From the Daily Journal of Steven Ambrose, Entry Number 101:

The furor over Blue Balls trouncing has finally died down. It doesn't feel like a full month has passed, but it has. Given how busy Flutters, Jackie, and myself have been, the time just... melted into a single long moment. I've heard that time flies when you're having fun. I don't think I've been so industrious, given the changes that have come upon Ponyville recently, so I guess that applies to working as well.

The Apples have been tending their vast orchard. I've helped out when I can; the sheer size of Sweet Apple Acres is just flabbergasting! I don't know how Jackie and Big Mac take it on all by themselves! All those trees, the herculean task of harvesting all those apples- even with my assistance, it just seems to go on and on. Maybe that's why they start so early. It's still summer, even with the slight chill in the air, but they've been bucking those trees for almost three weeks now. Come November, they'll have two whole barns and their titanic silo filled with their signature produce.

Fluttershy has been just as busy, readying the animals around Ponyville for the coming weather. I know back home, this is something that animals do instinctively, but I guess the higher sentience of these critters makes them more prone to forgetfulness. Or more likely, Equestrians have a higher degree of empathy for their fellow mammals, and thus, ponies like Fluttershy help them make the transition from summer activity to winter hibernation that much easier. When she comes home, it is often that her coat is covered in thistles or her wings have embedded nettles in them.

I'm not going to complain, mind you. Preening My Butterfly's wings is such an intimate act. She and I are so aroused by the end we can barely keep our respective limbs off each other. Jackie can get that way, too. When she arrives at the Wolf Den soaked in sweat or covered in mud, I'm the first to offer her a good bath. One time, about halfway through her shampooing her mane, she pulled me into the tub with her. Oh, the rutting we had that night…

Even with all this work going on, I'm still speaking with Hand That Mourns about this Archmage business. Her continued searches and researches throughout The Ecumene have yielded very little. She once told me that by the appearance of certain telltale markers on the files she's tried to retrieve shows evidence of scrubbing, most likely by members of House Proletariat. She has no idea why they were so thorough in their erasures or why they ordered them in the first place. What she speculates is that The Proletariat were scared of any future Imperial citizen finding this information and using it for whatever purpose that frightened them so much.

In any case, Hand has invited me back to the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters for some additional “cultural acclimation.” According to her, much of my education concerning the history of the Terran Empire is woefully inadequate. As such, she's going to lead me into a “memory retrieval,” in the hopes that past lives may guide me into what I have to do. I'm keeping my fingers crossed, because Hand keeps insisting that the Voices in My Head are something I'm supposed to be experiencing. Something about reliving lives of my predecessors or whatever. If this will get me answers to the questions that have hounded me since turning up here, all the better for me.

---

It's Friday, and likely the first day in the last while wherein Fluttershy, Applejack, and myself didn't have any other pressing matters to attend to. Since we're free this day, I decided to meet with Hand That Mourns up at the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters. Neither Jackie or Flutters were busy, so they're joining me in my trek through the Everfree. The path, by now, is familiar, and unlike the last few times I had to come here, there wasn’t a pressing royal quest or national emergency ongoing. Our journey has been quiet, given how early in the morning it is. We all woke up before the dawn, meeting Celestia's sun as we entered the forest. None of the rest of our Ponyville friends have deigned to meet us, so we've been walking in a fairly loose triangle formation.

That's mostly due to Fluttershy's unease in this forest. Even though she lives so near it, she rarely ever trudges this deep into it unless she has to, such instances include meeting her bear friend, Harry, who's cave sits in the side of the mountain deep within the Everfree Forest, or the occasional wild manticore needing first aid; they won't come near her cottage anymore after I blasted three of their fellows into giblets. Jackie's orchard sits near the edge of the Forest as well, but she rarely ever delves into it. Sweet Apple Acres' borders are well defended from attack by sturdy fence lines and some Apple Family devised traps set along the fences.

I have no real love for this forest myself; I've heard the stories and seen some of the fierce storms that originate from it. If that's what comes out of the Forest, I'd hate to imagine what lives in it. Forget cyclones of manticore, a sea serpent or two, and cockatrices; those are likely the mildest of the wild things that dwell within. The things that live in the deep recesses of the Forest are likely things that can kill you on sight, like a basilisk. Good Goddess, I hope there isn't one of those in here…

“Isn't it such a lovely morning?” Fluttershy asks.

“If mornings were lovely,” I reply, “they'd come with an instant shot of caffeine and a warm shower first thing after waking.”

“They can include those things, ya know,” Applejack deadpans, “ya just get 'er up outta bed!”

“Yeah,” I murmur, “I was thinking those things come without leaving the confines of my sheets.”

Applejack opens her mouth to say something; what I hear isn't her Tennessee drawl but a distinctive voice both exotic and wise.

“It is only in rest of the wicked, that most would find their sleep forsaken. Even in this early chill, how could one think the morning ill?”

We all look around for the source of the voice, and after a few moments of scanning, Fluttershy finds the speaker. My eyes go wide when what should appear from the brush all around but a zebra mare, cloaked and stepping lively in the depths of the Everfree foliage. My mind is blown by the golden ringlets adorning her neck and forelegs; the earring in her right ear makes me even more astounded. How could I not know a zebra lived near Ponyville? Better still, how in the Hell did she get all that jewelry on her? Does she ever take it off? My curiosity is mirrored in the mare, who stares at me in confusion. Her eyes are examining me from under her hood; the goldenrod orbs hold me in place until Fluttershy speaks.

“Oh, Zecora,” she exclaims, “how wonderful to see you here! Can we help you with something?”

“No thank you, Miss Fluttershy,” the zebra answers, “I only came to watch some passersby. Strange, the company you keep, trundling into the forest deep. Praytell, what manner of creature is this, who on two legs stands above the morning mists?”

“Oh,” Fluttershy squeaks, “this is Steven. He's a hooman.”

“A human?” The Zebra asks, cautiously, “is it true?”

“It's just what it says on the tin, ma'am,” I reply, “two feet, two hands, chock full of attitude, and most of it bad.”

I give this Zecora a smirk which is met with a frown. I'm beginning to wonder if I did or said something wrong. Then she speaks in a language that puts me in mind of the African languages, Swahili or maybe even Zulu, I can't truly say. She then walks up to me, prodding me with a hoof.

“[It is true,]” she says, using a language I've only ever heard in dreams or during my first visitation with Hand That Mourns, “[The Teacher's Tune, one has returned, then others, too. Soon, Pivot shall rise from its ashen grave, restored by the Word that comes from The Knave.]”

“…the Word that comes from The Knave?” I ask, “What in the blue blazes does that mean?”

Zecora gasps, as do my mares. I don't think she expected me to understand.

“You heard,” the Zebra mumbles, “The Word. My people speak of ones like you, whose Ways are strong, silent, and none too few. If you returned to this place, then Destiny has wrought to end The Empire's Disgrace!”

I turn to Fluttershy, looking for answers. She shrugs her withers, which worries me some.

“Does she always speak in rhyme?” I ask.

“For as long as we've known her,” My Butterfly replies, “I- don't know what that other thing she said was. I've heard her speak her native language before, but that was nothing I've ever heard her speak before.”

“It is the Teacher's Tongue,” Zecora answers, “given to the Zebra when our tribe was young.”

“The cryptic speak is gettin’ ta mah,” Applejack moans.

“You and me, both,” I add, “so, you’re that Zecora I've been hearing about?”

The Zebra nods, “Indeed I am, for the Everfree is no home to a lamb.”

“And you're rhyming? Is that the way your tribe speaks or is it a badge of your office?”

Zecora nods, but doesn't speak. I get the feeling she doesn’t do trade in straight talk.

“So, uh, what can we do you for, Miss Zecora?” I ask, “considering the real estate, I can hardly imagine you not getting enough exercise.”

“Neigh,” Zecora confirms, “it was not exercise I seek. Yet, with your companions I must speak.”

“With us?” Jackie wonders, “what in tarnation do ya need with us?”

“It is a matter most delicate,” the Zebra responds, “one with which I must use all etiquette.”

I look to the Zebra then to my mares. This is getting weird, even for me. I do have to admit, Zecora's presence is quite expected, but I have no idea why. And the way she spoke before, it resonated with me. Could this be a part of what Hand was talking about before, my “genetic memories?” Whatever the case, I think it wise to let the Zebra do what she must do.

“It's okay, girls,” I say as Jackie and Flutters give me worried looks, “Whatever Zecora has to say is important. I don't know how I know that, but I know.”

“Are you sure, Steve?” Jackie asks me, “I trust Zecora and all, but this is mighty cryptic, even fer her.”

“It's your choice,” I reply, “but I honestly don't think Zecora would go to this much trouble for something trivial or nonsensical.”

Fluttershy looks to her herd mate, then to me, and gives Zecora a small nod with a wan smile. Jackie's face is stoic, but she nods as well. The three mares fall back into a small column behind me, well out of earshot. Even though my curiosity is piqued, I decide it isn't worth getting into a hack with my mares to listen. It doesn't take long before the Zebra and my mares rejoin me; whatever was said must have succinct.

“Have fun?” I ask jovially.

Jackie tries to give me a smile, but knowing the farm pony the way I do, it's a blatant attempt to lie. Point of fact, the poor mare is sweating bullets in order to produce such a facade of calm. Fluttershy doesn't try to hide it; she's concerned like all get out. Her wings are pressed deeply into her flanks and her eyes wear the look of someone marching off to the firing squad. A quick glance at Zecora tells me even more; she's wary and is twitching at every sound that emerges from the underbrush. She knows something…

The atmosphere was tense enough without this new foreboding lingering in the air. I decide to ask Zecora how she knows of The Terran Empire; this brings a swift change in the Zebra's demeanor. She immediately goes into explanation of how The Zebra met The Terran Empire. According to Zecora, her tribe and many like it, roamed the deserts of Zebrica, seeking out stones and metals buried in the sands. They had powerful alchemical abilities but were shunned by the Ibex and other sapients, because their powers seemed like witchcraft to them. She explains further that magic had not been introduced properly to Zebrica yet, and many of the species there were frightened of it. One day, as The Zebra Tribes wandered, a “great metal bird” landed amongst their midst; from within the vessel came “beings of two legs and deep magic.”

She further expounds that the two groups had a very deep exchange; after the “deep magic walkers” found a way to communicate with them, they began to converse long into a myriad of subjects. The Zebra knowledge of Alchemy and Herbal Medicine far surpassed what the Humans knew; the Humans, on the other hand, spoke in a language that expressed magic and energy in ways the Zebra could not. They continued discussing these things for many long days and nights; the humans offering shade and water to the exhausted tribes. The exchange resulted in the Zebras learning the art of debate and thorough education in magic; The Terran Empire got schooled in all things herbal and alchemical.

Later on, the Zebras would return to the civilized portions of Zebrica. Although still feared and shunned by the Ibex and their ilk, the Zebras new mastery of magic and reasoned debate confounded all who tried to thwart them in obtaining, and keeping, a seat in the halls of power. They held sway in matters that not even the highly learned Ibex knew of. The Ibex feared the Zebra moreso now, but did not have the power or wherewithal to banish such an influential race. So instead, they conspired with the other "civilized species" to murder to the last. That did not go as expected, as there were many on the outs of the conspirators that got wind of their skullduggery.

Within days of the conspiracists’ plan to "cleanse" the Zebra from their cities, Terran Imperial forces arrived, permanently ending any plot to uproot the Zebra from the civilized world. From then until the Empire fell, the Zebra and the Terran Empire had a close alliance. Their alchemical and metallurgy skills fueled the Imperial economy, while Terran engineers and artisans kept the Zebras awash in art and fantastical buildings. No other species was willing to breach the peace until well after the Empire fell, Zecora explained, and even so, the Zebras had become such an institution in civilized Zebrica that none could extricate them.

Every now and then, though, The Zebra would send some of their own, shamans and medicine mares, out into the wilds of the World. The purpose of sending out these "wanderers," as Zecora called them, was to broaden the horizons of the Zebra tribe. As she explained it, Zecora was one of those on a walkabout. She is one of the chief shamans of her tribe; she elected to venture into Equestria, in the wild places of that land, for the opportunity to understand nature and further contact with the ponies of Equestria. As she explained it, her travels have been met with outstanding success, even if the ponies of Ponyville were less than welcoming of her for the first few years she was there.

