Clockwork couldn’t believe it. Despite him being on a train bound for home and his luggage at his side, the pegasus just couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he was heading back to Ponyville. Home, he was going home for the first time in almost a year. It felt like it was all too good to be true, like a medically induced dream. Wasn’t he supposed to fill out paperwork or something?

The stallion’s thoughts were brought back to the present as the conductor shouted that familiar All Aboard! Clockwork laughed, it sounded like the same guy that had worked the train that brought him to Camp Currahoof.

At the subconscious mention of the military installation, Clockwork was swept back into a sea of old memories. Old training drills, arguments, push ups, the works. He wondered how Brass Hoof was doing these days, and about the fate of his other bunkmates, Smokestack and Charger especially.

His memories skipped backwards a bit, back to before he had even begun to consider the military, farther back than senior year. His mind floated off to his days helping ridiculous fantasies and quests for a cutie mark come true, all with the most beautiful mare in the world leading him. Every adventure was unique, each one a learning experience, all ended in failure except one or two. Even then she didn’t get her cutie mark, ah well, she got it in time. Pity he wasn’t there to see it.

Where was she now? That vibrant yellow mare with a mane of fire, sapphire eyes and gloves of lightning? Manehatten? Trottingham? Maybe even Tauronto? Eh, it didn’t matter too much; he’d see her again soon, he hoped.

“Excuse me, sir? Are you okay?”

Clockwork looked up and around, ears flickering for the source of the voice. It was much closer than he originally believed, as he ended up bumping his nose against a concessions cart with much more force than he wanted.

“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry, I’ve always hated how big these things are.” Clockwork’s bleeding nose was met with a soft tissue as the female voice continued on. “They’re not even half full at all times, can you believe it?”

Clockwork nodded, his eyes and ears finally being able to trace the source of the voice. It was just one of those locomotive attendants. No discernable features, as they were all covered by either her copious amounts of makeup or her ridiculous uniform. “I probably can. What do you have to drink?”

The attendant waved a hoof in the air. “Just the regular sodas and such.”

“I’ll just have water.”

In seconds, Clockwork had his drink and the attendant was gone. The pegasus looked around one last time and laughed under his breath. He had never seen a train car this empty before. It was a welcome feeling of semi-privacy, and it lasted the entire ride home. However, something didn’t feel right. His stress from a year’s worth of work was bleeding off at a remarkable speed; the morning sunrise colored the sky a soft gold, and the train’s heavy yet steady engine all combined to create an almost nursery-like atmosphere. Yet, the scant few ponies who also occupied the same train cart as Clockwork bore no smiles, no friendly attitudes as stranger passed by stranger.

Everypony was keeping to themselves, and Clockwork had no idea why. “Attendant?” the pegasus asked in the faint hope that the mare hadn’t left the cart just yet.

“Hmm?” the mare poked her head around the corner. It only occurred to Clockwork now that the earth pony’s voice was laden with forced cheer.

“I don’t mean to sound rude or anything, but the behavior of the other occupants of this train car is a little. . . off.” Clockwork tried his best not to sound offensive, but he couldn’t help that he had failed in his task.

The attendant sighed. “I’ll see if I can find a fresh newspaper. That’ll clear things up.”

Clockwork nodded, and the attendant left with haste. However, she never returned. Not when Clockwork fell asleep, not when the train arrived in Ponyville, and not when the pegasus disembarked.

For a moment, Clockwork felt legitimately confused as he stepped back into his hometown. Nopony was there to greet him, then again there was next to nopony at the station at all. It wasn’t even past ten in the morning. As the stallion checked to make sure he still had all of his luggage and ticket for the ride back to Canterlot, he was reminded of the fact that he had failed to notify anypony of his arrival. He wanted this to be a surprise return, and so far everything seemed to be going according to plan.

