fewer useless hangers-on continually attempting to curry her favor. Perhaps the easy luxuries of Canterlot had seduced the Commander into remaining here, despite the accompanying aggravations.

I stopped before the throne and formally saluted Commander Celestia, drawing a few annoyed grumbles from the nobles. No doubt they expected me to grovel and genuflect as they did, but she was not a queen to me as she was to them. She was the Commander, and one salutes their superior officers.

The Commander returned our salutes (6), and thankfully moderated her volume before she spoke. "Shadow Kicker, I am pleased to see thee. I trust that all is well in Cloudsdale?"

6: Presumably this means that Gale saluted Celestia as well, though Shadow does not explicitly confirm it.

"As well as it ever is." I used a wing to gently nudge my daughter forward. While my daughter was clearly trying to show the confidence and poise expected of a Kicker and an officer of Cloudsdale, she still shuffled her hooves uncertainly as she stepped up. I suppose a hint of nerves at meeting the Commander was understandable. "Commander, it is my pleasure to present to you my daughter, Gale Kicker."

The Commander offered Gale a benevolent smile and a slight nod. "It is my pleasure to meet thee, Gale. I am sure thou hast made thy mother and thy clan very proud."

"It is my ardent hope that I have done so." There was the slightest of nervous squeaks in my daughter's voice when she addressed the Commander, but when next she spoke it was with slightly more confidence. "And I hope to continue to do so, and serve you well."

The Commander nodded to her again. "I am sure that thou shalt do so." The matter of introductions concluded, she turned once more to face me. "I presume thou art here to deliver the Ephorate's report on the state of Pegasopolis and the Gerousia's latest round of recommendations and requests that require my approval?"

The Archmagus, who up to this point had been quite content with merely mingling amongst the crowd of nobles, chose to speak up in a half-whisper that was clearly intended to be heard by all. "No doubt their requests for new materials are as inflated as ever." The remark drew several chuckles from the assembled nobles.

The barb rankled, but I would not give her the satisfaction of seeing that or even acknowledging the comment. Instead, I opened my saddlebags and placed a considerable stack of documents before the Commander. "I shall remain at your disposal while you review the reports, in case there are any matters that you require a member of the Ephorate to clarify."

"Very well." The Commander saluted once more. "I would ask that thou and thy daughter avail thyselves of my hospitality for the duration of thy stay in Canterlot." A slightly sad smile graced the Commander's face as she added. "I wish that we could speak at greater length, but I fear that as much as Commander Celestia would enjoy speaking with thee, Chancellor Celestia is already overdue for a meeting with Fertile Fields to discuss the preparations for this year's planting season." The Commander dropped her head nearer to mine, and privately added. "There are times when I feel that managing three different realms, each with their own government and traditions, is almost more trouble than it is worth."

After that private aside, Commander Celestia cleared her throat, and I braced myself for what was to come. "THE BUSINESS OF THE ROYAL COURT IS CONCLUDED. WE THANK THEE FOR ATTENDING UPON US, AND LOOK FORWARD TO MEETING WITH THEE ALL AGAIN AT TONIGHT'S ROYAL BANQUET."

So there was to be a banquet? Well, fine food was the one luxury Canterlot had to offer which I could appreciate. Perhaps, despite the troubles with the guards and Archmagus, this was not an entirely lost cause.

The stay in Canterlot proved every bit as tedious as I feared it would.

I am sure Canterlot has no shortage of diversions for those who would care to seek them out. No doubt I could have whiled away the days mingling with the horde of fops and painted mares that seemed to infest the Commander's court, but I suspect that if I were forced to endure their company for an extended period of time it would inevitably end in madness and mass bloodshed. I suspect the Commander would object to my transforming her palace into an abattoir, even if my actions were justified by being forced to endure the non-stop prattling of fools for days on end. In truth, I suspect such a transformation would be to the palace's benefit—at least once the servants washed away the worst of the blood.

Thankfully, Gale performed more than enough mingling to fulfill any social obligations I might have had. Thus, I was spared the company of preening fools, and they were spared an inevitable and painful death at my hooves. As an added bonus, my dutiful daughter was no doubt building upon her web of contacts with every passing moment. There are reasons that I chose a daughter whose talents lay in the field of information gathering, and while most of them were practical concerns, I will not deny that at times it pleased me that she could attend social duties in my stead.

That is not to say that I am unsociable by any means. However, I confess that for every pony whose company I enjoy, there are several whose flaws and deficiencies of personality drive me to distraction. Gale, thankfully, was far more tolerant of such things than I.

Normally I might have passed the days upon the training fields of the Royal Guard, but after the clash with Proud Line I did not think such a thing would be prudent. Line might have been a fool who had provoked a needless confrontation, but he was still a member of the Guard. Many soldiers might feel an obligation to defend the honor of their comrade and unit, even when the comrade in question was a fool.

I did still gain what practice I could in the open sky with Gale, but there is little two ponies with no proper training equipment can do to hone their skills. Not to mention that my daughter's other duties left her with limited time for such diversions.

Fortunately, a visit to the Canterlot Royal Library provided me with ample reading material to while away the empty hours while I waited upon the Commander's pleasure. I will confess that the literary pursuits of the my own tribe are somewhat lacking in certain areas. The difficulty of storing books in clouds no doubt contributed to that. (1) There is little reason to go the trouble and expense of making and storing books that do not serve some immediate practical purpose.

1: Modern readers might not be aware of just how problematic this issue was, as somewhere in the nine hundred years of magical innovation after Shadow's life somepony got around to making affordable cloud-friendly books. However, back in Shadow's time the only way to keep books from just falling through the clouds was to incorporate thunderforged steel or some (expensive) enchanted material into the construction of the book itself. On top of that, traditional paper and ink didn't exactly hold up well to being left around water vapor for extended periods of time, and preventing that required quite a bit of unicorn magic or some very nontraditional materials. For example, the works of Lyequinegus were inscribed onto thunderforged steel tablets. It certainly solved the durability issue, but the end result was the only book in Equestrian history whose weight could be measured in tons.

However, the relative ease of storing literature on the ground allowed unicorn authors far greater freedom to explore their craft. While I cared little for some of the frivolities this inevitably produced, like tawdry romances and simplistic fiction, I will confess that I found many of the works of philosophy and learning quite enlightening. One would be hard pressed to find the works of Aristrotle, Coltfucious, or Epic Curious in Cloudsdale. While I still prefer the works of Lyequinigus to those of the unicorn philosophers, it is always enlightening to see another perspective on matters.

I was in the midst of mentally comparing Curious' more self-indulgent philosophical position with Lyequinegus' emphasis on sacrifice and austerity when the Commander's summons arrived. To my delight, I was to attend her in her personal quarters instead of being forced to endure the pomp and circumstance of meeting her in court. How the unicorns could tolerate such ridiculous ceremonial trappings on a daily basis, I shall never know.

To my further delight, Gale was waiting for me upon my arrival. My pleasure at seeing her was somewhat reduced when the Archmagus trotted up moments later, accompanied as ever by her most unusual daughter. Gale's ears drooped ever so slightly, and she quietly whispered to me. "My apologies, Mother. I was with Midnight when the Commander's summons arrived. 'Twould seem that her mother learned of the reason for my departure quite swiftly."

"Thou need hardly apologize for such a thing," I gently reassured her. "No doubt the Archmagus has no need to rely upon snippets overheard by her daughter to learn of all that passes within the palace walls." I should be quite surprised if she did not have ponies who served a similar function to Gale under her employ, or perhaps she preferred to use more arcane means of reconnaissance. Being a magus does come with certain advantages.

"Archmagus." I acknowledged her with a polite nod, which she coolly returned. Thankfully, the impending meeting with the Commander spared me the need to offer any forced pleasantries.

The Commander's personal quarters were every bit as opulent as I would have expected from Canterlot. I was quite certain that even the gemstones were gemstone-encrusted. However, for all the luxury there was a certain level of tastefulness that was absent many other areas of the palace. 'Tis a difficult thing to explain or precisely put one's hoof upon, but suffice to say that where in many places the sheer luxuriousness of Canterlot seemed overdone and gaudy, in the Commander's quarters it somehow managed to seem ... fitting.

"Commander." My daughter and I both saluted her, while the Archmagus and her daughter bowed and scraped before her as unicorns are wont to do.

The Commander sharply returned my salute, and signalled the Archmagus to stop grovelling. "Shadow, Gale, it is a pleasure to see both of thee once more. I trust that the both of thee have found thy accommodations to be pleasant?"

"I have no complaints." The beds were overstuffed monstrosities, and most other furniture was designed for appearance over function, but I suppose I've slept in worse places. Like that one time my unit had to share a cave with several hibernating bears. At least Canterlot Palace did not reek of rotting flesh and stale bear feces—though some of the perfumes that the mares and stallions slathered themselves with smelled little better.

A faintly amused smile appeared on Commander Celestia's face. "Shadow, might I ask a question of thee?" I nodded my assent, and the Commander continued. "Art thou always so dour and serious, or hast thou in fact smiled at some point in the course of thy life?"

Gale let out a poorly concealed snort of laughter, and a slight smirk quirked at the Archmagus' lips.'Twould seem the Commander was in a jesting mood today. I suppose it would be my duty to attend to her desire, then. "I smiled once in my early fillyhood, Commander. I found that I did not care for the experience."

Gale turned to me, her jaw hanging slack from surprise. "Mother ... didst thou just make a jest?"

I turned to my daughter, keeping my face and expression as neutral as possible. "Neigh." Gale stared at me for some time, trying to discern my true meaning. While she occupied herself with such idle pursuits, I turned to the Commander. "How might I be of service, ma'am?"

The Commander's horn glowed, and the Ephorate's report appeared hanging in the air before her. "I have completed my review of Pegasopolis' quarterly report. Thankfully, everything appears to be in order, and I see no reason not to follow the Gerousia's recommendations, so thy task is a simple one."

That was welcome news indeed. I could look forward to a swift return to Cloudsdale, and many months before duty would once more drag me to Canterlot. If the Commander were to gainsay the Gerousia and make her own orders I might have been forced to linger here for weeks.

Sadly, the matter could not be concluded quite so simply. The Archmagus delicately cleared her throat to remind us all that she was still in the room. "Your Majesty, while I do not doubt the wisdom of your decision, I feel I should state that I have not yet had the opportunity to review either of these documents."

I felt a hint of choler at her statement, and not simply because it would necessitate my remaining in Canterlot for several more days. I kept my tone carefully polite and neutral as I addressed her. "With all due respect (2), Archmagus, it would be most inappropriate for the grand vizier of Unicornia to concern herself with the business of Cloudsdale."

2: As anypony who has ever served in the armed forces knows, "with all due respect" is really just an extremely polite way of saying "kiss my plot."

The Archmagus was clearly not pleased to be gainsaid in front of the Commander, but there was little she could do about the matter. The law was on my side—Grand Vizier Sunbeam Sparkle officially had no more standing in Pegasopolis than any foreign dignitary. Certainly, she had no right to involve herself in the purely internal affairs of Pegasopolis.

However, that was twice I had now wounded her pride, and there are few who can overlook such an injury. Anger burned in her eyes, even as her voice turned dangerously sweet. "The Ephor is, of course, correct. I apologize, Your Majesty. In my eagerness to be of service, I overstepped myself. However, there is another matter which I feel must be brought to your attention." One could practically feel the sense of smug satisfaction rolling off of her as she announced. "There was a grave incident several days ago—the Ephor and her daughter assaulted several of your Guards within the very wall of your palace."

The Commander's face went carefully blank. Neigh, more than that, her entire countenance darkened. Always before there had been certain sense of lightness in her demeanour, as if not even the burden of ruling over three pony tribes weighed upon her. But now, she was clearly troubled. "That is a serious charge, Archmagus. Ephor, what hast thou to say upon this matter?"

I chose my words carefully, lest I offer the Archmagus something she might be able to twist and use against me. "Regrettably, there was an altercation between myself, my daughter, and several of your guards. Their commanding officer offered insult to both myself and my daughter. We took appropriate action to defend our honor."

The Archmagus turned to me, a coldly triumphant smile upon her face. "If you truly felt that your honor had been so wounded, then why didst you not challenge Proud Line to juris ungula? Certainly, none would have disputed your right to do so if he offered you insult such as you have claimed."

Clearly Archmagus Sparkle knew little of the ways of warriors. "Because I do not dirty my blades with the blood of fools. To face one such as him in honorable single combat would be beneath me. An Ephor does not duel a mere lieutenant, there is no honor in it." I suppose that had Gale wished to do so she might have faced him in battle, but even she outranked the fool by a healthy margin. Simply granting him the right to face my daughter in juris ungula offered him far greater praise than a common idiot deserved.

For the moment, Commander Celestia seemed content to silently observe whilst the Archmagus and I exchanged words. No doubt she would intervene when we'd both made our cases, or when she felt it needful. For her part, the Archmagus continued upon her offensive with admirable determination, though her enthusiasm to disgrace me before the Commander's eyes perhaps blinded her to the folly of her cause. "Would it not have been far simpler and wiser to surrender to Her Majesty's Royal Guard, and let the fool get reprimanded for arresting an important dignitary to her court? To do so would have avoided needless bloodshed."

I let out an incredulous snort at the very idea. "That is your wise counsel, Archmagus? That I should allow a mere lieutenant to disarm and imprison both myself and my daughter? Unthinkable." I would surely be the laughingstock of all Cloudsdale if I were to allow myself to be treated with such disrespect. "What other indignities would you have had us endure after placing ourselves at the mercy of the Guard?"

The Archmagus' eyes went wide as the weight of my implication sank in. "Ephor, I understand you were ill-treated by one member of the Guard, but I can assure you that it was an entirely isolated case. Unicornia and Canterlot are bastions of civilization, not some two-bit tyranny whose dungeons are naught but a pit of torture and indignity. Do you truly think Her Majesty would tolerate any such crimes within her own palace?" She gave a quick shake of her head, and proceeded to answer her own question. "Neigh, she would not. But instead of placing your faith in Her Majesty, you crippled one of the Queen's officers and assaulted a hoofful of her guards who were merely following orders? In the very halls of her palace, no less? Surely you could have resolved the matter in a way that preserved your honor without resorting to violence?"

I suppose her point was not entirely lacking in merit. In truth, it sat ill with me to do violence to my fellow ponies, especially those who were enemies through cruel circumstance rather than by choice. Still, there had been little I could do when Proud Line seemed so intent upon forcing a confrontation. However, I was not the only pony present. "If you were truly so concerned with the prevention of bloodshed, surely you could have intervened in the matter. Not even Proud Line could ignore an order from the Grand Vizier."

Archmagus Sparkle let out an indignant sniff and took a half-step closer to her daughter. "Midnight was with me. You would have me introduce my daughter to a potentially hazardous situation that was mere moments away from coming to blows?" I noted that the Archmagus neglected to mention the invisibility spell she had been maintaining at the time, which no doubt would have safeguarded young Midnight quite well.

Gale took it upon herself to speak up in my defense. "We offered them ample opportunity to surrender."

The tiniest hint of an amused grin appeared upon the Commander's face for so fleeting an instant that I could not be entirely certain it had really been there at all. Sadly, the Archmagus did not share the Commander's opinion of Gale's response. "So the Royal Guard is to surrender every time a delegation from Pegasapolis is sent? Yes, that sets a wonderful precedent."

I could not restrain myself from letting a slight smirk show as I answered her. "'Twould be far a wiser course of action than provoking us to arms. No doubt less painful, as well."

The Archmagus scowled at the both of us. "Do you find this situation amusing, Ephor? You make light of the fact that you assaulted her Majesty's guards in an act of barbarity and senseless chest-thumping? You think it amusing that Proud Line is likely to walk with a limp for the rest of his life due to the injuries he suffered?"