During the time Zecora expounded about her people and their connection to The Terran Empire, we drew ever closer to the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters. By the time Zecora had finished explaining the Zebras’ connection to The Empire, I had finally noticed that we had cleared the forest and were now in the glade where the ruined Castle stood. The way Zecora looked at the building, I could sense she was filled with awe and the smallest sense of fear. Apparently, even for a mare who resided in the depths of these woods, she didn't like being here any more than Fluttershy or her friends. As I proceeded toward the dilapidated structure, I sensed Zecora hesitate for the briefest of moments before following my mares and I.

"Why would one like you," The Zebra inquired, "enter a place that is almost a tomb?"

I considered for a moment or two before answering, "I have important business within. There's an old Imperial command center here; I was asked by its caretaker to come on by. Apparently, there is much we need to discuss."

Zecora then asked, "And does this caretaker have a name that you can give me, Young Knave?"

I wondered a little why Zecora referred to me as a "knave," but it was among several other thoughts I would need to investigate later, "She's called Hand That Mourns. From what I've learned, she was the last Imperial resident; all the other humans were either driven offworld or driven into hiding. She was an Imperial Archivist, and as such, she knows more about the Empire than anyone living."

Zecora nodded her head; I could tell because we had just passed over the threshold of the Castle and the sunlight from outside streamed into the gloom of the ruins main portal. We walked in silence for a while, keeping in a tightened formation from earlier: Zecora had reported earlier that a cockatrice was seen roaming around The Castle. She said it was unlikely that it would enter into the ruin itself; animals never ventured into the place because of the "hauntings" the castle had.

"That's likely Hand," I mentioned, "she's probably been walking the halls in whatever guise suits her to scare away such threats as an overly curious manticore and the occasional basilisk."

"I wonder if that explains the Pony of Shadows mah Granny said roams 'round here," Applejack commented, "Mind ya, Ah ain't ever seen this "Hand Tha' Mourns," so I cain't rightly say."

"I wouldn't worry, AJ," I called back to her, as we finally entered the antechamber with the hidden passage to the command center in it, "You're gonna meet her soon enough."

Like the last time I had been down here with ponies, it was a small struggle to come down the human sized stairway. Zecora and Applejack took tentative steps on the wide, onyx steps. Fluttershy stayed near me, hovering on her wings; she at least was moving at a decent pace. This time around, I had two feet to manage the stairs. The leg Hand arranged to repair was a huge blessing navigating the stairway. Our descent into the command center took roughly fifteen minutes, but with two newcomers on the way, it felt longer.

Upon entering the command center, I noticed that the whole place was lit up brightly; the consoles I saw the last time were now alight in broad arcs across the chamber. The cavernous walls were now visible, adding a stark contrast of sheer granite to the marble flooring underfoot. Along the way, various signs were underlit to show directions and label locations. Unlike Equestrian signage, Terran Imperial facade doesn't always include a pictogram for the clueless. As I looked about, I saw that some of the navigational emplacements were glowing brighter than the others. I had it in my head that Hand wanted me to follow these embedded markers.

So, I did follow them, marching straight to the central dais with its throne perched amongst the workstations. Sitting on the throne, although with a look a great reluctance, was Hand That Mourns. As I approached with my small entourage, she turned to me and asked the following: "Archmage, what do you call a group of humans?"

"Depends," I replied, "in certain instances, they might be called a 'troop.' In others, they might be referred to as a 'mob.' A group of humans engaged in organized sports is called a 'team,' while a group of humans engaged in villainy may be referred to as a 'gang.' Why do you ask, Hand?"

My pneuma ex machina answered, "It was a necessary question. I know that your education into matters concerning your predecessors is- woefully inadequate. No doubt, if you had been taught as a member of the Terran Empire citizenry, you would know that a group of humans, in any size or capacity, is called, 'a riot.'"

"That is oddly appropriate," I retorted, "a 'riot of humans.'

"Indeed," Hand remarked, "when humans are grouped en masse, there is no telling what madness might accrue."

"Kinda like what happ'n'd the other day in Ponyville," Applejack said, "Them hoomans was makin' a right mess o' things."

"That they were," Hand confirms, "Oh, hello! I did not see you there, miss miniature, magical equine."

"Oh, yeah, I haven't introduced you two yet," I add, "Hand That Mourns, this is Applejack. AJ, this is Hand That Mourns."

"Howdy!" My Apple Blossom greets, "How ya'll doin'?"

"I am fine, Miss Jaqueline," Hand answers, "I have heard much about you from the Young Knave. So, you are the fair mare that has taken The Archmage's heart as of late?"

"Oh, yes," Fluttershy affirms, "she's part of our herd now."

"A- herd?" Hand stutters, "As in a- polygamous marriage?"

"I guess so," Fluttershy replies, "really, we're his two fiancees. We aren't really married, yet."

"Wait, what?" I puzzle.

"Ah, yes," Hand muses, "that old tradition. I did not think that Equestrians of this day would use it. Surprising that it is still in fashion."

"Could somepony clue me in, please?" I ask.

"Would you prefer your lovers explain this to you, or should I?" Hand inquires.

"It doesn't matter as long I as I get my question answered," I retort.

"Well, Steve, it's like this," AJ says, "when a couple become- well, betrothed, to each other, they kinda go through this courtin' thing. You an' Fluttershy h've dun it, you an' Ah have dun it, but it ain't really official 'til a foal or two is produced. Then, it's a real marriage, and you ken call us yer wives."

"Oh," I stammer, looking between Flutters and AJ, "well- That’s actually rather disappointing. I- I guess I need to try harder to figure out a way to get you two knocked up!"

Both my mares blush, with Fluttershy beaming the most between the two. It's then that I remember the last member of our party. If my mum were to see me now, she'd slap me upside the head, she would.

"Oh, yes, Hand, there is one more I would like you to meet. Zecora," I gesture to the Zebra Shaman standing behind me, "this is Hand That Mourns, my ghost in the machine. Hand, this is Zecora, who is obviously a Zebra."

"[It is well that I meet a mighty Shaman of the Tribes,]" Hand says, "[even more so an honor than I can convey, given your watch over this facility.]"

"[It is indeed an honor,]" Zecora says, bowing, "[to meet of Our Teachers, even at this hour.]"

"[Yea, verily,]" Hand replies, "[have you been waiting long for an Errant Wanderer to return, Shaman?]"

Zecora nods, "[Aye, verily, long have I. As had my mother, and her mother, and her mother before her. We have strained our ears and screwed up our eyes for a chance to witness this surprise. Word has been sent to my people of a Wanderer returned; it is Our Hope that our prayers yielded what We long have yearned.]"

"[Indeed,]" Hand says, "and 'tis the day when all Our Hopes have been fulfilled." Hand turns to me now and says, "Archmage, have you wondered long about the visions that you have seen? Have any questions arisen given what you currently know?"

"Plenty," I answer, "but the one that rises above all others is, if the Empire was so powerful and technologically advanced, compared to what I know, how did it fall into such... disrepair?"

"An excellent question," Hand answers, "if you remember, I explained that Our Empire fell due in part to our technology failing because of Equestrian magical prowess. Of course, the reason why our weapons were brought to bear was because of the machinations of House Proletariat, which I do believe I had explained also."

"You did," I reply, "I remember."

"Excellent," Hand beams, "then I should probably explain more about the role House Proletariat played in the downfall of the Terran Empire. If I may, Archmage, have you been witness to the first contact made between the early Equestrians and the Empire?"

"I think so-" I begin, "isn't that when Ambrose found Queen Astraeus and King Eos in that old Imperial research center? Right at the heart of Bedlam Woods?"

"Precisely," Hand remarks, "In point of fact, this facility was built in the exact location of that fateful meeting. Now, after it was discovered there was now a tenth Sapient Species on this planet, there arose much debate between the Houses of Majesty, the ruling house of the Empire, and Proletariat. Proletariat wanted these being classified as 'sentient, not fully sapient.' I believe they harbored much in the line of xenophobic leanings and thus did not find any joy in yet another species as intelligent as any human."

"Did they ever show such leanings before?" I ask.

"Yea, verily, they did," Hand answers, "starting with the Gryphon tribes, House Proletariat began making much noise concerning what races they believed should be included in our diplomatic rounds. They were very vocal in their opposition for any 'non-human entities' to gain any measure of diplomatic status. It was assumed that the Hippocampi were the metaphorical straw that broke the camel's back, but twas not so. Given everything I have archived into the Ecumene, it appears the Equestrians were the last last straw that they would withstand."

"So, they assassinated Ambrose-" Hand give a nod, "murdered the regents of an early Equestria, instigated a war, all because they were deeply xenophobic?"

"Aye," Hand answers, "given what I have seen of your planet's history, I did not expect you to seem so skeptical."

"I'm not skeptical, Hand, I'm just dumbfounded," I reply, "we humans really are that dumb, are we?"

Hand That Mourn nods again, saying, "I believe now is the time that you become familiar with your ancestors’ history, all that was likely expunged after Our Exile to Last Chance. Come, take a seat; I shall elucidate you forthwith."

A comfy little loveseat emerges for my mares and I to sit on while a pouf materializes for Zecora. The Zebra Shaman rests on the pouf provided, while Fluttershy, Applejack, and myself snuggle up on the loveseat. As soon as we're seated and comfy, Hand That Mourns starts to loom over us. It takes me a moment to think of why such a move seems so familiar, and I'm brought back to the first moments that Aladdin had after finding Genie. All Hand has to do now is break into an elaborate song-and-dance routine and the image would be complete. She doesn't do that, however.

"This is the story, nay, the history, of how the Terran Empire came to be. It is the tradition of the Empire that the Matron of each Household tell this story to their Offspring, but since your family has been well separated from Imperial Traditions, Archmage, this duty falls upon myself to continue with this tradition. This is the way I heard it told, from the very mouth of my mother, who heard it from her mother, who heard it from her mother, for generations on end almost from the time of the Founding of The Empire…

Hand makes a motion that very closely resembles someone clearing their throat, and for a being that is now thoroughly a spirit, she manages to imitate the action with all the gusto of one living. When she speaks again, it is in a loftier, deeper tone than any I have ever heard her speak in before.

"Once, in the days before history was to be written, in the days of yore and antiquity, there were ninety and nine tribes. For a time, these tribes lived peacefully, with little quarrel amongst themselves or each other. The land they inhabited was fertile with grains, vegetables, fruits, and nuts of every kind; every animal in creation either grazed or hunted on these, Our Lands. So it was, for numerous centuries... The Tribes were prosperous, but even so, seeds of strife began to emerge as each tribe began to run out of room for their peoples.

"The Tribe of Majesty, so called for their leadership and magnificent architecture, were soon encroaching on territory held by the Tribe of Mason, a clan of builders and engineers. The Tribe of Praetorian, with it's vast numbers in soldiers, was raiding villages along their border with the Tribes of Flora and Fauna, who were not warriors but farmers, ranchers, shepherds and rangers. The Tribe of Proletariat, that- viper's nest, was stealing what it could from the coffers of those under their protections, namely the Tribes of Caduceus (who worked their miracles in healing) and the Tribe of Intelligentsia (whose minds worked wonders with logic and art.) There were other tribes, all scrambling for the same resources, the same lands. It eventually led to turmoil, which then bred war...

"The various tribes began to compete for dominance, for primacy, over what resources were left available. The competition turned to violence, which led to skirmishes and battles between the tribes. For too long, every tribe was engaged in combat with it's ninety and eight other kinsmen. The primal screams of combat rang out, as blood was shed needlessly amongst fellows. Tribes that once were friendly were now bitter adversaries. There was death, devastation, and ruin wherever a battle took place. Yet, there was no clear victor in this conflict; no tribe had the power or wherewithal to completely wipe another. As the battles raged, the claret spilled for nigh unto a century."

"Wait a gosh darned min'te," Applejack cried, "ya mean ta tell mah that yer people fought each other, fer a century?!"

Hand That Mourns nods, "Aye, we nearly did. Our people," Hand gestures to me, "have short memories but hold long grudges."

"Land sakes!" AJ exclaims.

"Indeed," Hand adds, "if I may continue?"