As the pegasus trotted along familiar paths through the city, he came to realize how little the city had changed in his time away from home. All of the skyscrapers were still there, all of the light smog and cobblestone roads and fruit stands and such. Yet, there were a few key differences. Nopony seemed to be in a good mood. Then again, it was still in the morning on a weekend, anypony up this early had a right to be grumpy. Still, none of the vendors shouted out the prices and quality of their products, citizens who bumped into each other bickered for a moment before heading their separate ways instead of apologizing and chatting for a few minutes. There were considerably more guards than normal, and even a few anti-aircraft emplacements! Much to Clockwork’s annoyance, there were no newspaper stands in sight. What the hay was going on?!

The stallion took several deep breaths and let his mind drift off to focus on other things. He continued on his way, making sure not to lose his pace. Every so often, he got a glimpse of a familiar figure out of the corner of his eye. He wondered how the Lost Foals were doing now, and what Quick Fix was making for breakfast. He smirked, he would find out soon enough.

It wasn’t much longer before Clockwork stood at the entrance to a very familiar structure. It looked almost unchanged, sans a fresh coat of paint and polished brass piping. After taking a deep breath, he knocked thrice on the immense redwood door.

It was almost a full minute before the sound of undoing locks filled the air. Clockwork was confused, as it was only during the air-raid drills that his family would need to use those locks. However, said confusion faded as the pegasus locked eyes with the individual who opened the door. He was an older-looking stallion. A cream coat much darker than his own, chocolate brown eyes, a a mane and tail that were beginning to gray. The earth pony’s name was Gearbox, and he was Clockwork’s father.

“Hey Dad,” the pegasus began. “How’s the water heater running?” Much to his surprise, Clockwork was not swept up in the customary bear hug that his father gave. Rather, the earth pony feebly wrapped his forelegs around his son and pulled him close. Clockwork felt tears land on his shoulder.

“It’s working just fine, son,” Gearbox finally answered.

Clockwork returned his father’s gesture. “Is something wrong?”

If Gearbox answered his son’s question, the pegasus couldn’t hear him. He was too preoccupied trying to breath as his mother appeared, rushed forward, and nearly toppled him over in a hug of her own.

“You’re back.” was all Clockwork could make out between Quick Fix’s sobs. Sheesh, he didn’t think his parents missed him this much. “Yeah, it’s been a while, mom.”

It took some prying, but Quick Fix eventually managed to stand at Gearbox’s side as she let her son finally enter the house. Clockwork smiled as he took in the familiar morning scent of pancakes and strawberries. He turned around for a moment. “Where should I drop my stuff?”

“In your room,” Gearbox sniffled.

“Thanks.” Clockwork nodded and made his way upstairs. Everything seemed a bit smaller now, cleaner, less wear and tear. He never could’ve imagined that a single year of no use would result in such a visual difference. The feeling was only reinforced as the pegasus entered his room, occupied by nopony for the past year. In truth, he was a little shocked at how much his room had changed in his year of absence. A few of the cabinets were gone now, the papers that would’ve been covering his floor had been stacked neatly on one corner of his now larger desk. His bed had been replaced by a larger version as well, though it looked almost exactly the same in every other way.

“I hope you don’t mind us altering a few things while you were away.” Quick Fix poked her head into the room. “We knew you might be bigger and need a little more space, so we upped everything a few sizes. Seeing you here now, I’m glad we did.”

Clockwork placed his duffel bag on his bed and moved to his closet. “What about clothing? Is the thing empty now?”

The unicorn shook her head. “We donated a few sets to the Lost Foals just as you had asked, we’ve replaced a few of your vests and such with the same brand and everything, just a size or two larger.”

Clockwork opened his closet and looked over its contents. He was surprised to find it roomier than when he had left it. He turned to his mother for a moment. “Mind if I get changed? I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

Quick Fix nodded and shut the door, and Clockwork was left alone to his thoughts. The pegasus quickly changed from his Research and Development Greaves into a black vest, white undershirt, his burgundy bandanna (partly to hide his necklace from view), and-

Wow.