"If that is what he claims, then he exaggerates the extent of his injuries," Gale answered her with a casually dismissive wave of her wing. "I placed my spikes quite well. If anything, he owes me a debt of gratitude—had he provoked somepony who lacked my skill, he could easily have been crippled or slain outright." (3)

3: Gale is quite correct on this point. In fact, one of Shadow's fellow Ephors, Bright Charger, would eventually fall in battle after suffering a "minor" injury to the back of her right foreleg. Charger and her fellow soldiers dismissed the wound as nothing but a flesh wound until she collapsed after the battle's end. When the medics removed her armor, they realized that the seemingly insignificant wound had in fact severed a major artery. Charger died of her wounds shortly afterwards.

I gave an approving nod and spoke in support of my daughter. "An insult was given, and we provided our answer. Perhaps in Unicornia the values of honor and courage are unknown, but in Pegasopolis they are alive and well."

Archmagus Sparkle rolled her eyes and let out a disbelieving snort. "'Tis curious, how often the 'honor' and 'courage' of pegasi seem to result in wanton acts of violence and destruction. Your tribe always seem to fetshize those words and use them to justify their brutishness."

"Enough." The Commander spoke the word in a tone I quite recognized from my time in the clanhold—anypony who has ever seen a mother separate two squabbling children would be familiar with it. Whatever amusement the Commander might have found in our exchange had clearly faded, judging by the troubled frown she now wore. "'Twould seem that clashing of cultures between the three pony tribes remains alive and well as ever. Unfortunate."

The Archmagus and I both lapsed into silence, lest we offer Commander Celestia some further offense. After several seconds, she gave an annoyed shake of her head and grumbled under her breath, "Once more, it seems that I must play mother to this world." She let out a single, heavy breath and gave her decision. "Archmagus, I would expect the guards in my service to know better than to needlessly provoke visiting dignitaries, especially dignitaries from a place with the long and proud warrior tradition of Pegasopolis. While there is little that can justify an attack upon the Royal Guard under Uniconian law, the Ephor is, as thou hast no doubt ascertained, a pegasus. By Pegasopolan custom, her actions were justified." Commander Celestia fell silent for several seconds, her chin dipping slightly and her eyes narrowed in thought, before she continued, "I suppose 'tis most fortunate that Line chose to cause an incident with a fellow Equestrian rather than a true foreigner, else we might be facing the spectre of war."

My daughter let out an amused little titter. "Fortunate indeed. 'Twould be passing curious to see how Commander Celestia of Pegasopolis would go to war with Queen Celestia of Unicornia." A moment of awkward silence passed, and my daughter's face fell. "Oh horseapples. I spoke that thought aloud."

Thankfully the Commander saw fit to allow the obscenity to pass, though I made a mental note to properly reprimand my daughter once the meeting was concluded. When meeting with the leader of all Equestria, a certain level of propriety is to be expected. Though perhaps such would not prove necessary, as the droop in my daughter's ears and the pained expression on her face made it quite plain that she realized she had erred. The Commander held up a single hoof to forestall any further commentary. "Peace, child. I certainly have no plans to declare war upon myself. An ephor assaulting an officer of Unicornia—or the reverse—would spark conflict between the two nations under other circumstances."

It was at this point that Archmagus Sparkle reentered the conversation, showing no indication that she was troubled by her failure to lessen my standing in Commander Celestia's eyes. "With respect, Your Majesty, I believe that this incident shows a much larger issue at hoof than a mere clash between your guards and a visiting dignitary. As you said, you rule over three pony tribes, yet their laws and customs are frequently in conflict. 'Twould not be untrue to say that aside from you as a common leader, there is little which binds the three tribes together beyond our basic biological similarities."

The Commander gave a weary nod to her grand vizier. "'Tis true, I am often troubled by the burdens of carrying three separate governments. To be Queen, Commander, and Chancellor to the three tribes brings far more complication that I care for, but 'tis a necessary evil."

The Archmagus respectfully bowed her head, and continued, "I have seen how heavily this burden has weighed upon you, Your Majesty. I think this yet another reason for why 'tis past time we saw to enacting a reformation of Equestria's legal codes. The ancient treaties signed by Princess Platinum, Commander Hurricane, and Chancellor Puddinghead to create the Equestrian League certainly never envisioned the possibility that their three offices would all be united within a single pony—let alone that this pony would be an immortal who held all three offices in perpetuity."

There was truth to Archmagus Sparkle's words. While there are means by which a Commander might be removed from power, at the time I could scarce imagine any circumstance that might drive the Ephorate to relieve Commander Celestia of her position. 'Twas also my understanding that, while the Commander stood for re-election as Chancellor of the earth ponies every few years, there had been no serious challenge to her election within living memory.

The Commander frowned at her advisor, and a hint of displeasure colored her voice. "Thou wouldst say, then, that my rule over ponykind is inefficient?"

The Archmagus fell silent for a few moments, and when she spoke there was a placating sweetness to her tone that sought to take the sting away from her words. "What I am saying is that your government is cumbersome as it stands. The original agreements that bound the pony tribes together have passed the point of obsolescence. Effectively having three governments united by just one pony has produced a number of issues that our founders could never have envisioned, and has lead to many incidents just like the one between the good Ephor and your own guards. And this unfortunate incident is but one in the long list of troubles which plague your combined governments."

I was beginning to grow a touch wary of the Archmagus' designs. This did not strike me as a sudden burst of inspiration from the discovery of a new problem, but rather a matter she had devoted a great deal of thought to in the past. Perhaps her true design in raising the issue of my clash with the Commander's guards was not to diminish me, but rather to serve as a means by which she might bring her true agenda to light.

The Commander frowned at Archmagus Sparkle, clearly troubled by the proposal. "Thou wouldst have me rebuild the governments of Equestria from the ground up, then? That is no small endeavour. The current system might be imperfect, but it has sufficed for centuries."

The Archmagus conceded the point with a nod. "Aye, and Equestria has been better for it. In the early days of Equestria 'twould have been impossible for the three pony tribes to reconcile their differences and come under a single government and society." She idly shifted her mane about and shot a brief unreadable look at me before returning her attention to the Commander. "However, those days are long past—now all ponykind has lived content under a single ruler for more than a century. Surely 'tis past time we acknowledged this reality, and took measures to tighten the bonds between the three tribes. Should we not make the glue which holds our society together stronger than a few weak strings that will snap under the slightest pressure?"

There was a great deal of sense in her words. That made me wary. From what I had observed thus far of Archmagus Sparkle's character at that time, I had little reason to believe she sought the good of all Equestria and ponykind. If she proposed a series of government reforms, I was convinced that it could only be because she saw some advantage for herself in doing so. I chose my words carefully. "Strengthening the bonds between the tribes would seem prudent, but we must not act precipitously. What precisely dost thou propose, Archmagus?"

Given her apparent level of preparation for this conversation, I had half-expected her to produce an entire written constitution for a unified Equestrian government. Thankfully, she had either not yet gone to that extreme, or else felt it prudent not to reveal the full extent of her plans. "I believe that the time has come to centralize Equestria's government, laws, and institutions. While we obviously should allow each pony tribe to retain its unique culture and customs, it makes little sense for a family with a pegasus mother, a unicorn father, and an earth pony foal to be divided by three complete sets of laws and institutions, many of which are mutually incompatible and only linked together precariously by Her Majesty's role in all three governments."

The Commander offered her vizier a skeptical frown. "Does such a family truly exist, or is this merely a hypothetical example?"

I took it upon myself to provide an answer to her question. "I know of no family with that specific configuration, but it is quite possible that there is such a household. Equestria is a vast place, Commander, and mixed marriages are far from unknown." Indeed, if one were to judge by the existence of creatures such as mules and hippogriffs, some ponies would go much further afield than merely seeking the company of another pony tribe.

The Archmagus was quick to jump upon the opening I had created for her. "Aye, Your Majesty. I took the liberty of consulting the census records, have confirmed that at least two such families exist within Unicornia's borders. There are of course a far greater number of households where just two of the tribes are represented, mostly between earth pony and unicorn." That was to be expected, given that most pegasi spend little time upon the ground, and the pegasi had far less in common with our earthbound cousins than they shared with each other. "Even within a marriage between two ponies of the same tribe, 'tis always possible that a forgotten ancestor of another tribe left a genetic legacy which might choose to manifest itself within the child. So long as such mixed households occur, they shall remain a problem for ponykind under the current legal system."

Commander Celestia wore a troubled frown for some time, before she reluctantly announced, "While I deeply empathize with the difficulties faced by such families, there is only so much that can practically be done. The laws of nations cannot be written to account for the quirks of every individual family or minor exception to the established norms. I should think that those entering into such a union would be wise enough to discuss the matter of foals well ahead of time."

"Then perhaps that is another flaw within the system itself, Your Majesty." The Archmagus began to wax rhetorically. "What are a pair of earthbound parents to do when their pegasus child is told he or she must begin her martial training upon her eighth birthday, and ultimately relocate to the clouds and enlist into the service of the Pegasopolan state, or the child shall forfeit that legacy that is its right by birth?"

"Thou wouldst have me dictate the fine details of every family's lives then, Archmagus?" Commander Celestia countered deftly, "Hast thou no faith in my little ponies and their ability to attend to the rigors of their own lives?"

My daughter made a point of catching my eye, and I nodded, giving her permission to speak. Normally I would not have been overly concerned by such a point of decorum, but after Gale's earlier gaffe it pleased me to see my daughter acting somewhat more circumspect. "If I might, Commander," Gale waited until she received the Commander's permission to continue. "While laws and governments cannot be built around attending to every minor detail, surely more could be done to affirm the bonds between pony nations and provide succor to mixed families without unduly disrupting the current state of affairs?"

The Archmagus was quick to jump upon my daughter's words and voice her own agreement, essentially repeating what Gale said, but using a great deal more time and verbiage in the process. Once she had said her piece, the Commander took a few moments to consider the matters before giving her answer. "Indeed, it is as thou hast said. Hence, the purpose of thy visit, young Gale, and those like thee. I am but one pony, arbiter or no; I entrust much of the management of the pony nations to those whom both I and the nations consider capable." I felt the Commander's gaze linger upon me significantly after that remark.

There was certainly truth to her words. While Commander Celestia was the overall ruler for the three pony tribes, she could hardly take an active role in management of all three governments on a daily basis. In truth, the Ephorate and Gerousia largely saw to the rule of Pegasopolis, with the Commander often doing little more than verifying their decisions. Her response to the very report I had been tasked with delivering had been little more than a rubber stamp of approval upon the choices made in her absence. While I am no expert on the matter, I suspect that her rule over the earth ponies operated in a similar manner.

That fact brought an intriguing possibility to mind. If the bonds between the pony tribes had grown weak, perhaps it was because the one who was to bind us together lingered overlong amongst the unicorns and rarely involved herself in the affairs of the other tribes. "Mayhap, Commander, it is time that you took a more active role in Equestria's affairs. Few ponies in Cloudsdale have ever had the opportunity to lay eyes upon you, and the Commander's residence has remained unoccupied for more than a century."

Young Midnight Sparkle spoke with all the innocent curiosity of youth. "Is that because Her Majesty does not wish to be under the roof of her exiled sister?" (4)

4: While Princess Luna shared the throne of Unicornia with Celestia prior to her exile, after her appointment as Commander of Pegasopolis Luna largely preferred living among the pegasi. Given her rather infamous jealousy issues, it's not surprising she preferred the title and tribe she didn't have to share with her sister. Luna's adoption of several Pegasopolan customs did little to endear her to the court in Canterlot, which naturally drove her closer to her winged subjects.

The Commander stiffened visibly at the mention of Commander Luna. 'Twould seem that even after more than a century that wound was still raw. The Archmagus cuffed her daughter upside the head and whispered a sharp rebuke. "Midnight! We do not talk about such things in court. Be quiet, daughter."

Midnight rubbed a hoof on the back of her head where the Archmagus struck her, and she shot a resentful glare at her mother. "But the other day thou didst say—" Whatever the child was about to say died in her mouth as she wilted under under her mother's furious glare.

With her daughter chastened for the moment, the Archmagus returned her full attention to the Commander and offered a deep, repentant bow. "My sincerest apologies for my daughter's uncouth comment, Your Highness. 'Twas a misjudgment based on youth rather than malice, I assure you. Once our business here is concluded, I shall see to it that she is suitably chastened in a manner that will ensure there are no further incidents of this sort."

The Commander held up a hoof to forestall any further commentary. "Peace, Sunbeam. It is a filly's nature to not grasp the meaning of their words or the pain they might cause others. I am sure thy daughter is already suitably chastened."

Archmagus Sparkle gave another bow. "As it pleases you, Your Majesty. I still think I shall deny her any dessert for the next few weeks."

"That is thy right as her mother," the Commander conceded. She took a deep breath, gave a slight shake of her head, and then spoke as if the last few minutes after young Midnight's outburst had not occurred. "Thy argument is well-crafted, Shadow. Though I lack the leeway to yet venture forth, it has been far too long since I left Canterlot for an extended visit with any of my subjects. With three governments to manage I rarely have a moment to spare for anything beyond duty, let alone several weeks removed from the heart of Equestria's bureaucracy."

The Archmagus seized upon the opening that statement left her. "'Tis another example of why there needs to be reform. Even for one so blessed as Your Majesty, more than a century of unceasing, unrelenting duty is too much to ask. A reformed government might allow you greater freedom to move as you please, and even enjoy a moment's rest. For all the length of my service to Your Majesty, the only times I can recall you leaving Canterlot was on those occasions when a grave threat to the safety and stability of Equestria required your presence."

"That is my recollection as well," I agreed.

The Commander frowned shook her head. "Neigh. I distinctly recall a visit to Manehatten not so long ago. There was a parade, and I spoke at length with Mayor Able."

"Mayor Able Mind of Manehatten died more than fifty years ago, Your Majesty," the Archmagus calmly informed her.

The Commander gave several surprised blinks before her wits fully restored themselves. "I—yes, of course. Has it truly been so long? I recall the day clearly..." The Commander let out a weary sigh, and sank into her cushions. "Mayhaps the both of thee are indeed correct. I have lingered so long in Canterlot that the days have all begun to blur together. I think I would enjoy the opportunity to be elsewhere, for a time. Especially if I might serve the realm and my subjects by doing so as well as myself."

"I believe that it would be to all of ponykind's benefit if you bestirred yourself from Canterlot for a time, Commander." I was careful to keep any hint of condemnation out of my voice, for all that I thought poorly of her choice to linger in Canterlot within the privacy of my own mind. "'Tis unfortunate that the great majority of your own citizens have never had the opportunity to lay eyes upon you, ma'am. 'Twould no doubt strengthen the bonds between tribes if the one who binds us together were not some distant, unknown figure to most of ponykind."

"There is great wisdom in the Ephor's words." I immediately went on guard at hearing such a statement of praise from Archmagus Sparkle. 'Twas likely she would only offer such complimentary words if I had played right into her hooves. "A review of your realm is perhaps long overdue, Your Majesty. If it is your will, I can see to the needs of Canterlot and Unicornia in your absence. 'Tis my duty and pleasure to do so."

And thus was the Archmagus' true purpose revealed, I was sure. The Ephorate and the earth pony Cabinet had long enjoyed a certain degree of de facto autonomy in the Commander's absence. If the Commander was to have an extended absence from Canterlot and Unicornia, 'twas likely that much the day-to-day running of the queendom would fall into another's hooves. The Grand Vizier and Archmagus of Canterlot would be the logical choice for such a post. If half the rumors Gale had gathered about her had any truth to them, I shuddered to think what Archmagus Sparkle might do when spared any oversight or restraint from the Commander.

The Commander turned to face her vizier, and for a moment I dared to hope that she too had seen the Archmagus' designs and would promptly put an end to them. Instead, much to my dismay, she simply nodded in agreement and declared. "Long has it been since Canterlot fared under the eye of a steward. I confess a longing to stretch my wings now and again, and I have every confidence that my realm could survive for a time without my presence to oversee every minor details of leadership."

