The Avatar of Albion: When We Needed Him Most

by RoyalPsycho

First published 9th of February, 2015

For want of a nail the shoe was lost. For want of a shoe the horse was lost. For want of a horse the rider was lost. For want of a rider the message was lost. For want of a message the battle was lost. For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.

Once upon a time, there was a world, and then that world died, except for one little island. On that island the last of humanity fought to preserve what they were,led by their champion the vengeance of a nation.

And then he died too.

It is 2050. Humanity is dead. The war is not over...

Based on The Avatar of Albion.

First published fic. Thank you for reading this. Co-written with Jed R, this has been written with his full consent and support.

Prologue 1: Divergence

Prologue 1: Divergence.

***

In all things there is a moment, a moment where fate moves from one path to another. These are the defining moments of our history - Adolf Hitler surviving a shell in the trenches of World War I, or John F Kennedy being assassinated in November 1963. These moments, if they had not happened or had happened differently, can decide the fates of millions.

The arrival of the portal to Equestria was one such moment for the planet Earth. The portal, at first thought of as a herald of good tidings, soon became the source of an expanding Barrier that annihilated almost the entirety of human civilisation - those who were not incinerated by the deceptively friendly looking pink energy field chose instead to be Converted, to shed their human forms and instead become more ponies. Eventually, only one island remained, the islands of Great Britain and Ireland. They, however, survived - the magic of Earth, long underused, finally reacted against the magic of Equestria, and protected the last humans. For a moment, there was respite.

Then the war began.

It was a brutal, bloody conflict: countless millions of lives, ponies and humans alike fell in brutal conflict, as the last humans - aided by ponies who had seen the insanity that had gripped Equestria - fought desperately to survive the onslaught of the forces of Astra Solamina Maxima, the Alicorn who had once been the benevolent Celestia.

At first, the war was a battle of half-measures and retreats. The human race fell back again and again… until one day, years into the conflict, hope was born in the form of David Elliot, the Avatar of Albion - a man who had already become a hero, now host to the power of Britain herself, chosen to fight for humanity in this, it’s darkest hour, just when we needed him most…

In one world, he succeeded.

In others… we were not so fortunate.

***

London, January 25th, 2030.

David Elliot grimaced slightly at the twinge of pain that ran through his side. He pulled the shrapnel out of his rib, the enhanced healing that Albion's power afforded him already closing the wound. He laughed at the irony - in so many respects, he was stronger, faster and harder than he had been, and yet the power that gave him these edges was also killing him, slowly but surely. He was sure True Grit would have had something to say but... no.

No, that wasn't a good train of thought at all. He had lost enough people, and he was going to lose more before the end. No sense dwelling on those he had failed to save. If he did that, he might never move again for dwelling.

"Elliot," the voice of Hell Blazer said, bringing Elliot's attention back to the here and now. "You nearly done?"

Elliot moved his arm, testing the movement of the side. The pain was still there, sort of, but the twinges were definitely dying down.

"Yeah," he said softly. "I'm done. What's the situation?"

"Pinkie Pie and Shining Armour's deaths don't seem to have slowed them down," the Earth Pony said softly. "If anything, I think they're more pissed off than they were."

"Typical," Elliot sighed. He unsheathed his lucky dagger - the one that had killed Rainbow Dash, 'speed killer' emblazoned into its hilt - and walked to the exit of the small "command centre" (a fancy name for a hastily appropriated corner shop).

As he stepped outside, a soldier fell across the doorway, a spear lodged in his chest. Snarling, Elliot drew his hand cannon and fired at the offending Pegasus, knocking it from the sky. More fire drove the attacking Pegasi back, but that wasn't good enough for Elliot. He charged after them, dagger spinning. Behind him, Hell Blazer and Lyra charged, Lyra's horn flashing with offensive spells.

They turned a corner, only to find themselves facing what must have been forty or fifty Earth Ponies.

"Bollocks," Hell Blazer swore. "Might be an idea to retreat?"

Elliot didn't answer, only taking time to reload his hand cannon. Hell Blazer sighed.

"Should have guessed," he said tiredly. "You want the twenty on the left or the twenty on the right?"

Elliot charged, firing as he went. Lyra stayed put, firing her spells off. Hell Blazer started muttering a series of ancient attack spells, fire forming and shooting off at his words.

The first pony went down with a bullet lodged in his skull. Vaulting over the falling corpse, Elliot stabbed a second pony in the spinal column, before kicking out, sending another sprawling into his comrades. Firing his cannon again, Elliot took out three more ponies, before holstering the weapon and drawing his other dagger. He lashed out, taking down a handful at a time with sliced throats and stabs to the heart. He span around, stabbing another pony in the neck, before pushing the corpse off of his dagger and kicking it into two more ponies. Before the stunned ponies could stand, he stabbed them in their throats, pinning them to the ground. Leaving his daggers in their necks for the moment, he drew his hand cannon and his shotgun, switching the latter to semi-automatic fire: he span around, firing indiscriminately, taking out pony after pony...

"David!" a small voice called out. Elliot span, to find himself facing off against a Unicorn, who fired a spell at him. Elliot blocked the spell with his arm, but the kinetic force drove him to the ground.

The Unicorn gave a feral grin, and moved to send another spell at Elliot -

But then the spell impacted Lyra, who was suddenly stood between them. She yelled in pain as the energy enveloped her, and then she fell to the ground, eyes closed as she fell unconscious from the pain. Angrily, Elliot fired the last round from his hand cannon at the pony, blowing the top of his skull out, before grabbing Lyra and sprinting down the street. Around twenty of the Earth Pony squadron were still active, but they were being pinned down by a combination of Hell Blazer's continued fire spells and several soldiers firing their weapons in a suppressive pattern. Fortunately, these ponies were Royal Guard trained, not human soldier converts, and so their tactics were piss poor by comparison.

"Hell Blazer!" Elliot yelled. "Back to base, now!"

"Right!" the pony said, calling out instructions to the soldiers. With a final blast of hellfire, the yellow Earth Pony ran after his friend.

In the base, Elliot was examining Lyra's wounds. They didn't seem to be serious on the outside, but as far as Elliot was concerned, that was a bad sign - it just meant that her injuries were bad on the inside. Magic tended to be like that.

"Where's the Doctor?!" he bellowed at Hell Blazer as the pony entered the room.

"In a different part of the city," his friend replied, eyes fixed on the injured Lyra. "Oh ponyfeathers... this a magic injury?!"

"Yeah," Elliot said, not commenting on the pony oath Hell Blazer used.

"Horse shit!" Hell Blazer swore, hitting the wall with his hoof. "Horse shit and motherbucking bastarding fucking wankers!"

"Can you help her?!" Elliot asked, ignoring the outburst.

"No idea," Hell Blazer said honestly, looking frustrated and upset. "Maybe if I..."

There was an explosion outside, and the sound of hurried yelling and panicked orders. From the sounds of it, things were getting desperate.

"They're getting closer," Elliot said quietly. "Shit."

"That's a word," Hell Blazer said angrily. "These bastards are tougher than I thought."

Elliot knew that if they moved, the sheer number of ponies out there might overwhelm them all - even the Avatar of Albion couldn't kill an entire army. Then again, if they waited here without trying to escape, they'd be trapped and killed anyway. There seemed to be no way out...

Before he could think of anything else, Lyra let out a cry of pain.

“Shit!” Hell Blazer yelled. “Dave!”

David Elliot cursed under his breath. He didn’t know what to do - how he would be able to reconcile the obvious desperation of their situation with the fact that right here, right now, his friend was dying. Part of him wanted to speak to Hell Blazer about his plan to teleport him to Equestria via a sort of magical portal he would conjure… but that would leave his friends high and dry. Lyra had stood by him through everything, since before Sam had died… he couldn’t just let her die now. Not after all this.

“Hell Blazer, we need a medivac,” Elliot said quickly. He closed his eyes, and a moment later the blade Excalibur was in his hand.

“What are you doing?” his friend asked, narrowing his eyes at Elliot suspiciously.

“Clearing a landing zone,” Elliot said grimly.

***

Breathing heavily, Elliot leaned against a wall as Lyra Heartstrings was loaded onto the medivac helicopter. Standing next to it was the brown winged form of Errant Flight, once a member of the illustrious Grey Squadron founded by Ditzy Doo, and now the leader of Red Squadron, another squadron of the Equestrian Resistance’s Air Force. Flight was alone - the rest of his squadron had fallen trying to get to London.

“It’s heavy up there,” Flight said grimly. “I don’t like it.”

“Can you get this helicopter out of here safely?” Elliot asked, coughing as he spoke - the power of Albion took a heavy toll on his body.

“Yeah, I can get it out of here,” Flight said, “but I’ll need Blue and Green Squadrons to do it and that leaves London undermanned.”

“You let me and the others worry about that,” Elliot said. He sighed. “We need to evacuate the city. I’ll hold a rearguard action at St Paul’s, that should get Commander Sentry’s attention.”

“Yeah, he always did like going for the ‘glorious battles’,” Flight said, smirking derisively. “He’s a bit of a romantic like that.”

“Rule One - use your enemy’s weaknesses against them,” Hell Blazer said sagely, coming up to the two of them. “Lyra’s stowed. Once she gets to better medical facilities up North, she’ll be fine… I hope.”

“More likely to survive there than here,” Flight said grimly.

Elliot blinked, thinking it through, and then walked over to the prone form of Lyra, strapped to a medical gurney.

“I’m not going to be around much longer anyway,” he muttered to her with a finite certainty in his voice. “So you need this more than I do.”

He placed a hand on her temple, and it glowed softly. Suddenly, she opened her eyes and looked right at him, though she didn't seem to be able to properly register what it was she was looking at. He smiled at her: he had just given her a dose of healing magic - the effort involved made him feel sick to his stomach (though he did a good job at hiding it) but it would help stabilise her. The fact that it probably took five months or or so out of him didn’t matter so much to him. Like he had said - he didn’t expect to be around much longer anyway.

Errant Flight flapped his wings once, readying himself to take off. “I’ll drop in on St Paul’s while we're on the way out, tell Redmond to start moving. He’s not gonna like this.”

“He can fuck off,” Elliot said angrily. “We’ve lost the city. We need out.”

Flight didn’t reply to that, instead flapping his wings some more and then took off, following the helicopter as it began to lazily ascend into the air with Lyra, Hell Blazer and whoever else it had picked up onboard.