Clockwork stood awestruck for a moment. His goggles were resting in a new container at the back of the closet. It was made of some dark wood, lined with purple felt, and the goggles within had been polished to an immaculate gleam. After setting the eyewear firmly around his head, Clockwork quickly rinsed his face and hurried back downstairs. His parents sat at the dining room table like always, though their eyes hinted at their semi-shock to having their son home without so much as a warning.

“You look good as new,” Quick Fix chimed as her son sat down at his respective spot. There was already a fresh plate piled high with pancakes, strawberries, and a bit of whipped cream off to the side.

“Certainly feels like it.” Clockwork smiled, though he did not dig in. Instead he looked to his father.

Gearbox seemed confused at first, but got the point soon enough. He quickly downed a bite of his meal. “Even a year away from home has failed to dull your manners. Nor has it damaged your mother’s reputation as a fantastic chef!”

“Oh you liar you.” Quick Fix nibbled at her own food.. “We both know I’m terrible when it comes to making brunch.”

“Nonsense!”

Clockwork let his mind drift as his parents’ conversation melted into the background. It felt like he was back home again, before he even contemplated joining the military whatsoever. He was dressed like the semi-normal pony he was again, eating the same food, surrounded (sorta) by the same company. It was nice, really nice. The pegasus moved to take his first bite of-

Ding Dong

Huh, it had been a while since Clockwork had heard a doorbell ring. “I’ll get it.” he stood and hurried to the door. When he opened it, time stood still for just a moment.

“I could ‘ardly believe the scouts when they told me ‘bout yer arrival ‘ome.” the now 14 year old mule removed his hat, bowed, and placed the item back on his head. He then extended the same forehoof. “Tis good to have ye back, Clocky.”

“Likewise, buddy.” Clockwork took Moppet’s hoof and shook it firmly. “How’ve you been?”

“Is that Moppet?” Gearbox asked from the dining room.

“Tis!”

“Well come on in, then. You’re practically family now anyways!” the stallion said chipperly.

“Thank ye kindly, Mr. Box.” Moppet stepped inside and seated himself at the spare chair at the end of table. Clockwork followed suit, and the four equines ate together for the first time in a little over a year.

They ate in silence for a several minutes, nothing beyond the occasional quip about something escaped their mouths. It was only when Quick Fix finished her meal that she spoke first. “You’ve gotten taller, honey.”

“Me?” both Clockwork and Moppet asked.

The mare acknowledged both their increases in height, but focused on Clockwork.

The pegasus’ ears flickered at the remark. “Really?” he asked after swallowing his final bite. “I thought about the possibility, but I don’t think I grew more than an inch or two.”

“Well yev definitely changed, laddy,” Moppet interjected. “Yev gotten taller, leaner, y’even sprouted a coupl’a gray ‘airs!”

Clockwork excused himself for a moment and hurried to the nearest restroom. Moppet was right, both Clockwork’s mane & tail were sporting very thin but prominent silver streaks. He returned to the table laughing.

“Don’t worry too much about it, boy.” Gearbox comforted the pegasus. “While gray hair may be a sign of aging, it is also a sign of experience, wisdom, and effort!”

“Then why do you insist on getting yours dyed?” Quick FIx chided her husband, to which the earth pony let out an embarrassed laugh.

“Well gray doesn’t look good on everypony!”

The unicorn giggled before turning back to her son. “So what’s it like up in Research and Development? I mean, are you even allowed to talk about what’s underneath Canterlot?”

Clockwork shook his head. “I can’t say specifically what we’re working on, but I can tell you about some other stuff. It’s not as nice as you would think. They keep it permanently set at a specific temperature. If you find it too cold, you just have to get more blankets. To be honest, they have the consistency of tissue paper! I don’t mind though. It’s offset by the stuff I get to work on and the people I get to work with.”