While I confess that I could not begin to fathom why the Commander retained Sunbeam Sparkle's services or granted such a position of honor, it is not my place to question her decisions. No doubt, she had her reasons for trusting one who seemed so utterly untrustworthy. In any case, there were other matters at hoof. "Shall I advise the Ephorate to begin making preparations for your arrival? I suspect the Commander's Residence may require some freshening up after spending more than a century unoccupied."

"Aye, the Commander's Residence." Commander Celestia frowned and idly traced a hoof over the marble floor. "It does not seem proper, that I have held the post for more than a century without ever spending a single night in the official residence for the Commander of Pegasopolis. I would be grateful if thou wouldst arrange to have it made ready, Shadow. 'Tis far past time I occupied it, even if only for a brief time."

"Quite right, Your Majesty." Much to nopony's surprise, the Archmagus remained entirely too eager to see the Commander to absent herself from Canterlot. "'Twould not do to have you remain so long absent from Pegasopolis that your subjects forgot who their Commander was."

Much as I hate to confess it, there was some truth to the vizier's statement. While everypony was well aware that Commander Celestia ruled amongst the pegasi, her long absence had rendered her theoretical leadership largely moot. The Ephorate had managed the day-to-day affairs of the pegasi for so long that the Commander was little more than a figurehead. While I believed the Ephorate had managed things quite efficiently in the Commander's absence (though my own membership in that august body did perhaps bias me), it seemed unfitting that our Commander-in-Chief did not actually exercise command.

"So the matter is settled, then." Commander Celestia gave a single sharp nod. "Once all the proper arrangements are made, I shall make extended visits to the other two tribes under my care." She waved a hoof to her vizier, and added. "Such a visit would also be an ideal opportunity to discuss some of Sunbeam's plans for an administrative restructuring of Equestria, as well."

"I should think so, Your Majesty," Archmagus Sparkle quickly agreed.

"I am glad we are in accord." The Commander smiled down approvingly at her vizier. "I do hope that an extended absence from thy tower and experiments, not to mention the comforts of Canterlot, will not be too pressing a burden for thee, Sunbeam?"

Well played, Commander. Well played.

The Archmagus blinked in surprise, and her mouth hung half-open as she struggled to find an answer to the question. The Commander's trap was well-laid though, and after a pregnant pause Archmagus Sparkle had no choice but to bow and reluctantly agree. "No burden is too great in the service of Equestria, Your Majesty. How long shall we have before we depart for Cloudsdale? There are many preparations to be made, not to mention the matter of my daughter and whether she is to accompany me or remain here in our absence."

Young Midnight's eyes brightened and her ears perked up at her mother's words. "Oh, please allow me to venture to Cloudsdale with thee, mother! 'Twould such an exhilarating place to visit. The thought that naught but empty air exists beneath our hooves, separated by what can be easily dispersed..." A thoughtful look appeared on the child's face, then she turned to face myself and my daughter. "Is it true that a coin dropped from the heights of Cloudsdale would fall so fast that upon reaching ground level it would strike anypony below with lethal force?"

While I was deterred by such a morbid line of questioning, my own daughter seemed unbothered by the child's oddities. "I am afraid I would not know," Gale informed the filly. "We do not have any coins in Cloudsdale."

"Troubling." The child brought a thoughtful hoof up under her chin. "Mayhaps I should—"

"Midnight," her mother firmly interrupted the filly's train of thought. "Thou art interrupting whilst the adults are discussing matters of import." The chastened filly fell silent once more, and the Archmagus turned and bowed to Commander Celestia. "'Twould seem I am compelled to apologize once more for my daughter's behavior, Your Majesty. I assure you, she is normally far better behaved."

"Fillies will be fillies, Sunbeam." The Commander offered a gentle smile to young Midnight, who hesitantly returned it. "Do not trouble thyself over the matter."

I suspect young Midnight would not enjoy what would come to pass at this meeting's end. Twice now she had troubled her mother before her queen, and the Archmagus did not strike me as one who would be lax in disciplining her daughter. I suppose I should be grateful that I adopted Gale at an age when such youthful indiscretions lay in her past.

The Archmagus spared a quick glare for her daughter, then delicately cleared her throat and returned to the matter at hoof. "So, how soon are we to arrange for Her Majesty's visit to Cloudsdale? If you will forgive me for saying so, Ephor, you seem quite eager to see Her Majesty take up the mantle of Commander in Cloudsdale."

I conceded the matter with a nod. "Much as I am sure all Cloudsdale would love to see their Commander, I do not see the need for great urgency. Pegasopolis has endured your absence for many years, Commander. It can endure a few weeks longer while we see to it that matters are properly arranged. Would you like to oversee the preparations for your visit personally, Commander?"

Commander Celestia favored me with a smile. "I have every confidence in the Ephorate's ability to attend to such matters. Compared to ruling over all Pegasopolis, seeing to the details of a formal visit should be a relatively minor affair."

Gale gently cleared her throat and once more quickly looked to me for permission before speaking. "If I might ask a question of you, Commander, what of the earth ponies and their cabinet? Do they not enjoy your confidence?"

'Twould seem my daughter's sense of humor had chose a poor time to manifest itself. Mayhap young Midnight would not be the only daughter facing parental sanction after the meeting's conclusion. "Gale..."

Thankfully, the Commander's own sense of humor was in line with my daughter's, and she took no offense at the rather poor jest. "I thank thee for reminding me, Gale. I shall need to speak with the Cabinet about arranging a visit to the other tribe under my rule as well." The corners of the Commander's mouth quirked up as she added. "Re-elections for the Chancellorship are but a month away. 'Twould be a pity if due to a lack of active campaigning I were reelected for my forty-fourth term with a mere ninety-nine percent of the vote."

I felt a momentary pang of guilt at my unintended neglect of the earth ponies. 'Twas an understandable oversight in a conversation between pegasi and unicorns, but an oversight nonetheless. "Of course, we must not neglect the third tribe of ponykind. Mayhap 'twould be best if you made your visit to them first, Commander. Accommodating ponies of the other tribes in Cloudsdale is likely to require significantly more preparation than a simple visit to the earth ponies." At the very least any unicorns or earth ponies would need shoes of steel from our thunderforges. Likely, the local architecture would also require some modification to accommodate ponies who were limited to moving in only two dimensions.

"Prudent counsel," Archmagus Sparkle agreed. While there was still a barely perceptible slump to her shoulders, it seemed she had recovered from the worst of her shock at being so deftly outmaneuvered by the Commander. "I agree. First, a visit to the earth ponies, then we make our way to Pegasopolis."

The Commander nodded her agreement. "As it is said, so shall it be done."

"Very well then. Have we any further business to discuss?" When the Commander confirmed that we had settled all outstanding matters, I and my daughter both saluted her. "Good day, Commander. Upon my return to Cloudsdale, I shall inform the Ephorate of thy impending arrival within Cloudsdale, and see to it that arrangements are made."

The Commander returned our salutes. "I look forward to returning. It has been far, far too long since my last visit, and that was in far less pleasant circumstances. 'Twill be a pleasure to return to Cloudsdale in a time of peace and harmony."

---

With our business in Canterlot thankfully concluded for the moment, my daughter and I made our way back to Cloudsdale. The capital of Pegasopolis made for quite the contrast with the city of the unicorns. While it far too often moves into the realm of gaudiness, there is an undeniable elegance to Canterlot, a level of beauty that Cloudsdale could never hope to achieve. That is not to say that my home city was completely lacking in charm, but it was a different kind of beauty. Where Canterlot was the city of silver, gold, and gemstones, Cloudsdale had a rough, cold austerity to it. While the city was not entirely undecorated, even the finest of cloudcrafters can only accomplish so much when given only a single material to work with. That is not to mention that most pegasi hold to the austerity advocated by Lyequinegus—more traditional clans like the Strikes still built their clanholds with nothing more than simple, roughly-finished clouds.

However, my first destination was not the cold halls of the Strikers, but the far warmer clanhold of the Doos. I might have returned to my own clanhold to rest from my journey, but the news that our Commander would be returning to us had lit a fire within my breast. I would find no rest until I spread the word.

Mayhap 'tis also possible that I longed to see noble Rightly again. If her amused smile and coy tone were anything to judge by, my daughter certainly seemed to think so. "'Twould seem that thou cannot bear to be parted from thy beloved Rightly for even the time thou wouldst need to gain a single night's rest, Mother." While I love my daughter dearly, there were times when I lamented her casual lightheartedness and fondness for jesting. A more reserved daughter would not find such joy in discussing my romantic prospects. Gale gently nudged my shoulder and teasingly added, "Or is it thy intention to remain for the night amongst the Doos? I am certain Ephor Doo would be pleased to offer thee a suitable bed. In fact, his hospitality might even extend to offering thee his own. I am sure that outcome would not be displeasing to thee."

I felt my choler rising once again, not the least because there might have been some small portion of truth to her words. For all that I knew such a thing would not, could not, and should not happen, I still wished that it might be so. 'Tis a common curse for any pony who finds love, to see the rational mind overthrown by the urges of wild passion. For a moment I envied my daughter's capacity to remain so sanguine about matters of the heart—'twould be far simpler if I could follow her example.

The Doo clanhold was one of Cloudsdale's brighter areas. 'Tis a difficult thing to truly put into words, but something about the complex simply conveyed a sense of open welcomeness that was far too often missing in other homes. Mayhap it was the larger doors and windows, or the thinner, more refined clouds used for most structures which reflected a touch more sunlight and made the angles seems slightly smoother.

In addition to the basics of its construction, there were a few minor touches that made it seem less like a military center and more like a true home. Little things, like the young filly I espied idly sculpting a patch of one wall in a childish flight of fancy, or the presence of stairs and other aids to allow the very young and very old amongst the clan easier access to the entirety of the compound. Or maybe it was simply the way my daughter and I were received with welcoming smiles and nods instead of a more formal reception.

Regardless, upon entering I felt less like a visitor or outside intruder, and more like a welcome guest. A few quick inquiries confirmed that Rightly awaited me in his study, though I could not venture forth to meet him just yet. "Gale, remain here for the moment. Ephor Doo and I have matters of grave import to discuss."

My daughter offered an entirely too knowing smile. "Ah, but of course. Matters that thy trusted and beloved daughter cannot bear witness to, naturally. Truly, this must be a matter of great sensitivity."

Despite my efforts to prevent it, I felt my wings shuffle about. "'Tis the business of the Ephorate." In truth, there was little I needed to discuss with Rightly that my daughter was not already aware of, but I was loath to have her accompany me in her current jesting mood. 'Twould be most embarrassing if she were to make such comments within Rightly's hearing.

"Ah, but of course." My daughter gave a sagely nod which carried an undercurrent of mockery which I did not fail to notice. "Then I shall leave thee to thy private conversation. Alone. With Rightly." My daughter's smile grew all the wider, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "I had thought to make a gift to Rightly, as a courtesy. A sheath for his blade, mayhaps. 'Twould certainly be a prudent thing for him to have for such conversations. Knowest thou what size of sheath he might require?"

I felt a hint of color rising in cheeks, and I hissed back at her, "Another word, Gale, and I shall turn thee over my knee and let all of Clan Doo bear witness to thy punishment."

If my threat perturbed her in the slightest, Gale gave no sign of it. In fact, her smile on grew wider as she offered a conceding little nod. "Peace, mother. I spoke only out of concern for thee." 'Twould seem my daughter shows her concern by attempting to strike me down through pure humiliation. Troublesome. "Fear not, I shall leave thee to thy business with thy fellow Ephor." With that my daughter thankfully took her leave, departing to find some other Doos to pass the time with while I met with Rightly. No doubt, she would have half a score of new informants, most of them unknowing, by the time my business with Rightly was concluded.

I stepped into the study, and at last lay eyes upon noble Rightly once more. Biased though I may sound, he truly was a stallion to admire; strength and kindness flowed from his eyes, greeting me wordlessly. He was equally commanding and welcoming as he invited me yonder to our business. In appearance, he was near the mirror of his famed thrice-great grandmother, Daring Doo, save for the obvious differences of gender and that he was brown of mane and tail. His coat, though carefully groomed, did not entirely hide the line of fur where a chain oft hung with a commemorative feather from his late wife. Though she was more than a year dead, the pain of that wound was still fresh in his eyes, lending an air of solemnity to his noble countenance.

"Shadow," Rightly approached, a gentle smile on his face. "Thou art returned to us. I am glad to see it, for Cloudsdale was much the poorer in thy absence." (5)

5: For all Shadow's talk about needing to maintain a proper distance from Rightly, the fact that they're using the intimate 'thou' instead of the more formal 'you' is rather telling.

"Aye, I am." Curse my foolish tongue, that I could think of nothing wiser than the blindingly obvious to say. It was not fair that he should be so fine to look upon when 'twould be improper for us to act upon our desires. I confess that in my darker moments, I have felt some measure of resentment towards his late wife for keeping him from me.

Thankfully, Rightly was more than willing to fill the silence I had created. "I trust thy business in Canterlot went well?"

Ah, yes, business. "Aye, that it did. Naught went amiss, save for some minor butting of heads with the Commander's grand vizier." Rightly raised an inquiring brow, and I clarified. "Sunbeam Sparkle overreaches herself in many ways. I think that e'en the lofty posts of archmagus and grand vizier are not enough to satisfy her vain ambition." I grumbled and idly kicked at a nearby tuft of cloud. "Her attempt to make an advance upon me was also most unwelcome."

I was gratified to see a brief flash of jealous fury within Rightly's eyes, though quickly restrained. "I see. Still, from the tone of thy account I take it that this was a minor matter, and quickly dealt with?"

"Aye," I confirmed. "I do not think I have endeared myself to her, nor her to me, but it has not had a negative impact upon Pegasopolis' standing in the Commander's eyes. In truth, I think I might have gotten the better of her, at least in one or two matters." Certainly she did not seem pleased to learn that the Commander would not allow her free reign to manage Unicornia whilst the Commander was elsewhere.

Naturally, that thought led to the matter of true importance behind my visit. "As I said, though, that is but a trifle. I come bearing news of great import for all the Ephorate—though it might be wiser to wait until all are gathered together to announce it, I do not know if I could contain myself for the hours it would take to send out messengers and assemble our brethren."

"'Twould take more than a few hours to arrange a full meeting of our ranks," Rightly informed me with a slightly weary smile. "Swift Blade is in the midst of an extended tour of inspection 'mongst the Long Patrol, and Bright Charger made for the border after learning that there had been a skirmish between one of our patrols and the griffons."

So prior to my return, three-fifths of the Ephorate had been absent Cloudsdale? It sat somewhat ill with me, to have such a large portion of our leadership in the field during a time of peace. "This matter with the griffons—'tis nothing serious, I hope?"

"Neigh," Rightly offered me a reassuring smile. "'Twas most likely a mere raid by some brigands who thought to test our defenses after hearing one too many tales of how ponies are weak and easily subdued. The hunting down of a single nest of bandits is hardly a matter that requires an Ephor's personal attention, but..."

"'Tis not Bright Charger's way to remain in Cloudsdale when she might take the field." Despite having served as an Ephor for several years, in her heart Bright Charger would always be a line officer. While her propensity for leaping into the maw of battle was at times quite vexing, I cannot deny that there was some value in having an Ephor in the field. If nothing else, it prevented our soldiers from feeling the sense of disconnection that so plagued the Commander's own relations with her winged subjects.

Thankfully, my dilemma was now resolved quite neatly. "If two of our ranks are absent, there seems little point in calling a full meeting of the Ephorate. 'Twould be far simpler for me to call upon Steel Striker and speak with him as well."

"Aye, that it would." Rightly smiled at me and casually placed a hoof on my shoulder. "Now, Shadow, cease thy bandying of words and provide me with this momentous news 'ere my curiosity drives me to madness."