Elliot sighed. “Good luck, guys. You’re gonna need it.”

Prologue 2: The Road To Hell

***

When We Needed Him Most.

London. January 26th. 2030.

An explosion rocked the ground, shaking the entire area. Elliot stumbled slightly, cursing as more of St Paul’s fell away, the old masonry succumbing to hours of bombardment.

“Hell Blazer!” he yelled into his earpiece. “Are you clear yet?!”

“No!” he heard the scouse-accented voice of his friend over the comms. “We need another six minutes!”

“I don’t know if I can give you that!” Elliot yelled.

He had been fighting for hours. His body was burning, muscles aching as he swung the heavy blade Excalibur again and again. All around him were the bodies of humans, Resistance ponies and the Converted and Royal Guard forces that had attacked them. Spell wounds, bullet holes and lacerations were the norm: this had been brutal. He had started this battle with something like one hundred volunteers, Resistance and human alike. Now, he was alone - the others were dead, or in some cases worse than dead (I’m sorry, Jan). All that was left here was him, standing on the top of St Paul’s stairs, hacking away at the horde as they charged him - he couldn’t keep this up forever. His body was on fire, nerves firing away everywhere, screaming at him to ohGodstop... but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. The evacuees needed him to hold this line, and so he would. One last time.

Another piece of the masonry fell down. Elliot grinned, despite the hopelessness of the situation. Here he was, fighting for the last of humanity in front of one of the greatest symbols of Britain left.

Fitting, he thought, for a last battle.

“There’s still time for you to try and get clear!” Hell Blazer said. “We can have fire support gunships to you in…”

“No!” Elliot yelled, coughing slightly as he hacked another Royal Guardspony down. “I have to do this, it’s the only way to buy us a fighting chance!”

“Dave,” Hell Blazer said softly, but Elliot ignored him.

“Is this all you have!” the Avatar yelled at the approaching hordes of ponies. He spun his blade and cut another two down in a single strike, before unleashing a single wave of energy outwards that sent dozens sprawling. He took a breath.

“Right then,” he said. “Going dark, John.”

“Dave…” he heard his friend say. “Good luck.”

“And to you,” he replied. And then he let go.

A bright, all consuming light flooded the streets of London, as a great pillar of light as bright as the sun burst into existence atop the steps of the old cathedral. From that pillar stepped a figure - tall, silver-armoured, with long black hair flowing in the sun and fiery eyes, grim and unstoppable. The Avatar of Albion was here, one last time.

“Ponies of Equestria!” he yelled to the oncoming hordes as they charged. The horde seemed to stand still, as if waiting for his words. “Your death is nigh, unless you stand down and flee this place now!”

“You’re bluffing!” somepony yelled. An orange Pegasus with a purple mane stepped forward, dressed in all the best Royal Guard finery. His voice was young, brave and determined. “We’ve defeated you, you monster! Your armies are gone, your allies have fled, and we control this city! It’s you who should stand down!”

“Flash Sentry of Equestria,” the Avatar said, narrowing his eyes at the great pony commander. “Thou art brave, but thou art a fool. Thou art facing a foe thy magics and thy bravery cannot defeat. Leave now or die.” He snorted, a soft grin growing on his face. “If you test me… you will fail.”

“He’s bluffing!” Sentry yelled back to his army. “He’s alone, one man against the might of Her Majesty’s armies! Nothing can stand before us now - for the honour of Equestria, charge!”

Emboldened, the armies of Equestria charged. Sighing at the futility of their deaths, the Avatar gripped his blade tighter.

“So be it,” he said quietly. “You have chosen your own fates.”

He pointed the blade of Excalibur towards the ground and planted it in the concrete, the blade cracking the stonework as it embedded itself there. He closed his eyes. A golden glow began forming all around him, ever expanding in intensity as the hordes of Equestria’s forces charged him. The glow grew brighter and brighter, and still they charged, but as they reached him, Flash Sentry and his advance guard slowed… and then they noticed something wrong. Before their very eyes, the light washed over them, waves and waves of energy flowing around them, through them, past them. Flash Sentry was the first to notice, and he closed his eyes - and then they could all feel it, an itching, tingling sensation. It felt like columns of ants were marching over their bodies, an unbearable feeling.

Suddenly one of the Guardsponies screamed as he looked at his hooves. His body was falling apart, crumbling away like sand. Soon everypony saw their bodies beginning to crumble, skin, flesh and bone falling away as the light disassembled them and blew them apart. The army collapsed, order disappearing as they tried to flee the terrible force that now permeated their bodies. However it was too late; even as they ran they could not escape the Avatar’s most terrible assault, as their bodies began disintegrating into ashes.

Stonework, concrete, metal, glass… flesh… all of it melted before that light as it washed through the lines of Equestrian soldiers, burning through their lines and incinerating everything in it’s path. The light kept growing brighter, almost as if a second star had been born on the surface of the planet Earth, a blinding, radiant light…

And then… there was nothing. For over six hundred square miles, there was nothing left in the City of London - no buildings, no ponies, no humans. Just barren, dark brown wasteland - except for one thing. In the dead centre of this devastation, there was a single patch of concrete - and upon that concrete stood the Avatar. He surveyed the destruction he had caused: there was no sign that there had ever been an army here, or a city, that there had ever been a desperate fight to save his friends or a band of heroes standing at his side. Still: he would remain here, a monument. He felt pain, but as suddenly as it had come the pain faded, and he knew it had begun. He looked at his hand, noting the paling skin with an almost detached curiosity, and then his body began stiffening. He winced, gripping Excalibur tighter, as his entire form began turning paler, stiffer... calcifying, ossifying, turning solid and hard... and then he was still. His body had become a statue of solidified ash, stronger than any stone, eternal and unmoving - the last protector of Albion, standing watch forever over his kingdom, the shining silver blade Excalibur still gripped in his hand, planted in the rock and concrete.

It was over.

***

After the End.

Canterlot. July 12th. Year 1 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2030 human calendar).

Twilight smiled a bittersweet smile. It had taken much hardship and sacrifice to come to this point. Billions of the Converted, millions of Equestria-born ponies, and most of her close personal friends had all been killed in the war. The humans had made the ponies fight tooth and hoof for every single inch of ground they had taken, every single life, every single moment. Their leader, the so-called Avatar of Albion, had apparently fought like a man possessed: thousands of ponies had died at his hand alone. When he had finally fallen, his body apparently had disintegrated in an explosion so massive it levelled the entire city of London to the ground, killing tens of thousands (including Commanders Fancy Pants and Flash Sentry).

Fortunately, after that the humans had no force able to stand against the ponies of Equestria. Their weapons, though powerful, were running on empty, as were they. The last of them had been converted or killed, save for a few dozen who had fled into the undergrowth, most likely never to emerge.

Rumours of the so-called Equestrian Resistance surviving the war were still a bother. It irritated Twilight that the traitor Blueblood had survived and escaped, along with thousands of other ponies. Other traitors - Doctor Hooves, Lyra Heartstrings and the deviant Converted Hell Blazer - had also survived, somehow. Still, tonight it didn't matter.

Tonight, on the streets of Canterlot, ponies were celebrating a victory hard fought and well earned. Flags and banners adorned the streets and Converted and Equestria-Born alike were in the streets, partying to their heart's content. It made Twilight happy to see such joy among the ponies of Equestria again. She vaguely thought that Pinkie would have loved to be part of such a party... and then her smile faded. It would be a long time, she thought, before the war's after-effects left the populace. Everypony had lost someone - either to the humans or else they had joined the Resistance. In some cases - the Apple Family's especially - it was often both.

"Bit for your thoughts, Commander?" came a serene, oddly-accented voice. Twilight turned, to find herself facing Sol Invictus. The golden-coated pony's eyes were wide with joy, and he was beaming at her, his red mane grown out a tiny bit since she had last seen him, where it had been cropped for battle. She smiled back, a little half heartedly.

"Just thinking about what I've lost, Chancellor Invictus," she said politely. "And please, call me Twilight. With the crisis past, I'm no longer part of our armed forces."

"Nonetheless, the rank is one of respect," Invictus said. "Nonetheless, I shall do as you ask... Twilight." He seemed a little less than comfortable with such familiarity.

"Congratulations on your appointment to the position of Council Chancellor," Twilight said, nodding at him. He smiled modestly: 'Chancellor' was the title now used for the chief of the new Equestrian Council - essentially a glorified body of talking heads who supposedly would advise Empress Solamina on affairs of state. Privately, Twilight didn't see them doing any better than the previous council, but it couldn't hurt, and they would likely be able to apprise the Empress of situations among the general populace.

"My thanks," he said politely. "It is by Her beneficence that I have come so far, given my lowly origins."
Twilight's smile soured a touch. Invictus believed Solamina to be a Goddess. In actual fact, he had founded the Solaminan cult, even coining the name that Princess Celestia would eventually take as empress. His influence was undeniable - and Twilight disliked it. To her, Empress Solamina was as she had always been - wise ruler, inviolate and untouchable, the pinnacle of all Ponykind could ever hope to accomplish or be in a single body. To Invictus, these traits made her a Goddess. To Twilight, they made her a very real role model. Still, he was allowed to view her however he wished - and she could not deny, his help with rousing the Converted to battle had certainly helped turn the tide in the war.

"In any case," he continued, still smiling. "I should retire for the night. The honoured Blessed Star and myself have an appointment with Princess Cadence to discuss new Converted Welfare measures, especially since so many of our new Converted now come from Britain - many have guilt relating to their actions."

"I can imagine," Twilight said idly.

"Good evening Commander," Invictus said. With that, the Converted walked off, heading for his private chambers situated in the nearby council building.

Twilight sighed: one of the things she supposed she'd have to learn for the sake of harmony was how to get along with ponies like Invictus, even if she didn't like him very much.

As the party continued, she began idly wondering what she would do now with her life. While there were many affairs of state that she could theoretically become involved with, a large part of her considered the possibility of just going home and working in the library again. That being said, Ponyville was a lot emptier these days: a lot of her friends from the town were gone, either traitors to the cause or else killed in the war. She sighed - even Spike had…

"Ma'am?" she heard a Royal Guard say. "Are you alright?"

