Chancellor Artellus was a strong, well-built stag. Shorter than Celestia by a head, his large, decorated antlers still managed to make him look her equal in size. He was also darker than most of his kind, with a coat the color of wet earth flecked with white spots. He stood with confidence, a prime example of whitetail physique.

And his eyes glowed with a silent fury Celestia hadn't seen since her own sister had turned on her.

"Welcome to Equestria, Chancellor Artellus," the princess said with a respectful bow of her head, approaching the ruler of Whitetail and his retinue of guards. They wore glassy, crystal-like armor that radiated in the sunlight with a deep, almost otherworldly emerald color. At his side, a pair of does -- servants, most likely -- fanned him with large half-circles made of wooden frames and delicate paper.

"I was not aware you were going to be making a visit, good sir. To what do I owe the pleas--"

"You can cut the formalities, Celestia," he interrupted her, already raising his voice. "I am not here on leisure. I am here because of a number. A very specific number."

Celestia cocked her head. "A number? I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't quite understand."

Artellus was quiet for a moment before he spoke up. "Two-hundred and forty-seven, Celestia. Does that number mean anything to you?"

"I...cannot say it does. You'll excuse me if--"

"Two-hundred and forty-seven. That is the number of my citizens who were slaughtered by your military."

Celestia gasped at the accusation. "Chancellor, I assure you, this is the first I've heard of such a thing. In fact, the reason I am here is because one of our own patrols was attacked by what appears to be traitorous guardsmen. At no point have I heard of any attack on your nation."

"You haven't? Really? Because the settlement of River Run says otherwise. Perhaps you would like to bathe in the river of blood that now flows from its citizens?"

River Run. So she had been right...

"What? What are you hiding?" Artellus demanded.

"Nothing, Your Grace. You must understand, this is the first I've heard of this attack and--"

"DO NOT LIE TO ME!" He shouted, taking an aggressive step forward. Celestia's guards were fast, their swords at the ready within a heartbeat's time. They stared down the bucks in their glimmering armor, both sides daring the other to make the first move. "You know damn well what happened! I have numerous eyewitness accounts that place your Equestrian Guard at River Run that night! I have swords of Equestrian make still buried in the necks and skulls of my people! I have armor worn by your guards spattered with the blood of fawns and does, cut down in the roads and slaughtered in their homes! Half of River Run is now a burnt-out, blood-stained killing field!" He spoke through clenched teeth and glared with a seething anger he could barely contain. "And to think I used to trust you."

The pieces suddenly fell into place. How had she not seen it until now? The very village her doomed patrol had been sent to scout was also the closest village to where they had fallen, murdered by traitors. If the patrol had encountered the offending soldiers coming from opposite their direction, as Swift Strike had said, that would mean they had come from...

"River Run," she said quietly.

"Perhaps you would care to say that again, murderer," he spat out the word like bitter wine, his hatred and contempt causing him to literally shake where he stood.

"The guards that attacked my legionaries. They came from River Run."

Artellus lifted a cloven hoof to his chest in mock sympathy. "Oh. Oh, I see. You lost a few soldiers. I'm sure that will be of immense comfort to the fawns who watched their parents' throats get sliced in front of them!"

"You don't understand," she said, regaining a measure of composure. "Empress Elinwynn told me that a concentration of soldiers -- my soldiers -- were massing along Whitetail's borders. I told her I was unaware of any such encampment, so I asked the 44th Legion to search for exactly that sort of thing between this location and River Run."

"You sent armed soldiers into my territory?! And yet you still deny slaughtering my people!"

"I did not order them," she retorted, finally raising her voice, "to attack River Run! I would never do such a thing! Yes, I sent an armed patrol into Whitetail, but at no point did I ever tell them to attack anyone! They defended themselves, likely from the same guards who attacked your village, and all but one of them were killed in the process! And you dare come here, in front of my own stallions, and accuse me of murdering innocents?!" Celestia took a deep breath and calmed herself. "No. I will not have such an allegation thrown at me. Not for one moment. Not by you, not by anyone. I do not kill the innocent, Chancellor Artellus. If these...traitors...who killed my soldiers are the same you speak of, then I swear I will do everything in my power to see them brought to justice. But I did not have a hoof in their actions."

"And how do I know such claims are not simply a way to throw me off course? Having some of your own turn on each other is a very convenient way to absolve yourself of any guilt."

"Because the survivor of the attack is resting in the infirmary as we speak." Celestia motioned back toward the tent. "I have just finished conversing with him. The conviction in his voice, the strength of his words...they are as genuine as I've ever heard. I do not doubt him for a moment." She narrowed her eyes at the stag standing before her. "Furthermore, I do not appreciate accusations that I would commit such a terrible atrocity, Artellus. We have known each other for quite a while, have we not?"

"I suppose we have."