I would have done so, if not for the way his touch distracted my mind. I confess that I found it unaccountably difficult to recall precisely what it was I needed to speak to him of when all my mind could think upon was the feel of his hoof upon my shoulder. I could feel the color rising in my cheeks once more, and a quick look to Rightly showed that he was experiencing a similar sensation. After a few painfully awkward moments he slowly withdrew his hoof, and I finally remembered myself. (6)

6: Oh for the love of Celestia, just bang him already!

"Ah, yes, of course." I cleared my throat and forced my mind to return itself to the matter at hoof. "I come bearing momentous news. For too long has Commander Celestia absented herself from Cloudsdale, but that absence is soon to be remedied. While the details and precise timing have yet to be arranged, it is her intention to take up residence in Cloudsdale for a time and take a more active role in Pegasopolis' affairs."

To my surprise and dismay, Rightly did not seem to find this news as delightful as I did. Instead of the elated smile I had expected, he wore a troubled frown. "Truly? Why does she feel that such a thing is needful? Has the Ephorate's performance displeased her in some way? Do we no longer hold her confidence?"

I was quite surprised by this sudden melancholic turn of thought, as it was quite unlike dear Rightly. Normally he is more choleric and sanguine of temperament, rather than being prone to such worries. Mayhap I had worded things poorly, leading him to misunderstand the Commander's purpose? Regardless, I spoke quickly to resolve the misunderstanding. "Neigh, nothing of the sort! Commander Celestia has every confidence in our leadership of Pegasopolis. 'Tis simply that she has not dwelt amongst the pegasi in living memory, and now she seeks to correct that oversight. If anything, I believe that she fears her long absence from amongst us could be seen as a sign of disfavor."

Rightly let out a relieved breath at that. "I see. Then I am glad to hear it." He gave a single sharp nod, and at last offered the smile I had hoped to see from the start. "Too long has the Commander's Residence remained unoccupied. In truth, I had given thought more than once to ordering the building dispersed or repurposed—there seemed little purpose to maintaining it after more than a century of abandonment. As you said, it has been far too long since we enjoyed the Commander's presence." Rightly's smile faded once more, though at least this time it fell to a more neutral, businesslike expression. "We will have much to do, if we are to properly prepare for her arrival."

"Aye, it is no small task." I could already guess at the direction of his thoughts on the matter. "'Tis likely to require a great deal of supervision and coordination with the Commander to ensure that all is in readiness. Especially as she intends to bring at least some non-pegasus members of her staff with her. 'Twould seem a task I am quite suited for."

While I was less than eager to volunteer myself for such service, I knew that I was likely the best choice for it at the moment. 'Twas my words that had brought the Commander to her decision, and I was better acquainted with the situation in Canterlot and the Commander's court, and likely to grow even moreso if I made a habit of continuing to visit and put my daughter's talents to use. While a lesser officer could no doubt be assigned to the task and perform quite ably, there were diplomatic considerations. Placing an Ephor in command of making the needed arrangements clearly showed how greatly we valued Commander Celestia's presence.

Rightly must have read the thoughts on my face, or mayhap he simply knew me intimately enough to guess at them. Regardless, he favored me with a grateful smile. "Truly, thou art a singular mare, Shadow. Thou hast my gratitude, if for no other reason than that thou hast spared me from such a thankless task."

Once more, I felt myself on the verge of blushing as if I were still a young filly speaking to her first love. "Such gratitude is unnecessary. I am but doing my duty as an Ephor of Pegasopolis."

"And thou performest thy duty most admirably," Rightly deftly countered. "I pray thee, accept my gratitude and praise, e'en if you feel it needless." Our conversation came to a somewhat awkward end, and I was about to take my leave when he spoke once more. "Might I invite thee to luncheon, first? The flight from Canterlot must have been a long one."

While I was not particularly hungry at the moment, I certainly did not mind having good reason to linger in Rightly's company. "'Twould be my pleasure, though I apologize in advance for the devastation to be wrought upon thy larder. Gale is a lover of food." I gave him a coy smile, and my tone turned light and carefree. "I confess that while I do not have the voracious appetite of youth, I am rather fond of a good meal as well. I trust thy chefs are capable of accommodating two mares whose palettes have been spoiled by the fine dining of Canterlot?"

Rightly returned my smile, and returned my jesting tone. "I am sure we can accommodate the both of thee. 'Twould not be the first time our kitchens faced the appetite of two hungry soldiers at the end of a long day's work."

Easily said by somepony who has not seen my daughter in the midst of an eating frenzy. While she had manners and maturity enough to restrain herself when propriety demanded that she do so, Gale was still young enough that at times her ability to consume food rivaled that of a half-starved parasprite. "Famous final words, Rightly."

Rightly let out a deep chuckle. "I would not be the first Ephor to be undone by hubris, though I hazard a guess that no Ephor has been lost to a voracious young mare before." He directed a teasing grin at me, and added, "Besides, I am not overly fearful. Thou and thy daughter have spent the last few days dining upon Canterlot cuisine. 'Tis likely your appetites will be quickly sated by finally enjoying a proper meal instead of the hoity cuisines of Canterlot. If anything, I fear that thou might overindulge by habit, and have cause to regret it later."

I offered him the semblance of an offended gasp. "Rightly! Thy words make it sound as though thou thinkest that I might grow plump at thy table."

"Perish the thought!" He quickly reassured me, a hint of laughter in his voice. "Any stallion who has ever known married life knows the dangers of such an utterance!"

A second later the lighthearted air of our conversation died so swiftly that it might as well have been decapitated by a single well-aimed stroke of the blade. The merest mention of his late wife was sufficient to kill any joy Rightly might have felt, especially when that joy came from the company of another mare. Would that I could do more to comfort him, but any overt action I might take would likely only deepen his pain all the more. It was a cruel thing to see one who I cared for in such pain, and crueler still to know that the comfort I wished to offer him would only be salt in the wound.

I moved closer to him. Not close enough to touch, but nearer than a mere comrade would approach. 'Twas not much, but it was the most I could offer at the moment to salve his pain. As the two of us made our way to the Doo mess hall he did not object to my nearness, and mayhap even closed the distance between us slightly. I suppose I could take some measure of comfort in the fact that my nearness salved his pain, even if only for a moment.

---

After a very pleasant though admittedly somewhat awkward meal, Gale and I made our way to the Striker compound. As I have previously mentioned, the Strikers were one of the more traditional clans within Pegasopolis. That statement should be taken as neither praise nor condemnation. There is a great deal to admire in the traditional values of Lyequinegus—duty, honor, austerity, and self-sacrifice for the good of ponykind are all laudable things. However, every tradition has its share of darker aspects, and even the most noble of ideals can become dangerous when pushed to extremes.

For example, while the austerity of Lyequingus has served us well in forestalling the sort of hedonistic debauchery far too many of the unicorn nobles seem to have a great fondness for, it can easily be taken to unhealthy extremes. Whilst Lyequinegus spoke strongly against needless luxury and extravagance, some seem to forget a rather important word in that statement. 'Needless' luxury. Sleeping in an uncomfortable bed and eating a single daily meal consisting of tasteless food does not make for better warriors, merely grumpier ones. Austerity taken to the extreme of pointless self-deprivation is no virtue.

Thankfully, the Strikers had not gone to such extremes. While their clanhold was a cold, utilitarian place where each cloud structure was built without the slightest thought to aesthetics, there remained a certain beauty in its simple efficiency. While it was no doubt an exaggeration to think so, it seemed as though there was not a single tuft of cloud or patch of sky within the entire compound that did not serve some immediate practical purpose. Even if I felt the place could do with a few embellishments, I quite preferred that stark austerity to the wasteful extravagance I saw in much of Canterlot.

The Strikers were not so warm and inviting as the Doos, but that was to be expected. That was not their way, and our clans did not share the closeness that my clan did with the Doos. I was respectfully saluted and directed to the Ephor, but there was no warmth in the gesture, merely dutiful acknowledgement of my rank and position. I suppose 'twas foolish of me to be bothered by the formality, but after the warmth of my greeting by Rightly's clan it troubled me nonetheless.

Steel Striker met us outside his personal barracks. Ephor Striker was perhaps more than any of us the very image of what one would expect from an Ephor. Striker towered over most ponies, was broad of chest and shoulder, and his blood-red coat was criss-crossed with dozens of scars from his countless battles. I have wondered whether his numerous old wounds might drive him into an early retirement to the Gerousia, but thus far any pains he might suffer had not affected his performance.

To my immense disquiet, Gale made a low, appreciative rumble in the back of her throat when he came into view. I looked at her askance, and murmured under my breath, "Truly, daughter? He is at least a decade my senior."

"Closer to two, actually." Gale answered me, still subtly observing my fellow Ephor. "More's the pity I cannot see him as he was in his prime, nor that his son makes a poor substitute for his father's appearance. 'Tis simply an observation, mother, thou needs not fear that I would act upon it. I simply note that he is very ... masculine."

I suppose there was some truth to her observation, though in all honesty he seemed poor by comparison to Rightly. I could not deny that I was something of a biased source on that question, though. Still, after how mercilessly she had teased me over Rightly, I was not about to let this opportunity slip past. "Mayhap thou should commission a portrait, Gale. 'Twould last far longer."

I am sure my daughter would have constructed some witty retort if I granted her time to do so, but I did not. Instead, I trotted up to Ephor Striker and began the meeting, leaving my daughter to hang back at a respectful distance. "Ephor, I trust your clan continues to prosper?"

"Aye." He answered simply. Another might have bragged of his clan's latest accomplishments, or informed me of any recent births or adoptions, but Steel Striker is somewhat infamous for his laconicness. Last month, at one of the more uneventful meetings of the Ephorate, Rightly had challenged Bright Charger to get three words out of Steel before the meeting's end. Charger succeeded in gaining only two words, spoken at the meeting's very end. 'You lose.'

The silence that came after his short answer was interrupted by a pained shout from within his house. Steel Striker shot a brief frown over his shoulder, then turned back to face me. "Daughter's training," he announced simply. I was unsurprised—the Strikers are known for particularly harsh training methods. Striker once told me that the general philosophy of his clan was that bloody training led to bloodless battle. Though not in so many words, obviously.

I moved straight to business after that polite inquiry—attempting to engage him in small talk or idle pleasantries would only be a waste of our time. As always seemed to happen when I engaged Steel Striker in conversation, I found myself reducing my own speech to the bare minimums as well. "Commander Celestia will be returning to Cloudsdale for an extended visit in the near future."

A disapproving grimace appeared on my fellow Ephor's face, but after Rightly's reaction to the news I was not so shocked that Steel Striker might take the news badly as well. I moved quickly to calm his concerns. "She is very pleased with our performance thus far. The Commander merely wishes to pay a visit to subjects she has been too long absent from."

"More than a century," Ephor Striker confirmed. After a couple seconds to consider the matter, he decided that a visit from the Commander actually merited several sentences. He might be spare with his words on most occasions, but he can speak quite well if he feels the situation merits such an effort. "T'will be good to have her back. But while she's here the Ephorate will have reduced authority. Reminds everypony that at the end of the day we answer to her, even if she keeps us on a loose leash."

"I do not think that is her intention," I pointed out diplomatically. Steel Striker's reaction troubled me—where Rightly had simply feared we might have lost the Commander's approval, Steel seemed to disapprove of the Commander's mere presence in Cloudsdale at all. Hopefully Bright Charger and Swift Blade would not also be so hostile. "Are you truly so unhappy to know that Commander Celestia intends to return?"

"Neigh, I am glad to hear of return." Despite his words, Steel Striker's grim expression seemed more suited to a funeral. "I am also aware of its implications. Since long before any of us were born her role in our government has been to do little more than affirm the Ephorate's decisions and accept the Gerousia's recommendations. It might be that now it is her intention to actually exercise command instead of just allowing the Ephorate rule in her name. Not sure how I feel about that."

Now that he put it into words, I could quite understand the reasons for his lack of enthusiasm. No doubt his mood would only be worsened if he learned that Sunbeam Sparkle seemed intent upon enacting some form of government reform to further centralize Commander Celestia's power. While I had every confidence in the Commander's leadership, 'twould be a lie to say that I was untroubled by the thought that the Commander taking a more active role in Pegasopolis would necessarily reduce my own influence and authority. Still, such personal worries were of no consequence if the end result proved the better for my fellow pegasi. Ultimately, the Ephorate existed to serve Pegasopolis, not to be a vehicle for vain ambition.

I took it upon myself to calm my fellow Ephor's concerns. "Be that as it may, I am sure that whatever course of action the Commander pursues will be the one that is best for all of Pegasopolis."

"But she is more than just the Commander of Pegasopolis," Steel Striker countered. "If the needs of Unicornia were to come into conflict with those of Pegasopolis, whom do you think she is likely to favor: the subjects she had dwelt with for more than a century, or those she has left neglected and forgotten?"

I could not deny that such a thought was quite worrisome. I myself have similarly thought that the unicorns lie higher in her favor than the other two tribes. However, I still felt compelled to speak in the Commander's defense. "I think that if such concerns are a worry, then it is all the more important that the Commander make her visit to Cloudsdale to renew her bonds with all of Pegasopolis."

My fellow Ephor considered that for a moment, then grunted and gave a sharp nod. I was thankful for his acceptance of my reasoning, but the fact that both Rightly and Striker had such a mixed reaction to the news of the Commander's planned visit troubled me more than I would care to admit. I had expected my news to bring joy to all, and instead I found myself hastily reassuring my comrades that Celestia's return was not something to be feared or lamented.

I was about to inform him that I had taken responsibility for arranging the details of the Commander's return when another cry issued from the Ephor's house. This was no mere shout of pain after taking a sharp blow on the sparring mat, there was an element of pain and terror to it that did not fit anything other than genuine peril. "That is not the sound of thy daughter's training exercises."

A dark look came over Steel Striker's face. "Neigh, it is not." He wasted no time putting action to his words, whirling about and charging straight through the nearest wall. I followed quickly in his wake—I knew not what might be causing his daughter to scream in agony, but there were many possibilities where my wing-blades might be of value.

Steel Striker set a swift pace indeed, and arrived in his clan's training room several seconds before I did. At first I could discern little of what had passed due to the Ephor's furious bellowing, his daughter's continued wailing, and the rapidly forming crowd of Striker pegasi streaming into the room.

Thankfully, those who recognized me made way, and those who did not could either be moved around or moved aside. I briefly wondered where Gale might be—no doubt she had followed in the mad rush to learn what had passed here, but I could not lay eyes upon her at the moment. No matter; judging by the crowd's reaction there did not appear to be some sort of immediate threat.

I finally broke free of the mass of Strikers, only to find another cluster of ponies surrounding the Ephor's daughter. I could not yet see what cruel fate had befallen her, but there was blood on clouds and she was still wailing in agony—though by now her cries had quieted somewhat, likely due to her throat simply being too sore to carry on.

The Ephor himself was in the midst of shouting down a pony who I was quite sure must be his son. The young stallion had much of his father's look about him, though none of his father's size or sheer presence. Seeing the two of them standing together, or more accurately seeing the son cower in the face of his father's fury, made it clear that young Hammer Striker was a pale shadow of his father.

"But father," the younger Striker whimpered, "thou dost not understand! Swiftwing was weak! Was it not in keeping with the ancient traditions of Pegasopolis that I—" The rest of his words vanished as his father smote him down to the floor with a single blow. I was somewhat shocked to see him strike his own son so, and I confess it made me all the more curious to learn what might have prompted Steel Striker to take such action. Hammer clutched his bloodied muzzle and whined pitifully. "Father..."