AJ nods, although I can see worry crawling on her face. (You can just see the crinkling in her cute freckles.) Fluttershy has been staring wide eyed at Hand, taking all this in whilst she shivers against me. Her forelegs are wrapped around my middle, her quaking felt through my lower abdomen.

"The War would have gone on far longer, had not a certain mysterious tribe emerged in the midst of the conflict. As my mother explained, there was a time when the Tribe of Majesty, seeing the futility in combatting so many enemies at once, reached out with an olive branch of alliance with the Praetorian Tribe. The Matron of the Majestic Tribe reasoned that neither their people, not the warriors of Praetorian, could expect victory against so many foes. Soon, as word spread of their alliance, other tribes followed suit. Most were against the combined strength of Majesty and Praetorian; others, weakened by perpetual warfare, sided with the fledgling Alliance. In total, twelve tribes banded together in mutual trust and defense. Even so, such a force was still not enough to turn the tide of war into a tide of peace.

"As the war reached its zenith, The Alliance met on a hill, which is not very far from here if the legends are true, to engage in battle with the Tribe of Hephaestus. The tinkerers of that tribe had made a living portable weapons platform, making each of their soldiers a living weapon. (As it turns out, those armoured carapaces were the basis for the armor that was worn by House Praetorian when it was formed.) The Alliance was worried that their nemesis' weapons would be too much to counter. As it happens, while the Alliance parlayed with the Tribe Hephaestus, a lone stranger entered into the Alliance camp. The intruder was an elder gentleman, wizened in years but no less hale and hearty.

"As the Alliance troopers approached, he raised his hands, saying, 'Away with your weapons. I bring you no harm.’ The troopers were wary of one such as this, but they did as requested. The Elder stated, 'I thank ye. For long moons have I trekked to yonder hill, wandering hither and yon, seeking the Tribes in Alliance. I am the Earl of Lin (Later, he would be known as M'Ear'Lin.) from the Tribe of Endymion. I have come unto this day with glad tidings as well as a the hope that your tribes and mine might arrange a mutually beneficial treaty.' The captain of the Alliance camp troopers asked, 'What claim do you have, Sir Earl of Lin, to sue for audience with The Council of Twelve? Your Tribe has been seen naught in the decades since the war began!'

"'Yea, verily,' The Earl replied, 'we of the Endymion Tribe have been at contest with our brethren in this war. Yea, we have engaged with a sister tribe of our own, the Tribe of Caesar, in a perilous duel of will over cunning. They besiege us, robbing us of our sustenance and clean water, hoping that we shall eventually cower to them. We have no more brooked their demands than your Alliance hath, but our tribe grows weary. We cannot withstand the siege 'erelong. 'Tis the reason I have come this day, breaking through enemy lines, stealing away in the dead of night, wandering these many cycles in search of thee. We, the Tribe of Endymion, sue for assistance against these, our nemesis'.

"'And what, praytell, dear Earl, doth thou hast to give unto us? Do ye not see we are also engaged against our foes? What strength could ye bring unto us that we hast not already been gathered?' asked the brave Captain.

"'We of the Tribe of Endymion are gifted in The Craft, what ye would think of as The Magicks. We art versed well with the power in Nature and its bounteous energy. We hath learned to harness this energy to shape the world as we deem fit, for both defense and offense against any foe. Mighty as your warriors may be, none could contend with a master of Magick, such as we. I and mine would prefer to utilize our talents insomuch a fashion against your foes, making you our allies as well, instead of bringing to bear our wrath against thee as enemies.'

"The brave Captain thought on this. It would be a foolish thing to allow this 'Earl Of Lin' an audience with The Council; yet, it would be equally as foolish to dismiss his claims. Many a tale had he heard of this Tribe Hephaestus. They were a devious clan, full of mischief; their warriors were adept at hand-to-hand and melee combat. Their skill in such was to rival Praetorian Tribe. If Tribe Endymion were such Practitioners, then close range combatants would menace them most vexingly. The Captain could see no way that The Earl was lying; his robes, once resplendent in another age, were tattered, as if he spent many a lunar cycle in rough country. Though the Alliance was strong, they did not possess the prowess of even a single Practitioner, so with much reluctance, he allowed the Earl to seek an audience with The Alliance Council.

"Once met, the Earl recounted his tale much the same as he did before. The Council members listened, some in disbelief, others in awe. It was The Matron of Tribe Majesty that spoke for the Council when she asked, 'What evidence dost thou hath, that ye are a Practitioner? Neither mine fellow Tribesmen nor thineself hast seen of your Magicks before. Why, praytell, shall we take heed of thee?'

"The Earl then took off his robes, baring himself but in naught but a loincloth. Inscribed in his skin were the markings of Deepest Magick, such as few had seen since the dawning of the age. The Earl then began to make a curious work, summoning both Ice and Fire to his hands. The sigils burned into his flesh began to glow; soon, a terrible Wind raged within the Council Tent, bringing with it Thunder and Lightnings. The tumult created by the Earl came to a stunning conclusion, with all five of The Elements crashing down into a burst of heat and light! Thus, the murmurs of dissent and cynicism ended, with the Majestic Matron the most enthused of the Council.

"The Earl of Lin girded himself in in his robes once more while The Council conferred. There were many who thought a merger of the Alliance with Tribe Endymion would bring great power to their cause, possibly ending this conflict once and for all. The Tribes of Majesty, Proletariat, Flora, Fauna, and Genial were thus convinced. Less convinced were the Tribes of Praetorian, Intelligentsia, Mason, Caduceus, and Anthro. They were still skeptical of the Elders talents. The Majestic Matron then spoke, "Ye Earl of Lin, our Council hast witnessed thine powers. There are many here who wouldst gladly take up thine allay and bring thee supp. Yet, there art others who are less convinced of your abilities. We shalt need some time to debate this, to consolidate our options before we move ahead to include thine Tribe into our Alliance.'

"Though crestfallen, The Earl of Lin acknowledged that his Craft was a rare sight that many would discount on first sight. With an understanding eye, he then asked, "Praythee, wouldst thou grant an old man a repast? 'Tis been a quarter cycle since last hath I eaten. My throat also has need of quenching. Hither wherest is thine dining room?' The Matron ordered her staff to allow the Earl of Lin a space in the camp mess hall. There, he was fed on succulent steak, a rich and creamy broth, a mountain of mashed potatoes, and river of mead to slake his thirst. Whilst the Council convened to discuss the Tribe of Endymion's fate, the diplomatic team hastened to return, the Hephaestus Tribe on their heels. A call to arms was sounded in the camp, every soldier available to muster for battle.

"The Earl of Lin heard the call, even as he relaxed, belly full. Sensing an opportunity to prove his claims and endure his Tribe to The Alliance, he stood from his seat and went forth to engage the Alliance enemies. They rode hard over the Alliance battlements, bearing weapons that seared with coherent light. The Alliance troopers could not withstand the assault, falling back away from their assailants. When the Earl saw the Hephaestus troops marching onward with an arrogant gleam, he knew they would not stop until the whole of The Alliance was dead. He raised his arm, whispering and murmuring; the sky above began to darken. Swiftly came the rush of Wind and in its embrace was the roll of Thunder, the strikes of Lightning.

"As the enemy approached, the Earl closed his eyes and said, in naught but a faint whisper, 'Thundagaja!' From the firmament, with darkest storm clouds swirling in a rage, a single bolt of Lightning struck the ground. The Hephaestus troops froze where they stood, their armored carapaces shorting out as the Lightning fry their circuits and cooked the men therein. As the clouds cleared and smoke faded, only The Earl was left standing: the troops of Hephaestus had fallen down to the last man. When the Alliance troops saw of this, they were astounded. A single man, a wizened man, against an army of bloodthirsty cutthroats... It was unheard of! When word reached the Council, they too were amazed. 'A lone Magician,' breathed The Matron, 'against a powerful army? These Endymion Folk are not to be trifled with!'

"'If thinkest thou mighty,' The Earl commented, 'prithee see mine Archmage, who leads our Tribe. Yea, verily, if mine magicks confound and amaze thee, then verily wouldst mine Archmage impress on thee further. Mine feeble magicks are but naught compared to her. She wouldst dazzle thee beyond measure!'

"Within the hour, the order was given to break camp and march to the homeland of Tribe Endymion. With the Hephaestus Tribe routed, The Alliance need not spend more time pestered by them. They marched onto the Endymion pridelands and routed the forces of the Caesar tribe. Within months of these two victories, The Alliance was trouncing all opposition, thanks in no small part to the power and skill of the mages of the Endymion. Those forces that wished to join The Alliance were allowed to do so. Those that fight rather than be subsumed by Alliance power were trampled over, there survivors assimilated (or perished) into The Alliance. By years end, War of the Ninety Nine Tribes, later to be called The War For Unification, ended. With the Alliance now unnecessary, it was worried that the loose knit tribes would fracture once more, and a new war would begin. Thanks to the foresight of Alliance Council, that would not happen. From the thirteen original Tribes came the Terran Empire, fueled and powered by the Imperial Houses.

"House Majesty, the First Pillar of the Empire, would lead the nascent nation.

"House Praetorian, the Second Pillar of the Empire, would defend it's borders without and within.

"House Intelligentsia, the Third Pillar, would bring the intellectual might of its members to imagine, design, and create the Imperial Capital of Pivot; they would also provide the grand designs for artifice that would unite the Empire from border to border.

"And last but not least, House Endymion, the Fourth Pillar of the Empire, whose magic would bind the Empire in unity and provide a Fulcrum in which to balance all the peoples of The Empire, so no one House or Individual would be able to disrupt the Harmony of the Empire itself.

"Oo, neato-mosquito!" Shouted a high pitched voice.

I looked to my left, just beyond Fluttershy, and who should I see there but Pinkie Pie, soda bottle in one hoof, bucket of popcorn in the other. Applejack is as flabbergasted as I am. I had my senses magically expanded, so I was sure nopony was following us. Still, this is Pinkie Pie we're talking about. She... confounds the Laws of Physics on a regular basis.

"Pinkie," I admonish, "you brought popcorn and didn't bother to share?"

"Oops, sorry!" Pinkie says, an embarrassed flush forming on her cheeks. She hands me the half full popcorn bucket; I grab a handful of the delicious snack, then offer some to my mares. Fluttershy takes a small scoop with a wing after Applejack fills the brim of her hat with the stuff. I start munching on popcorn before realizing that Hand's confused over our mysterious newcomer.

"Oh, Hand," I say after swallowing mouthful of kernels, "this is Pinkie Pie. Pinkie Pie, this is Hand That Mourns."

"Wowie-bazooie!" Pinkie cries, then speaking in a whisper, "Are you ghost?!"

"I am not, Ms. Pie," Hand answers, "I am the engramatic remains of an ancient Terran Empire citizen who remained behind after the Empire's fall to archive its history. My primary purpose now is to aid the Archmage into accepting his role in the reformed Terran Empire."

"That sounds really important," Pinkie whispers to me, then to Hand, "do you like cake?"

"Uh- what?" Hand stumbles.

"You know, cake. Do you like it?" Pinkie inquires.

"I am- unsure how to reply to this inquiry," Hand informs the Pinky Party Paradox, "mayhaps you can be more specific?"

"Oh, you know, before you were turned into this light-ghost thingy, did you like cake? What kind? Was there frosting? Oo, how many layers where there? Were there sprinkles?"

"Pinkie Pie," Applejack wants, "Ah think Ms. Hand has enough on 'er plate without ya harrassin' her about cakes and such."

"Awww," Pinkie moans.

"It is alright, Faire Jaqueline," Hand explains, "as for your information, Ms. Pie, when I lived, I was very fond of Angel Food Cake. I did not find frosting or sprinkles appealing, I am afraid. I am- I was, but a simple girl, I suppose."

"Oh, okay," Pinkie says, and I can see her once limp mane spring back up to normal, "well, maybe there's a way I can get you a cake. When's your birthday?"

"The day of my birth was August, 10." Hand informs Pinkie Pie.

The Pink Party Paradox gasps, screaming, "THAT'S ONLY A COUPLE WEEKS AWAY! I NEED TO GET STARTED!!"