She turned, but the Guard hadn't been talking to her. He had been talking to a beatific blue unicorn in a white robe that covered her lack of a cutie mark: she was the Converted priestess Blessed Star, Sol Invictus' counterpart. However, she was a very different kind of pony to the Sun Warrior Priest. Where he was filled with righteous fury, she was filled with compassion. Where he had been the pony behind the creation of the tools of the statues of Solamina called the Solar Idols, tools of destruction, she had been the one who formed the "Beacons of her Light", giant altars with small, benevolent figures of Solamina atop them that served to remind the ponies of their duty. One of her Beacons was, in fact, permanently stationed in the city as a reminder of Solamina's benevolence.

Blessed Star was standing still, staring at nothing. The ponies she had been talking to were whispering to each other worriedly, but she didn't react to them. The glass she held in a magical grip shattered in midair, a shard cutting her cheek as it exploded, but it still didn't provoke a reaction.

"Ma'am?" the Royal Guard asked, approaching the unicorn. "Are you alright?"

"Lady Blessed Star?" Twilight added, approaching the priestess. "Is something wrong?"

Blessed Star looked up at Twilight, her eyes locking on the purple unicorn's - and Twilight was struck by just how wide they were... and how filled with turmoil, like a thousand different emotions were running through her mind at once.

"Lady Blessed Star?" Twilight asked again, frowning.

The unicorn smiled, a wide rictus that was wholly unnerving to everypony that saw it - and then she started smashing her head into the concrete floor. Once - nopony moved, shocked as blood flew from her muzzle. Twice - teeth fell out, and her nose flattened under the impact. Three times - more blood flew as her horn snapped off and her face malformed under the power of the impact, and still nopony moved to help her, shocked out of all reason by the display. Four times - and she fell to the floor, twitching as her brain still fired off impulses to her no-longer responsive limbs. She spasmed twice, and then was still, her breathing stopped forever.

"Commander Sparkle?" the Guard asked, looking sick. He looked to Twilight as though she held any answers to this horror.

Before Twilight could answer him, could even begin to address what she was seeing, there was a loud smash from somewhere. Somepony screamed.

And then with a loud thud, a mutilated golden-coated body impacted on the ground behind her. She jumped, an involuntary shriek escaping her lips. Her eyes widened as she realised she was looking at the body of Sol Invictus. His expression was one of horror, and carved into his chest in shaky writing were two words.

NEVER FORGIVEN.

That's when the screaming really started...

***

Skin of Metal.

Somewhere in Equestria. May 4th. Year 5 of the New Solaminan Calendar. (2035 human calendar).

Hands.

The figure surveyed the hands that it now found itself in possession of. They were, of course, flawless - the figure had made them itself, it’s prior form slaving over the hands, making sure every single intricate detail was perfect, just perfect. They were plated in verdigrised copper, the turquoise hint one of a last few residual reminders of the old life. They moved exactly like the real thing, every separate plate smoothly sliding over one another in perfect harmony, every artificial muscle movement exactly in line with the operation of real hands. Yes…

It had taken five years of dedicated research, fleeing from those who would seek to end the glorious work before it began. The puppets of Solamina were gradually becoming aware, the figure could already tell - there was more and more dissent on the streets of Equestria’s cities - but still, it had been a dangerous road.

But she had done it.

“Yes…” the voice muttered. It sounded at once familiar and alien - her own voice filtered through the hollow metal of the throat and the mouth cavity, shaped by metal musculature, resonating through the echo chambers of artificial lungs that needed no oxygen, no anything. “This is perfect…”

She had always wanted hands.

Lyra Heartstrings took her first steps from the dark cavern she had made her home - her legs were strong, her arms were powerful, and her hands - her fists - were adamant, and with them she would free humanity and restore to them that which had been lost. She would cut the strings… and have revenge on her kind for their atrocities.

“The great work is begun,” she said, her voice resonating even more. “And no one will stand in it’s way now!”

***

Embers of Hope.

Somewhere in the Everfree Forest. April 4th. Year 6 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2036 human calendar).

The small group had met in secret: their ways had been separate, and it had taken a lot of persuading to pull these disparate groups together for this pivotal meeting.

The white Unicorn arrived first, removing her hood with a wary eye on her surroundings. She didn't trust this place, and being completely fair she didn't trust the ponies she was about to meet any more than she had when they first suggested this meeting... but at the same time she knew it was important. She came alone - if this was, as she suspected, some kind of Solaminan trap, her Lieutenants could continue her work without her.

The second to arrive were the Pegasi. Two of them arrived in Wonderbolt uniforms, looking stern. The third, a young orange Pegasus, wore a grey uniform shirt. On one side of the uniform shirt was a symbol representing the Wonderbolts, a yellow lightning bolt within a blue circle, and on the other was a symbol of twelve ponies flying away from a representation of a planet - the planet Earth. This was the symbol of Grey Squadron, a symbol adopted by this Pegasus as her own.

"Sweetie Belle," the mare said as she landed, glancing around suspiciously. "You came."

"I did," the Unicorn replied, nodding at the new arrivals. "Good to see you, Scoots."

Scootaloo, formerly of the Wonderbolts but now leader of a small band of Pegasi survivors of the Cloudsdale Purge, smiled grimly. "Yeah. I guess it's good to be anywhere after Cloudsdale."

"I heard about that," Sweetie said softly. "I'm sor-"

"Save it," Scootaloo snapped. "I'm not here for a pity party, I'm here on business."

"We all are," a new voice spoke quietly. From out of the undergrowth came a pale yellow mare, with two grim looking escorts. "I guess this isn't a trap after all, huh?"

"Seems not," Sweetie Belle said. She examined her two former friends. "I'll admit. I was surprised to hear from you two. I didn't think you'd be..."

"Be what?" Scootaloo said sarcastically. "Listening out for Songbird's secret messages on Resistance FM?"

Sweetie grinned. "I'd like to hope I'm not so obvious."

"You're obvious to us," Scootaloo said with a wry smile.

"Yeah," Applebloom added, chuckling slightly. "I'd know your voice a mile off. Doing a Prench accent just makes you sound silly."

"Huh," Sweetie said, shrugging. Her friends still knew her too well, it seemed. "In any case: I'm glad you both came."

"What exactly is this all about, Sweetie Belle?" Scootaloo asked. "The message just asked for anypony who led a Resistance group to meet here."

"Simple really," Sweetie said softly. "Our groups - Resistance FM, the Pegasi remnant and the Equestrian Rebellion - need to unite."

The other two shared a sceptical glance.

"Unite how?" Scootaloo asked.

"Right now, there's no on big resistance movement," Sweetie clarified. "Nopony's come out and made a big movement with the express purpose of taking on the Empire."

"Hey," Applebloom protested. "I've not been doing nothin' you know."

"And we're not exactly scotch mist, or whatever those Convie buckers say," Scootaloo said with a smirk.

"But you're not armies," Sweetie Belle said. "We're not organised. We're not united. We're not strong enough individually to take on Solamina's forces."

The other two shared uneasy glances. Much as neither of them wanted to admit it, Sweetie Belle was right. Neither of their respective groups could do anything other than scratch at the Empire like important kittens.

"So what do you suggest we do?" Scootaloo asked.

"Simple," Sweetie Belle said. She fired a spell off into the sky, and suddenly an image appeared above their heads, beneath the canopy of the trees so it wasn't visible beyond the forest. The image was a flower blooming within a winged horseshoe. "Together, we're stronger. Together, we can do something." She looked both of her old friends in the eye. "This is our declaration: we are the Resistance. For as long as we live, we will fight to free Equestria from the tyranny of Solamina and her armies, to free natural-born ponies and Converted alike from her iron hoof."

She held a hoof out expectantly. Scootaloo, grinning slightly, placed hers on top of Sweetie Belle's.

"We'll keep on fighting until we can't fight anymore," she said, sounding more serious than anypony present had ever heard her.

"Freedom for Equestria," Applebloom added, putting her own hoof in the mix. "Freedom or death."

The three of them grinned at each other: for the first time in years, none of them had doubt, and none of them had fear. They knew what they had to do. As one, they looked up at the symbol Sweetie had created, and basked in the light.

It was the beginning of something wonderful...

***

Pain.

Former USA state of Oregon. March 7th. Year 7 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2037 human calendar).

Pain - agony and the cracking of bones, the tearing and sloughing of flesh, the burning sensation of the entire body stretching and contorting under the stresses of a magic induced change.

In ones and twos, they had come here. In this place, thousands and thousands of them had come to begin the change, to regain what they had lost. They had been human. Some had tossed their humanity away. Some had theirs ripped away from them. But now all suffered: their souls ached with the sensation of having forever lost what they once were, a gaping maw in the centre of their very being, eating away at what was left. And that was what had motivated them.

The knowledge was ancient and forbidden, but together they had learned ways to restore that which was once theirs: to restore their humanity. There was a hope - a desperate, impossible hope - that maybe, just maybe, this would fix whatever was wrong with them. There were a thousand plans, a thousand rituals, each as Eldritch and impossible as the last.

It had always been a fool's hope.

She was the first to awaken. She had been one to toss her humanity away: she had thought it would make her better. And for a time, maybe, it had, or maybe she had just been blind to the pain. But then the pain came: the pain of knowing, without knowing how or why, that you were wrong, that your mind and body and form and everything was so utterly wrong... and she had known then that she had chosen wrongly, that she had chosen the wrong side in the war, the wrong side of this great conflict. Though it was too late to save her species from their extinction... she could, maybe, restore them.

At first she thought she had succeeded. She held up a hand, and it was a hand: five long, slender digits wiggled at her command, and her face broke into a smile... until she realised that they were too long, too slender... and they were bright rosy pink.

"No..." she murmured. She held up her restored hand to her head: her face felt much as it had... but her eyes were huge, and she could still feel, almost hidden by her hair, a small, boney protuberance - her unicorn horn. "No!" she said, louder this time, tears forming in her too-large eyes.

And then she saw those who had come with her.

A few - one or two - looked almost human. Some looked almost pony, except that their eyes had shrunk or they had grown cloven hooves, some seemed to be halfway, starting human before turning pony... and some were… some were...

She retched. They weren't ponies, that much was certain, but neither were they human. And worse still, she could feel the hole deep within her being, yawning as wide and painful as ever, as though all this had done nothing but made it worse.

As others began awakening to their new forms, Penelope Hatfield screamed into the night. And soon, her screams were joined by a thousand others...

***

Red With The Blood Of Martyrs.

New Darwin, Horsetralia (formerly Australia). May 12th. Year 7 of the New Solaminan Calendar.