"Silence." Ephor Striker snapped at his son. "After what you have done here, you are no son to me." He turned to a few of his clanmates and growled. "Remove Hammer from my sight. Place him in the brig until I can decide his fate." He turned about and shot a baleful glare at the still-growing crowd of Strikers. "The rest of you! Cease thy gawking, and obtain the services of a surgeon, an apothecary, or some other medic. A veterinarian, even, if they have the skills needed to help Swiftwing!"

The crowd of ponies surrounding the Ephor's daughter finally dispersed, finally allowing me to see what had befallen poor Swiftwing Striker. I had half-imagined it to be a mere training accident—she would hardly be the first filly to take a wound learning the art of war. I had earned my share of bumps and bruises at her age, and 'tis far from unheard of for a trainer to mistakenly strike too hard and do actual injury to their student.

What happened to Swiftwing was no accident, and now I fully understood why her father had been so wroth. In truth, I admired her father's self-restraint with Hammer, as my blood boiled at the sight: her wings, the very essence of that which set us apart from our kin and defined us, lay before her on the clouds, a fading trail of red now serving as their only link to her body. Blood flowed freely from the short, jagged stumps on her back as bone and sinew—chipped and uneven from her brother's ham-hoofed assault—mercifully disappearing under a swath of gauze. Swiftwing feebly pawed at the closer of her severed limbs, trying to draw it closer as if her touch would somehow mend them.

"Celestia's blood," I gasped in horror. "She has been Clipped."

'Twas a rare thing indeed for the Ephorate and the Gerousia to hold a joint session, and rarer still for almost all to be in attendance (the only absentee being Ephor Bright Charger, who was still embroiled in her skirmishes with the griffon reivers). The Ephors and Geronts both had duties to attend to, and in the case of the Gerousia many of its members also felt the troubles that come with advanced age. Such is an inevitable hazard of assembling a council of Elders—the venerable Dawnburst Charger required assistance from one of his granddaughters simply to make his way to the meeting chamber.

I took a place at my father's right hoof, for obvious reasons, and was quite pleased when Rightly chose to place himself on my other side (1). It had been far too long since I had the opportunity to spend much time with my father—with his ascension to the Gerousia and my own elevation to the Ephorate, duty kept us separated far too often for my liking.

1: Shadow's father, Cyclone Kicker, was a bit young to be a member of the Gerousia, which normally only contains ponies who have reached retirement age. However, the laws of Lyequinegus made an exception for ponies who were no longer able to serve on active duty on account of injury or illness. In Cyclone's case, an injury to his eyes early in his career eventually led to blindness as he aged.

As the meeting had not yet properly come to order, I took the rare opportunity to engage my father in casual conversation. "How are you finding life in the Gerousia, father?"

"Tolerable enough," Father announced, though with a grumble to his voice that made his lack of enthusiasm for his new post clear. "I preferred my days in the Ephorate, though. I've gone from having an active role in things to sitting around with all the other venerable elders while the new generation actually runs things." He let out a snort and shot a disparaging glare in the general direction of some of his fellow Geronts. "For all the talk of advising the current leadership and allowing them to benefit from our collective wisdom, we spend far more time swapping old war stories than actually doing anything of value."

"I am sure it is not as bad as all that." I suspect that the platitude might not have sounded as sincere as I would have liked. 'Twas hard to deny that with the Commander so long absent from Cloudsdale, there was little for the Gerousia to do. Presenting the Commander with the occasional list of recommendations was hardly sufficient work to occupy twenty-eight ponies. Even were Commander Celestia present, I suspect that the Gerousia's collective wisdom would pale before that of an immortal who had been centuries old when our elders were all suckling foals.

"The Gerousia makes many valuable contributions to the running of Pegasopolis, sir." I was a bit surprised that Rightly had seen fit to involve himself in our conversation, though perhaps I should not have been. If he one day hoped to ask for my hoof in marriage, then he would naturally want my father to hold a favorable opinion of him. "It is often said," Rightly continued, "that the Ephorate addresses today's problems, whilst the Gerousia attends to next year's."

"Because leaving the future in the hooves of ponies who have none left is a wise policy." I confess that Father's comment caused me some worry, but thankfully his tone remained light enough to convey the impression that he was not entirely serious. He pointed a hoof to one of his fellow Geronts. "If I'm to judge, Dawnburst is likely to be dead in a year's time. You think he is truly concerned with the future?"

"Many ponies will look to their legacy as they advance in age." A second later Rightly awkwardly shuffled his wings, perhaps unsettled by his less than ideal choice of words.

"Aye." A distant look came into my father's eyes, and his voice turned just the slightest bit downcast. "But some ponies also think to make the most of the days they have left. A legacy is a fine thing to have, but there are times when I could care less how ponies will think of me once my time is over. 'Tis not as if I shall be present for any adulation or scorn that might be heaped upon me at my funeral."

I began to grow concerned by my father's melancholy frame of mind. I knew he had been less than ecstatic about his early retirement to the Gerousia, but I had hoped that he merely needed time to adjust to his new station. 'Twould seem I had been o'er optimistic in my assessment.

"'Tis a sad thing, to see warriors grow old." Father waved a hoof in the general direction of his fellow Geronts. "To know that our best days are behind us, and now we have nothing better to do but gather around to relive our old glories." He let out a resigned snort. "Yet still, we all play our part, for the good of Pegasopolis. I've sacrificed much for our fair country—the years of my life, my health, my eyesight, even a husband, and now 'twould seem that even my dotage is to be given over to the service of our nation."

I placed a hoof over my father's, while Rightly, at a loss for words, struggled to think of what he might say. After a few awkward seconds, my father waved a dismissive hoof through the air. "Bah, listen to me. Now I've become a grumpy old codger."

Rightly found his voice. "If you wish, sir, I am sure we could arrange a proper retirement for you instead of duty in the Gerousia."

Father grumpily waved the suggestion away. "I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I didn't have some kind of work to occupy my time. I might as well keep to it." He let out an amused snort. "I suppose I'm rambling now. If I'm old enough to be in the Gerousia, then clearly I'm old enough to be allowed to ramble as well."

"Not that you were spare with your ramblings even when you were still on active duty," I gently prodded him.

"Another curse of old age," Father grumbled. "My daughter has no respect for me anymore. 'Tis fair enough though—my granddaughter has no respect for her either. No doubt thanks to a good deal of encouragement on my part."

"So I have thee to thank for my daughter's unique sense of humor." I gave him a gentle nudge. "I shall not forget that, Father. See to thy defenses, for this crime shall not go unavenged." I turned to Rightly and favored him with a smile. "I trust that I can count upon the full support of Clan Doo in this coming conflict?"

"Interference in another clan's internal affairs is usually frowned upon." My smile disappeared, and Rightly hastily amended, "Though I think an exception can be made in this case."

Father let out a bark of laughter. "'Twould seem she already has you wrapped around her hoof, Ephor. One shudders to think how much worse 'tis likely to grow once you actually begin properly courting her."

Rightly immediately fell silent and the jovial mood died, replaced with awkward silence. I was sorely tempted to have words with my father about his lack of tact, but that would only serve to draw all the more attention to his indelicate statement. Besides, Rightly might think my offense at my father's bluntness indicated that such advances would be unwelcome, which was certainly not my intention.

Thankfully, the awkward silence came to an end as Rightly cleared his throat and made an obvious but most welcome change of subject. "Shadow, I would have thy thoughts on the incident within the Striker clanhold."

Ah, yes. That was the reason for this joint session of Ephor and Geronts, so 'twas natural there would be some discussion on the matter. "Was there some important fact my testimony failed to account for?" (2)

2: From this, we can infer that Shadow gave an account of what happened to her fellow leaders. Presumably, this wasn't included in her memoirs because it would result in needless duplication.

"Neigh, thy account was quite complete," Rightly reassured me with an easy smile. "'Tis not a matter of fact I seek from thee, merely one of opinion." He shuffled his wings a bit, no doubt feeling a certain awareness of those limbs now that we were in the midst of discussing poor Swiftwing's cruel fate. "As you were present for his reaction, I thought you might best judge whether Steel might have authorized the Clipping."

I thought back to that day, and the Ephor's reaction. "I do not believe he did. Steel Striker is no fool—if he wished his daughter Clipped, he would have arranged the crime in a manner where it would not be so quickly discovered."

"Not to mention the sheer idiocy of it all," Father snarled. "He'll be lucky to keep his position as Ephor, not to mention that I'd be stunned if his clanmates aren't planning to ask that he step down as leader of the Strikers. He may have had no role in the crime itself, but it still occurred within his very household, and he still gave the training of his daughter over to Hammer. He need not be guilty of the crime to bear some measure of responsibility." Father gave an angry wave of a hoof. "To think, a Clipping in this day and age. I had thought such ancient evils were a thing long forgotten."

"More's the pity that it is not," Rightly announced solemnly. He cast a measuring look over the assembled ponies, then turned back to me. "I do not think it likely that he shall be stripped of his place in the Ephorate. We've no reason to believe that he was complicit in the crime, and 'twould be most unfair to heap further troubles upon a stallion who has already lost two children to this incident."

"The chirurgeons were unable to restore her wings, then?" I had known it unlikely that such horrific wounds might be mended, but still I had hoped that it might be possible.

"Neigh." Rightly gave a sorrowful shake of his head. "'Twas a struggle just to preserve her life. The amputation was not done well, or cleanly."

Father let out an annoyed snort. "Yes, I'm sure the poor filly would be far less devastated if she'd been offered some milk of poppy to dull the pain, and the stumps were properly cauterized after the lout finished mutilating her." My father scowled at nothing in particular and snorted in disgust. "What is to be done with Hammer Striker, in any case? Is there to be a trial, or..."

Rightly grasped the unasked question easily enough. "Striker confined him to the clan brig, and saw to it that a blade was provided for him. One of the wing blades forged for his sister, in anticipation of her becoming a full warrior of Pegasopolis." I could not help but admire the aptness of that particular touch. "'Twould seem that Hammer still had some small shred of honor left within him."

A fitting enough end to the matter, though a simple suicide was a far cleaner death than one such as Hammer deserved. Still, far better that than a long and drawn-out trial that would put the Strikers' shame on public display. The guilty party was removed, and justice was served. "I trust Steel also pronounced damnatio memoriae upon Hammer?" (3)

"Indeed," Rightly confirmed.

3: A particularly nasty form of posthumous punishment, in which all record of the offending pony is erased from the clan archives. To future generations, it would be as if the pony in question never existed. Especially gruesome in a case like Hammer's where the condemnation immediately followed his death, since it would mean his body would be left to rot on one of the refuse piles below Cloudsdale instead of being properly attended to.

"As good of an ending as the matter can have, I suppose." Hopefully Swiftwing could take some comfort in the fact that justice had been done to her attacker. Neigh, that was a foolish thought on my part. No amount of justice or righteous vengeance would restore her wings to her. A pegasus without wings was in a truly terrible condition, moreso even than a unicorn denied their magic. So much of what a pegasus is comes from our capacity to fly, our ability to take to the skies at a moment's notice. 'Twas possible to live in a city like Cloudsdale without the gift of flight—most of the city is designed with some concessions to those too young or old to fly—but every day would be a constant reminder of the racial legacy she had been denied. Most pegasi who lose their flight chose a life 'pon the ground, rather than face that.

Rightly's voice pulled me from my contemplations. "The Commander will not be pleased to hear of this."

That was a considerable understatement. A second later, I grasped Rightly's reason for raising the matter. "I am to inform her of what has passed here, then?"

"Aye," Rightly confirmed, to my sorrow. "I would also ask thee to also inform her of Charger's ongoing troubles with the griffons. Her last message included a request for the Commander's authorization to cross the border to rout them out of their holes."

Well, mayhap there would at least be some small parcel of proper soldier's business to offset the darker news I had for Commander Celestia. While the Commander naturally needed to be informed of Swiftwing's Clipping given the severity of the crime, I had hoped that such an unpleasant duty might not fall upon me. 'Twould seem I was not so fortunate.

---

While the scandal surrounding Swiftwing Striker's Clipping had quite consumed Cloudsdale, the rest of Equestria continued on quite oblivious to matters 'mongst the pegasi. The Commander's plans to make an extended visit to the earth ponies before her venture to Cloudsdale had continued apace and thus when Gale and I made ready to depart, our destination was not Canterlot, but Manehatten.

I suspect that of the three titles Commander Celestia bore, that of Chancellor of the Earth Ponies was the least burdensome. As a matter of culture, the earth ponies have always preferred a certain level of self-reliance rather than look to their government for support. I confess, even with the benefit of all my years and hindsight I cannot entirely understand that frame of mind. Surely the farms and crafts of the earth ponies could be handled much more efficiently with proper governmental oversight, rather than trusting the average farmer, carpenter, and blacksmith to see to such things on their own. The inevitable result of such complete freedom of action is a descent into chaos and anarchy.

Manehatten shows that well enough. The city has none of Pegasopolis' austere beauty or Canterlot's refined elegance. Indeed, it was passing difficult to say anything definitive about the city as a whole. To all appearances Manehatten was not a city that had been carefully constructed and planned so much as a large collection of buildings clustered around a single central location. It was as if the city simply grew as a result of random ponies wandering into its outskirts, building home and business, and then gradually absorbing those outskirts into the city proper without the slightest thought for street layout or defensibility.

Yet for all that, I suppose there was a certain charm to it. While on a larger scale the city was a disorderly mess, if one flew close enough to observe the finer details there was a degree of appreciation to be found in the individual appearance of the buildings. Each home and shop showed something of the character of its owner, as opposed to the more uniform nature of most unicorn cities. Much like the earth ponies themselves, their city simply presented itself as it was, uncaring of any who might pass judgement against it for not meeting some imagined ideal.

The flight was by necessity a slow one, as this time Gale and I did not journey alone. Though it was a dim hope, there was a chance that the Commander might be able to offer some succor to poor Swiftwing. If there were any pony in Equestria capable of restoring a pair of lost wings, it would be her. Thus, poor Swiftwing rode upon my back, napping fitfully as we flew.

From what I understood, the crippled filly had fallen into a severe state of melancholy ever since regaining her faculties after her Clipping. That certainly matched my own observations thus far—not even Gale had been able to draw poor Swiftwing out of her shell. In the end, there was little we could do beyond allow the filly her peace. Such a dark mood was only natural after suffering such a horrible loss. Hopefully, if the Commander repaired the damage to Swiftwing's body her spirit would recover soon enough.

Less optimistically, if the Commander were unable or unwilling to restore Swiftwing, then a city like Manehatten might offer many opportunities to find a new family to take her in. Surely there would be at least one family of acceptable means and character that would be willing to take Swiftwing in and help her acclimate to life on the ground. With any luck, we might even find a family employed in a craft that would give her cause to interact with her clan on a regular basis. Mayhap a family of blacksmiths? Swiftwing could still operate a thunderforge so long as she had some aid in gathering the needed clouds, and combining earth pony ironcraft with that of the pegasi might be a valuable thing indeed.

I took some comfort in pondering various scenarios and outcomes for young Swiftwing, ranging from the realistically optimistic to mere flights of fancy like the Commander taking Swiftwing for her own. I found such relatively idle thoughts a soothing diversion—certainly far better a use for my mind than lingering upon the crimes that had befallen the poor filly or how the Commander was likely to react to the news.

On our way to the Commander's Manehatten residence, we passed over a park where I espied a single mare upon a raised platform, giving a speech to relatively small crowd. I was too distant to hear the words, but what little of the general tone of the rhetoric I could grasp was enough to pique my curiosity.

My daughter took note of my curiosity, and moved to address it. "That would be Apple Tree, the Commander's opponent in the upcoming election for the Chancellorship." Gale shot me a faintly amused smile. "They say she is likely to be one of the stronger candidates to stand against the Commander, if only because she has a larger family than most, so more ponies will vote for her out of a sense of obligation."

"It seems a foolish exercise to even bother with such elections in the first place," I opined. "The Commander wins these little popularity contests by such an o'erwheleming margin that the outcome is a foregone conclusion. Better to save everypony the time and trouble of going through the process."