“Ohoho!” Moppet punched his friend in the shoulder. “Ye mean to tell me that yev made some friends?”

Again, Clockwork nodded. “Three, in fact.”

Moppet burst out laughing. “Good onya, mate!”

“What are your coworkers like, son?” Gearbox asked.

“To be honest, most of them seem interested solely in their work. Others aren’t interested enough, and then there are a few good people. Luckily, I was assigned to work with three of the final category. I can’t give any names, but I’m working with two on one project and then another on my preferred.” Clockwork shot a sideways glance to his friend. “It’s weird being the only guy sometimes.”

All three equines appeared both surprised and joyous at the seemingly harmless news. “Well, looks like my friend is startin’ an ‘arem of ‘is own like a Saddle prince!” Moppet punched his friend a bit harder this time. While Quick Fix objected to Moppet’s remark, she turned her attention to her husband, who was laughing gently.

After a few more seconds of laughter, Moppet managed to regain his composure long enough to ask a question. “Eheheh. . . if it’s alright with you, Mr. Box and Mrs. Fix. I’d like to take Clockwork out to meet up with some old friends. Would that be alright?”

Gearbox shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

“Just please be careful.” Quick Fix added.

Clockwork froze when he heard the tone of the unicorn’s voice. There was no happiness, no motherly concern, only true and unbridled fear. He was suddenly reminded of the tension of the outside world. “Dad, got the paper?”

Gearbox hurried into the living room and returned holding a stack of newspapers in his mouth. He gave them to his son without a moment’s hesitation. “You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you?”

Clockwork didn't respond as he read the headline.

Empire & Consortium call for peace! Tension at its highest!

Clockwork almost reeled back after he reread the title of the main story. “How in the name of the royal sisters did I not know about this before now?”

Gearbox shook his head. “I don’t know, but what is known is as follows. Ambassador Bellum called for actual peace talks late last night. He even used the word ‘peace’.”

Clockwork slammed his hoof into the table. “But we’re not at war!”

Quick Fix sighed. “We know that, dear, but that’s not concerning everypony. What we don’t know is why the Eternal High Queen of Prance is joining.”

If Moppet was drinking something, he most likely would’ve spat it out. “What’s the leader of the deer doin’ up in Canterlot? I may not know much ‘bout politics but what the hay is the ‘Eternal ‘igh Queen’ doin’ at a peace council that ‘as nothin’ to do with ‘er soil? I thought the Prench just gave out fancy cheese and wine?”

“We don’t know that, either,” Gearbox explained. “Tensions are high and everypony is trying to stay low until the council talks end. No one seems to really care beyond that.”

“Thanks for the information.” Clockwork hugged his parents again. “We’ll be careful, I promise.”

With that, the duo left the house. It wasn’t much longer before they had begun to chat. Just like old times.

“Tell you what; if the Lost Foals are up for it, I can set up a night quest.”

Moppet’s brow raised, and the fear in his eyes disappeared for a moment. “Scavenger hunt or capture the flag?”

“You already know the answer.”

Moppet grinned. “They’ll definitely be up for it.”

Clockwork nodded. “How've they been? A lot can change in a year.”

Moppet shrugged. “A lot ‘asn’t, really. We got two new members early last month, twin unicorn sisters. They’ve been treated just as well as the rest of us. We even added a new room to give everypony a little more space. We’ve got enough food and water to go around, and the generator’s workin’ fine. Thanks for sending instructions on ‘ow to repair it, by the way.”

Clockwork stopped for a moment to raise his forehoof. “It was no trouble at all.”

The duo gradually fell silent, neither equine knowing exactly why as their journey slowed its pace. After a while longer, Moppet came to a halt and turned to look Clockwork dead in the eye. “Yer worried about what’s ‘appenin’ in Canterlot right now, aren’t ye?”

The pegasus eyed his friend. “You aren’t?”