"Little" Red Book stepped up to the podium. The young mare was an idealist: it had taken her five long years to reach this point. Copies of her manifesto had circulated among the Converted and the proletariat of the Equestrian populace for years, but only now could she stand in front of her ponies and say, without doubt, that she was proud of what she had accomplished here.

Silence descended as she stepped up. She surveyed the massive crowd: all of the ponies in front of her had come when she called, and she was prouder than words could say that she could call them comrades.

"My friends!" she began. "My comrades! Today is the beginning of a beautiful new era! Today, we have helped this city to cast off the shackles of Imperialist Oppression. Solamina's tyranny has been defeated, not just by the strength of our hooves, but by the strength of our convictions! But the battle is not over yet."

As she spoke, a line of ponies were led out in front of the crowd. A few boos and hisses could be heard but most remained silent, waiting for Red Book to speak.

"These ponies are the first oppressors to feel the taste of our sweet revenge!" she yelled, indicating the group. These ponies were the local Royal Guard commander, one of Solamina's governors and a series of civil servants: the bureaucracy that had propped up the tyranny for too long. "These ponies used your sweat to line their pockets: now, our toil has brought them to their knees. They used your blood to build their ivory towers: now, we cast down those towers, and we spill their blood!"

At a signal from her, spells from her unicorns launched, hitting each of the oppressors in turn.

"Comrades," Red Book said. "Let us begin as we mean to continue. No mercy for those who have oppressed us, those who have enslaved us! They trod us into the dirt. Now, we shall bury them in it!"

***

Causa est Mortis.

The Ruin Of London. June 4th. Year 8 of the New Solaminan Calendar.

His name... he didn't remember his name. All he remembered was that he was a pony, and he had come here to die.

Once upon a time he had been a human being: a man who had made choices, and those choices had, somehow, led him to become this: a pony. He didn't remember those choices anymore: he was starved and delirious, and had come to this place to die. All around him were the bones of those who came here to die. Ponies - Converted - like him, who had felt the emptiness reach out, and had let it's sweet embrace claim them. Now, he too would feel it.

He walked, almost aimlessly. He didn't know where he was going or what force kept his legs going despite the fact that he could barely see and could barely feel, and yet he kept going.

Finally, just when he thought he was about to give up, just when he thought his time had finally come... he saw it.

It was a lone figure: human in appearance, the last thing standing in this barren place, strong and proud against the backdrop of destruction. All around it were sprouting plants, flowers and grass. He approached it with wide eyes, not believing what he was seeing, his feet almost moving of their own accord. It stood tall, gripping a great metal blade that, despite it's exposure to the elements, remained untouched by rust or the passage of time.

"Albion..." he whispered, the name a memory. He dropped to his pony knees before the podium upon which the figure sat, his gaze travelling up to the face of this edifice. The face was stern and brave.

And it seemed to be looking right at him.

You're not done yet, it seemed to say to him. You still have work ahead, my friend.

"What work?" he said, eyes wide and voice cracking from underuse.

As if in answer, a gust of wind blew across the wasteland. A piece of material, blown around in the wind, landed at the Pony's feet. He looked down, eyes wide, at the symbols embroidered on it: a human skull, set upon an image of the planet Earth. Below this was a motto, scrawled in white, scribbly handwriting.

"Until the body awakes to it's own death, we will put it to use."

He looked at it for a moment, and then he remembered, he understood.

He had come here to die.

He had.

He ate a flower, and then another. Slowly, he felt strength return to his frail form. He gazed up at the statue, basking in it's radiance for but a moment before he turned, heading back to the coast and the small boat he had taken to this foreboding place.

He had work to put his body to before the end.

***

Deceived.

Canterlot. March 4th. Year 9 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2039 human calendar).

“Our time has come. For nearly ten years, we have prepared, grown stronger… while you rested in your cradle of power, believing your ponies were safe and protected - but you were deceived. Our powers, our arts, have blinded you, and the strife that has claimed your lands has distracted you. You were deceived by your false Empress, the murderess who slaughtered a species to further her own power. And now… finally… we have returned.”
- The Pronouncement of Magnus.

Big Macintosh sighed as he patrolled the streets of Canterlot outside the Royal Imperial Mausoleum. For many years after the war had ended, he had tried to lie to himself and tell himself that yes, his place was still the farm, Sweet Apple Acres, like it always had been. But destiny was a fine thing when you had your family with you… now, he had nopony. Applejack had died and her body had never been recovered. Applebloom had gone into building contractor work (though recently he had lost touch with her after some… heated words via letters) and Granny Smith had died in her sleep. This was worse than his parents: he had been supported then by family. There were plenty of Apples in Equestria, but the entire family had been divided by the war. It just wasn’t the same.

And so he had joined the Royal Guard. It was good, honest work, and he had made a few friends. It wasn’t the farm - nothing could be - but it was enough for him. Almost.

“Hey Big Mac!” one of his colleagues yelled over to him. “Check this bucker out!”

Mac sighed as he walked over. Sure enough, a dark brown Unicorn in a long black cloak was approaching them, a determined frown on his face.

“You take this one, Del,” Mac said quietly. The pony who had spoken, Delicate Fire, nodded and walked over to the figure.

“Hey buster!” he yelled. “Get yourself gone!”

In a flash, the Unicorn’s horn lit up, firing off at Fire. The guard was thrown backwards into a wall, landing at a funny angle. At once, Mac charged the figure, but the Unicorn sidestepped him with a devilish grin.

Cursing, Mac stood - but suddenly, a loud crashing noise distracted him. He turned - to see smoke rising from the streets beyond the Mausoleum complex. A moment later, thirty or so figures in dark armour reminiscent of his Guard armour appeared… they looked almost like…

“Night Guard!” somepony screamed. Of course - the Night Guard! Once respected, the Night Guard had rebelled against Solamina before the Declaration of Empire, and now they were known to have fought alongside the traitorous Resistance during the war, the personal guards of the Archtraitor Blueblood himself. For them to be here…

“Excuse me,” a soft voice spoke from behind him. Mac bucked without thinking, but missed, the pony - the same, dark maned Unicorn who had killed Delicate Fire - teleported in front of him, grinning. Mac lashed out with a foreleg, catching the Unicorn and throwing him backwards. Dazed slightly, the Unicorn stopped himself with a magical field that surrounded his body.

“Now, that was rude,” the Unicorn said with a soft grin. He charged his horn and fired off at Mac, but Guard training had made him fast as well as strong and he dodged the spells.

All around him, Mausoleum Guard and the Night Guard fought, killing each other - one Night Guard charged him, and he rewarded the pony with a buck to the head that crushed his skull. Another pony, this one a Pegasus, screamed a war cry and dive bombed him, but he dodged and the traitor hit the ground head first with a wet crunch. Then he found himself once more under attack from the Unicorn in the black cloak, a darting blade lashing out at him. He dodged attack after attack, and reached to grab his own blade with his teeth. He blocked a strike meant for his throat, and moved to counter. There was a flash of light…

And suddenly, he felt a sharp something in the back of his neck, his enemy nowhere to be seen. He blinked in shock. As he looked up, he saw the last of the Mausoleum Guard falling, as a giant, polished black marble sarcophagus with a silver moon engraved into it was lifted out by two Night Guard unicorns.

“You were brave, but you were deceived,” the Unicorn said softly. “And your false Empire will fall.”

Big Mac collapsed to the ground, his eyes facing the sky. The last thing he saw was hordes of Night Guard Pegasi and a handful of constructs reminiscent of super-Zeppelins floating above his head, raining fire down on the city of Canterlot…

***

Mankind lost. Ponykind won.

The Avatar of Albion died in battle. The human race was utterly obliterated. A handful of survivors fled underground, perhaps never to emerge. The ponies of Equestria, led by the evil Astra Solamina Maxima, revelled in their triumph... for a time.

That was twenty years ago.

It is year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar, 2050 in the old human reckoning. The Empire is strong: thousand upon thousands of Royal Guard and Militia hold an iron grip over the country of Equestria and it's colonies on what was Earth. Beyond them, the Solaminan Church is a vast, shining and ever-watchful edifice that none dare question.

Elsewhere, the Midnight Guard, last of the Old Resistance, use the arcane arts and forbidden Necromancy to fight against the Empire's forces. The New Resistance fights for the freedom of ponies everywhere. The Dead Men put their bodies to use, until they finally awaken to the realisation of their own death.

Elsewhere still, the Ponies' State fight to conquer oppression, never realising that they slip closer and closer toward tyranny themselves, the Anthroponies - hybrids created by forbidden magic - fight to make others suffer as they have suffered, and deep in the dark places of the world, the Iron Men, mechanical automatons controlled by the souls of Converted and Pony alike, seek an unknown objective, their ultimate purpose... unknown.

Earth has fallen. Humanity is dead. When we needed him most, he fell. But maybe, just maybe, he will return.

And on that day, the world may know the power of Albion...

Chapter One: Setting the Stage.

Castle Midnight, Germareny. March 4th. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050 human calendar).

Royal Duty couldn't help but have second thoughts as he followed the roughly beaten path through the woods. Whatever this forest had been called was long forgotten, though the local Converted pioneers who maintained a few villages along the edge of the woods liked to call it Black Path Woods. It certainly lived up to it's name.

The trees were huge conifers that towered over the pony. In the pitch black of night what little illumination there was threw sharp, foreboding shadows over the trees, turning them into jagged pillars of razor sharp bark and barbed twigs. The canopy they formed was thick and ominous, blocking the light of the Moon and leaving Royal Duty to navigate the twisted path with the purposefully dimmed light of his horn as his only guide. Royal Duty knew he was disobeying orders; he was supposed to be out here, but his intentions and motives were completely his own.

Reports of Anthropony warbands had increased around the Midnight Castle and the recent attacks on caravans and entourages in the forests surrounding the Castle supported these claims. In response his majesty, Prince Blueblood, had ordered his own guards to sweep the forests and clear the surrounding area of the savage mutants. However Royal Duty, whilst one of many ponies ordered to assist in patrolling the woods, had come down into the Black Path Woods for an entirely different reason.

Slowly, Royal Duty sped up his pace pulling his thick black cloak tighter around him with one hoof before, breaking into a careful canter. The Unicorn knew he was getting close to his destination. The narrow worn path was an irregularly used route used by some of the ground patrols in this part of the woods, as well as a convenient route for travellers or anypony who got it into their head that they might want to enjoy the forest scenery in a more natural setting.

