January 20th, 1882. 1002 Canterlot Standard Time. Tarhen.

“You want that one?” Zsaryna asks softly and Diplomatic Incident nods shortly as he points out the curiously shaped vase with the long handle and an equally long spout.

“I belive so, it is suitably tacky and tasteless as to be highly received in Canterlot high society, whilst at the same time hinting at exotic adventures in foreign climes.” He reaches for his money-bags whilst the lady Ambassador at his elbow chuckles.
“And if they should ask what it is?”

“It is a teapot for brewing special blends of tea that one can find only in the Khanate.” Diplomatic Incident replies with an absolutely straight face, which is more than his escort can maintain. The Valorossiyan smirks and then lightly slaps him on the back as he pays for the item and starts walking, ‘teapot’ held loosely at his side.

“You are Impossible!” She chuckles as the two of them keep walking through the bazaar, past a rolling tide of cats going about their business, past merchants hawking their wares from beneath garishly colored awnings. The two of them are walking through the Stam-Zakosin Souks, among the largest open air markets in the city of Tarhen. The Stam-Zakosin streets have always been an open air market, even before the current Shah’s time, and like all the old markets that predate the current regime, an air of freewheeling and lawlessness hangs in the air like a musk. Whilst the omnipresent Morality Police still hang around like vultures to prey upon the wary and the Basijis stalk the crowd like hyenas, they are very much in the minority here, and business continues as normal around them.

The Stam-Zakosin is legendary, even among the markets of Tarhen. It is well known as a market where you could get anything you wanted as long as you had the money to pay. Whilst officially it’s listed as a trade hub for spices and exotics, ask the right questions or talk to the right person and you could find as many guns or drugs as your heart desires. Or at least you could till recently. Diplomatic Incident has already made inquiries in this part of town and the usual weapon vendors are nowhere to be found, and the new ones don’t sell any of the good product that Diplomatic Incident knows is sloshing around just under the surface. The lack of quality weapons for sale worries his Valorossiyan counterpart just as much, not least because it means tighter control over the state armories for one thing, which in turn means someone has an interest in stockpiling weapons.

Diplomatic Incident’s gaze flicks to a mirror as Zsaryna’s hand taps his twice.
“You see him?” He growls under his breath, and Zsaryna nods, her gaze flicking to a mirror where a Khan with grey fur and golden robes can be seen looking for a little too long in their direction whilst appearing to peruse a basket of fruit.
“He’s been following us since we left the Embassy… he’s from the Ministry of Truth.” She says softly and Diplomatic Incident nods.

“Let him watch.” He growls “Thus far we have done nothing of note, nothing out of the ordinary for diplomats to be doing."

“You mean aside from you pulling your gun on one of their acolytes?” Zsaryna deadpans and Diplomatic Incident snickers

“And you holding the same acolyte up in the air by his throat, yes, I nearly forgot.” he chuckles. He’s not nearly as concerned about being watched as he should be. He’s here in the open, as an Equestrian envoy, and so he shouldn’t be surprised by someone deciding to take an interest in his comings and goings. Only the idiots stop recognized individuals travelling on Equestrian passports. Diplomatic Incident smiles, content to enjoy his day. He’s out of the office, walking through a market with his girlfriend, trying to prepare the way for Equestria’s last great gamble to avoid war, to send an untried Princess to stick her head into the lion's mouth, figuratively speaking of course.
It certainly beats a cottage in the country as far as retirement plans go.
“So you’re telling me these friends of yours want to meet here?” He asks and Zsaryna nods

“It’s their base of operations.” Zsaryna says softly “But we can’t meet them with him tailing us, it’ll-”
Diplomatic Incident suddenly grips Zsaryna’s hand tightly as he hears a sudden muffled boom ring out, a sharp thunderclap… on a clear and sunny day. Diplomatic Incident stiffens even as it is answered by a second explosion, this one much closer. Diplomatic Incident can feel the ground vibrate beneath his feet as a third explosion rends the air, this one even closer than the last two. He wants to run, wants to jump underneath something solid and curl up there until the explosions have passed.