Before Pinkie Pie can get going, though, The Cloister Bell began to chime. (That's what I now call that klaxon call that rings within the command center when danger is afoot.) The last time it rang, Ponyville was under attack. I hope to God it isn't as serious as that! I can see Pinkie Pie is absolutely losing it; the Bell is so loud, it's caused her mane and tail to frizz out like mad. Applejack is so surprised that her Stetson has flown three feet in the air. I can see her mane stand on end as the Bell continues to sound. Fluttershy has taken to hiding behind my back. I didn't think the sound of the Bell brings back good memories for her. (It doesn't do that for me, either.)

Only Zecora is unphased by the ringing of the Bell. For some reason, this act of stoicism that the Zebra Shaman is displaying is not instilling in me more panic, but is stealing me up with resolve. It is not lightly that the Cloister Bell sounds. In an instant, maps pop up on displays, showing a mass of red emerging from a central point within the Everfree. On another screen is a false color image from a satellite showing movement in groups. Within the infrared image, I see splotches of dark blue, which if RoboCop and Predator did anything right, indicates something down there doesn't produce it's own heat. Guns, mayhaps, and other tactical equipment. Someone has come loaded for bear...

"The best laid plans of Mice and Men..." Hand moans, "My timetable has been accelerated even further than I had planned."

"Wanna run that by me again, Hand?" I query.

Hand sighs, turning her azure visage into a deeper shade of the blue spectrum; she looks at me with an exasperated look. I have the feeling I'm about to undergo something rather unpleasant.

"Archmage," Hand begins, "when you first arrived, I had only certain protocols afforded to me regarding the handling of Reclaimers. I had, in my then limited scope, given you a process called Acclimation, getting you used to this planet's slower rotation cycle and preparing your mind for the inevitable retrieval of your predecessors memories. It is only as late that I have discovered a further process, one that will fully engender you to the Ecumene and allow you full access to all of The Empire's vast material and technology. It would also firmly plant you into your office, which given all that I have observed of your actions and tendencies, squares you solely in the role of Imperial Archmage. That role has not been filled since Ambrose wore The Vestments. His assassination prevented him from securing the restoration of House Endymion. Thus, it lays upon your shoulders to enact that which he could not. Are you ready, Steven, Son of Ambrose."

"I don't think I have much choice now, do I?" I quip.

Hand shakes her head, "Nay, you do not. The process should not be that difficult; it will be less- strenuous than your Acclimation. Are you ready?"

"I guess so," I reply, "I just hope I don't end being more disfigured than when I arrived here."

Hand smiles, a genuine, caring smile and says, "Nay, it will not further damage you. Not unlike the Acclimation, the Reclamation process will attempt to repair any injury you have, then accelerate the mental bolstering you have already undergone. And now, we begin!"

Like when my leg was restored, a shimmering white beam came down on me. I was expecting pain, so I grit my teeth. When the pain didn't come, I opened my eyes in confusion. I'm here to tell you, there was preparation for what sights greeted me. What I saw before me was something so wondrous, it defies accurate description. What I can explain is that what I witnessed was the entirety of the Terran Empire history, every nuance, every trial and every triumph. I saw the rise of the nascent nation, it's troubles with certain species, First Contact with The Zebra, the death of the last living Archmage, and Ambrose. Damn it all, he does look like me! Or I look like him, I can't be sure.

I saw him as he looked back when he was in Intellegntsia, then I watched as he transferred into Praetorian. Then, after a certain incident on Mount Olympus, I saw him don the Accoutrements of the Office of the Imperial Archmage, First in the Line of House Endymion, the very Key Arcane. Then I witnessed his murder, buy the backstabbing leeches of House Proletariat. After his demise, I was witness to the War of Aggression, wherein early Equestrians fought against The Terran Empire and the Empire lost. I was helpless to stop the Fall, as city after city and village after village was razed by the advancing Equine army. And finally, the Exodus. It was heart wrenching, it was.

All too soon, the beam faded away, but as it did, the Voices in My Head became clearer, more focused. Many were greeting me and welcoming me to my new role on my true home world. There were some who warned me of the coming dangers and what I would need to survive them. The loudest and clearest voice thus far was Archmage Ambrose, pieces of his old Praetorian armor gleaming underneath the Robes of Office.

"It has been long enough," he said, "that someone occupy the august office of Archmage. I wish I had more to give you now, some spell or wisdom that would serve you. Alas, my time as Archmage was rather limited. What I can tell you is that if you any bit like unto myself, you shall fulfill your role rather well. Mayhaps, you will be the greatest Archmage the Empire has ever seen!"

"Let's hope so," I quiver, "I don't think I can be any less prepared than I am now, but if this means my friends stay alive, then let's do this!"

"That is the spirit!" Ambrose beams, "Now that I have a successor, I thus hereby pass on my title of Archmage. Valeria shall have your vestments ready for you when your Reclamation is complete, which should be several moments from now. Any questions?"

"Nope, nope, I think I'm good." I state, "I'll guess I'll learn this job as I go. You know, on the job training? Ain't the first time I've had to do that..."

"It will not be as difficult as all that," Ambrose says, "in fact, I rather think you will be pleasantly surprised how enjoyable this post will be. Do be wary of it's limitations though-"

"Wait, limitations?" I ask. Unfortunately, it's a little late to have that comment further clarified. My Reclamation is finally over with; the beam of light fades to nothing. I'm standing back in the Command Center, with AJ, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, and Zecora looking at me in total awe. For a few moments, I'm struck baffled as to why I'm being stared at like some new attraction at the zoo. Then I try to take step forward; it's then I notice that I am no longer in jeans and t-shirt anymore.

Looking down at my newly re-clothed body, I see that more casual attire had been completely replaced. I'm shod in tactical boots, what look like BD cargo pants, a hooded tunic, vest, and a cloak. The colors of my new robes are deep hues of red, blue, and silver, pigments my rejuvenated mind tell me are the colors of the Empire. I feel a bit like a Jedi knight, save that I'm missing a lightsaber. A problem for another time.

"So much like him..." Hand quips, "If I knew no better, I would swear, Steven, son of Ambrose, that you were the spitting image of the last Archmage."

"Okay," I nervously reply, "let's table that thought for later. Right now, we have an incursion of opposition forces that needs handling. Can you tell me where they are now, Hand?"

"One moment," Hand answers, "they are within striking distance of this facility. I estimate that within the next half-hour, they should arrive."

"Great," I moan, "not much time to raise a decent defense."

"Stevie," Fluttershy asks, "are those- hoomans, like the ones that attacked Ponyville before?"

I shake my head, "I don't think so. These guys appear better armed, even armored, and are far better organized. From what these satellite images are telling me, they're organizing themselves into fire teams, units, and platoons. This is bound to get very, very ugly oh so very quickly."

"The defense of this facility is now under your auspices, Steven Ambrose, Archmage of the Terran Empire." Hand declaims, "if it were left to me, I would seek out additional personnel to help in defending this fortress as you fortify your position. I would also see about using Imperial Armament to slow the approach of the enemy army."

"Sounds like a plan," I remark, "Pinkie Pie, can you get back into Ponyville and gather up the village guard as well as your fellow Element Bearers? I would call on Dash but she isn't here and I'm certain you can get past the enemy without issue. Can you do this for me?"

"Can do!" Pinkie says, making a solid salute. She's gone in a cloud of pink, moving with speeds hitherto unknown by the sciences.

"Ah can see what weapons we have here in th' castle," AJ volunteers, "mebbe Ah can build us some battlements, to keep the enemy out an' such."

"Good thinking, Apple Blossom," I reply, "there may be some gear in stores with the Command Center as well. Fluttershy-"

"I don't want to do any fighting," My Butterfly quivers, "it's so scary..."

I smile, leaning down and stroking her head, "Don't worry. All I was going to ask you to do was set up triage in the Royal Hall. I'm hoping it doesn't happen, but we may have wounded in this fight. I want you to gather what supplies you can, Hand could help you if you're wanting for anything, and standby for any emergency that should happen. Can you do that for me?"

Fluttershy, is still visibly shaken, nods forcefully. Her eyes scream determination even if her body shakes in fear. She bounds off as Hand disappears from her holostage, likely to assist the golden pegasus with preparations. Myself, I was beginning meditations, just as Archmage Merlin had suggested. His advice about combat was to clear one's mind and build on the ambient mana in your surroundings. While I did that, he was busy informing me of several combat spells that would serve me well. Jesus, I'm taking to this role so quickly, so easily! Why in all of Tartarus didn't this happen to me sooner?!

Merlin isn't the only voice advising right now. I have no less than thirty four different views, all of them predecessors to my position, giving advice, solace, and the occassional tidbit of scuttelbutt from back in the day. If this were any other circumstance, I would likely think myself suffering a psychotic episode. I know better now; I am Steven Edwin Ambrose, Archmage of the Terran Empire. The voices ringing encouragement are those that came before, memories and experiences of those who held this office. They are as much as part of me as they are a part of each other. Their lives now bolster me as I take on the challenge of reclaiming magic for all of Humanity. (And keeping those I love and care for safe; if these guys are Proletariat troopers, I'm certain a dead pony or twenty won't fuss them much.)

It didn't take long for the rest of the Six String to arrive, but I hadn't expected others to follow in their wake. Pinkie had corralled Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and Princess Twilight in record time, but the other newcomers were quite unexpected. I knew Lyra and Bon Bon quite well from town, but I hadn't expected them to arrive in what I could best assume was the Equestrian version of tactical gear. Neither did I expect Derpy and the Doctor to arrive, with the Doctor looking anxious and wary. There two others i didn't know from town, but I had seen them enough to know they were regular residents. The pale lime green Pegasus mare that had followed Pinkie in summoning the other Elements sported a bow-and-quiver cutie mark; her mane and tail were in a soft hue of hazelnut. I didn't hear single word from her, even as she moved to the crenelations to set up her crossbow. The other pony to follow Pinkie was an Earth pony mare with a wheat colored coat; her mane and tail a shade darker than her coat. Her cutie mark was a sextet of bows and she moved with a quiet grace that even Rarity could never perfectly emulate. When she did eventually speak, her voice was so soft, I almost thought Fluttershy had come back into the room.

"Excuse me, sir?" The little mare said, "My name is Quiet Whispers, my partner, Longbow, and I are here to assist you."

"I'm sorry, what?" Is my incredulous response.

"Begging your pardon, sir," Quiet Whispers says, "but you are Sir Steven of Ambrose?"

"Y-yes, that is me- I mean, that's me." I reply.

Nodding, Whispers then says, "We're under orders from Princess Luna herself. If you were to come to any grief, then we should attempt to quell such grief in the manner of our choosing. We were informed an hour ago of a major magical disturbance and knowing you were nearby, we were tasked with assisting you in any way possible."

"Huh," I muse but before any other thought can occur, Applejack returns and calls out to the brown mare.

"Hey ya, Whispers!" My Blossom called out, "How ya'll doin'? I didn't think ya'd be here. Just what in in the wide world of Equestria brough ya out here?"

"Hello, Applejack," Whispers said, "I'm here under orders. Princess Luna believes my Rolling Rock style may help defend your fiancee."

"I'm sorry, what?" Applejack asks, equally as confused as I am.

"I am here to help," Whispers repeats, this time with a kind smile, "Princess Luna gave my partner and I very clear orders..."

"No, no, Ah got that part," AJ interrupts, "but what was that about Rolling Rock-?"

"Oh, yes," Whispers says, with a hint of blush spreading in her cheeks, "I am a master of the martial art of Rolling Rock."

"A MASTER?!" Jackie says, "Wow. Ah know Big Mac took classes in that when he was colt. I think he made green belt before he had to stop. Work on the farm an' all."

"I know," Whispers replied, "a pity, really. Young Macintosh was an aspiring talent. To have taken a green belt at such a young age is quite the feat. Had he continued, he may have achieved black belt status or become one of the Masters."

"Wow, really?" Jackie asked, "He was that good?"

Whispers nodded, "Maybe when the time is right, he will return and take up the mantle again. It would be nice to spare against somepony of such talent. There are so few challengers that can keep up with me."

"Mebbe," Jackie replied, "but fer now, we got ourselves a little war party."

And on that note, "INCOMING!"