Royal Duty had never liked using these paths. Then again, he hated the woods in general, having been born and raised in the city of Trottingham before his parents had recovered their human identities and promptly ran away from Equestria. Shortly after that, Royal Duty had been raised in various encampments and settlements of the Midnight Guard before his father had gained a position in the garrison for the Midnight Castle. In all, it was not really a life that had engendered much experience with (or appreciation for) wood-craft or the supposed wonders of the natural world.

Glancing upwards once again he noticed the canopy was beginning to thin. He realised he was beginning to approach one of the wider, more well travelled, roads. He was getting close.

***

Finding his intended destination wasn’t difficult. The wreckage of the the most recent ambush had not yet been cleaned up. Destroyed carriages and the remains of ponies and other creatures littered the sides of the dirt road. Already the bodies showed signs of having been set upon by the local predators and scavengers, flesh having been stripped away and bones gnawed slightly by voracious forest creatures.

“Alright then,” he said quietly to himself, “let’s find someone that looked important.”

Picking his way through the assorted debris, Royal Duty inspected each body for any symbols that might denote high rank. Most of the corpses belonged to ‘rank and file’ soldiers as well as civilians. Even without the damage that time and the forest had done to the bodies, Royal Duty could tell that the wounds that had killed them had been brutal. Many of the corpses exhibited savage cuts that had reached all the way to the bone, whilst others bore teeth marks that no natural forest creature could make. Royal Duty winced at one body that had apparently had it’s limbs removed, forcibly if the remaining signs of damage to the sockets indicated anything. What he assumed had been the bodies’ limbs were piled close to it, many of them broken open with the marrow inside removed. Whatever had killed these ponies had taken the time to feed itself afterwards.

Looking more closely at the pony in front of him, Royal Duty noticed various emblems that denoted this pony as an officer.

“Just what I’m looking for,” he whispered, a cautious smile growing on his face.

He approached the remains and stared at them, gauging how much effort it would take to revive the pony.

“Severe damage to torso, throat’s gone so it should be safe to assume his larynx is damaged... this one might take a while,” he muttered under his breath.

Few necromancers really inspected the corpses they were raising, preferring instead to simply initiate resurrections and adjust the rituals as they went along. Royal Duty had always found that a little sloppy, and certainly a waste of energy. He preferred to know what he was doing and how he should go about it when conducting his own rituals.

Removing the debris from around the corpse he drew a small pouch from within his cloak. Carefully opening it he gently shook the bag, creating a small bowl consisting entirely of green energy with his magic. Powder flowed out of the bag and quickly filled the bowl before he stopped. Keeping an eye on the bowl of powder he formed a separate stream of magical energy and began to slowly trickle the powder out of the bowl.

With careful deliberation he used the stream to funnel the powder into shapes on the ground, drawing various strange and arcane shapes and symbols in front of him. Even though he wanted to work quickly and find what he was looking for, old habits and the endless lessons he had been learning since childhood forced him to take slow care with every move he made.

Satisfied that the arcane circle was now adequately prepared he put the bag of powders back in his cloak and stood in front of the body. His eyes lit up as he slowly began to recite a spell. The words were ancient, unspoken by Ponykind in countless millennia. They pulled at his mind, every scratching syllable stinging his tongue. As the spell continued the powders began to glow. Disturbing and terrible colours emanated from the ring.

The symbols slowly began to undo themselves, the powder lifting into the air. At a barked command from Royal Duty the powders then began to circle the body. Spinning ominously the ring of colours then moved closer to the remains, constricting and glowing brighter. The powders flowed towards the body, sinking onto and into the ravaged stallion’s remains, all the while Royal Duty’s chanting grew louder and faster, building up to the climax of the ritual.

As Royal Duty snapped the final word of the incantation the corpse in front of jerked. It took a breath that sounded more like a strangled scream before settling once again. The corpse opened eyes that appeared milky and unfocused, it tried to wriggle it’s body but found itself unable to move.

“W...what...?” the body spoke.

Royal Duty wasted no time he immediately stamped his hoof in front of the cadaver’s face and began barking orders in an authoritative tone.

“What were you doing here?” he asked firmly.

The corpse paused for a moment before answering. “We were a convoy, sent by the Ivory Shell to Castle Midnight.” The corpse stalled for a moment before continuing. “Our master wishes us to be there to support them in their coup.”

“What coup?” Royal Duty asked. He felt furious at what he had just heard.

The corpse shuddered as the magic sustaining it began to degrade. “The coup...” It stalled yet again as if it was struggling to remember what it was trying to say. “Lord Red Ribbon and Lady Ever Essence sent us. Her Ladyship is already there.” The corpse once again paused, the magic was wearing off, the spell too complex for such a small amount of power. “More of my brothers and sisters were called for,” it said. “They are waitingggggg…”

The body collapsed as Royal Duty severed his ties to it. The spell would not have lasted much longer regardless and he had all he needed to know. The body could not lie to him, the spells prevented such a thing and whether it was wrong or not was irrelevant. His prince was in danger and none knew of it.

Royal Duty leapt to his hooves and ran back down the path he had taken. He had to make it to Castle Midnight to warn everypony.

***

In the highest tower of the castle, sitting at a mahogany desk in deep thought, was Prince Blueblood. Age and stress had taken a bit of a toll on him but on the whole he remained fit: where he had once been a young, not altogether unfit stallion who had been able (if not exactly willing) to fight when needed, now he was an older stallion, years of indolent fat transformed into hard muscle. His mane had greyed, and wrinkles could be seen around his eyes, but he was still strong enough for the task at hoof. Good thing too - he knew full well that there were some ponies in his organisation (he doubted he could really call them ‘under his command’ anymore) who would be more than willing to take advantage of any weakness on his part and replace him. He was determined to make sure that such an occurrence would never happen.

A knock at his door startled him from his thoughts. He looked up, frowning at the entrance to his office.

“Enter,” he barked, his once useful voice now grizzled and grim.

A moment later, a pair of guards, adorned with ornate silver and black armour styled in the form of bat wings opened the door, and the dark brown form of Magnus, Blueblood’s chief Lieutenant, entered, wearing his familiar long black cloak and stylised midnight black bone armour.

Blueblood never knew what to make of Magnus. The pony was completely loyal to him and their cause, and always followed his instructions to the letter. Even then his mannerisms and strange habits never ceased to unnerve Blueblood. The pony was charismatic and beloved by many within the castle as well as the villages and settlements attached to it and yet every action he took was enigmatic and every reason he gave was either vague, theatrical or unfathomable for most ponies. Added to that was his brutality - his methods were at the limit of what Blueblood considered acceptable, not limited to torture, ambushes of civilian convoys or the destruction of entire settlements. Nonetheless, he was also brilliant - it was thanks to him that Princess Luna’s most revered corpse had been retrieved, the first of many small victories over the Solaminan Guard.

Magnus walked halfway up to Blueblood’s desk and bowed low, his horn almost touching the floor.

“Your highness,” he greeted the Prince, his voice rich, deep and cultured. Despite that, however, every word he spoke was low and stressed, coming out as a strained, silibant hiss. After so many years of close work with the pony, Blueblood no longer visibly squirmed at the sound of the dark Unicorn’s voice, but even to this day it still disturbed him.

“You may rise Magnus,” Blueblood finally said, his own voice confident, though just as cold. “What have you come here for?”

“My Lord, I have come to ask you whether you have decided our next move.” Magnus said as he once again straightened himself, his eyes flashing with… something. Blueblood repressed the urge to shiver as the other Unicorn continued. “I am eager to bring your will once more to bear on the Solaminan Empire.”

“Your enthusiasm is laudable,” Blueblood said, his voice deadpan. “I take it by coming here you have your own ideas.”

“I would never be so presumptive as to assume my plans were superior to any you may have, my liege,” Magnus said smoothly. Blueblood raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll indulge you,” the Prince said. Magnus smiled, a soft, feral thing.

“My thanks, my liege,” the dark pony said. “I was concerned about the possibility of the Guard cracking down on various rebel groups within our land.”

“You think that’s likely?” Blueblood asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Honestly, my liege? Yes,” Magnus replied. “Solamina has been getting more desperate. Anthropony raids, the Ponies’ State and the New Resistance… these are threats that Equestria is ill prepared to face. Right now, they are surviving because our efforts - those of the various groups - are piecemeal.”

Blueblood nodded, now understanding his Lieutenant’s idea. “You mean to change that.”

Magnus nodded once. “The chief forces that act as the successors to the Old Resistance are ourselves, the New Resistance, and the Dead Men. I propose approaching these groups, uniting our efforts and finally bringing an end to twenty years of strife. I propose we unite - and crush Canterlot, Solamina and any trace of her Empire.”

“Bold,” Blueblood said quietly, thinking the plan through. “Will they join us, do you think?”

“As successors to the Old Resistance, they all swear nominal allegiance to you,” Magnus pointed out smoothly. “You need only remind them of it. Promise them you will act in their specific interests… whether you choose to keep those promises is your business,” he added with a dark smile.

“It is a plan,” Blueblood said quietly, ignoring the implication that he might betray the ponies that were technically his subjects (cynical he had become… but not that cynical). “But we have our own internal strife to deal with - the rebel groups within the Guard will not deal with themselves, and while they’re not a large threat, I prefer to not make plans while ponies stand behind me with knives in their teeth…”

“No, my liege,” Magnus said quietly. And then he smiled again. “But I can deal with those ponies.”

“You, Magnus?” Blueblood asked.

“Give me leave, my liege, and I will personally deal with the dissenters,” Magnus said. “I promise you… leave it in my hooves, and they will not trouble your efforts to secure alliances.”

Blueblood frowned. Giving Magnus leave to do anything implied leeway, and Blueblood had learned the hard way that giving Magnus leeway was… ill advised. However, Magnus was right that gathering support was the only way to end this conflict… and he couldn’t risk the dissenters, few as they were, attempting to take advantage of his absence in the middle of those efforts.

“You will not harm any non-combatants,” Blueblood said quietly. “And you will not be… excessive.” He sighed. “But you have my leave to begin… dealing with the rogue elements.”

“As my liege commands,” Magnus said at once, bowing low again.

“Very well. You are dismissed.”