"And in all those years, when have I ever shown anything but goodwill to you and your people? Have we not helped each other in times of need?" She leaned in closer and looked him directly in the eyes. "What purpose would it serve me to kill innocent deer, to slaughter families? If you believe me a warmonger, Chancellor, then perhaps all of our years of friendship have been a sham and you truly know nothing about me."

Chancellor Artellus held her gaze for a long moment, then stomped a frustrated hoof in the dirt. He began to pace behind his guards, their swords still drawn. "I came here expecting to hear you attempt to justify such a horrible act, to say that River Run deserved what happened to it."

"You really think I would say something like that? I'm honestly hurt that you think so little of me."

He stopped, turning to face the princess, his expression suddenly softer.

"So you didn't attack Whitetail?"

"I swear I did not."

"And you really did lose good soldiers to a band of traitors?"

"That's how it appears thus far, yes."

Artellus let out a deep sigh. "Celestia...even if I were to believe you -- and I really want to -- you must understand: there are others who are not so easily persuaded. The people of Whitetail are calling for blood. Your blood. Convincing me is one thing, but the entirety of a nation? That's an whole different matter entirely."

"Then convince them, Chancellor. They'll listen to you."

"They'll listen to me only as far as the senate wills it." Artellus looked down to his guards. "Put those things away, there is no need for more bloodshed." Celestia's guards did the same, and at last there was an uneasy peace. "Whitetail isn't like Equestria, Princess. I have forty-three senators who expect me to carry out the will of the people, and the people expect me to call for war. I can tell them your story, but I fear my stance may be unpopular enough that the senate will seek to override my decision with a three-quarters vote."

Celestia frowned, disheartened by the news. "Surely you are not powerless as the head of the state. I could come with you. We could talk to the senate together, get them to understand that this is the work of an outside force. Or an inner one, as the case may be."

"I appreciate your conviction, but I believe the last thing you should do right now is step hoof in Whitetail. I don't think you fully grasp just how angry the population is right now." Artellus put a hoof to his forehead, seeking to calm a pounding headache that had been growing since his arrival. "Ancestors forgive me. Here I thought I might have an answer, have someone to blame for this atrocity, yet I show myself to be no better than an angry dog barking at shadows." He bowed his head deeply as he spoke. "I accosted you without evidence, insulted you and your nation, and for that I truly apologize, Princess Celestia. How foolish I must look..."

Celestia nodded lightly in return. "While I cannot say I approve of jumping to such conclusions, or the actions you took because of it...I accept your apology, Chancellor Artellus, and I mourn for the loss of your people. Such a thing is beyond anything I can imagine."

"Thank you, Celestia. That means a lot to me. And yet, now I face the prospect of returning to the senate with news that you are absolved of guilt, despite physical evidence to the contrary. They are not going to be so persuaded, I fear. I will tell them exactly what you have told me, but..."

Celestia stepped toward him and placed a hoof on his armored, silver-inlaid chest. "Speak with conviction, and they will listen. I'm sure of it."

For the first time, Artellus smiled.

"I wish I were as sure as you, Princess. But I have already caused you enough drama for one day, I think." He motioned to his guards. "Come, we take our leave." Artellus bowed to Celestia, and she bowed in return. "I truly hope we find who is responsible for this. And when we do, they will suffer for it."

Along the road running between Whitetail and Equestria, a lone carriage bumped and rolled over the rough dirt. Up front, a pair of emerald-clad guards pulled their leader and his two servants, chattering idly with each other as their passengers did the same. It was a long way back to the capital, especially with their return trip taking them around -- and thus avoiding -- the place where Equestria's legionaries were apparently attacked by their own. The same force that had slaughtered the town of River Run.

In his embellished, gold-inlaid seat, Chancellor Artellus had remained mostly quiet since he'd left the Equestrian encampment several hours ago. For what felt like an age he'd mulled over what he'd heard, what Princess Celestia had claimed. Could she actually be right? Was the attack on River Run the work of traitors? She'd certainly spoken with confidence.

"Would you like a cup of wine, Chancellor?" Faedris, one of his servant does, asked as her counterpart fanned the ruling buck. Artellus smiled at her and waved a hoof.

"No, thank you, Faedris. Reluctant though I am to turn down a fine Valed Meadow, I'm afraid I must keep my mental faculties under as much control as I can manage."

"As you wish, Chancellor."

Artellus stared at the doe for several seconds, cocking his head.

"Faedris, may I ask you something?"

"Of course, Chancellor. Whatever you please."

"What did you think of Celestia?"

Faedris worked her mouth up and down, not sure how to respond to such a question.

"I...I'm not sure I understand. It is not my place to speak of such things, Chancellor."

"Please, I would like you to speak your mind. You need not fear reprisal, if that is what you're concerned about."