Moppet sighed. “The ‘ole kingdom’s bunkerin’ down over suspicion. I don’t see any airships raining balefire on our doorstep, and it would take days for a sole griffon dreadnought to get this far into our territory. I mean, ‘ave you seen the size of a griffon airship? It’s practically a little floating city!”

Clockwork nodded along, but he could easily detect the fear in his companion’s voice. It was almost alien coming from him.

“Everypony’s expecting the worst, while I’m hoping for the best!” the mule gave a his trademark smirk. “Anyway, ‘tis best that we focus on getting-”

KRAK-KOOOOOM!

“DOWN!” Clockwork’s training suddenly kicked in. He grabbed Moppet by the mane and brought his body to the floor. They both hugged the soil until the earth-shattering explosions had passed.

“What in the name of Luna’s flank was that?!” Moppet screamed.

Printed Word, the council’s official scribe, had been working furiously to take down absolutely everything uttered by the members of the peace council. Unfortunately, he had already gone through six scrolls, four quills, and at least a dozen wells of ink.

Taking advantage of a lull in the debates, Printed Word glanced about at the gathered entities in the room and was immediately reminded that he was very much out of his league. To be exact, he was seated next to Princess Celestia, who was in turn seated on the throne just to the side of Princess Luna. Even though Printed had worked alongside them for several years, their presence still felt dizzying. Shaking his head, the unicorn looked to each of the other national leaders.

On the left-ish side of the massive circular marble table were several individuals of note whom he knew were the Federation’s strongest supporters. Mfalme, Patriarch of the United Zebra Clans, was a tall and stout figure who expertly wielded both a soothing voice and a commanding presence. He was known amongst the circles of Canterlot to be a strict traditionalist regarding who and what the zebra’s dealt with, and while it was true he had allied with several of the more savage clans before his ascension to patriarchy, he only had his people’s best interests at heart.

To Mfalme’s right sat what would be considered his wife in Equestrian terms. While Printed Word wasn’t aware of the exact status female zebras held in their culture, he knew that she was just as influential as her “husband,” if not more so. As it was, Zecora was a very intelligent individual who happened to know the Elements of Harmony, and even had a dwelling in Ponyville itself. All in all, she was both a shaman and a diplomat rolled into a rather fetching package.

To the zebras’ left sat two gargantuan bison. Printed Word almost snickered when he remembered the look on Chief Thunderhooves’ face when his first chair had collapsed underneath him as well as when he needed to request a larger chair to support him, the end result being that he was sitting on a stone throne that was made for a small dragon. The Chief of the Bison Tribes was an immense figure, and even with his fur starting to grey, his voice was still deep, commanding, and exuded an aura of power. Beside him however, sat a smaller though similar figure; one that was different enough from her father to make Printed Word pause.

Strongheart was an interesting individual to find in Canterlot. Recently, there had been some amount of buffalo immigration into Federation territory, either for jobs suited to their strength or to gain a more formal education. However, the young bison did not seem to be like much of her kin, in that while it was true she was somewhat leaner and less bulky than most of her kind, having defined leg muscles without her calves overtaking them in shape, her eyes possessed a sort of gleam that Printed Word knew quite well from his days working alongside nobility. It was the gleam of one who was carefully observing everything she saw and cataloging it for later. Of course she seemed hot headed, but she was clearly far more collected than she let on. Printed Word believed she would make for a far more political figure than her father, much more cunning as well.

Speaking of cunning, Printed Word now looked to the right-ish side of the table to take note of the individuals that he had seen on only two occasions prior. High Chairman Greystone was a tall, thin diamond dog who, while mostly skin, bones and lean muscle, looked like he could hold more than his own in a fight. He was adorned in a deep violet jacket studded with several dozen gems of all sorts. Despite the cologne he was wearing, he positively reeked of political manipulation. Under that well-built frame of his was a mind that was both devious and exceptionally intelligent. His bodyguards were an interesting sight as well, one was squat, beige, and had eyes that shone with determination, the second was tall and grey with large arms, while the final was a blue behemoth of a diamond dog. All three wore matching grey vests, large sapphires embedded in their clothing directly over where their heart would be.