Magnus righted himself yet again and turned his back to the Prince, walking past the guards without a single glance in any direction but in front of him. The doors were closed once again. Blueblood sighed, hoping that Magnus would not betray the faith Blueblood had just placed in him, would not make the Prince regret allowing him his leeway.

He shook his head and returned to work, beginning his plans to contact the other resistance groups.

***

Earth. Portal Island. March 7th. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050 human calendar).

The night was pitch black, as if there was nothing left but the world, and all light had simply chosen to leave - which, in retrospect, was not a bad way to describe the world that had once been home to humanity, now merely home to their killers and their remnants. The night was unusually foggy for the Pacific, as though a storm front had come in - most likely the weather Pegasi shunting it this way for no discernible reason other than laziness, hoping it would simply disperse where it lay. Nothing could be seen of the small island, the place where the portal to Equestria could be found. Nothing could be seen of the army which was setting foot upon that island.

The first of them to step upon the isle was a vaguely male-looking humanoid figure. It had something resembling a face, and it's body, though metal, vaguely resembled a man. It moved fluidly, but far too gracefully to have ever been mere flesh and blood. It was holding in it's hands a pole-like device, at the end of which was a sphere: it's weapon. This figure looked around, surveying all that could be seen, before holding up and a hand and signalling to someone.

A moment later, twenty more identical figures, wielding identical weapons, appeared. They stood in two rows of ten, with the twenty first - the first figure - standing at the edge of one row. And then she came.

She was humanoid and feminine, her body magically enhanced steel plated with verdigrised copper to make her appear turquoise. Her face, such as it was, consisted of many thousands of metallic muscles designed to simulate a real face's musculature - the face was uncannily similar to the face she had worn as flesh and blood, the eyes wide and the mouth prone to smiling, but where that face had been warm and compassionate, this face was cold and calculating. Upon the crown of her head was mounted a crest reminiscent of a mane, white as snow - it had been her true mane, the only part of the old body she had been willing to retain. She looked around, her glowing eyes studying the small island dispassionately.

For twenty years she had prepared for this moment. The moment where she might enter Equestria again, not as a frightened mare but as a conqueror. When she had fled, it had been as a pony, a creature of selfish desires and naïveté in equal measure, unwilling to see the hard choices made by her or anyone. Now, she was so much more.

"Captain," she said, her voice quiet and yet resonant at the same time. "I want your troop to secure the portal from the guard contingent present here. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly," came the tinny reply of her Captain, the twenty first man, his voice deeper and more masculine than hers but lacking the resonance. "You may consider the objective ours, Lady Lyrium."

At once, he signalled to his troop, and the twenty one steel figures moved on. The figure he had addressed as Lady Lyrium raised a hand lazily, and suddenly, even more figures appeared from the fog, some identical to the twenty one who had just left, and some more elaborate. The metallic muscles of Lyrium's face twitched as she gave a cold smile.

Her time had come.

***

Equestrian Military HQ, Canterlot. March 7th. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050 human calendar).

High Commander Twilight Sparkle was not a happy pony.

Guard Captain Strong Hoof had never particularly liked working with the commander, though the pale grey Earth Pony had done so successfully enough for five years, ever since receiving this promotion. She was… temperamental. She tended to use her own Archmagi in battle, and ignore the plight of regular troops. She was headstrong, emotive… in short, everything Strong Hoof had been taught to not be as a commander by his father, the now retired Commander Steady Hoof. Nonetheless, the Unicorn mare was granted authority by Astra Solamina herself, and though Hoof might disagree, he would never dare openly question the commands of his Empress. To do so would be... unthinkable.

He shook his head, trying to clear a sudden, slight itching in the back of his mind, as Sparkle began speaking to the assembled officers of the Solaminan Guard, some thirty or forty officers assembled for a special meeting.

“Let us be clear, fillies and gentlecolts,” she said to the group, her voice grim and harsh. “Equestria stands upon the brink of chaos. It is our efforts, and our efforts alone, that prevent rogue elements like the mutants, the rebels and the traitor Blueblood’s Midnight Guard from gaining a true foothold over Equestrian soil.” She paused, narrowing her eyes at the group. “That being said - why have we made NO PROGRESS AT ALL on the capture of the traitors yet?!”

“High Commander Sparkle,” Commander Freedom Heart, ostensibly the highest ranking Royal Guardspony currently in service (since Sparkle was technically outside the chain of Guard command), “the traitor Blueblood’s forces are largely sequestered on Earth, and with the stalling of the Converted colonisation programs…”

“Commander Heart, are you giving me excuses?!” Sparkle snarled.

“No, High Commander, I am giving you an explanation,” the stallion replied, somewhat boldly considering who he was talking to. “The Guard have been stretched too thin. The so-called Ponies’ State has launched more attacks on Equestrian soil in the last five months than any faction has in five years, Anthropony presences are known to exist in at least seven different locations across Equestria, including the Everfree itself, and the New Resistance…”

“These are excuses, Commander!” Sparkle yelled. “I don’t want you to ‘explain’ why you are failing, I want you to stop failing, do you understand the difference?!”

“I understand,” Heart said. And then he frowned. “Do you understand, High Commander, that the Guard no longer have the resources to combat the threats levelled at us? With the Solaminan Church having absorbed the militia, we simply do not have access to enough troops to battle every single threat, and with the honourable Warm Embrace refusing to cede any control of her forces to our commanders, we do not have the resources we need. That is the simple truth, High Commander.”

“What, then, do you suggest, Commander Heart?” Sparkle asked dangerously.

“We need more soldiers and we need them quickly,” Heart said simply. “I suggest raising a new Equestrian Militia, separate from the Church, that would give us numerous troops to use and quickly.”

Sparkle seemed to consider this plan. She turned to an adjutant that stood, waiting quietly at her side.

“Begin collating a checklist of everything we will need to organise a new Militia,” she said sharply. The adjutant bowed silently and began doing so. Sparkle turned back to Heart. “You’ll have your Militia. When you do, I expect significant progress in defeating the enemies of Her Glorious Majesty, is that clear?”

“Crystal, High Commander,” Freedom Heart said coldly.

Without another word, High Commander Sparkle left the room, her adjutant trailing behind her. Freedom Heart sighed heavily.

“Alright ponies!” he yelled. “Move like you’ve got a purpose, start organising your troops - get some trainers selected, we’ll need them if the Militia’s gonna go anywhere!”

Most of the officers moved off, murmuring amongst themselves. Freedom Heart motioned for Strong Hoof to wait.

“Your opinion of High Commander Sparkle?” he asked quietly.

“Not worth spit,” Hoof said at once. “She might have been good for the Human War, but this isn’t that war and we don’t have the advantages she had then.”

Freedom Heart nodded. “What with the Converted Crisis, I don’t think we’ve got any idea as to how to proceed with this conflict.”

“If it was just one conflict, that would be easy,” Hoof said quietly. “But we’re fighting five wars at once, and that’s without maintaining the wall!”

“I hear that,” Freedom Heart said heavily. He sighed again. “Get to work, Hoof. We’ll talk later.”

“Sir,” Hoof said quietly. He saluted and headed off, leaving the Commander to his thoughts...

***

Portal Guard Outpost, Portal Island. March 7th. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050 human calendar).

Guardspony Restive Blade was always an itchy sort. His dark yellow fur and brown mane were damp in the deep fog that surrounded the fort, but that wasn’t really the reason he felt so… restless.

He hated just waiting around for something: his cutie mark was a blade, and his destiny - so he understood it - was to fight the enemies of Equestria wherever they were, a destiny he was eager to begin fulfilling. So you can imagine his assignment to the Portal Island Garrison really excited him. It wasn't that he didn't understand how important all this was, how important holding this island against various hostile elements was. It was just... he didn't like the job. It was dull. There was nothing to guard here - if there had been, Restive was sure that there would have been more than a token garrison of twelve ponies. If that wasn't bad enough, the garrison sergeant, one Willing Steel (a bucking Convie, as if being on this island wasn't bad enough without being commanded by one of that notoriously unstable breed) was a plot-hole, always making the ponies do drills.

At this moment, Restive was watching the courtyard Guards march around the courtyard, at the centre of which lay the Portal itself. He was, at least, grateful he wasn't one of those ponies. His job - standing on the wall - was dull, but at least he got to rest his feet for the moment.

"Hey Sarge," one pony, a particularly cynical and combative mare by the name of Under Over, asked as they marched around the courtyard. "The fog's thick tonight. Maybe we should call it a night."

"I know the fog is thick," the gruff voiced Sergeant replied. "Just stay alert. It's perfect weather for an ambush."

Standing atop the garrison wall, Restive Blade sighed. "Ambush by what, sir?" he called down sarcastically. "There's nothing on this bucking island to ambush us for!"

"There's the Portal, Guardspony Blade," Willing Steel replied irritably, indicating the glowing purple... thing, housed within rock. "None of Equestria's enemies must get into the country, is that understood?!"

"What enemy?" Restive asked rhetorically. "The only enemy out here is the pneumonia we're all gonna get if we keep standing here."

Before Willing Steel could admonish him further, there were several turquoise flashes. There was an explosion somewhere, yells of pain, and suddenly ponies were screaming. Restive ducked as flaming debris started impacting near the wall, and - panicking slightly - he covered his eyes with his hooves. What was going on? An attack? But that was impossible! Who would attack them? Who was left?!

For a moment, he heard shouting: Willing Steel was screaming... something, and he could hear other Guards yelling. Then there were more noises, something that sounded like spells and the clash of steel, and then... silence.

Risking the chance to open his eyes, Restive Blade looked down into the courtyard. What he saw boggled his mind.

The other Guards had been slaughtered. Under Over was missing, as were a couple of others, but Willing Steel's body was ripped in two, his entrails spilling out onto the courtyard floor, and the rest of the bodies that were visible were in little better condition. There was no sign of any of the attacking force having been felled, and for a brief, foolish moment, Restive Blade thought that maybe the wraiths and other ghosts ponies kept saying were on the old Human Isles were real.

"Pull yourself together," he admonished himself. He was a trained Solaminan Grenadier. He grabbed his launcher, a bulky weapon powered by magical charges that could be reloaded into it, and looked around. That's when he saw her.

Under Over was being held up by a tall metallic-green figure - a human figure! Restive had never seen a real human (he had been born during the war) but he knew the shape from history lessons. The figure was bipedal, had hands and feet, and appeared similar to a human mare. She had her hand clamped on Under Over's mouth, the struggling mare going slowly limp under the humanoid's tender mercies.