"Well...umm..." She tapped her chin with a hoof as she thought. "It's not quite something I have a lot of experience with, but the pony princess seems to believe in what she's saying. At least, as far as I could tell. Why do you ask?"

"Because I've no idea what to tell the senate. I thought perhaps an outside voice could help me make up my mind."

"Oh, of course, Chancellor. I'm more than happy to help."

"Very good." He turned to the servant opposite him, who was still cooling him with a large paper fan. "Arixia, would you care for some wine in my stead? No reason to let it go to waste."

Arixia, younger and lighter in coat than her fellow servant, blinked in surprise.

"Me, Chancellor?"

"Unless you know of another Arixia in this carriage. Think of it as a 'thank you' for your attendance."

"In that case...yes, thank you."

His antlers glowed with a crackling white energy as he levitated the cup to his servant.

"Faedris, I understand you have a pony in the family. Am I correct?"

She nodded. "Yes, Chancellor. My cousin married a pony -- a unicorn, I think they're called -- last year. They're quite a cute couple, if I do say so."

"I would imagine so," he said with a smile. "Have you had the chance to get to know this unicorn?"

"Somewhat. She is not around as often as we'd all like, what with living two towns away, but we've conversed at length a few times. Very interested in deer history, as it turns out."

"Being married to a deer will do that to you, hmm?"

"I suppose it would," she giggled.

"I must say, I envy you. I didn't even see a pony until my seventh birthday. Father was a senator at the time, and he had taken me to a gathering of the near-by rulers, and that's when I saw them -- a pair of winged ponies, flying over the meeting grounds. How I wished I could have joined them."

"That sounds very nice, Chancellor."

"Indeed it was." He let out a deep sigh. "And then for some bizarre reason, probably the onset of stupidity that comes with a career in politics, I thought I might try my hoof at running Whitetail. And now here I am, less than a year after election, and my own people have been slaughtered. Now I face the task of returning to Whitetail with only Celestia's good word to counter the pile of bodies laid at my seat." He was silent for a moment before continuing. "I must have looked a rank amateur and a horrific brute, accusing her of such a thing. I have never seen Celestia lose her temper, but I certainly warranted her doing that very thing."

"And you believe what she's said, Chancellor?"

"Some part of me doesn't want to, but Princess Celestia has been around far longer than I have. Unless she is extraordinarily well-versed in deceit, I've no real reason to doubt her resolve. And yet, the senate -- and more-so than even that, the citizens of Whitetail -- are not likely to care for my words of defense for the Equestrians. The more I think about it, the more I realize I'm facing an uphill struggle."

He looked at Faedris with a frown.

"Perhaps if Whitetail hadn't been so secretive for so many generations, marriage between our species would be more common. Perhaps we wouldn't be in this situation right now. We're so closely related to ponykind, and yet it feels like we're a world apart."

"You can't know that, Chancellor," Arixia answered him, finishing her cup of wine. "You've barely slept in days, and further worrying on the way to the capital will only serve to set you on edge before the senate. Who will you convince to see your view when you can barely stand or maintain your composure?"

"Sleep?" he said with a dismissive scoff. "My dear Arixia, if I don't come up with something by tomorrow I will--"

"Shhh...you will have plenty of time to consider such things when you've rested. After all, we can't have the most powerful stag in Whitetail losing focus, now can we? Now, lay your head back and relax. We will figure out something by tomorrow, I'm sure of it."

Reluctantly, Artellus closed his eyes, sure that he was wasting his time. A gentle song filled the carriage, one that was familiar to him since he was a fawn. His mind painted a picture of a beautiful meadow, a house near a babbling stream. Home. It had been so long. The thoughts comforted him, and soon he found himself asleep for the first time in days.

Evinwiir, the capital of Whitetail and trade hub for all manner of vendors passing through from Cervidae and Equestria. Always a busy place, it was frequently packed with traveling merchants, vendors, tourists and dignitaries. This time of year was particularly busy, the autumn harvest drawing in farmers and produce sellers from the far reaches of the continent. Bustling and outwardly friendly though the city was, there was a subtle undercurrent that ran through the crowds, waiting for someone to pick it out of the noise and chatter. It existed only in bits and pieces -- whispered rumors here, claims and exaggerations there. "River Run has been slaughtered to the last child," one would say. "No," a voice would answer him, "they left the children alive on purpose."

So much confusion, so much panic hidden just below the surface. Ponies and deer unfamiliar with each other eyed their distantly-related counterparts with suspicion and unease. Whitetail was a tightly-wound coil, just waiting for something to set it off.

Triarii intended to be that something. It was a name he had chosen for himself, taken from the old saying "gone to the triarii" -- the bitter end. He found it fitting. His old name, his old profession, his old life; none of it mattered. There was only Triarii, the willing instrument of change.