A foul boom rocked the castle as Rainbow Dash's warning ended. With dirt flying in from the impact, I had little doubt that the explosion came from a mortar round. It would be followed by a fusillade of it's brothers, raining Hell on the ruin of the palatial site. I had some time to count the seconds before impact; I was up a ten-Mississippi before the mortars hit again. I forgot just how long that would be in terms of distance, though. Even so, the shells kept dropping in staccato waves before the stillness returned to the Everfree.

As the dust settled and ponies rose from the floor, Rainbow spoke up again.

"Uh, guys, we got ourselves a problem. A big problem!"

Curious and a little unnerved, I and the rest of my Ponyville friends moved to the hole that Rainbow had reconnoitered before the bombing run. Outside, in the still billowing dust cloud of the explosive fusillade, are hundreds, maybe thousands of human troops. They were lined up just outside of the forest's treeline, clad in dark uniforms. I could see webbed, likely bulletproof, vests lined with numerous pockets, combat boots and armored helmets. The weapons they held were strange to me. Half of them didn't look anything like the military rifles I had seen in various tactical magazines I read when I was back home.

"I wonder why there just standing there?" I asked.

"Could be mah defenses," Jackie replied, "you'd be serprised just how effectual a ring o' thony vines is. That and the pikes Ah was able to cobble together? Jes enough to dissuade a pony from makin' a charge."

"While I applaud you Applejack for your forward thinking," Rarity retorts, "in case you haven't forgotten, our opponents are not ponies."

Pinkie Pie quickly agrees, "Good point."

"It's better than nothing," Twilight adds, "and in as little time as it was assembled, I'd say it's our best defense for now."

"Let's see what I can do to make it that much more defensible," I say, before attuning myself to the ambient mana of the forest itself and whispering, "Interdiction."

In the space of a heartbeat, a haze emerged along the wall of pikes and thorn vines Applejack installed. The troopers outside are looking at the haze with a mix of confusion and exasperation. If my spell worked, then anything that tries to get with through boundaries of the Castle would be subjected to a powerful sense of vertigo coupled with a high, keening wail. The combined assaults would be enough to overwhelm a body's senses, thus incapacitating them.

"What is that?" Twilight asked as the haze appeared.

"A little incapacitation ward," I replied, "I figured we wouldn't want this to get bloody."

I get a look from Twilight that is half disbelieving and half grateful. She keeps this look on her face until trotting hooves are heard coming down the stairs. I look and behold the Pegasus mare with the bow-and-quiver cutie mark. She looks at us, nods, then continues a little ways further down before getting Whispers' attention with a quiet cough.

"I count ten," was all the mare said.

"Ten?!" Whispers almost shouted, "that's almost as many as there are residing in Canterlot!"

"Have you got to be kidding me..." I groaned.

The Pegasus mare shakes her head, "I'm not."

"Ten thousand..." Twilight wondered, then turns to ask me, "do you think they're here to take you back home?"

"I don't think so," I answered, "look at the emblem on their vests."

Sure enough, emblazoned on the left breast pocket of the troopers vests was a circular patch. Within the patch was a symbol I've now come to dread: the quill and coin sigil of House Proletariat.

"Do you think they like cake?" Pinkie asked.

"Maybe they do," I said, "but I don't think they're in a mind for pastries."

"I'm not it'll matter," Bon Bon said, "with our combined talents, I'm sure we can stop these guys in their tracks."

"I'm sorry, Bon Bon," I retorted, "but just what sort of talents do you and Lyra bring to this shingdig?"

"Well, other than my fabulous sweets, which I brought plenty of in my saddlebags," Bon Bon answered, "I know Lyra is a Still Way Grandmaster."

I was nonplussed as to what that meant, but when I heard both Twilight and Rarity gasp, I knew it must be something important.

"You're a Still Way Grandmaster?!" Rarity whispered, pointing a dainty hoof towards Lyra.

The aquamarine mare nodded, saying, "I know my behavior since moving here here from Canterlot has always been a bit- eccentric, but it was a good way to maintain cover in case of any disturbances within Ponyville. I am a member of the Royal Guard, though I'm a Reservist.” Then Lyra points a forehoof at me, “Until Mister Handy showed up, I thought I was going to have a nice and quiet little tour of duty."

"So the whole obsession with Homo Sapien, that was just a charade?" I asked.

"Oh, no," Lyra tittered, "I've always been fascinated by humans, but I think I may have crossed the line into mania when you came in. I do apologize if I was a little- in your face before. I was just so surprised and awed by the fact that a real live human being was here in Ponyville. I sorta lost my objectivity- and my manners, when I first saw you. Can you forgive me?"

"I think I can," I say, "if you can show me what some of this kung-fu stuff it is you do."

"Certainly," Lyra said, smiling from ear to ear, "just stand back and let me work."

More would have been said, if not for the shouting outside and the sudden surge of humans rushing the rope bridge leading to the castle. As the troops marched in double time over the bridge, my mind leapt to the story of Thermopylae and Leonidas' 300 Spartans. For the allusion to work in my head, I had to assume that the part of the Persian army was played by the Proletariat soldiers marching over the bridge and we within the ruins of the Royal Pony Sisters Castle were the combined forces of Greece. (At a much smaller number, to be sure, but the allegory could still hold.)

The battle was starting, so I shouted, “Here they come!”

I had thought, nor could it have been predicted, just what the Proletariat soldiers were doing when they crossed my hex line. I was certain that many, a number that would make the operation useless, would fall in various states of delirium. Would did happen was platoon after platoon charging through the disorientation matrix, passing through it with little to no symptoms of discomfort, and charging the walls of the ruins. At this point, I hadn't noticed my "shadows" leaving the confines of the castle and going to greet the troopers surging forward to attack us. It came as a surprise to me, then, when the shaft of an arrow suddenly emerged in the thigh of one of the leading troops. Then another arrow buried itself in troopers foot. Missile after missile flew, striking soldiers where they ran, hobbling many.

Then came Lyra, standing at the portcullis of the Castle. Her eyes closed, her stance calm, she began to bob her slightly. Within a minute, soldiers who had not been wounded by projectiles were thrown into the air then tossed side to side by unicorn magic. I could hear the static and sizzle of their equipment as Lyra's magic assaulted their electronics. With a flick of her head, Lyra launched the troopers back over the ravine and into their fellow soldiers. It seemed comical to me, watching that scene, until I saw that some of them had suffered some burns from their malfunctioning equipment.

Lyra kept it up on the next wave of warriors, launching them back amongst their fellows. Those who were not caught in Lyra's strike zone were pelted with more missiles. Outside of either kill zone was a group of soldiers trying to finesse their way through a section of the castle were a major gap had formed due to weathering. Before they could even get within a dozen yards of the gap, a blur of amber spun into their midst. A whirling dervish of activity struck out at the humans, with yowls of pain and screams of surprise coming from the frackas. When the last soldier fell, it was Quiet Whispers who was the last being standing.

"Come on you guys," Rainbow shouted, "let's get out there and kick some flank!"

The others agreed, some like Rarity did so reluctantly, but we all rushed out onto the ever filling battlefield. Whispers was holding her own rather well against the opposition, bucking, kicking, and even punching anyone that came within range of her hooves. Anyone that didn't get a taste of equine fury was struck down by the missiles her partner rained down from the battlements. I have to admit, that mare's aim is impeccable. I suspect she could shoot Rainbow Dash out of the sky if it were so ordered.

As we spread out onto the battlefield, Applejack began to buck individual soldiers away. Between her strong hind legs and Whispers solid strikes, many of the human troops were knocked senseless. Whenever an opponent decided to turn tail and run, Jackie just whipped out her lasso and hogged tied the fella. It was actually kind of fun watching my Apple Blossom rustle up those strays like a prize pig. I am not ashamed to say that I'm her fiance, nope. I'm mighty proud of my apple farmer.

Rainbow flew circles around fireteams and tripped them up with her dizzying speed. With her aerial acrobatics, the human foot soldiers found themselves without a target they could paint properly to strike. The chromatic mare would then summon clouds from high above and stomp them dark, producing lightning that shocked and frightened the enemy. Sometimes she assist rarity by taking a finely weaved cord of silk the fashionista had woven and used it to secure troops trying to outflank us.

Rarity, in a fit of ingenuity and brilliance, began weaving nets and thick ribbons to trap larger groups of enemies. Her seamstress skills served her well as she her needles flew into the enemy's uniforms; the stitching done to their combat suits resulted in numerous hostiles getting stitched to each other's backs. Also, in a fit if high hilarity and sudden inspiration, she would lace troopers boots together, causing a domino drop of soldiers. Later, I'd have to tell her about how much respect she earned doing something like that; it was something I'd expect to see out of a Three Stooges episode.

Pinkie Pie was acting as a one mare artillery team, lobbing blast after blast from her Party Cannon (the Mark VI, I believe) into the oncoming enemy's path. Troopers were slipping and sliding in mounds of cake, cake batter, confetti, and party favors. While her cannon refreshed itself, the Pink Party Paradox Pony lobbed pastry shaped hand grenades of frosting, maple syrup, and honey. If you can imagine what would be like to get these very sticky concoctions thrown on you at high velocity, then you can also imagine the sort of trouble Pinkie's Party Bombs gave the enemy. To this day, I still don't know where she got them from.

Twilight, on the other hand, constituted a whole army unto herself! With just her magic alone, she was beating back entire companies of opposition from ever crossing the gorge. She taken flight as soon as we exited the castle and was now wreaking havoc on the enemy troops. Her horn was causing fires to crop up in the regimental camps and occasionally causing high tech gear to go completely haywire. She was deliberately avoiding striking any human with a spell, lest there be a repeat of what happened at The Riot of Ponyville. Still, she was doing the work of an entire division of soldiers just on her own. It was enough that many of the soldiers that hadn't crossed the ravine started to fall back into the Everfree. Whether to regroup or what, I was never certain.

Those that did make it were facing not just the ponies defending the keep but myself as well. I like to think that I didn't too bad. Mind you, Ambrose was giving me a crash course in the fine art of martial combat, but the old mage was well practiced for it, even if my body was less than fit. Still, I was kicking some ass and taking some names, that was sure. Whenever I got flanked, I whipped out a little magical assistance, paralyzing or causing fugue states in soldier dumb enough to try to pincer me With the combined spells of Atlas' Strength and Atlas' Grace, I was more nimble than anytime in my life, performing perfect bicycle kicks and capoeira style roundhouses with ease. I was beginning to feel a little Jet Lee with all the acrobatic stunts I was pulling off, although I was sure I'd be sore and worn out come tomorrow morning.

Now, I can't lay claim to any measure of clairvoyance, but I did feel a single surge of terror as I was fighting off the Proletariat soldiers. Although I was using every style of martial combat known to man, from Capoeira to Wushu, I couldn't but feel that the fisticuffs were all a show for something bigger and nastier. That foreboding sense kept getting stronger and soon I couldn't even block out it completely. I then heard a keening whistle blow; all the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. In a motion I could only call as fluid panic, I turned to the sound of the noise to confront the biggest turret I had ever seen. In my mind, I thought it was a minimum of 150 millimeters, if not larger. Manned by at least a dozen men, the turret was humming, a live wire of lightning and fire. I gave it no time to launch its payload.

"IMMOLATA!" I shouted, aiming a hand at the artillery piece. No sooner was the word said did a flash of flame, bluebell and hot, lash at the weapon system; I could see troopers pull hand away fr0m consoles and cranks as the weapon heated to steel melting temperatures. In the time it took for a body to blink, the whole apparatus was molten slag, the metal white hot as it turned to sludge. Many of the Proletariat who saw that happened turned on heel and ran back to the safety amongst the trees, although a few remained at the edge of the gorge; those few that remained glared death at my friends and I. With the enemy retreating, we all regrouped in front of the Castle's front door, holding ourselves in a Delta Phalanx formation in case anyone decided to chance an attack within the Castle.

"FALLEN ARCHMAGE," came an electronically enhanced shout, "FALLEN ARCHMAGE, DO YOU HEAR ME?"

"Yeah, I can hear you," I shouted back, feeling very much like Howard Wolowitz, "so can everyone from here straight to NEW JERSEY!"

Again, the amplified voice rang out, "I AM CAPTAIN NELSON NORRIS OF PROJECT: REPATRIATION. I AM HEREBY ORDERING YOU TO STAND DOWN AND COMPLY WITH PROLETARIAT COMMAND ORDERS TO TAKE YOU INTO CUSTODY."