A loud voice is suddenly raised in an invocation and before Diplomatic Incident can react, there is a sudden earth shattering detonation right behind them. His hand is ripped from Zsaryna’s as he is picked up and hurled bodily through the air, the blast wave throwing him into something hard and heavy. Pain spreads across his chest like fire and Diplomatic Incident clutches at his chest. Everything around him seems to move slowly, as though it’s suspended in treacle. The world is cloudy, nearly invisible with vague blurs moving this way and that. Diplomatic Incident claws his way to his hands and knees, coughing from the acrid smoke that billows from burnt storefronts. He can smell the familiar sickly sweet odour of burnt flesh and a wet heat trickles down the side of his face. His hand comes up to his face and comes away covered in something sticky and red.

How strange. Diplomatic Incident thinks, Someone spilt the ketchup… must have a word with the butler about that. He thinks groggily as he gropes for the glasses that were thrown off his face by the blast. Diplomatic Incident can hear screams, but they’re muffled, like someone’s covered his ears with a pillow, the only sound he can hear clearly is a shrill ringing in his ears.

Diplomatic Incident blinks, coughing and spluttering as he tries to see clearly, tries to clear his head. Pain flows through him, pulsing waves of fire dance across his vision. As his ears clear, he can hear the thunder of booted feet running towards him. A cool hand reaches under his armpit and pulls him to standing and a familiar female voice is speaking
“-Come on, we need to go!” The voice calls and Diplomatic Incident staggers with the female. He can hear the boots drawing nearer. Diplomatic Incident shakes his head again to try and clear the grogginess that fogs his mind, however it doesn’t seem to work and his world just spins all the faster.

He stumbles and falls, slipping out of the female’s grip to land hard upon the earth. Raised voices ring in his ears as Diplomatic Incident loses consciousness, the world fading to black.

___

Twelve hours later, Canterlot, Celestia’s Study. 2205 Local time.

It is with deepest regret that I must come before this parliament and ask-
“No, that is too submissive.” Celestia mutters to herself, balling the paper up and tossing it at the waste paper basket across the room. This declaration has to be handled with tact and sensetivity, it also has to be firm and forceful yet at the same time it has to sound like a last resort. However it must not be too submissive, else her own people might doubt the prowess and skill of her armed forces, which Celestia does not doubt, not since she put her sister in charge.
Due to the turbulent situation abroad, I must come before this parliament and request the activation of the Emergency Provisions of 1822.
There, suitably brief and to the point whilst at the same time it’s not going to get any Khan tails in a knot, any more than they already are at least. Celestia finds that image, the image of Salim Khesh-Raman, the Khanate’s ambassador to Equestria, with his bushy bottlebrush tail tied in a knot rather amusing. However such thoughts are suddenly rudely curtailed by a knock on the door.

“Enter.” Celestia intones, wondering what heap of misery this messenger will bring.

“Cable from the Foreign Office marm.” The messenger says softly, holding the pink envelope in front of him like a live grenade. It might as well be, since pink envelopes are only used for top secret correspondence, generally government to government if it comes from the Foreign Office.

The messenger bows and approaches Celestia’s desk, placing the missive before the impassive Empress of the Sun. Celestia closes her eyes for a second, wondering who or what the message concerns. She has a nasty feeling however that it’s a missive from Twilight. Slowly the empress of half the continent reaches for the envelope and opens it.

FAO P-CEL/P-LUN

DI INJURED IN TARHEN STOP
SUICIDE BOMBER STOP
DI ARRESTED AS EQ SPY STOP
KHAN BLAMING EQ FOR INSURGENTS STOP
UNION WANTS TO KNOW IF EQ IS ALL IN STOP
POPULACE IS V AGITATED, WAR DEC POSSIBLE WITHIN 24HRS STOP
UNION SUPPORT POSSIBLE STOP

Z.A

Celestia reads the message a second time, and then a third, trying to make sure she hasn’t misread the message. Questions bloom forth from her mind like weeds. How exactly Diplomatic Incident can have been arrested as a spy when he was travelling openly as an Equestrian envoy? How can he be fingered as a spy if he was caught in an attack? A whirlwind of questions rise in Princess Celestia’s mind, questions that have no answers.
However one question is foremost in Princess Celestia’s mind.
Is My Faithful Student alright? Has Twilight been caught in this? Am I going to have another death on my conscience because I assumed she was ready?