Beside Greystone was a figure that seemed like a mixture between warrior, politician and, if Word's tastes be brought to light, a male griffon supermodel. Despite his unique exterior, composed of black feathers, off-white head feathers, and golden-brown claws that were all covered to some extent by golden and red armor that seemed more like an art piece than actual protection, Ambassador Bellum seemed to be a rather simple individual from what he had learned of him. He had been in Canterlot enough times that she didn’t seem to be too worried about the topic at hand. He maintained a look of stoic attention across his beak, but Printed Word couldn’t help but feel that the griffon was waiting for something.

To each side of Bellum was a bodyguard as unique as him. To his left was a griffon somewhat smaller than him, though no less impressive in appearance. She looked much like a female version of Bellum, though the tips of her highest headfeathers were dipped dyed a pale violet and her eyes were colored a bright gold rather than emerald. She wore an armor unlike anything Printed Word had seen before. It looked like she was wearing some sort of golden chain/plate mail hybrid, the heaviest armor, colored red, covered only her left shoulder and chest. To say she seemed bored with the council talks would’ve been the understatement of the decade.

The character to Ambassador Bellum’s right was much more exotic in appearance. He, at least Word presumed the guard was a he, wore a red cloak that covered almost the entirety of his form. Even his species was an unknown, though he could only be either a diamond dog or another griffon given his low-slung posture. The only visible parts of him were a pair of golden gauntlets that covered the entirety of his large claws or paws. They seemed harmless enough, but Printed Word had come to learn that the Griffon Empire could use just about anything as a weapon, those strange claw/paw-gloves included.

The scribe turned to the final figure in the room who was sitting at the far end of the table. To be perfectly honest, it was she who made Word the most uneasy,

Printed Word knew what a deer was, he enjoyed his wines and cheeses as much as any unicorn worth his salt. However, the “Eternal High Queen” of the deer, as well as their respective nation, made the scribe’s head hurt a little. She was magnificent to look at, coming close to his own Princesses appearance. She was slightly shorter than Celestia, with what seemed to be the same basic body type all the seemingly divine royalty tended to have; her figure was slim overall and her cream brown coat gleamed in the evening sun.

Yet, her eyes were rimmed with the most curious shade of orange eyeshadow that, while fetching, framed her own orange eyes rather oddly. The fact that she was participating in talks that would have little impact on her nation made Word slightly confused. If going by the occasional odd look his majesties spared the doe, his curiosity was not unfounded. Supposedly, the doe at the other end of the table was an old friend of the sisters, but she seemed to be very detached at the moment, not wishing to strike up a conversation or anything similar to one.

Printed Word’s musings were brought to a sudden end as Thunderhooves slammed one of his massive forehooves into the marble table. He could’ve sworn he saw a tiny crack appear, but he was far too occupied with writing.

“How dare you continue to demand territory from my allies! We have provided you with mile upon mile of fertile land beyond your already unnecessarily large borders! I have yet to see one shred of proof that your population is so large that you must expand outwards to prevent a societal collapse!”

“Thunderhooves. Please, that is enough.” Celestia raised her voice only a few decibels, but it was far more than enough to silence the massive creature. The princess turned to look towards Ambassador Bellum, the individual who had made the request for more land. “Despite Thunderhooves’ unnecessary shouting, my ally does have a fair point. Why must we continue to provide you with land that you do not seem to be using?”

“Though grateful my allies and I are for your generosity, the land you have given unto us is actually quite incapable of growing anything. There is very little vegetation already present, and attempts to grow even the hardiest of our foodstuffs there have been met with little success.” Greystone explained. “To be quite frank, your majesty, you have provided us with nothing but no mare’s land.”