"AND WHAT IF I DON'T WANT TO BE IN 'YOUR CUSTODY,' YOU FLANK SNIFFER?!" I shout back.

Silence for a moment, then, "YOU MUST COMPLY WITH PROLETARIAT COMMAND ORDERS OR WE WILL TAKE YOU BY FORCE. NONCOMPLIANCE IS NOT AN OPTION; RESISTANCE WILL BE MET WITH LETHAL FORCE. WE WILL GRANT YOU A REPRIEVE OF ONE HALF HOUR TO DECIDE, PROPERLY. IF YOU CONTINUE TO DISOBEY, YOUR LIFE MAY BE FORFEIT."

There was a whine, following by a ringing noise, then all fell into silence once more. None of my companions were gravely injured, though I did see Whispers sporting a black eye where one human trooper punched her and Rainbow Dash was missing a few feathers when one human grabbed at her wing. Rarity was just exhausted from pushing so much magic; Pinkie was in dire need of bath after the all the soot from her party cannon settled on her. My Apple Blossom faired pretty well even if she was mighty tired from bucking humans all afternoon. Still, if could have been a lot worse. I don't think these troops were given a green light to fire their weapons. If they come again just as hard, I doubt there will be any compunctions to let loose those dogs of war.

"Everypony, let's fall back into the castle," Twilight ordered, "we'll regroup and plan from in there."

Nopony argued that, and we all trooped back into the ruins confines. We didn't stop at the battlements like I thought we would, but instead flew back deeper into the castle. I didn't know where we were going until I saw a the remains of once lavish tapestries hanging from the walls. I then knew exactly where we were heading: the Royal Hall. With Twilight leading the way, we made our trek into the hall, where Flutters was ready and waiting; she had heard the brouhaha from in here and was trembling with anxiety over her friends and lovers conditions. Upon seeing Applejack and myself virtually unharmed, she rushed us in a flurry of golden feathers, wrapping us both in a rib crushing hug.

"Oh, thank Celestia," My Butterfly breathed, "you're still alive!"

"Why chucks, Flutters," Jackie replied, "I didn't know ya cared."

Tears filled the Pegasus eyes, "Of course I do, Applejack! I love you both. If any of you were to-"

"I'm not going out like that," I assure her, "Jackie nor myself are going to be taken down that easily."

Sniffling back more tears, Fluttershy nods, "Okay. I just don't think I could live with myself if any harm happened to any of you."

I wrapped my arms around both y mares, drawing them into a deep hug, "I know, I know. I don't think I could stand myself knowing I let you gals get hurt. It's nnot going to come to that, I swear to you both."

"Good," AJ sniffled, some emotion creeping through her tough exterior, "we'll hold ya t' that."

"H-how is everypony else?" Flutters asked, "nopony was- injured, were they?"

"We have some minor injuries," Twilight reports, "but nothing life threatening. You should see to Quiet Whispers, Fluttershy. That eye of hers is looking really bad."

With an epp and a resounding opening of her wings, Fluttershy set to attend Whispers injury.

"Land sakes," Applejack moaned, "those fellers mean bus'ness! Ah ain't ever seen such ornery stallions in mah life! And Ah'd seen Big Mac in his teen years..."

"Those colts were not nice," Pinkie announced, combing the soot out of her mane with a brush, "what gives them the right to mess up such a beautiful fun day?"

"To answer your question, Ms. Pie," Hand retorted, "is that the Proletariat have never given any thought to others wellbeing save their own. They are a selfish, infinitely childish group of men."

"Agreed," Rarity said, "these colts could do with some lessons in manners. They nearly pulled out my mane, for Celestia's sake! What sort of ruffians muss with a mare's mane?!"

"Only the lamest kind," Rainbow shouted, "it's not your mane that's the ruffle! Look at my wing!! It's good thing they didn't rip out any primaries... Oh, I would be knocking some heads if they did that-!"

"Whatever the case may be, these hoomans could do a lot of damage if we don't stop them here," Twilight said, "even though they appear heavily armed, they haven't actually used their weapons. Am I right in assuming those are hooman armaments, Archmage?"

I'm taken aback a little by the show of respect Twilight shows me, but I answer as swiftly as my rational mind will allow, "Your assumptions are correct. I don't know what half those weapons are, but they are most definitely human ordnance."

"And if they were to leave from here with all that firepower?" Whispers asked.

"I honestly don't think ponykind would have the power to stop such an assault," I answer, "the ancient Equestrians defeated the Terran Empire because the antediluvian humans used directed energy weapons, which unicorn magic disrupted. These guys are using ballistic weapons; even an alacorn like Twilight wouldn't be able to withstand the force of thousands of bullets pelting their magical shields for long. If they manage to march out of the Everfree, I expect them to go unopposed throughout Equestria, likely killing every stallion, mare, colt, and filly, even down to the last foal."

"Then we have to stop them!" Twilight stated, "For the sake of Equestria and all our friends and family!"

Everypony gave a general assent, if not in word then in a nod of the head. I for one shouted a "HUA!" I was of the mind that the ponies I cared about were of more value than my own life, so I was certain that I didn't want this crew to go Jack Stepping across Equestria. The fact that I cared more for this nation than i did the country I was born in never crossed my mind. It was an intuitive thing, like the very notion of not defending my new home. I knew where loyalties lay; they were the gorgeous Pegasus and the beautiful Earth pony mares that wanted me as their husband. I could no sooner relinquish them to those fascists than I could rip out my own heart. (No, I am not going to revisit that scene from "Temple of Doom." That bit has been played to death, no pun intended.)

"It is good that you all feel that way," Zecora said, "but I feel much darkness will come before the end of this day."

"Agreed," said another, more imperious voice, and I didn't need Twilight surprised shouting to know who this was.

"Princess Luna!"

The dark alacorn sidled into the Royal Hall, nodding to Twilight (who as a princess herself did not need to bow in the Moon Goddess' presence), and acknowledging the other Element Bearers and assorted other ponies in the room. She accepted their bows of reverence until she reached me. Then she rose up on her hind legs and wrapped her forehooves around my neck. I could see through the gap in Luna's mane that most everypony was some measure of shocked. Given how friendly we had been over the last little while, I was a little nonplussed myself.

Soon, Luna pulled away and considered me with a thorough gaze. She was not only looking at me, but seemingly through me. After a few moments of consideration, she smiled. I saw a twinkling in her eye, a brief flash of either recognition or mischief (with the younger diarch, it was likely both) and then she began to giggle. Like a little school filly, she started giggling.

"I see that you decided to update your wardrobe, Sir Steven," Luna chuckled, "or is that downgrade?"

I shook my head. Only Luna could find this situation laughable.

"I'll have you know," I warned, "that these are the vestments of the Office of the Imperial Archmage. I don't give a rat's tuchus if you find them funny looking. As strange as they seem, I find them rather fitting. Although I wouldn’t mind some more variety. Hopefully there’s something with a hoodie in it."

"They are quite remarkable," Rarity adds, "if I may say so, you do look rather dashing in that outfit. Wherever did you get it?"

"It's mine," I reply, "these clothes are part of the Imperial Collection and are only divested when a new Archmage comes about."

"Oh," Rarity says, "well, I must find some way to duplicate them. I bet a stallion like Big Mac would like just dalhing in them!"

"Heh-heh, yeah, I can totally see mah brother dressed in them duds," Applejack says, "he'd be the talk o' th' town. Hay, even Cheerilee would look twice in his d'rection."

When AJ said that, noticed both Luna and RD blush faintly. Well, on Luna it was faint, given that her coat is dark; Rainbow Dash on the other hand has a light colored coat, even the scantest blush shows through a bright scarlet. At the moment, she's looking like a cooked lobster.

"What are you doing here, Luna?" Twilight asks, "I didn't know you had gotten word of this incursion."

"I had not," Luna replies, "but my sister had. She is currently in negotiations with the Yaks about further treaties. We have not had a cordial relationship with Yakyakistan in ages. My sister could not be pulled away for this, so she sent me in her stead. It seems I have arrived too late..."

"Not even" I correct her, "the enemy has given us thirty minutes to bring out our dead and collect ourselves. If I don't turn myself over to their forces when that time is up, I suspect they'll bring the hammer down on us all."

"If that is the case," Luna starts, "why have you not surrendered to them? Is there some amount of pride you do not want to bend?"

"Negative," I say, "I surrender to the Proletariat, and they must just 'disappear' me. They may just eliminate me away from prying eyes. And if they had a means to reach this world, I have no doubt that once I'm out of the way, they'll march on down here in greater numbers and-"

"And what?" Luna asked, a little disturbed.

"Ever heard of a "scorched earth policy," Lady Luna?"

The Night Princess shakes her head negative.

"Let's just say," I explain, "that the Proletariat would think nothing of burning every city, town, and village in Equestria as they march within, conquering all in their wake. They may not even stop in Equestria; I have a feeling they want to reclaim this world as their own. I don't think they'll care much for anything that takes up space on their 'home world.'"

"Ah, I see," Luna pondered, "then that is that. My friend, Sir Steven, I could not afford to lose you as I have lost so many good friends already. If you would allow it, I would gladly fight alongside you, to insure that my little ponies are not threatened by this scum!"

I give a little bow and say, "Far be it from me to dictate what the Princess of the Night can do of her own volition. If you wish to join me and mine in this battle, so be it. A word of warning, though. Would I be right in assuming that Twilight has shown you all the evidence of the Ponyville Riot?"

"Indeed, she has," Luna answers, "I have even seen these 'firearms' of which had been spoken of the last that I was in Ponyville. These pistols that your people made have made for many disturbing nights in my little ponies dreams. How in the name of all that is holy did such armaments make their way here?"

"I'm thinking the passengers on the plane carried them onboard," I say, "although they shouldn't have been able to. Transportation Safety Administration rules clearly state that only a sky marshal can carry a firearm in an airport as well as on board any aircraft. Unless I’m wrong, but given everything happening back home, I don’t think I could be. So where they got those is beyond me."

"Do you think these brigands are carrying more of the same?" Luna asks.

"I don't know if you've seen them yet," Twilight says, "but I don't think they're carrying any 'pistols' on them"

"More like submachine guns and assault rifles," I add, getting stares from everypony in the room.

Luna queries of me, "What are these 'submachine guns and assault rifles' of which you speak, Sir Steven?"

"I'm not sure I can adequately explain," I say, "might be better if I show you."

Bidding Luna to follow, I return to the battlements. Luna stays close behind me, a worried look on her face. Mounting a winding staircase to the top of the battlements, I advise Luna to get as low as she can. She does so, dropping on her elbows (do horses, and likewise ponies, have elbows?) I crouch down on my knees and proceed up the stairs. Once on top of the battlements, I make my way to a crenelation, poking my head out just enough to see the troopers ringing the gorge around the castle. Once I was sure of my sight line, I gestured for Luna to follow suite. She did, lengthening her neck above the lip of the crenelation. It should have been humorous to see the princess' jaw drop like that; in such a stressful situation, I saw no comedy in such an exaggerated expression.

"So many..." Luna commented, "and those weapons... We hath never seen the like in all our years..."

"Nor have I," I whispered, "but even if I don't recognize half of the ordnance they're wielding, I know for certain that they have some serious hardware down there."

Luna nods and suggests we should return to our friends. I agree and we skulk back down the battlements stairs. Upon returning to the others, we find that Twilight has organized a battle plan for further engagements with our foes outside. Despite her obvious distaste for physical confrontation, little Twilight is quite the adept little general when she needs to be. I managed a quick peek at the map she had conjured with her magic. I felt Archmage Ambrose raise an appreciative eye for the detailed plotting and tactics used for this operation. The former Primus Legate was mighty impressed with the little alacorn's strategic plotting.

“Young Twilight has quite the tactical mind, does she not?” Luna comments.

“She is the one making all those lists,” I respond, “It wouldn’t surprise me, with her brother being former military, that she didn’t pick up a trick or two from him. I bet planning war games is something that she could do well, maybe even enjoy, if it didn’t keep her away from her studies or get boring after a while.”