Before Restive's very eyes, a sort of grey-silver fog emerged from Under Over, who stiffened slowly, the light leaving her wide, staring eyes. At the same time, a metallic figure began emerging from nowhere, almost as if it was being assembled from the air itself: legs, waist, torso, arms... all of them were being added by metal pieces that seemed to be forming from nothing. As Restive watched, the smoke that had emerged from Under Over entered this figure, just as a head with a cold, expressionless human face clamped onto the body.

Suddenly, the eyes of this face began glowing, a harsh green light staring out, filled - though Restive could never have told you how he could sense this - with a cold, cruel intellect. The turquoise figure dropped the limp body of Under Over, her eyes wide and sightless, and turned to this new metal creature.

"Can you hear me?" the turquoise figure asked, it's voice feminine, cold and resonating with something the terrified Restive Blade couldn't quite identify.

"Yes," came a tinny voice from inside the iron body... a voice not unlike that of Under Over, except horribly changed, all the former sarcasm purged in favour of... docility?

"And you know me?" the figure asked quietly.

"You are Lady Lyrium: mistress of the Iron Men, my mistress" the Under Over figure said at once, as though this were knowledge it had been born with.

"And you understand what we are trying to do," this Lady Lyrium said.

"Yes," the Under Over figure said. "You seek revenge for humanity. Revenge on the pony race."

"And you will help me," Lyrium added, the words less a question and more a statement of what categorically would be.

"Yes," the Under Over figure said at once. "I will."

"Good," Lyrium said, a metallic smile appearing on her features. She turned to the rest of her troops, and began barking orders. "Begin the advance into the portal. Kill everything you find on the other side, or take it for our own!"

As Restive Blade watched, first dozens, and then hundreds of metallic figures began a steady advance through the shattered gate of the Guard outpost, marching straight into the Portal. The last two to go through were the figure that had apparently once been Under Over and the figure of Lady Lyrium.

Alone now, Restive Blade shivered. He had wanted action. He shivered in fear, but couldn’t help but laugh, a slightly unnerving, terrified sound.

He had certainly gotten what he wanted.

Author's Notes:

Well here it is, the beginning of my first published fic. I came up with the idea for this several months ago when Jed R, The Void and myself were about halfway through writing the Avatar of Albion after enough supplementary material had been gathered for me to actually come up with a few different ideas. The fact that I first described this as a darkfic probably helped sell it.

Admittedly this story does require prior knowledge of the Avatar of Albion story but that is mostly confined to establishing information. On the whole this is very much it's own story and hopefully won't be too difficult to follow.

If I'm lucky and all goes to plan this should prove to be a story as epic as the fanfic it was spun off of.

Chapter Two: Assault on Castle Midnight.

***

Black Eye wished that her shift would end soon. She hated the evening shift more than anything else. Her time off duty, dinner, booze, maybe a chance to have a fling with one of the stallions stationed at the castle, they were all just within her grasp. Just a couple more hours and she could let herself unwind.

In the meantime she stood to attention, her ornate Night Guard armour chafing slightly from where it rubbed her stomach and under her forelegs. That was another reason she looked forward to her off duty time: she hated this uniform. It was horrid.

With no officers about, she decided to let herself relax a little. Leaning on her spear she let out a sigh and then reached behind to tug at her tabard, giving up when she realised it was wedged between two of her armour’ plates and steadied herself, sighing once again.

There was nothing more boring than the evening shift, except for the morning shift where you were usually still waking up, or the afternoon shift where you were still digesting lunch. The night shift was unbearable since all you could ever do was stare into the darkness and listen to other ponies living it up in the city below. The fact that Castle Midnight was also the residence of the Prince and all the other higher ups of the Midnight Guard meant that the sergeants and other tight arsed officers also kept a close eye on her.

Leaning on her spear Black Eye yawned, ignoring the unbearable itch that her armour and tabard were now causing and did her best not to think about how many more hours it would be before her shift ended.

A moment later, there was a slight whoosh sound and Black Eye felt a sharp stinging sensation on her neck. She blinked, frowning. She looked down at her armour, and noticed the deep red liquid gushing onto it. A moment after that, she realised that was her blood, spilling from the ruptured artery in her throat. She looked around, uncertain as to what had hit her, then frowned as she saw somepony on the inner walls cutting another Guard’s throat.

She had little time to wonder exactly what was going on before she collapsed to the ground. Her last thoughts as her vision dimmed were wondering exactly how important this was that it interrupted her booze time…

***

Captain Callow Shield looked around. All around him, his loyal Guards dispatched those among the Midnight Guard who were not part of their glorious coup.

“Grave Note,” he said to one of his troops. “Inform Lady Ever Essence that the outer and inner walls are secured!”

“Sir,” Note, a surly stallion, replied, before heading off. Callow Shield grinned. For once, he felt like he was doing something right - for the first time in years, the Midnight Guard felt like they might do something proactive against the Solaminan Empire. It was why he had joined the coup after all - it was time to make a difference.

It was time to take back Equestria.

***

Royal Duty’s lungs burned as he ran for all he was worth. He had abandoned the safety and anonymity of the woodland paths in favour of the more easily negotiable roads. He didn’t care who he ran into so long as he could make it to the castle in time to do… something, anything.

Traitors were in their midst. Royal Duty had always known it. There were far too many cadres and factions within the Midnight Guard that had been disobeying the prince and far too many that waged indiscriminate war on everypony around them. This treachery had been coming for a long time but the actual knowledge that a coup was about to take place had almost been too much to bear. The Midnight Castle, his home, was threatened and he was stuck beyond the outskirts, trying his best not to get lost in the woods.

The trees began to thin as he belted down the road, panting and struggling not to trip. The forest finally cleared and the familiar gothic towers of the castle came into sight. his home now right in front of him he redoubled his efforts and made his way to the main gate.

The city that was attached to the Midnight Castle was by no means a rude affair. It had originally grown around the castle at the same time that the Midnight Castle was being built, as one expanded so did the other and so the castle had come to rely on the Midnight City just as much as it relied on the castle. Here lived the soldiers that guarded the castle, the artisans who built and maintained it, the servants who cleaned it and countless other civilians who were intrinsic to the castle’s survival.

Therefore the city had been built into the castle. A formidable curtain wall surrounded the entire settlement and was also staffed with Guards from the castle itself to protect the dutiful citizens within.

Royal Duty finally began to slow as he approached the gate. Only now, as he made his way to the guardhouses in front of the main gate did he begin to doubt what he was about to do. Could he trust them? Had they already been bought out by Red Ribbon, Ever Essence or any of the other possible traitors?

Swallowing audibly he walked towards the guardhouses, his legs shaking from both fear and exertion. His breath was ragged as he finally felt the toll his sprinting had taken on his body.

“Who goes there?” one of the Guards, a thickset Earth Pony mare, asked in a low and somewhat masculine voice.

Taking both a deep breath and a moment to collect himself, Royal Duty spoke in a clear voice.

“I am Royal Duty of his Highness’ Midnight Guard,” he said, “Midnight Castle battalion, necromancer acolyte 1st class, service number 2GEA-42266. I was sent to scout the surrounding forest and have urgent news for his Highness and the Guard commanders.”

He hoped that they weren’t traitors and held his breath as the Earth Pony checked a registry list. She slowly scanned the names, checking for his name and service number.

“Alright,” the mare replied, “you’re clear.”

Royal Duty thanked the Guard and trotted through the gate, taking a second to check the murder holes and portcullises, hoping they weren’t compromised in any way. After seeing no sign of any suspicious activity, or any activity for that matter - the city never had enough Guards to properly station every defensive point - he picked up speed once again.

He ignored the buildings of the cityscape around him and only kept his eyes forward, only ever looking for the signs that would lead him to the local barracks and the city’ commandery.

All around him the bustle of a city in transit between the regular activities of daytime and the ever active nightlife could be heard. It was an omnipresent cacophony that Royal Duty recognised and felt comfortable within. Ponies everywhere gave him a wide berth, recognising both his uniform and the various paraphernalia of a necromancer.

Running around another street corner, Royal Duty finally found a guard post. He galloped even faster, noticing several ponies in the Midnight Guard uniform of the city watch. They in turn noticed him running at them and grew worried, several of them pulled their weapons close to their bodies, ready to lower them.

“Halt,” said one of the Guardsponies, his elaborate helmet crest indicating he was an officer.

Royal Duty skid to a halt in front of the officer and stood gasping for breath as he collected his thoughts.

“I… I am Roy… Royal Duty, necromancer first class of Midnight Castle,” he struggled to speak as he still tried to recover his breath. “ My service number is 2GEA-42266. I have something important to say. The castle is under threat. We’re about to be betrayed.”

The Guardsponies in front of him shared a look of incredulity though a few also looked worried.

“What do you mean were about to be betrayed?” the officer asked.

“The Guard contingent that just arrived are traitors. They’ve come here to depose the Prince and take control of the Midnight Guard. They’re already in the castle and could strike at any minute now.” Royal Duty stammered out, hoping that he sounded believable to them.

The officer shared a look with the Guards around him that showed they weren’t taking him that seriously. “Listen son I don’t think you should just be saying this out loud in the streets you…”

“Are you going to question a necromancer of his highnesses’ Guard?” Royal Duty interrupted, straightening himself out and putting his most authoritative look on his face. “You are members of his highnesses’ personal battalion and you are supposed to take any possible threat to the Prince as seriously as if Solamina herself were bearing down on us,” he shouted at them.

The Guardsponies once again glanced at one another, the same sour look on their faces as they digested what Royal Duty had said to them.

“You’re right” the officer admitted. “Alright lads,” he said, turning to the Guards behind him, “spread out and alert the rest of the garrison. Get the civvies indoors and out of the fights, call up the militia as well while you’re at it.”

Royal Duty sighed in relief as the Guard detachment dispersed to follow their commander’s orders.

“Alright you,” the officer then said as he turned back to face Royal Duty, “Since you know what to expect I’m sticking you at the main gate into the castle. See if the Guards stationed there are safe and try to get them to secure the area.”

“Sir,” Royal Duty replied before rushing off towards the castle.

No sooner had he rounded a corner onto the main street leading to the castle than a great flash of light went off in the sky. A flare spell had been launched into the sky. Barely a second later Midnight Guardsponies burst out from the castle, carrying bloody weapons and with murderous expressions on their faces. They all wore a horse skull on their tabards revealing their allegiance.