Casually he walked the cobblestone streets that wound around the tall, graceful curves of Whitetail architecture. Vendors shouted to him as he passed by in his purple cloak and thin robes, a popular deer fashion. It helped him blend in. Sometimes he would hear one of them curse his kind. "Disgusting equine," an old buck said from a corner. "Murderer! Filth!"

Triarii tolerated their barbs, shrugged off their verbal slings and arrows. They could say whatever they wanted. It wouldn't change anything. In the end they, too, would know the truth. His queen, his goddess, would see to it. She had assured him that much. And so he had entered Whitetail's biggest city willingly, without hesitation.

Up ahead, in the distance. A parting of the crowds, a murmur of commotion. The chancellor of Whitetail had returned after what felt like an age, his procession of carriages and chariots surrounded by deer guards in their glinting armor. Slowly, and with great purpose, he made his way to the front of the crowd as the chancellor's entourage patrolled ahead of him. Thousands of deer gathered around to catch a glimpse of their leader. Most paid him no attention, ignoring the pony that was half a head shorter than the average citizen. To them, he was just another Equestrian tourist or traveler.

The procession slowed to a halt in front of the steps of the senate building. Numerous senators in their ornate clothing and opulent antler decorations waited at the top. Good, more witnesses.

Chancellor Artellus finally stepped out of his carriage, flanked on either side by guards and servants. He waved a foreleg at the crowds and they erupted in cheer. Flowing, almost poetic deer language poured from his lips, and the gathered masses cheered once again. Ever the pragmatist, Artellus took several minutes to greet the front rows of citizens and converse with them. Some of them sounded angry, or upset, or deeply saddened. Survivors of River Run, perhaps? Relatives of those who were cut down? It mattered little.

Triarii's mouth twitched and his heart raced as the deer chancellor approached his side of the crowd, escorted by his personal guard. This was it -- this was the very moment he'd waited for, trained for, obsessed over for so many long weeks. Every step closer sounded louder in his ears until the crowd became a castrophany of voices and hoof stamps. He could hear the sound of his own breaths, echoing in his head and rippling through his body. Long seconds passed, each feeling like a lifetime. A few more steps.

And then, he struck.

"LONG LIVE EQUESTRIA!"

Even as he shouted his last words, his victory cry, the gladius hidden under his robe levitated out, enveloped in a sparkling, shimmering field of green magic. Time slowed as he saw the blade flip over, its sharpened point cutting through the air. It only had to travel a short distance. He could feel the resistance of the weapon as it plunged through the chancellor's skin, sliced apart muscle, fat, and sinew. Deeper, up to the very hilt, through the heart and the arteries. Stiff resistance; the ribs and spine. And there his blade stopped, for it could go no further.

The deer guards were fast. Very fast. But they were not fast enough. Two, then four, then countless blades tore through Triarii's body. The pain was incredibly vivid, bright splotches of darkness that punctuated his vision with every impact. Yet, he did not care. In his final, brief moments of life, before his body was torn open and his very essence drained from his form, he thought of his queen.

And he was content.

Morning of the seventh day. The last day of his leave. Out in the fields, Tercio was helping his father and a handful of paid workers to pick carrots from the ground. It was long, back-breaking work, but he'd endured far worse in the Royal Guard. At least here he could converse with his old neighbors and friends. Later that afternoon he would have to begin the long walk back to Canterlot, and tomorrow he would be back to drill and training as if nothing had happened. For now, he would enjoy the open air.

Some time before the sun reached its peak in the sky, a dot appeared in the distance, cresting over a hill and moving just above the ground. Tercio shaded his eyes from the sun and strained to see what the figure could be -- it was definitely a pegasus, he gathered shortly after, noting the stocky frame and flapping wings. As the flying pony approached he could make out details; a helmet that glinted in the sunlight, a dark cloak that trailed behind him. Whoever the pegasus was, he was flying exceptionally fast.

"Father," he called out, "what do you make of that?" He pointed to the figure as it gained altitude, hovered in the air for a long moment, then rapidly descended toward the farmhouse.

"I don't know, but it appears he's in a hurry. Why don't you go meet him at the front entrance?"

Tercio nodded and brushed the dirt from his trousers, making his way there even as the pony started pounding on the door. "Hold on, I'm coming!" He threw open the door, only to see a white pegasus with an amber mane standing before him, wearing a full set of armor. "Victus! I had no idea you were on the way! I would have told mother or --"

"Tercio! Have...have you not heard the news?" Victus had to lean against the doorway to catch his breath, inhaling deeply from the flight over.

"News? What news?" He bent down on a knee to be closer to his brother's height. "Victus. What news do you speak of?"

Victus set his jaw, his eyes wide with a near-panic, unsure of what to say for a long moment.

"It's Equestria, Tercio. We've been invaded."