“Boring?!” demands an outraged voice, “how could all this chaos be ‘boring?!’ If anything this is the most exciting thing that’s happened around here since I was reformed!”

Luna and I both growled out “Discord!” like a malediction.

Appearing ex nihilo, the reformed god of chaos hovers in front of the two of us, a broad grin on his face. He can’t hide the malice burning in his eyes, but I don’t think he wants to. The clash and bangs of battle wouldn’t be that hard to hear unless one was deaf. I hardly think Discord is one who would feign deafness unless if proved humorous in some way. Still, his presence here is not entirely without merit. If he is even a tenth of the being he was before the Harmony Elements encased him in stone, then any effort he can bring to this battle would be appreciated, by one side or the other. I’m hoping it will be for us.

“So,” I venture towards the spirit of dissension, “I take you’ve heard the fighting?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Discord asks, then he spreads his mismatched limbs wide and says, “half of New Jersey could hear this!”

“What is this- ‘New Jersey’?” Luna ponders.

“Oh, it’s nowhere you’ve ever been,” Discord proffers, “in any case, this looks like the kind of fun I can get behind.”

“You mind yourself, Discord,” Luna warns, “my sister may be quite forgiving of your past indiscretions, but I am not.”

“Oh, Luna, don’t you worry about little ole me,” Discord coos, “if anything I’d watch out for him.”

The chimera’s claw is pointing towards me, leaving me a bit mystified.

“I’m sorry but what?” I question, “Aren’t you the spirit of chaos and disharmony?”

Naturally, a halo appears over Discord’s head; he blinks his eyes in a coquettish manner, and I’m sure he’s priming his voice to sound wholesome and innocent. I half expected him to break out into a Gollum routine. It wouldn’t be the first time the draconequus had pulled something from my pop culture past to torment me/amuse himself/confuse everypony.

The next words out of his mouth are, “Why does it hate Discord?” in that perfect Andy Serkis voice and I’m visited by the mad, even savage, desire to throttle the chimera within an inch of his forsaken life. Sensing I was about to commit homicide or wanting to limit the draconequus ravings, Luna steps up to Discord, plants her muzzle against his own and growls. The look on his face is equal parts frightened and frustrated.

“We have no time for thine foolishness, Harlequin,” Luna seethes, “we are at war, with an invader of such vitriol against ponykind that even We fear them. So, we ask of you, just this once, wilt thou stand with Us or against Us?”

Discord takes a few moments to respond, during which time, he pulls a baseball cap from out of the aether (I can see his magic ripping open the fabric of reality and pulling the item from some one-off dimension.) The whole thing is a navy in color, with lettering on the front of that read, “Thinking Cap,” in block capitals. More worrying was the pull chain toilet and the placard reading, “Discord’s Thinkin’ Spot.” I had to hand it the creature; when he went all in, only Roger Rabbit himself could come close and even then, the animated lagomorph would still be left in the dust.

“All right, all right,” Discord said, a hint of disappointment in his voice, “I’ll help you guys out,” then before Luna could thank him, the chimera stated, “only for her sake, though.”

I didn’t need to ask of whom he was speaking; given all that Fluttershy has told me of her friendship with the draconequus, I had to imagine that he wouldn’t risk his friendship with her, or the wrath of the golden Pegasus. If he failed in even the slightest, Flutters would let him know in no uncertain terms. If ever there was an insurance policy against Discord’s mania, this was it.

“We’ll take it,” I say, earning a sharp look from Luna, “What? It’s not like we’re going to get a better offer here. Also, if I may be so bold, two alacorns, a fire team of unicorns and Pegasi alike, a cohort of Earth ponies and a myself stand a very slim chance of beating these guys! Any added help that can be rendered to us should be received openly. Right?”

A sigh escaped the Lunar Goddess’ muzzle, “Yea, verily. We suppose you are right, Sir Steven,” then to Discord, “even so, this does not mean you are given carte blanche . Your chaos only extends to the enemies encircling us. Agreed?”

“Of course, Princess Luna,” Discord answers, “I shall be on my best but most unpredictable behavior.”

“Fair enough,” Luna grumbles, “come, then. There is much work to be done.”

The three of us rejoined Twilight and her friends around the table she conjured up from another room. All of the first response team was here, save for the green Pegasus whose name I hadn’t gotten yet. Then there was AJ, Flutters, RD, Rarity, Pinkie, Lady Twilight, and- Spike? When did I Spike get here?

“Ah, good, you’re back,” Twilight said, “and you brought company.”

“You know me, Princess,” Discord cooed, “I’m always up for a party.”

“But this isn’t a party,” Pinkie replied, “this is a fight! If it were a party, I’d have cake, and presents, and streamers, and balloons, and ice cream but no oatmeal. Seriously, who brings oatmeal to a party? That’s like hoofing out rocks on Nightmare Night. I mean, who could be the mean? Do they want ponies to hate the-”

“Ah think we get it, Pinkie Pie,” AJ said, cutting across the pink party paradox pony with a hoof to the mouth, “let’s just assume ev’rypony knows we’re in a brouhaha and leave at that.”

Pinkie nodded, AJ’s right forehoof still stuffed in her mouth.

“Well, now that that is settled…” Discord started, only for Luna to finish, “Twilight, are your preparations completed? Do we have a plan in place to defend the kingdom against these invaders?”

“We do,” Purple Smart replied, “though some of the options we have you’re not going to like.”

“What options-” Luna began only for Fluttershy to barge in, “We are NOT going to hand in Stevie to those- those- ruffians! If we have to fight, then- then I will fight. I care too much for him to allow these brigands to take my Stevie-kins.”

“Oh, Fluttershy-!” I groan.

“Ah’m with Flutters,” AJ remarks, “them fellars ain’t nothin’ but trouble! Who’s t’say they ain’t just gonna turn their weapons on th’ rest o’ Equestria! Ah know you an’ Steve ain’t the best of friends, and maybe ya find my relationship with ‘im a -”

“Unorthodox?” Twilight opines.

“Untraditional,” AJ answers, “but Ah’ve gotten to love ‘em just the same as Flutters has and Ah ain’t lettin’ ‘im get taken by some ponyfeatherin’, low-down, no-account varmints from draggin’ ‘im off Celestia knows where.”

“I would concur with Miss Apple, Twilight,” Luna said, “as easy it may be to simply ‘hand over’ Sir Steven, I would be remiss to allow such a thing to happen when he has lovers,” Flutters and AJ blush at the mention, “and friends,” Spike smiles widely, as do Lyra and Bonnie but to my surprise, Luna’s cheeks redden as well, “who would no doubt be heartbroken should anything happen to him in enemy hands. Now, is there any option you have available that does not require the sacrifice of Sir Steven? Or should I draw up my own plans?”

“Uh, no- No, Luna!” Twilight quickly backpedals, “I have plans- contingencies, really, in case we need to do that, but most of my current strategies include a vibrant defense of the Castle. In fact, I had just asked Longbow to give me a situational report of the enemy’s condition.”

“Indeed, she did,” speaks a new voice I hadn’t heard before. I look towards the place where I can hear the voice coming from and there, standing in the lee of a stairway, is the green Pegasus from previous, a long, wooden bow strapped to her back and between her wings. It’s a wonder anyone could hear her; she could could give Fluttershy lessons in having a quiet voice.

“What did you find out, Longbow?” Twilight asks.

“It is not good,” Longbow answers, “the enemy has taken on reinforcements. I estimate their numbers at roughly an additional fifteen thousand.”

Twilight and Luna both start at this revelation. Hell, even I’m surprised by the number. I knew for sure there were more than a few hundred of Proletariat troopers, but they must have had a whole troop waiting in the wings. Now how in all the infernal Hells did they manage to pull that off?!

“But- but that’s-” Twilight stuttered.

“Oh, boy, this is going to be such fun!” Discord delighted, earning him a sharp look not only from Lady Luna but from Fluttershy as well; he promptly ignored them both.

“Doesn’t matter,” I say, “in numbers that large, all we need to do is break their lines, take out their commanders, and the troops will fall into disarray.”

I have no idea if this is true or not, but it sounds right to me. Even Archmage Ambrose sees fit to agree with my statement.

“Arrows, let flown each to each/Meet midway and slice/The void in aimless flight/Thus I return to the source.”

I hear that chant, something both strange and familiar, and turn on the spot. The source of the chant is Lyra, the surprise combatant in this fracas. She is sitting along the back wall of the “war room” in what I can only assume is the Equestrian version of the Lotus Position. It looks rather painful to me; I don’t think I could get myself seated like that and the human body is far better suited for the Lotus Position than a pony. Still, Lyra looks comfortable, and shows no sign of discomfort.

I walk over to Lyra; Bon Bon has joined her marefriend at this side of the chamber and is seated on her haunches like most ponies do. Lyra seems oblivious to the universe, but Bonnie Lass is chewing on a cupcake Pinkie provided. She sees me coming, gives me a wan smile and offers her signature sweet to me. I nod, take from her outstretched hoof, being careful not to press too deep in the frog of her hoof, and unwrap the sweet. When I pop it in my mouth, I get an veritable explosion of sweet flavors in my mouth. This is the sort of confection I wish I could sample back- home. It’s like- The best I can describe it is a Wether’s Original™ caramel wrapped in a SweetTart™, and deep fried in Hershey’s chocolate. It also has a gooey, Nerds™filled center. My brain just could not process how delicious this is.

“Sugar coma…imminent…” I jest, “flavor…too…sweet!”

“Stop it, you,” Bon Bon chides, “besides, you can’t tell me you didn’t like that.”

“You’re right,” I reply, “I loved that! What do you call it?”

“Trade secret,” Bonnie Lass replies, “no lie. I’m calling it ‘Trade Secret.’ Lyra thinks it’s a cute- what did you call it, Ly-Ly?”

“Nomenclature,” Lyra answers.

“By the by, Lyra, just what in the name of Mike are you doing?” I ask.

“I am mediating,” the minty unicorn says, “if the battle is going to recommence soon, I need to be in balance.”

“That’s my lovely Still Way Grandmaster!” Bonnie gushes.

“Still Way?” I muse, “what is that?”

“It is the ancient art of unicorn martial combat,” Lyra tells me, “it is the art of being still and in motion all at once. It is the mastery of one’s internal harmony to surmount the inherent chaos of The Universe.”

“Sounds like Taoism,” I reply, “Ying, Yang, always circling each other, Cosmic Balance in perpetual equilibrium. Or something…”

“That’s one way to view it,” Lyra replied calmly, “The Still Way is a unicorn martial art that focuses on turning an opponent's attack back upon them. It is a practice of both martial skill and arcane talent.”

“And my Ly-Ly is a master of it, the youngest in several generations,” Bonbon added, “I think you’ve seen the effects of her prowess.”

“I have,” I answer back, “not even Lady Twilight has the skill to engage as many hostiles as Lyra here.I am thoroughly impressed, Minty.”

“While I appreciate your comment,” Lyra said, “I haven't mastered the Still Way for adoration or fame. I mastered it to protect others.”

“Then you’re doing your job well,” I add, “I may need to learn more about his Still Way. I think I could incorporate it into my own skill set; it would add some much needed defensive skill into my repertoire.”

Lyra nods, saying, “Should we survive this, I would gladly teach you. Although, I don’t know how you would function in the Still Way without a horn. It is the basis of a great many magical techniques in the Still Way.”

I ask, “Would you believe me if I told you that human magic doesn’t require a singular focus of power? That we could use our hands, feet, even our eyes to cast magic?”

“You know,” Bonbon says, “I think I’ve seen some of the stuff you do, Mr. Handy and I don’t recall any instance where I saw any magical aura. I know what a unicorn’s aura looks like, thanks to living so long in Ponyville.”

“True, true,” I say, “well, human magic is drawn from the world around them, pulled out of the aether, if you will. I guess it could be said that humans pull magic toward them, not from within themselves.”

“Fascinating,” Lyra breathed, “humans have no internal mana reserve?”

“Nope,” I reply, “we draw from the world around us,” then I add, “I really wish you could listen in to the voices of my predecessors. The insight they can provide into Arcanus Sapiens…”

“Sir Steven?”

Luna has walked up to us, a look of concern etched upon her face.

“Your highness,” Bonbon says, effecting a low bow, “is there something you need? I have plenty of sweets to help on hoof, if you would want one.”