"Mayhap so." Gale spared a look at Apple Tree, still in the midst of her rhetoric. "What confuses me is why anypony would choose to stand against the Commander in the elections to begin with. As thou said, there is no hope for victory in such a contest. Why fight a battle that cannot be won?"

"I can think of several reasons." Though I was not terribly familiar with the intricacies of earth pony elections, one does not rise to the position of Ephor by remaining wholly ignorant of the nature of politics. Even in a completely different society, certain tactical realities remained true. "Most likely, Apple Tree hopes to gain something merely by standing in the contest." I waved a hoof down at the small knot of ponies listening to the politician. "Would any of them care to hear her words in other circumstances?"

Comprehension dawned on my daughter's face. "So she stands against Commander Celestia not because she thinks she can win, but because she seeks the notoriety that comes from opposing her in the election."

"Not all battles are fought with the immediate objective of claiming absolute victory." I was somewhat tempted to take the opportunity to begin lecturing my daughter on the finer points of grand strategy, but now was not the best time to play instructor. Still, it would not do to allow my daughter to grow too linear in her thought processes—if nothing else, it reflect poorly upon my ability to properly instruct her in the area of my own expertise. (4)

4: For the record, Shadow's special talent was asymmetric warfare. I admit, I'm rather curious just what an asymmetric warfare cutie mark would look like, but unfortunately there are no surviving detailed descriptions of exactly what her cutie mark looked like, just a few vague mentions of it featuring a bladed wing.

Our arrival at the Chancellor's mansion in Manehatten cut short any further discussion on the matter, however. The building seemed to be in the midst of no small amount of chaos, with earth ponies and unicorns both bustling about and attending dozens of varied errands. If not for the fact that two fully armed and armored pegasi inevitably drew a great deal of attention, my daughter and I might well have been lost in the crowd entirely.

Thankfully, the milling collection of groundbound ponies gave us a wide berth until a smartly dressed earth pony stallion approached us. "Ephor, we received word of your impending arrival. If you'll follow me, the Chancellor await you in—"

Our escort was quite abruptly cut off by one of the young unicorn pages I vaguely recalled having seen in the Commander's court in Canterlot. "Ephor," she dropped before me in what was no doubt intended to be a respectful bow, though I've little taste for traditional unicorn grovelling, "it would be my honor to escort you to Her Majesty at—"

"Excuse me," the earth pony interrupted in turn, "but I have already undertaken the task of bringing the honorable Ephor before the Chancellor. Your services are not required here."

The page stiffened at that, and her upper lip curled up in a politely furious snarl. "My family has been in service to Her Majesty the Queen of Unicornia for three generations. That remains true regardless of where she currently resides, and escorting visiting dignitaries is part of my currently assigned duties. I will thank thee not to interfere with them."

The earth pony let out an incredulous scoff. "Thou wouldst thou me then, child? (5) And to think, the unicorns supposedly have a reputation for class and sophistication. T'would seem that thou hast forgotten, child, that within these walls Celestia is the Chancellor, not a Queen."

5: Presumably, this unnamed earth pony official is exaggerating the page's age—traditionally, most pages in the Canterlot court assigned to Celestia herself would be in their very early teens. Young, but hardly a child.

The page let out a scandalized gasp before drawing herself up and righteously announcing, "Her Majesty Celestia, first of her name, Queen of all Unicornia, Sol Invictus..." As our offended young page proceeded to list every single grandiloquent title the unicorns insisted on bestowing upon the Commander, I quite agreed with our earth pony escort's impatient hoof waving. I could think of far better uses for my time than hearing such a litany of honors. "...and Benevolent Coryphaeus of all Wisdom, remains my Queen regardless of where her travels take her," the page finally, mercifully, concluded.

Gale and I exchanged a look, and the two of us wordlessly stepped around the squabbling servants and proceeded along unescorted. It has often been my experience that the less authority a pony has, the more jealously they tend to guard it. It is baffling to me that the Commander's servants would at times fall into vicious conflicts over such minor affairs as who had the right to place her silverware or provide her with a glass of tea.

Thankfully, there were several signs placed upon the walls and convenient maps to aid any visiting ponies in finding their way around, so we had little difficulty locating the Commander's office. Truly, I had cause to lament the absence of such helpful navigation aids from the Royal Palace in Canterlot, and was tempted to suggest that the Commander see to adding them at the soonest opportunity. Admittedly, Canterlot Palace suffered a number of other gaping design flaws, such as far too many windows which were incapable of opening or too small to allow a pegasus easy access. If the Palace were meant to serve as a defensive bastion that might be understandable, but the castle was clearly decorative in nature.

After some minutes of following signs and consulting maps, Gale and I finally found our way to the Commander's office. Earth pony and unicorn alike stepped aside from our path to the Commander. Mayhap word of Proud Line's fate at my hooves had spread even as far as Manehatten—'twould not be surprising when it seemed half the population of Canterlot had accompanied the Commander in her visit. I was grateful for it—I was not in the mood to have anypony standing between me and my Commander at the moment.

As we neared the entrance to the Commander's office, I turned to my daughter. "Gale, I would have thee absent thyself from my meeting with the Commander."

My daughter was understandably taken aback by the request. The frown she directed towards me was troubled, and perhaps a touch offended. "For what reason, mother?"

I looked to the filly resting upon my back, and Gale grasped my meaning quickly enough. 'Twould be most awkward to have Swiftwing present for the meeting in which we discussed her mutilation. Far better to leave her in my daughter's care than to hoof her off to some minor functionary, especially one who might not grasp all that the unfortunate filly had suffered. A particularly unobservant pony might even overlook the fresh bandages on Swiftwing's back and conclude that she was a mere earth pony.

Though Gale grasped my intention well enough, from the way her frown did not fade 'twas clear that she did not entirely approve. I suppose 'twas inevitable that removing her from my right hoof would invoke her displeasure, however good my reasons. There was an added degree of stiffness and formality to my daughter's salute. "I shall fulfill thy wishes, Mother."

"You have my thanks, daughter." I made a mental note to do my daughter a kindness at some point in the near future. Gale deserved better than to be relegated to the sidelines, however important her current task might be. I transferred the sleeping filly to my daughter's back with only a small measure of difficulty.

Gale took it upon herself to nuzzle the filly before she could fully wake. "Be at peace, Swiftwi—" A pained look crossed Gale's face, and she fell conspicuously silent. Even Swiftwing's very name seemed a cruelty, given her current condition. I could only pray that the Commander might spare her any further pain.

With my young charge disposed of for the moment, I went onward to meet with the Commander herself. Compared to the throne room in Canterlot, the Chancellor's Office in Manehatten was quite sparsely decorated. In place of lining every exposed surface with gold and coating it with a gross excess of gemstones, the office featured tasteful hardwood falls and floors, supplemented by fine carpets and tapestries. Undeniably elegant and luxurious, but opting for a certain elegant simplicity rather than the overbearing ostentation that appeared to be the current fashion within Canterlot.

The Commander herself sat behind a desk of polished cherrywood, speaking with an earth pony I knew by reputation as Fertile Fields, Vice-Chancellor of the Earth Ponies. In theory, he served a similar function to the Grand Vizier of Unicornia, though the Commander's extended stay in Unicornia meant that much like the Ephorate, he had long exercised de facto rule. Thankfully, what little I could judge of the Vice-Chancellor's bearing indicated that he did not begrudge Commander Celestia her rightful rule.

A shadow fell over the Commander's face the instant I entered the room. Given that she had seemed quite pleased to see me in the past, I could only surmise that word of the Clipping had already reached her ears. That would hardly surprise me—between the need for me to remain and testify for my fellow Pegasopolan leaders and the necessary delay whilst we waited for Swiftwing to be well enough for travel, it was near to a week after the incident had occurred.

Nonetheless, whatever fragmentary rumors had reached the Commander's ears were a poor substitute for a proper eyewitness account. "Commander, I come bearing grim news. A terrible crime has occurred within Pegasopolis: one of your subjects has been Clipped."

The Commander visibly flinched at the news. "I have heard the rumors, though I hoped them false or exaggerated. Tell me, Shadow, how did such a thing come to pass?"

"I should think such a thing obvious." I felt a twitch of aggravation at hearing the voice of the Commander's Grand Vizier. Though I was quite pleased that the Commander had not opted to leave all Unicornia in Sunbeam Sparkle's hooves, it did unfortunately mean that the Archmagus remained at Commander Celestia's side rather than comfortably distant.

Sunbeam produced a dusty tome whose title I could barely read. On the Customs and Traditions of Our Winged Kin: An Account of Pre-Lyequingian Pegasoplis. That title boded ill, and I could guess at her reasons for using such a book easily enough, given the matter at hoof. Sure enough, she opened the volume and quoted the damning passage. "And the venerable Commander Alaemors did declare: 'If any amongst us should prove themselves incapable of performing a warrior's duties, then they are unworthy of holding a place within our society. Frailty is the most unforgivable of sins, for an army is only as strong as the least of its soldiers. Toleration of weakness only breeds further weakness, leading to the decline of our great society. If any pegasus, whether adult or child, should lessen our society, let their wings be severed, and let them be cast away as one would a diseased and rotting limb.'"

Sunbeam closed the book with an indecent degree of relish, and a triumphant smile appeared on her face. "I believe that makes the reasons behind the mutilation of that unfortunate child quite clear. Wouldn't you agree, Ephor?"

Sunbeam Sparkle was beginning to test my patience. "If we are to quote ancient law and verse at each other, I believe I have a passage that is of far greater relevance." I was quite thankful that my father had insisted I commit the laws of Lyequingus to memory. "'The practice of Clipping is henceforth banned throughout all of Pegasopolis. Such barbarities have no place in our great society. If any pegasus is found to have done such a thing, then it is they who have proven themselves unworthy of a place in Pegasopolis. Let their wings be severed, and let them be cast out in the place of their victim.'" I turned to the Commander and offered a conceding nod before adding. "Commander Luna later modified the laws to a somewhat more civilized form, though no less harsh in their condemnation of the practice."

The Archmagus scoffed. "Fine words, but at this very moment there is a filly outside this office whose wing-stumps are plain for all to see. Clearly, these supposedly ancient customs are not so dead as you would have us believe, Ephor."

I let out an annoyed snort and brushed her words aside with a wave of my hoof. "You would claim that ancient customs that have been banned for centuries are still being practiced on the basis of a single fool's actions? As disgusting as this crime was, 'tis but an isolated incident. There has not been another Clipping in Pegasopolis in living memory."

"Is that truly so?" A malevolent smirk appeared on her face, and light the color of a brightly burning flame flared from her horn. A moment later, a long scroll hovered at her side, suspended in a field of her magic. "I have here a list of two hundred and five young fillies and colts of an age with poor Swiftwing whose wings were similarly severed or mangled to point of uselessness, all within the last twenty years. Naturally the official records state that these injuries resulted from 'training accidents' or other similarly benign causes, but one wonders how many of these incidents were properly investigated?"

Sunbeam applied her magic once more, producing another scroll. "'Tis also passing curious how often foals born weak and sickly or with some other natural or genetic flaw perish suddenly a short time after their imperfections become apparent."

"Yes, one can scarce imagine what might cause a weak and sickly newborn to perish." I waved a hoof, dismissing her baseless evidence. "You have no proof of any crime, or even any proof that your supposed statistics are accurate. Surely newborns perish 'pon the ground as well, and young colts and fillies have ever been prone to wounding themselves at the age when they still believe themselves all but invincible."

"'Tis entirely possible that in many of these cases nothing untoward has occurred," Sunbeam conceded far too easily. I braced myself for her next argument, but despite attempting to prepare myself I was still caught at a loss for an answer when she spoke. "But if even a quarter—neigh, if even a tenth of these cases represent true crimes, I believe that merits investigation, would you not agree, Ephor?"

I took several moments to carefully consider my answer. "I think such an investigation as you propose would uncover no crimes, and serve merely to waste a great deal of time and upset many decent ponies by digging into the most painful incidents of their family history."

"Ah, we might upset somepony," Sunbeam remarked with biting sarcasm. "How terribly inconsiderate. Clearly, that is a far graver matter than the possible mutilation or murder of foals within Her Majesty's realms." Her smile turned coldly triumphant. "How many more victims must there be, Ephor, before protecting our youngest and most vulnerable subjects becomes as important as sparing the feelings of their abusers? A dozen? A hundred? How many more children must suffer before you will bestir yourself?"

"I grow tired of your disingenuous assertions, Archmagus." I felt myself growing choleric once more—'twould seem the Archmagus had something of a talent for inciting such moods in me. "This affair is none of your concern, Vizier. The Ephorate does not seek to involve itself in every crime that occurs within the borders of Unicornia, nor do we feel it necessary to harp upon the ancient crimes of thy own society. Are dark magics still practiced within the towers of Canterlot's great magi? Do your own kind still make dark pacts with foul beings for power, or use your magic to make mind-slaves of the populace?"

"Every society has its ancient crimes from less enlightened times," the Archmagus conceded far too easily for my liking. Sure enough, she was quick to return to the matter of Clipping much like a dog returning to consume its own bile. "But the matter which concerns us today is no ancient and long-forgotten cruelty, but a horrifying mutilation which occurred less than a week ago in the very household of one of Pegasopolis's rulers. Not to mention the possibility that more such crimes have passed, only to be deliberately ignored."

"You go too far, Archmagus." I could hear the carefully restrained fury in my voice, and forced myself to take a calming breath before I continued. "The Ephorate is composed of ponies whose honor is above repute. We do not flout the Commander's laws, nor twist their words to serve our personal ambitions. I have been more than tolerant of your continued unwanted and unwarranted interference in matters that are none of your concern, but I begin to tire of indulging your whims. Nothing that passes within Pegasopolis lies within your jurisdiction, and in attempting to involve yourself in our affairs you severely overstep your own authority. Stay your course, or Pegasopolis might take a greater interest in the internal affairs of Unicornia in the future."

The Archmagus let out a mocking little laugh. "Ah, the diplomacy of pegasi: threats, denial, and deflection instead of conversing like civilized ponies." She pointedly turned her head to the side, so that she no longer looked me directly in the eye. "If it offends you to have the other tribes look to the welfare of Pegasopolis' children, then mayhap 'tis past time your tribe saw to setting its own house in order." Before I could answer she turned back to me, and took an aggressive step forward. "How do you intend to resolve this latest crime within your tribe's borders? Will there be significant changes made to ensure that such a crime could never come to pass again, or did you simply plan to inform Her Majesty how awful this is, cast aside the ex-pegasi into the care of earth ponies or unicorns, and wash your hooves of the matter?"

I grew even more wroth with her, if such a thing were possible, and glowered at her balefully. "Do not insult her—she is a pegasus unto the day of her death. Your inability to grasp that the actions of a single deluded young stallion who acted on his own do not represent some deep flaw within pegasus society is most irksome."

"You may claim that the lad who Clipped her acted on his own as much as you wish, but I am dubious." Vizier Sparkle gave a dismissive wave of her hoof. "Surely you cannot think it mere coincidence that this supposedly isolated incident perpetrated by a single stallion acting on his own initiative just happened to occur within one of the oldest and most traditional clans in all of Pegasopolis. A clan known for its strict adherence to many of the harsher and more ancient beliefs of your kind, in point of fact. And now, after the filly is Clipped, you have come to place her 'mongst the other tribes, distant from her own kind, precisely as your own ancient customs say you should. Mayhap the situation is not so clean and uncomplicated as you attempt to make us believe, Ephor."