“Her majesty’s question was not addressed to you, dog.” Mfalme interjected. While his voice was calm and collected, it was finely laced with venom. Printed Word was reminded that, despite the fact that two entire nations stood between them, the Diamond Dog Consortium and United Zebra Clans maintained perhaps the most violent relationship of all the nations in the peace council.

“Nor was my response addressed to you, striped one.” Greystone’s response was calm as well but much more hateful. Had Mfalme not felt the gentle touch of his wife’s foreleg on his, it is quite likely he would’ve harpooned the diamond dog leader with his ceremonial spear without so much as a second thought.

“Let us disregard petty rivalries for a few precious moments.” Ambassador Bellum’s voice echoed through the room like an orchestra through a concert hall. “Your majesties, I must digress from the current subject. On behalf of both the Diamond Dog Consortium and the Griffon Empire, Greystone and I have a proposition that could quite likely end several of the problems facing our respective nations. I regret to inform you though that neither you nor your allies will find the idea favorable.”

“And what is this ‘proposition’ of yours, Ambassador?” Princess Luna asked.

“You must grant us custody the statue of the Draconequus.”

A tense silence fell upon the room that was only broken when Printed Word’s quill snapped. He rushed out of the room to acquire a new one. When the door had swung shut, Princess Luna was the first to respond.

“Absolutely not!” the alicorn’s voice seemed to shake the room to its very foundations. Before she could bring the full brunt of the Royal Canterlot Voice to bear though, she was hushed by her eldest sister.

“Ambassador Bellum, I will make it very clear why we cannot allow that,” Celestia began. “Both of our nation’s fought a war to dethrone that monster. Do you remember the suffering he inflicted upon our fledgling kingdoms?”

Ambassador Bellum nodded. “While I was not there to experience it, I have a very clear idea of the strife our nations endured during that war. I am also familiar with the incident in which Discord escaped from his stone prison not five years ago. Do you remember the pain he unleashed on every nation at this table?”

“Prance is an ocean away! Unaffected whatsoever!” Thunderhooves shouted.

Ninn-Aras, the Eternal High Queen, brought a hoof to her mouth as if to stifle a dainty laugh.

Bellum waved a claw in the air. “That is true, forgive my slip of tongue. However, if I remember correctly, yours was the nation least affected, something involving ballerinas and what not. Am I correct in that statement, Thunderhooves?”

The only thing that kept Chief Thunderhooves from charging the griffon was Princess Luna speaking once more. “It matters not how little they felt of Discord’s wrath. What matters is that we have all felt it and there is no guarantee whatsoever that you or your allies can contain him!”

“Bellum, what could you possibly achieve by having joint custody of Discord?” Celestia asked.

“My top scientists believe that we can harness the Draconequus’ power and repurpose it for several different beneficiary causes,” Greystone explained. “Just a few possibilities include a new source of power, possible advances in medicine, maybe even the way we look at our world!”

There was another long pause, broken only by a sigh from Celestia as she shook her head. “I am sorry, High Chairman Greystone, Ambassador Bellum. I believe that I speak for all of us when I say that attempting to harness Discord’s power would do far more harm than good. We cannot allow you to take custody of Discord, not until we are absolutely certain that you can contain him.”

Both Greystone and Bellum began to voice their acceptance and apologies, but they were quickly drowned out by a harsh scream. Everyone in the room turned to look towards the source and found the Eternal High Queen twitching furiously.

“I am SICK and TIRED of you filthy ponies keeping my people away from WHAT WE NEED to survive!”

No one moved, no one reacted, it seemed like no one even breathed as the Eternal High Queen stood and continued to shout directly at the royal sisters. The doe’s voice began to reverberate, sounding as though three or four voices were speaking at once.

“You failed to defeat my own mother when she invaded years ago, and she was WEAK! She fed off love of all things, too! Defeated by junk food! However, I am not my mother!”