“Your highness?” A voice breaks through the fog of guilt already clouding the Empress of the Sun’s mind. Celestia opens her eyes to see the young messanger still standing there, waiting for a response. Celestia takes a deep breath, clearing her mind. She is the ruler of Equestria. She must be strong right now, she must be firm and she must sort this out. This situation has gone on too long, enough is well and truly enough. If the Khanate is going to arrest her diplomats and throw them in prison when she’s trying to sort this out...

“Does the Foreign Office have an address this telegram was sent from?” She asks firmly, dispelling her doubts and clearing her mind. Now is not the time for indecisiveness, now that a course of action has been decided, she has to act on that course of action.

“Yes Ma’am, it was sent from the Valorossiyan embassy in Tarhen.”
“Good, send this reply-”

To the honored ambassador Zsaryna Adrelana.

We thank you for your missive, it was read with great interest by our involved parties. However to clarify the situation, Equestria's intent in this matter has always been clear. We seek a peaceful resolution to this crisis where possible, and it is my belief that main force is not yet the most viable response to the situation.

That being said, we are viewing developments in the Khanate with growing concern.We would appreciate your presence at a meeting in the very near future (Possibly sometime tonight) to discuss potential responses to the situation as it stands. Use of force has not been ruled out at this time. With that in mind, we would appreciate clarification of your faction's position in the event of war.

With Regards
HRH Princess Celestia.

Celestia jots the message down quickly, her writing neat as ever. She has learnt, over the years, to keep her handwriting neat, no matter what the circumstance. It helps capture the illusion of control and conveys to Equestria’s neighbours that thier ruler has a firm grip on events and a plan to deal with them, as opposed to feeling like things are slipping through her fingers.. The thought of going to war, for the first time in two hundred years sends a chill down her spine. Whilst going to war was something that she’d prepared herself for the past three weeks, tried to prepare the country for as much as she could, events have once again taken on a life of their own.

As soon as the young man is gone, the missive clutched in his sweaty palms, Celestia starts to draft another message, this one for Luna.

Sister,

things have taken a rather strange turn here. Cease your visit to HMS Armifer, return to Canterlot and make your troops ready for war - quietly please!!
War isn’t certain but it’s closer at hand now than it was this time yesterday.
Use your best judgement.

Celestia.

Princess Celestia finishes writing the last telegram and takes a deep, shuddering breath as she snaps her fingers and dissolves the telegram into a burst of bright golden fire, wondering all the while how she’s going to make this work, how exactly she’s going to bring this war to a successful conclusion with minimal losses on her side. She knows it’s not her problem anymore, that war is now the preserve of her sister, but that doesn’t stop Celestia from worrying. She silently rises to her feet, wandering over to the window and out onto the balcony. Outside, the city of Canterlot is at peace, with the gentle flicker of torches glowing in the cool dry night. Lights from a thousand windows gleam in the darkness like tiny fireflies. In each one is a family, or a couple or an individual. People who rely on Princess Celestia for guidance, who rely on her to keep them safe from harm. Citizens who can infuriate and aggravate her at the best of times with their small mindedness and their pettiness. The memory of the bulging sacks of hate mail that the palace received upon Twilight’s relationship with Rainbow Dash coming to light still burns. However they are her people, people who love her as she loves them.

Celestia takes a deep breath, the cold air filling her lungs. The air tastes sweeter than it normally does on a winter’s night. It is crisp and refreshing, clearing her lungs and her mind. She will meet this task, this stern duty as she has met all the tasks previously, and she will overcome.