I confess that those words unsettled me a great deal. While I had not thought of the matter as such nor intended to do so, in placing Swiftwing upon the ground in the aftermath of her Clipping we were in a sense following the letter of the old laws. I struggled not to let my doubts show clearly upon face, 'lest the Archmagus see them and seize upon the advantage. "Swiftwing is to be placed with the groundbound tribes as a matter of practicality, not some form of exile because she is unworthy to dwell in Pegasopolis. 'Tis an unfortunate reality that her injuries no longer allow a life 'mongst her kin. If she cannot be restored, then it is my firm intention to arrange a proper and loving home for her. I shall hardly kick her to the gutters and cast her from my sight and heart, as the old ways would dictate."

The Grand Vizier rolled her eyes at me and let out an incredulous scoff. "So you offer her a kinder and gentler form of exile? How very noble of you. And what are her father and mother's opinions on the matter? I can not help but observe that they are notable primarily by their absence."

I knew nothing of young Swiftwing's mother—Steel Striker had never married, nor maintained a regular paramour. I vaguely recalled hearing that Swiftwing and Hammer both had been the children of his blood rather than choice, so I suppose Steel must have gotten the both of them upon some willing and suitable mare. 'Twould not have been difficult for a stallion of his station to find a mare willing to provide him an heir or two, and unlike the earth ponies and unicorns it is not the pegasus way to be overly concerned about bloodline purity or maintaining the bonds of matrimony. The children were his: no other fact was relevant to the matter.

Were I a materialist, I would pay many golden bits to watch Sunbeam make this exchange with Steel Striker. Let her tell him to his face that he was a poor father, and mayhap even allowed his daughter to suffer her cruel fate. Most likely he would stoically endure her words, and then once she ceased her prattling smite her upon the cheek and seek juris ungula. It would be a fine thing indeed, to see her crushed beneath Steel Striker's iron-shod hooves.

Now was hardly the time for such pleasantly diverting thoughts, however. The Archmagus clearly expected an answer, and as the Commander was bearing witness to our discussion I fully intended to answer her charges. For his part Fertile Fields had absented himself from the room at some point during the argument, which quite possibly made him the wisest of us all. "Your concern for the opinions of other ponies is most refreshing, Archmagus. I am sure that my fellow Ephor would enjoy having a foreigner such as yourself lecture him at length about the failings of his clan and society."

"Mayhap my words have been blunt and tactless." I braced myself for another cutting remark from the Vizier. By now, I had quite grasped that any concession she offered would inevitably be followed by one. Sure enough, she unleashed another barb a few moments later. "It would seem that my distress at hearing of the mutilation of a mere child and concern for her well-being have o'erwhelmed my sense of delicacy for the moment."

Mayhap 'twas time to turn her own tactics against her. One would think that most ponies would be prepared for such an eventuality, but in my experience a surprising number of opponents could be fooled by such a relatively simple artifice. Few ponies are prepared to have their own weapons turned against them. "I share your concern and distress, Vizier, and am glad to know that we have some point of agreement that we might build upon." I gave an appropriate short pause before delivering the following strike. "You have my personal assurance that the matter shall be addressed through the proper channels with the utmost swiftness." I left unspoken the fact that the Archmagus herself was not a part of said proper channels.

The Grand Vizier's upper lip curled up in a contemptuous sneer. "Oh, so the guilty party will soon be brought before the courts of Pegasopolis, I trust?"

"A trial will not be necessary," I answered simply. "The guilty party took his own life from shame shortly after his apprehension."

"All in the name of preserving the honor of his clan, I am sure." Acid dripped from the Archmagus' voice. "No need for a proper trial or investigation, just have the culprit kill himself, and you can sweep the whole mess under the rug and pretend it never happened. Beyond which, now you need not worry that he might say something horribly inconvenient, such as claiming that he was acting under his father's orders instead of acting on his own initiative. Why look into the truth of things when you can simply have the fool who got himself caught removed, shuffle the victim out of sight, and move on with life as if none of this ever happened?"

If Grand Vizier Sparkle intended to insist on continuously running her mouth, my patience might soon reach its end. "This is none of your concern, Archmagus," I responded tightly. "The Ephorate is not required to obtain your approval before it acts, though I am sure your vain ambition would enjoy such a thing. Pegasus affairs are none of your concern, and continued attempts to interfere in them are most inappropriate."

Archmagus Sparkle let out an incredulous scoff. "So I am to be unconcerned when I see a mutilated child outside this very office because according to some ancient and long-obsolete treaty it is out of my jurisdiction?" She directed a hoof at her own horn, and let her magic flare slightly to emphasize her point. "Shall I let this preclude my own morality and concern for my fellow ponies?"

Neigh, the cavity in her chest where most have a heart would preclude her showing such concern regardless. Sadly, 'twould not be politic to speak that thought allowed, so I opted for a more diplomatic turn of phrase. "Your heartfelt concerns for the wellbeing of all pegasi hinders those whose duty it is to uphold the law."

"Upholding the law?" She countered incredulously. "I see nothing of law in how your kind have addressed this matter. No trial or public inquiry has occurred, or any proper investigation by the legal authorities. Instead you have barbarity and brutality dressed up in the robes of law and tradition." The Archmagus fixed me with a piercing stare. "I wonder if you might clarify something for me. How precisely did Hammer Striker manage to sneak a wing blade into his cell in order to take his own life? Or did some other pony, perhaps even Ephor Steel himself, in fact offer him the offending blade?"

"And what if he did?" I met her gaze challengingly. "Justice comes in many forms, and not all of those follow the niceties of Unicornia. The guilty party was suitably punished, and the Ephor and his clan were spared the indignity of a long, public trial which would drag the entire family name through the mud. Despite the picture you wish to paint, we did make a proper investigation of things, and found no reason to believe that the Ephor knew of or consented to his daughter's Clipping."

"An easy thing for any investigation to conclude when everypony who might dispute that conclusion has been removed from the picture," Sparkle deftly countered. "You claim that there is justice in Pegasopolis, but all I see is a culture that conspires to cover up its own failings. If there is to be any end to these abuses of the youngest and most vulnerable of Pegasopolis' citizens, I believe it cannot come from a pegasus."

"So that is the goal you try to hide behind your forked tongue this time!" I cried out hotly. "You would cast aspersions upon all Pegasopolis as a means to justify granting yourself some o'erwhelming authority to manage our affairs. You—neigh, I thou thee, thou would-be despot—thou shalt not exercise thy tyrannies over Pegasopolis."

"Calm thyself, Ephor." The Commander's voice cut in like like a red-hot wing blade passing through a griffon's flesh. I confess that as my argument with Sparkle had grown more and more heated, I had near forgotten that we were still in the Commander's presence. "I am certain that Sunbeam's intention is not so dubious as thou wouldst believe."

Her point was well taken. I would have preferred that she take a more active role in this discussion, but from all I had heard that was not the Commander's way. Her position atop the tribes would quickly become awkward if she were seen to be playing favorites, regardless of the truth of the matter.

Once I had a few moments to regain my calm, I was somewhat surprised at just how wroth I had become. 'Twould seem that the Archmagus has a definite talent for causing me aggravation.

I opened my mouth to speak, though I confess that I was unsure of what precisely I might say, but my words were stolen from me by a young filly's cry of pain from the other room. I was on my hooves in an instant, my mind flashing back to my discovery of poor Swiftwing's gruesome fate only a week past. I suspect that I shall never again hear a child bawling over some minor scratch without being reminded of that horrible day.

In my haste I did some damage to a rather expensive door that did me the discourtesy of standing between myself and my objective. Soon enough, I had returned to the waiting room where I had left young Swiftwing in my daughter's care. To my immense relief, they were both unharmed, though Gale had taken the crippled filly aside and was speaking to her.

If Swiftwing were unharmed, that did raise the question of where the cry had come from. A few seconds later I espied its source: young Midnight sat at the other side of the room from Swiftwing, nursing a bloodied lip and sporting several rapidly-forming bruises on her face.

I quickly trotted up to my daughter, and my voice came out tight and terse. "What happened?"

A pained look crossed my daughter's face. "I am uncertain," she confessed. "I offered to watch over young Midnight for the Archmagus when she passed by on her way to meet with thee. I was speaking to one of the staff to make arrangements for some passing diversion for the two of them, and turned my back but for a moment. One minute they were speaking to each other quite civilly, and the next Swiftwing was striking her and screaming."

Before I could make further inquiry, Archmagus Sparkle stormed into the room, immediately marching to her daughter's side. She took a few moments to look over young Midnight's injuries, then whirled upon poor Swiftwing in a fury. "Thou wouldst dare to strike my daughter?"

"Peace, Archmagus," Gale hastily cut in, placing herself between the enraged Grand Vizier and her own crippled charge. "'Tis inevitable that children will have minor scuffles. Neither of them has suffered any lasting harm, and—"

Archmagus Sparkle turned the full focus of her fury upon my daughter. "I trusted thee with the care of my beloved daughter, and return to find her beaten and bloodied. Is this some petty vengeance for my disagreements with your mother, then?" Her horn flared with light the color of an open flame, and I felt the room's temperature climb rapidly enough to make me begin sweating. "You have erred greatly, Gale Kicker, if you thought that I would tolerate an attack upon my daughter."

My wing blades snapped forth, not quite moving into striking distance, but placed in such a way that they could quickly move there if I desired it. I felt my mind slide into the state of utterly cold and dispassionate analytical calm that always seemed to come to a pony's mind when battle was mere moments away.

A clash of arms with the Archmagus would be a quick, brutal thing. That was the nature or any fight between a spellcaster and a proper warrior. Simply put, neither of us had many ways of effectively defending ourselves against the other's attacks. While I could certainly attempt to dodge her spellfire, that was hardly a viable long-term solution. By the same token, even an Archmagus would be hard-pressed to hold off an experienced fighter who drew close enough to launch a sustained assault. Consequently, whichever one of us hit the other faster and harder would win.

That basic tactical reality created its own diplomatic problems. Since if things came to blows it was vital to strike quickly and with o'erwhelming force, it was a hazardous thing for either of us to drop our guard now that tensions had risen so high. Backing down first would create an easily exploited window of vulnerability, and I did not think it wise at all to give Sunbeam Sparkle an opening she might use to end me.

Sunbeam wore a contemplative frown on her face, and after a few seconds gave an almost resigned shrug, presumably having come to the same conclusion as I. Matters between us had simply escalated too far for either of us to back down now. "So we come to it then, Shadow? So be it." I tensed, preparing to make my strike the instant I saw an opening, while Sunbeam gathered her power and began crafting some spell which would likely reduce me to cinders if it connected.

Before either of us made our move, the Commander stormed in and gave quick flap of her wings, slamming into the space between us and effectively breaking the standoff. As if that were not enough to make her point on its own, she also subjected us to a dose of the Traditional Royal Canterlot Voice. "STAY THIS MADNESS!"

The effect upon the both of us was immediate. It is a difficult thing to explain, but the Commander carries a certain sense of authority around herself. While it is normally a subdued sort of thing that merely inclines those around her to a certain level of polite deference, right then that aura of leadership was so o'erpowering that before I even realized it I had taken several steps back, returned my wings to my sides, and snapped off a parade-cloud salute to the Commander. For her part, the Archmagus stepped back and immediately ceased her spellcasing, and seemed to have almost instinctively turned to Celestia and prostrated herself on her knees, as unicorns are wont to do.

"This dispute between the two of thee has gone too far." E'en if I were not all but compelled to agree with the Commander by her sheer force of presence, I could not gainsay her on that point. If not for the Commander's intervention just now, it might easily have ended with either myself or the Archmagus dead on the ground. Such a clash would do little good for the rest of Equestria, especially with how delicate matters stood between Pegasopolis and Unicornia at the moment. "It ends," Commander Celestia declared in a tone that made it clear she would not tolerate any dissent from either of us. "Now."

I was not mad enough to dispute her. "Aye, Commander."

"As you wish, Your Majesty," The Archmagus responded just as quickly. Thankfully, it seemed that the prospect of inciting the Commander's fury would be enough to reign in the worst of Sunbeam's temper. In a way, I could understand her anger: were it my daughter beaten and bruised, I would be sorely tempted to enact an equally swift retribution. However, just because I could empathize with her reasons did not mean I would tolerate her actions.

The Commander fixed me with a baleful glare, then shifted her gaze to the Archmagus once I was suitably cowed. I am not ashamed to admit that Commander Celestia can utterly intimidate me when she sets her full strength to the task. "If the two of thee shall insist on bickering like children, then I shall henceforth treat thee as such." The Commander fixed us both with a look that was equal parts uncompromising steel and regal disdain. "If either of thee feuds with the other again, thou shalt both be confined to thy quarters, and denied all but the simplest of meals, and of course there will be no desserts."

I took her chastening to heart. Harsh though her words were, I was also greatly troubled by the mere necessity of such a discussion. It was not a pleasant feeling to know that I had failed her so badly that she felt the need to bawl me out like a fresh recruit. "Aye, Commander. It shall not happen again."

I prayed that I might be able to keep that promise. For all that I valued my word of honor, if Archmagus Sparkle ever dared to threaten Gale again, I would gladly face whatever condemnation the Commander felt appropriate afterwards. No mother, not even the cold and heartless Sunbeam Sparkle herself, would idly tolerate a threat against her own child.

Speaking of the Grand Vizier... "My apologies." From the way insincerity positively dripped from her words, and the fact that she only spoke them whilst looking to the Commander, I could surmise that this falsified apology existed only for the Commander's benefit. "I allowed my choler to overtake me upon seeing the injury of my beloved daughter. My dear Midnight is at a sensitive age to have such violence brought down upon her. To face such cruelty is a terrible thing at any age, but especially she nears the time when her unique talents will manifest themselves. If she is her mother's daughter, her talents are likely to be considerable."

"No doubt." The Commander offered young Midnight a brief reassuring smile before returning her attention to the two of us, her face once more a mask of schooled indifference. "In truth, I care not for how justified either of thee believes thy anger to be. If I were to listen to all the excuses ponies offer off for their misbehavior, I would be occupied until even my days came to end. This ongoing feud between the two of thee ends. Am I understood?"

A rare thing occurred as the Archmagus and I reached a full and near-simultaneous accord. Neither of us were foolhardy enough to say no to Commander Celesita. Though t'was no doubt clear to one of Celestia's considerable abilities that promise of peace was only secured by coercion, that seemed to be enough to satisfy her for the nonce. "Now that this folly is concluded, let us return to the matter at hoof. On the matter of Sunbeam's proposed investigation into the possibility that Clippings or murders have gone unreported within Pegasopolis, I believe her concerns are well-founded." If I had not so recently earned the Commander's wrath, I might have objected to her decision. As it was, she held a hoof to forestall any comment I might offer. "While I think Shadow is quite right that that the vast majority of these cases saw nothing untoward happen, I also believe that e'en if only one in a hundred of these incidents represents an actual crime, that leaves behind too many unaided victims."

I did not agree with the Commander's decision, but I would not dare to gainsay her. I could only make the best of the situation presented to me. "If it is your wish, Commander, then it shall be done." I shot a thinly veiled grimace at Sparkle. "Despite what some might claim, Pegasopolis has no dark secrets to hide."

"I look forward to seeing that confirmed at the investigation's end," the Commander announced decisively.

I gave a sharp nod. "I shall oversee the matter personally, Commander."

Much to nopony's surprise, Sparkle objected to that. "Respectfully, Your Majesty, there is a culture of conspiracy and cover-up surrounding Clippings in Pegasopolis. An outside perspective is needed to crack through this ... web of shadows."

She incorporated my name into her quip. How very droll. "You think it likely, Archmagus, that a pony with little knowledge and few contacts in all of Pegasopolis could uncover that which remains hidden from the Ephorate. Especially when you are an outsider interfering in the internal affairs of Pegasopolis, and likely to be as unwelcome as you would make if I were investigating crimes in Unicornia."

"Thy points are both well-made," the Commander declared, effectively ending the debate before the two of us could degenerate into arguing once more. "Fortunately, I have come upon a solution that should satisfy both parties and make the investigation all the stronger: the two of thee shall work hoof-in-hoof in this matter." She gave Sparkle and I both a look that all but dared us to voice any complaints. "I trust there are no objections to this?"