In an instant, the Eternal High Queen became engulfed in a massive pillar of orange flame. After what felt like an eternity of both immense heat and deafening screams, a new creature emerged as the fire suddenly vanished. Princess Celestia immediately recognized a changeling queen, but this was not the one she had fought years earlier. No, this one’s body was as black as night, her eyes, mane, tail and wings were as orange as the fire that had blanketed her moments earlier. There were no holes anywhere on her body, and her teeth seemed to be solely fangs, each as white as the purest marble and very large.

“I am Empress Carapace, queen of the true changeling hive!”

Printed Word rushed inside the room, eyes filled with concern. “Is everything alright? I heard screaming and. . . oh goodness. . .”

Printed Word’s pupils widened when he realized that, where a beautiful doe had been few moments ago, a monster from the deepest pits of Tartarus had replaced her.

KRAK-KOOOOOM!

All at once, there was an earth-shattering explosion as the room felt like it was turned upside down and quickly reinverted. Every window in the room, stained-glass and all, shattered in an instant. It was only seconds later that everypony had their respective weapons at the ready. Mflame and Zecora had their spears pointed at Greystone, and The High Chairman had one paw raised at Malme, a massive emerald embedded in his palm. His guards were already aiming several large pistols at Zecora’s forehead. Chief Thunderhooves was not three feet away from the tip of Ambassador Bellum’s sword, while his daughter was ready to charge Bellum’s guards. Princesses Celestia and Luna were readying a simple spell teleportation spell used to send things into the core of the sun, both horns aimed at Carapace.

“Tell us, Bellum. How long have you waited for the chance to take our lives?!” Thunderhooves roared.

“First, you are to address me as Warfather from now until the moment I end you life and beyond. Second, this is not how it was supposed to happen at all. Third, if you wish to live, back away.”

“Greystone, what is the meaning of this?!” Strongheart asked, giving the tall dog a baleful look. ”I thought you had your people’s best interests at heart! This is madness! The griffon’s will use you and then abandon you the moment they no longer view you as an asset!”

Greystone gave the smaller buffalo a thoughtful, almost kind look. “The Empire and Consortium have been allies for centuries, and that is not about to change. I suggest you take a good look around for it is not the Federation that holds power in this room.”

“How dare you speak to her in such a way, inbred mutt!” Mfalme retorted.

“SILENCE!”

In the blink of Printed Word’s eyes, Carapace somehow had pinned Mfalme to the floor, impaled under her left foreleg. Despite the zebra’s valiant efforts to get up and fight back, the Patriarch collapsed as red liquid began to pool rapidly around him. As Zecora screamed something in her native language, Carapace detached her leg from her body as a branch would snap from a tree, dry and bloodless. After struggling for a moment to regain her balance on three legs, she screamed once more. “Meet our demands immediately or I shall grant you all much slower death than any of you can imagine!”

Something in Printed Word forced him to try to hear what words the zebra king spoke with his final breath. Even if he had though, the unicorn could not have heard them over the sound of his own screams.

In an instant, not only had Chief Thunderhooves launched Greystone into the table and slammed his guards into the floor, but he had made a massive leaping charge and successfully pinned Carapace to a nearby pillar. The massive warrior was in the process of slowly squishing her as a sadist would do to a bug. “And if you do not meet our demands, I will grant you a long and tortuous death the likes of which can only be achieved by a buffalo!”

Carapace’s response was to laugh, even as her namesake slowly buckled under the buffalo’s weight. It was an eerie laugh, one that reverberated through every atom in the room and then some. The changeling suddenly dissolved into a thick black ash that engulfed the entire room, one that left a foul stench in the air for hours on end.

To Printed Word’s own personal horror, he was quickly approached by Ambassador Bellum himself.

“I am truly sorry. It was not supposed to happen like this.”

The unicorn managed to look to his princesses one last time before feeling a sharp pain overcome his neck, and then nothing.