“We are not our sister,” Luna says, returning to her most imperious voice, “but we are not adverse to the occasional sweet.”

Bonbon, who at first was frowning deeply, now beams as she goes into her saddlebag and pulls out a toffee wrapped in golden foil.

“These are Princess Celestia’s favorites,” the confectionaire explains, “but everypony I know loves them.”

Luna grabs in her aura, a sparkly, cerulean thing (or something that looks cerulean to me, and unwraps the sweet. After plopping it in her mouth, the Lunar Goddess chews on it a while, murmuring with enjoyment. (Hey Mikey, I think she likes it!) She lingers on the treat for a while before swallowing it, smacking her lips in appreciation.

“My stars,” Luna gasps, “that was most tasty! Praytell, what was the flavor of that delectable foodstuff?”

“I call them Sundrops,” Bonbon explains, “they’re a special recipe made with caramel and sunflower seed oil.”

Luna is still in post-candy bliss, but she does manage to say, “So this is how Tia’s flank has swelled up so?”

“I’m sorry, Your Highness?” Bonbon asks.

Snapping from her reverie, Luna responds, “My apologies, Lady Bonbon, my mind ‘twas wandering afield… Might ye have anything flavored with spearmint?”

“I- I d-don’t think I do,” Bonbon answers, “but I have been looking for a new challenge.”

“We thank ye, Lady Bonbon” Luna says, “now, if ye would excuse me, we did wish to speak privately with Sir Steven.”

“Excuse me, ladies,” I start, rising from less than comfortable seating position, “this lovely mare has need of me.”

Once I’m fully upright again, Princess Luna beckons me to another corner of the hall, near one of the hallways leading out of the hall but adjacent to the thrones. We’re still in sight of the others, but there’s enough shadow to obscure both our figures. That helps, when Luna suddenly hugs me. I cannot begin to tell you how surprised or awkward I felt when she threw her arms around me. (Yes, I would later learn that the upper part of a pony’s legs are called arms. Who knew?) I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the physical displays of affection these ponies are so fond of.

“It is so good to see you again, Sir Steven” Luna breathes as she releases from the rib cracking embrace, “though I do wish it were better circumstances.”

"It’s not as if there’s a more opportune time around, is it?” I ask, “Heavy is the head that wears the crown, yes?”

Luna nods in affirmation, “Indeed, Sir Steven, even as newly returned as I am, the mantle of responsibility weighs over me as it does my sister. When I am not attending court or marshalling my personal guard, I am usually with my personal ‘societal liaison,’ as I try to integrate myself with my little ponies, again. It is- hard work, much harder than I had ever anticipated.”

“‘Anything worth doing is worth doing right,’” I say, “Can’t be sure who said that, but it’s a good quote.”

“Agreed,” Luna says, “it helps, somewhat, that you and I write to each other as often as we do. I find your letters encouraging. Also, they are- stimulating. I have never had a lesson with Hard Luck that was informative or as amusing as your letters are.”

I chuckle at that, adding, “Well, I try.”

Luna let's loose a rather girlish giggle when I say that but afterwards, she’s goes silent. An awkward pallor settles between us and i have no way to break the awful quiet that permeates the air. Luna doesn’t help in my endeavor to get the conversation going; she has settled to looking at anywhere that isn’t in my general vicinity. I was about to walk away when Luna opens her mouth- to say nothing. She closes her muzzle with a nary a sound.

“Well, this has been fun,” I quip, “I’ll go and see how the other are doing-”

I only get a step when Luna’s hoof grabs my shoulder, “Wait…”

I turn back to Luna, “Yeah?”

The look in Luna’s eyes is- well, it’s pained and hesitant, as far as I can tell. She looks like she’s holding something back and badly wants to say what’s roaring in her mind. An internal war of conscious, with no clear winner. I was about to put a hand on her withers, as a way to comfort her when she asks, “What was it you said to me, back during the Grand Galloping Gala?”

I recite with little hesitation, “‘I’m bad, and that’s good; I’ll never be good, and that’s not bad…’”

Luna finishes the quote for me, well, she paraphrases it some, but she finishes it “‘There’s nopony I’d rather be than me.’”

“Luna, are you okay?” I ask.

“I wish I could say yes,” Luna answers, “but that would be a lie. The last few weeks have been rather bothersome. My subjects still act as though I am a monster, I am ostracized by the nobles and in the wake of Blueblood’s fall from grace, I have been accused of being derelict in my duties as a princess.”

“Those sons of bitches!” I growl, “what in the Hell do they know?! Do they have an entire kingdom that depends on them to weigh on issues and procure judgment on cases? Do they even work for a living?”

Luna titters some, upon hearing my rant, eliciting her sister’s mannerisms, “Good points. You see, this is why I find you such a good friend. You bring a different perspective. I speak with my sister about these things, but she sometimes is more obtuse about my trials and tribulations that I may as well be speaking to the pillows in my boudoir.”

“She at least tries,” I counter, “she wasn’t nearly as responsive when you became the Nightmare. Wasn’t she?”

Tittering again, Luna replies, “No, no she wasn’t. I should count myself lucky that I have two best friends to speak about these things.”

“More than two,” I retort, “have you written to the Elements, yet? I’m sure they’d be more than willing to lend you a fresh set of eyes on your problems. Or they may share some insight on how to navigate modern Equestria. Methinks you, Rarity, and Twilight would get along all right.”

“I-” Luna starts, “I have have availed myself of their council. I have been hesitant to do so lest I drive them away with all my troubles.”

“I don’t think they would see of you as dumping your issues on them,” I reply, “that’s what good friends would do, share their burdens.”

Slowly, a smile graces Luna’s muzzle. It’s the singular most beautiful thing to see here in the castle besides My Butterfly.

“You are right, Sir Steven,” Luna says, “I let myself be isolated from my little ponies and that cost me dearly. I shall- Sorry. I will do as you suggest. If I were to- ‘reach out and touch somepony,’ as you have stated before, maybe I could adjust more thoroughly, more quickly.”

“Perhaps,” I muse, “and who knows? Maybe you’ll able to teach Twilight a thing or three about being royalty?”

Luna titters again, replying thusly: “She is stall rather green with her duties.”

“Also, think of how nice it would be to have friends away from Canterlot,” I beam, “friends that can know you outside of your official duties, even.”

“You’re right!” Luna exclaims, well away from her Royal Canterlot Voice, “it would be a nice change of pace to speak with ponies on a more casual basis.”

I nod enthusiastically, then say, “Anything else to get off your chest, or barrel, as the case may be?”

“No, methinks,” Luna answers, “I think I have burdened your ears with my follies long enough.”

“Excellent,” I say, before I hear the sound of ponies rising as one and marching away from the Royal Hall.

“So,” I begin, “is today a good day to die or what?”

“Aye, ‘tis is,” Luna agrees, “although I would prefer not to. This is my second chance at life, and I’d rather it not end here before I can do some good in this world.”

“Same here,” I say, ”I’m only in the second act of my life, so I am not ready to buy a farm today. But If I’m going down, I’m going to take a number of my enemies with me. I just pray that somebody upstairs is rooting for me…”

Luna nods, smiling a little nervously but still holding it together, as she shakes her mane; her horn lights up as a powerful cantrip spreads over her frame. It’s an awesome sight to behold as the spell spreads over Luna’s frame, spooling intricately scrolled metal from the aether. In seconds, her entire body is covered in armor. In color palette, it matches what her bat ponies wear, but in design, it looks more- modern. From barrel to haunch and covering her thighs to her fetlocks, Luna's armor makes her a formidable presence, and that's not counting the large scythe she wields in her magical field. Or, for that matter, the razor sharp wing tips covering the arms of her wings. It's a spectacular if frightening sight.

"I am ready," Luna announces.

"Alright then," I say, “let’s go join the others.”

We emerge from our hiding place to be met by an expectant Pinkie Pie. My inner monologue makes a horrible Pokémon joke. It takes everything I can muster not to groan, especially when my predecessors ask me what that thought meant. “A wild Pinkie Pie appears,” might too much for them right now and I am hard pressed for time as is.

“Whatcha doin’?” the pink party paradox pony asks.

“We were talking,” I answer honestly, “Luna was feeling a little down and I offered some advice.”

“Great advice,” Luna quips, “more sage than anything I have heard in sometime.”

“If the next words out of your muzzle are anything that sounds even remotely like ‘Starswirl the Bearded,’ I will shunt you to a plane of misery and torment so terrible that will make the moon feel like a resort spa,” I threaten.

All that does to Luna is cause her to roll her eyes.

“Aww,” Pinkie coos, “you two make such a cute couple!”

Pinkie then bounces away, humming to herself. Luna’s face, underneath the helmet of her armor, is blazing beetroot red. I’m flustered, really, totally speechless. What in the Hell was Pinkie talking about? There is no way Princess Luna likes me in that way. Right? Ugh, can’t be thinking about this right now.

“Stevie, are you alright?” Fluttershy asks, which startles me a little. Okay, it startles me a lot.

“Ah, “Fluttershy,” I breath, “kinda got lost in my head for a minute there.”

“It felt like more than a minute,” Luna quips.

Fluttershy looks between myself and Luna and a nervous smile spreads across her muzzle.

“Is there something going on that I should know about?” Fluttershy asks.

I make to reply but Luna beats me to it, “No, there isn’t, Fairest Fluttershy. You may rest easy. Your fiancee and I were discussing some of the troubles I am having in acclimating to modern life. I- realize that my presence unnerves you, Ms. Shywing, but if you will, I must ask you of a favor.”

“A-a favor?” Flutters queries.

“Yes,” Luna confirms, “Sir Steven has made certain allusions to me about branching out from my Canterlot comrades and begin some correspondence with others away from the Palace. If- if I could be so bold, and you don’t have to accept right away or accept at all, I would understand-”

“Get on with it, Blue,” I murmur, “daylight, it’s burning.”

“Yes, right,” Luna says, giving me a stern glare before softening her tone once more and speaking again to Fluttershy, “I would like, very much, if could write to you. I already write oft enough with your betrothed, but I would very much like to think of you as a- pen pal. Would-would that be- alright?”

Fluttershy is quiet for a little bit before saying, “Mhmm, I would be glad to!”

Luna let's out a girlish squee, practically dancing on the tips of her hooves before she restrains herself again. I’m pretty sure there’s a part of the Lunar Princess that wants to hug Fluttershy, but she refrains.Fluttershy told me about the first time Luna returned to Ponyville after being released from the Nightmare. She described Luna’s hug as “rib crushing and life threatening.” Although, by Flutters account, she was already frightened out of her mind by Nightmare Night and Luna’s presence during that particular evening hadn’t done her any favors.The smile she has, though, hasn’t left her face. She is very much effulgent with joy. When she speaks again, I can tell she is just barely containing her excitement.

“Thank you, thank you, Lady Fluttershy! I will endeavor to write as often as I can. I will even include my letter to you in Sir Steven’s correspondence. Will that be acceptable?”

Fluttershy and I both nod, Flutters with a nervous grin, me with a more genuine smile. I can hear the distant shuffle of anxious ponies from the courtyard, where I’m certain that the others have gathered to prepare for combat. I’ve been a bit neglectful of my own preparations, but I do have the advantage of nearly a million years of experience in all things arcane and plenitudes of battle tested tactics. Although, I’m thinking I should have had something more to eat, stretched out a little, and gotten some water in me. I hope neither my bladder nor my colon decide to leak while we engage with the enemy; that would be embarrassing. I can’t stay lost in musings though. I come back to present tense, with Luna still in her “excitable little filly state” and Fluttershy looking very cautious and fearful about what’s about to happen.

“Oooo,” Luna squeals, “I cannot wait to inform Tia!”

“Pending we get out of this in one piece, that is,” I remark.

“Stevie,” Flutters calls to me, and bring myself eye level with her.

“Yes, Butterfly?”

The golden Pegasus wraps her arms around my neck, tears streaming from her closed eyes and whispers in my ear, “Please, please, don’t die!”

“I’ll avoid it as much as I can,” I say, even as trumpets ring out a new rallying cry, then, to the rest of defenders of The Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters, I cry "eyes on, everypony! Here comes the second wave!"

The Toy Soldiers are off to War…

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