While I wondered in the privacy of my mind if the Commander had suddenly taken leave of her senses, I would certainly not dare to say as much to her face. "As you wish, Commander."

From the way her jaw clenched at the news, I suspect that for once Sparkle and I were in complete agreement—neither of us looked forward to carrying out the Commander's orders. "Understood, Your Majesty." Sparkle accompanied her agreement with some more customary unicorn grovelling. "It will be as you command. Shall I make plans to proceed to Cloudsdale immediately, or will it be sufficient to begin investigating the matter upon our scheduled arrival in Pegasapolis?"

The Commander raised a thoughtful hoof to her chin for a few moments. "Such an exhaustive investigation will take time to arrange, Sunbeam. Seeing to the preparations for it 'ere our scheduled departure for Cloudsdale seems a valuable use of thy time."

Sparkle gave a short bow of her head. "You have my assurances that all shall be in readiness by the time we set hoof in Cloudsdale."

"The matter is settled, then." At least I would have more than enough time to forewarn the Ephorate and make some preparation to mitigate the damage Sunbeam might cause.

With the business of state resolved, I could finally return my attention to more personal matters. Gale had taken it upon herself to see to the two slightly damaged fillies whilst Sparkle and I discussed our business with the Commander. With no further obligations holding me back, I began checking Swiftwing and Midnight over. "They are fine," Gale reassured me. "Somewhat battered, but nothing thou needest worry about."

Swiftwing spared a disdainful glance at Midnight. "I have suffered worse than her on the training grounds, yet she sniffles like a newborn foal."

Midnight turned to her attacker, her expression neutrally blank. "Maybe I do not wish to cover the pain I am feeling, unlike you." Midnight's head cocked to the side, and a faintly curious frown appeared on her face. "Does hurting me lessen your own pain?"

The fillies' speech seemed to remind the Commander of their presence, and moments later she stood before them, cutting whatever rejoinder Swiftwing intended to offer short. The crippled young filly quailed slightly, no doubt somewhat apprehensive at the thought of meeting her Commander, especially when she had so recently borne witness to the Commander's displeasure. Commander Celestia's face softened into a gentle and maternal smile, and she dropped down to Swiftwing's level. "Hello, my little pony."

Swiftwing gave a nervous swallow, then looked up to meet her Commander's gaze and very hesitantly raised a foreleg to salute. "Hello, Commander Celestia."

The Commander beamed indulgently at her little soldier. "Know that thou art my honored guest, Swiftwing Striker, until such time as we can find a suitable family to care for thee."

The tension slowly left Swiftwing's shoulders, and the stubs of her wings twitched in what would no doubt have been a hopeful flitter before her mutilation. "I am most grateful for your generosity and kindness, Commander."

"Thou needest not thank me for such simple hospitality," the Commander announced modestly. Having experienced the Commander's hospitality myself, I can say with confidence that it is anything but simple.

A mischievous smile appeared on Commander Celestia's face as she leaned her head in close to young Swiftwing's and declared in for a conspiratorial whisper, "Now, child, once I am finished attending matters of state, I propose that we venture to the kitchens and have our fill of cake. One of the many perks that come with being a Chancellor or a Commander or a Queen is that everypony must give me as much cake as I want."

Swiftwing gave the first smile I'd seen on the child's face since the severing of her wings. "I have had this dish on occasion... I remember it being..." Swiftwing's words slowly trailed off as her eyes travelled over Midnight Sparkle. The younger filly's ears were flat on her head, and she let out a tiny hiccup that was clearly the result of a suppressed sniffle. I suppose I should not be surprised that Archmagus Sparkle had not yet moved to comfort her daughter. No doubt she hoped that Midnight's pain might yet be transformed into some manner of political capital.

The Commander met Swiftwing's eyes, then cast a pointed look in Midnight's direction before returning her attention to the older filly. Swiftwing followed the Commander's gaze, but merely remained in place and worried at her lower lip. When Swiftwing remained motionless after several long moments, the Commander very gently nudged her forward.

Swiftwing cast a quick look back to the Commander, and then very slowly and with clear reluctance approached Midnight. The younger filly flinched away imperceptibly as her attacker approached, moving half a hoof-length toward her mother. After several painfully silent moments, Swiftwing spoke in the put-upon tones of a child being compelled into an apology. "It was wrong of me to strike you, Midnight Sparkle. I offer my apologies."

Midnight regarded Swiftwing with her usual neutral and faintly curious expression, but could not entirely hide the nervous tremble in her voice when she answered. "I-I suppose it is polite to accept. Though I do not even know why you struck me to begin with. All I did was make some inquiries about your wings. Or lack thereof."

Swiftwing gave an angry twitch that I could not blame her for, but after a tense moment the wounded young pegasus took a deep breath and calmed herself. No doubt the fact that myself, the Commander, and Archmagus Sparkle were all present and giving her our full attention served to restrain any violent impulses. "You made inappropriate inquiries, Midnight Sparkle. My situation is no macabre jest."

Midnight tilted her head to the side and stared at Swiftwing with unnatural intensity. She very slowly blinked, her eyes ever so subtly out of sync with each other. "Who said your situation is a jest?" The young filly inquired flatly. "I merely wished to understand your predicmo—predika—" Midnight let out a frustrated little snort and stamped on the floor. "Why you are the way you are," she concluded lamely.

Gale stepped between the two fillies to forestall any further conflict between the two. I went on guard once more, if only because it put my daugher within Sparkle's line of sight. I did not think it likely the Archmagus would attack my daughter now, but when it comes to Gale's safety I am perhaps a touch paranoid. "Her predicament," Gale pronounced the word slowly for Midnight's benefit, "is very raw to her, Midnight. Mention of it is akin to iodine on a wound."

Young Midnight's eye's brightened in comprehension. "Ah! So talking about it will bring her great pain but prevent an infection of the spirit? Is that what you are saying? In that case, I must speak to her about it as often as possible."

Swiftwing's ear twitched several times, and voice was thick with barely restrained fury. "Neigh."

My beleaguered daughter let out a put-upon little sigh. "Only the first instance, Midnight. T'would be akin to the loss of your horn." I suspect that Gale most likely regretting her decision to involve herself in the first place. She might have been better advised to leave the matter to the Commander, who appeared fond of fillies and was no doubt substantially more experienced in such things than the both of us together. Unfortunately for my poor daughter, Commander Celestia seemed content for the moment to observe Gale's floundering.

The two fillies gazed in each other's general direction, awkwardly refusing to meet each other's eyes. Midnight was unconsciously rubbing a hoof along her horn, whilst Swiftwing's tail was agitatedly flicking back and forth. I suppose awkward and uncomfortable silence was at least preferable to the previous state of things between them.

'Twould be wise to secure this tentative peace while it lasted, else we might find ourselves relegated to serving as mediators between the two for hours longer. "The fillies have settled their dispute, it would seem. Mayhap it is time we returned to the business of running Equestria?"

"Ah, once again I must neglect my subjects for the sake of my realm," the Commander grumbled under her breath. It seemed that unlike myself or Sparkle, Commander Celestia preferred the problems of fillies to those of nations. I suppose they were at least more easily solved. At length, she turned to my daughter. "Gale, if thou couldst escort thy two young charges to the dining room and watch over them for a few moments longer? Fear not, I shall be along to take them off of thy hooves shortly."

Gale nodded, though by the frown on her face I would hazard that she misliked being relegated to minding over the foals. "Aye, Commander." She reluctantly began leading the two fillies off, making a point to keep herself between the two of them to prevent any further clashes from escalating beyond harsh language and sullen glares.

As the fillies were about to make their departure, Sparkle finally deigned to speak about her Midnight's behavior. "I will give my daughter a lecture on social decorum later to prevent further incidents such as this, Your Majesty." She directed a pointed glare at Midnight, who gave a slight flinch and turned her head so that her mother could not make eye contact.

I had some small measure of sympathy for Sparkle as a fellow mother, and one who had also found her daughter vexing at times. However, 'twas abundantly clear that more than mere lectures are needed for yon filly, and I rather strongly suspected that many of young Midnight's oddities were due to how Sparkle raised the child.

Once Gale and the fillies were out of the room, the Commander turned to the two of us and offered a slightly strained smile. "Well, if two young fillies can resolve their differences, surely an Ephor and a Vizier can manage?"

Surely the Commander does not oversimplify intergovernmental politics so easily? There was a world of difference between my dispute with Sunbeam Sparkle and the minor scuffle between Swiftwing and Midnight. (6)

6: I don't think Celestia would agree.

"I am sure we can find some way to develop a proper working relationship." Sparkle announced coolly. "If we are to take your example to heart, Your Majesty, then perhaps I might write Shadow's father to request her presence for an overnight visit? No doubt we could trade idle gossip about which stallions are particularly pleasing to the eye and strike each other about the head and shoulder with pillows."

"Sunbeam..." A hint of warning entered the Commander's voice.

"How would Your Majesty prefer that I bond with the Ephor and resolve our 'foalish' disagreement, then?" Sparkle demanded. "Shall I offer her fine gifts? Wine her and dine her? Ask her politely to accept my friendship?"

"Mind thy tongue, Sunbeam," the Commander snapped. For a second I hoped that she might be genuinely wroth and I was bearing witness to Sunbeam's downfall, but a moment later Commander's Celestia's scowl transformed into an amused smirk. "If the two of thee continue thy arguing, I might conclude that, like many young ponies in the throes of passion, the two of thee express thy mutual affection through constant bickering. I am sure an arranged marriage with my own blessing would do much to strengthen the bond of friendship between Pegasopolis and Unicornia."

The Commander can be cruel when the mood takes her. Better that I accept Sparkle's proposal of a meal—the worst she might do is poison me.

Thankfully, the Commander did not make good on that most terrifying of threats. "I leave the details of any arrangements to the two of thee. All I ask is that you learn to properly work alongside one another, rather than remain constantly at each others' throats." A haunted look crossed the Commander's eyes, and her voice took on a slightly ethereal tone as she added, "It is of the utmost importance for all Equestria that the two of thee set aside thy differences."

The Commander's point was well-taken regardless of my personal dislike for Sparkle. Shadow Kicker might freely despise Sunbeam Sparkle, but open discord between an Ephor of Pegasopolis and the Grand Vizier of Unicornia could cause no end of difficulty. 'Twas best if we maintained a level of professional courtesy, at the very least. "Aye, Commander."

The Archmagus genuflected towards her queen. "It will be as you wish, Your Majesty. Protecting the children of Equestria is, of course, of far greater importance than any personal dispute between myself and the Ephor."

The Commander looked the both of us over, and gave a slight nod. "Very well." Her businesslike demeanour faded away, and an impish smile took its place. "Now, unless there is anything else, I do believe I have two young fillies to dote upon."

So pleased was I to be done with the uncomfortable topic of Clippings that the second matter at hoof nearly slipped my mind. Thankfully, I remembered the matter in time. "There is one other thing, Commander. Griffon reivers are troubling our borders once more. Ephor Charger wishes permission to cross into griffon territory to put an end to the attacks."

"You want to invade the griffons?" Sparkle let out a disparaging scoff, and was no doubt preparing some scathing remark when she recalled the all-too-recent censure the both of us had received from the Commander. When she spoke again, her voice had returned to it usual calm, controlled tones. "Your Majesty, I strongly advise against such a course of action. Minor border incursions along the griffon border have been an unfortunate reality ever since our first contact with the griffons. A few bandits are hardly worth causing such a fuss over."

"Those bandits are victimizing innocent ponies," I countered tersely. "Ponies that are under the Commander's protection."

"And I am sure that warriors of Pegasopolis can adequately chastise any raiders who dare cross the border," the Grand Vizier answered. "Any bandits who cross the border will be dealt with by our forces. Those that do not are hardly a concern for Equestria."

"Equestria will always be plagued by griffon reivers if we allow them to establish secure bases on our frontiers." I suppose I should not be surprised that a pampered Canterlot pony like Sparkle had no understanding of military strategy. "Seeing off the occasional raid does little to deter future attacks, and unless you would dispatch a full army to the region our patrols cannot hope to protect the full length of our border against any possible intrusion."

"So you would provoke the griffons to war because your fellow pegasi cannot secure our borders?" the Archmagus demanded acidly, earning her a reproving look from the Commander.

"We have hundreds of miles worth of land and airspace to secure," I answered her calmly. "Unless you wish for hundreds of thousands of ponies to continuously comb every single inch of ground, clump of dirt, and speck of cloud, there will be opportunities for small bands of reivers to slip past our defenses."

"Your point is well-made," the Archmagus reluctantly conceded. "However, a cross-border assault on these bandits would be most unwise. It has long been said that the only thing which can ever unite all the griffons in a single cause is a threat from without." (7)

7: The griffons at this time were still politically fragmented. While Griffonia was theoretically a single political entity united under the High King, in practice most High Kings were largely powerless figureheads. Effective power within Griffonia lay in the talons of lesser kings, dukes, and other nobles, most of whom constantly plotted, schemed, and warred against each other. Thankfully, modern griffons only kill each other over politics once every few decades.

"You would have the reiver's victims go unavenged, then?" I challengingly met the Archmagus' gaze, all but daring her to confirm my accusation.

The Commander had apparently heard her fill of our discussion. "Vengeance accomplishes little, Shadow. As one of our great sages once said, 'an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind.'" Commander Celestia slowly shook her head. "If we send forces across the border into griffon territory, it would violate our long-standing peace treaty with the High King. How do you think our subjects on the border would fare in the case of open warfare between pony and griffon?"

Her point was well-made, but I was less than happy with her conclusion. That is not to say that I disagreed—the cold logic of the situation was that a single day of war would kill far more than a hundred years of reiver raids. However, just because the logic was clear and indisputable did not mean I had to like it. "Very well, Commander. I have nothing more to report."

The Commander turned to her archmagus and raised a single eyebrow. Sparkle bowed once more, since that was apparently a prerequisite for unicorns to have any form of communication with their queen. "There is nothing else that requires Your Majesty's immediate attention, neigh."

The Commander gave a single nod. "Then I bid thee both good day. Though it saddens me, I am afraid you should return to Cloudsdale posthaste, Shadow." She offered me a warm smile that seemed more personal than one would expect from their Commander. "'Twould be a pleasure to interact with thee when duty does not strictly dictate our roles." With that rather cryptic comment, Commander Celestia departed.

Once the Commander was out of the room, Archmagus Sparkle turned to me and unleashed a particularly baleful glare. No doubt that moment of personal favor from the Commander had done little to endear me to her. "It would seem we are destined to work with one another until this matter involving the Clippings is concluded." From the way the words left her mouth, one would think that the Commander had ordered her to serve as barracks-whorse. Granted, that might be a far better use for Sunbeam Sparkle than her current position.

Sadly, the Commander's prohibition on open quarreling prevented me from voicing those thoughts. Instead, I opted for something moderately more diplomatic. "Let us pray it is resolved quickly, then."

"Quite." Sunbeam Sparkle's eyes narrowed, and she unflinchingly met my gaze. "Do not cross me in this matter, Ephor. There are ways I might express my displeasure with you that you will not enjoy, and not even Her Majesty can save you from the full measure of my wrath."

"I shall bear that in mind." I did not bother offering threat of my own. Words are easily spoken, and all too often meaningless. If it came to that, I would let my blades speak for themselves.

My colleagues' concerns about the Commander suddenly rang far truer to me. I know not what concerned me more: her haste to ignore the ancient treaties that bound all Equestria together simply to sooth a single pony's ego, or her willingness to abide by a treaty even when the other signatory freely violated it, simply because that same pony advised such a course. Neigh, perhaps what troubled me most of all was Commander Celestia's decision to overlook Sunbeam Sparkle's naked lust for power, even if that power came at the cost of all Equestria.