“To arms,” Royal Duty shouted, amplifying his voice with a quick spell. ”To arms Midnight Guard. We’ve been betrayed. The castle is under attack. The Prince is in danger. the city is in danger. Kill the traitors.” Finishing his declaration and hoping it didn’t sound as ridiculous to everypony else as it did to him now that he had said it, he pulled a short blade, a weapon he had never used before, out of his cloak, projected a shield in front of himself and clenched his teeth as he ran at the enemy.

***

Magnus frowned as he heard a commotion outside his room. His trained ears picked up the sound of clanging metal and the strangled cries of dying ponies, and he smiled cruelly. He had expected the coup to be soon, but he hadn’t expected it to come now. Naturally, they intended to kill him, hence why he could hear the fighting and the death of his personal Guards. He knew he was not the most important target in the castle - that was reserved for Prince Blueblood himself - but he flattered himself that he was somewhat important. He was, after all, the pony behind the raid that had reclaimed Princess Luna’s revered corpse.

Taking a minute to compose himself, he stood up from his studying chair and set it aside. He took several deep breathes, preparing for whatever would come through his door and went over in his head what possible responses he should give to his would-be assailants and what he should expect from them in turn.

A moment later, the door to his private chambers burst open, and two Unicorns moved in, scowling at him.

“In the name of Lady Ever Essence,” one of them said, “surrender immediately or be killed!”

Magnus’ lips curled into an even crueler smile at this fool’s impudence.

“You have made two mistakes,” he said softly, speaking slowly so they understood. “Firstly, you have given me the name of your leader - now, she has no chance to escape the justice of his highness Prince Blueblood.” The two of them made low growls at that name. “Secondly…”

He turned quickly, his horn flashing as he sent spells of absolute agony at the two Unicorns, faster than they could react.

“... you assumed I would simply lie down and die when you came for me,” he finished. “You should have killed me when you entered.”

The two writhed in pain as he trotted toward them.

“Get away…” one of them murmured, sounding as though he could barely talk. “Get away from me…”

“Poor deluded fool,” Magnus said. He stamped on the pony’s throat, and the Unicorn gurgled in horror as his windpipe filled with blood. He repeated this on the other, and, with the sound of dying Unicorns in his ears like the sweetest of music, he left the room, seeking his Prince.

***

Fighting engulfed the interior of the Midnight Castle. Chaos reigned as groups of Midnight Guard grappled with one another in the corridors and halls of the immense fortress. For the local guards and regiments it was confusion as former allies turned on them. For the traitors it was sport. Agents they had planted into loyalist groups misinformed officers, assassinated commanders and turned on their comrades.

In the central audience chamber, the great hall where Prince Blueblood received his subjects and vassals, stood the largest group of traitors, an ivory coloured horse skull emblem etched into their armour. The corpses of Guardsponies that wore the compass rose of Prince Blueblood were all piled on the sides of the room in haphazard heaps. Sitting on the large silver throne at the centre of the room that was Blueblood’s seat of office was an elegant white coated Earth Pony mare.

Lady Ever Essence, arch-hierophant of the Ivory Shell cadre of the Midnight Guard sat with a poise she had practiced for years. She enjoyed this seat and found it fitting for a mare like her. Pathetic weaklings like the contemptible false prince did not deserve such luxuries like this and it was high time someone more deserving received them instead. She had always known that she was a much more appropriate occupant.

She was stirred from her thoughts by an approaching Pegasus. He bowed as he came near her, lowering his body to his stomach and extending his left foreleg.

“My Lady,” he respectfully intoned, “we have secured the outer and inner walls and the external courts. However the outer city and the inner sanctums remain in the Prince’s hooves.”

Ever Essence’s brow creased at the news. She had thought that they had already secured the sanctums and the city should have been easy to capture, there were only a few guards stationed in that slum.

“What do you mean we haven’t taken the sanctums?” she said, struggling to keep her voice calm at the news of her followers failure.

“The enemy have rallied at every single corridor, our forces are currently bogged down and we can’t break through their barricades,” the Pegasus replied, looking rather nervous as he stared at the floor, remaining in his position of supplication.

“Then redouble your efforts,” Ever Essence replied, menace lacing her voice as she stared down from the throne. “I want those towers cleared, I want that dungheap of a city leveled and I want this castle in my hooves right this instant. If you can’t accomplish that simple task then I can assure you… I will find somepony else who can.”

With that final note the Pegasus and every other Midnight Guard in the audience chamber stood up, turned on their heels and rushed out of the door, leaving Lady Ever Essence alone.

Taking no chances she took some oddly coloured powder from her lavish mage coat and blew it from her hoof. A shimmering wall grew around the dais the throne was set upon until a bubble surrounded it and her as well. Safe within her shield, which was as strong as any Unicorn’s defensive enchantments, she returned her thoughts to victory, the great cause and the glamour of seizing the Solaminan Empire and with it… the world.

***

Blueblood was disturbed from the paperwork he had been staring at, in the vain hope it would somehow disappear, by several loud noises coming from beyond his study. A few tense seconds later a dozen thestrals piled into his room, slamming open his doors, before immediately locking and barricading them. His two guards were shaken slightly by the disturbance but immediately joined in when they recognised the looks on the Thestrals’ faces.

Something was terribly wrong.

“Your highness,” one the Thestrals, a commander if the insignia on his armour was anything to go, respectfully greeted Blueblood. “Enemies have penetrated our defences.”

Blueblood’s eyes widened and his stomach churned at those five words.

“Who? How?” he asked.

“We don’t know, sir,” the Thestral commander said. “Right now, our primary priority is to see to your safety.”

“What of Commander Magnus?” he asked, frowning. He didn’t think Magnus would turn on him, but if he somehow had…

“We don’t know sir,” the Thestral said, sounding disturbed. “We were cut off from reaching his quarters.”

Blueblood cursed. If Magnus was somehow in on this treachery then that would be the end of it. That was the end. If Magnus were not, but had somehow been caught flat-hoofed and killed - well, again, that would be the end.

He was distracted from these thoughts by sudden series of yells, spell sounds then screams from outside his doorway.

“What is that?” one of the Thestrals asked. A moment later, there was a polite knocking at the door.

“Who’s there?” Blueblood called out.

“It is I, Magnus,” a familiar voice called out.

One of the Thestrals looked to Blueblood questioningly. Blueblood gave him a sharp nod, and he opened the door. A moment later, Magnus entered - apart from the splatters of blood on him, he looked utterly unruffled.

“We appear to have a traitor in our midst,” he said conversationally. “Lady Ever Essence has betrayed us, my liege.”

Blueblood scowled. Ever Essence had always been one of the more ambitious of his followers - clearly, her ambition had gotten the best of her.

“What now, Magnus?” he asked.

“Simple, my liege,” Magnus replied. “They have revealed their hoof to us. I wholeheartedly suggest that we sever it with extreme prejudice.”

***

The loyalist counter attack was as devastating as it was unexpected. Led by Magnus and Prince Blueblood the castle garrison found a second wind and threw themselves at the ponies of the Ivory Shell cadre with wild abandon, matching the traitor’s bloodthirsty fanaticism with their own determination.

Magnus led the charge to the main audience chamber, a group of Midnight Guard and thestrals at his back. He wielded an immense blade he had grabbed from the wall with his magic and now swung in massive arcs that cleaved through steel, flesh and bone. A manic grin of sadistic glee and fervour was spread across his face and he seemed to laugh as he cut his way through his opponents.

“Come traitors.” He shouted at the Ivory Shell Guardsponies that remained in his way. “Come and face my wrath.” He punctuated every sentence with another mighty swing that severed limbs and cut ponies apart. “You first dare to turn against his highness, and now you have the temerity to stand against me as well. You fools deserve the fate that shall be brought down upon you all.”

Finishing off the last of the Ivory Shell ponies in front of him he looked around the corner of the corridor, the same expression still on his face, and spotted another group of traitors. They had probably been trying to rally at the audience chamber but they instead had the misfortune of running into him first.

“Hello there traitors,” he said. Without wasting a second the unicorns in the Ivory Shell group all fired spells at him. Magnus shook his head and lit up his horn in reply and a thick shield sprung up in front of him, absorbing the spellfire. Beads of sweat began to trickle down Magnus’ forehead as he finally began to feel the exertion of projecting such a strong shield whilst wielding a massive weapon. however he barely slowed down as, without a single word, he lowered his shield and fired waves of agonising energy at the ponies in front of him. The entire group of Midnight Guard were struck down in debilitating pain as the energy washed over their bodies. They tried to scream but the excruciation was too much for them to do more than struggle to breath.

“Deal with them. Continue on down the hall and sweep the Midnight Castle clean of these scum,” Magnus told the loyalist Guardsponies that had finally caught up to him. Not bothering with replying the infuriated Guards ran over the group of ponies that convulsed on the floor of the corridor and proceeded to butcher them where they lay. Once they were finished they ran down the corridor and turned the corner, spreading out in search of any other remaining Ivory Shell contingents.

Turning away from his subordinates Magnus walked towards the massive double doors that led directly into the main audience chamber.

His horn lit up.

***

Ever Essence rubbed her temple with a dainty hoof as she tried to ignore the migraine that was developing. her followers were idiots and obviously weren’t capable of doing anything without her there to make sure they did it right.

Suddenly the doors to her new audience chamber burst open and slammed against the walls with very audible bangs, causing her to wince as the sudden noise exacerbated the splitting headache she was developing.

“Oh what now?” She said, annoyance very obvious on her face and in her voice. Almost automatically she also took another pinch of magical powder from her coat and threw it at her invisible shield. The bubble of esoteric substances shimmered and seemed to visibly thicken as the powders layered over one another. She didn’t care to take chances after all.

***

Royal Duty screamed as he thrust his blade at another one of the treacherous Midnight Guard. The short sword immediately glanced off of the pony’s armour and Royal Duty tried to step back only for the ponies behind him to press him forward. Desperate he threw up a new shield spell, the old one having been broken a long time ago, and tried to weather the blows that the infuriated Earth Pony was now trying to rain down on him.

The traitor in front of him pounded at the shield until a stray shot from a unicorn’s spellwork hit him in the face, imploding his muzzle and forehead.

Dropping the short sword from his telekinetic grip, Royal Duty grabbed the heavier sword his opponent had been wielding. Struggling to right himself whilst he held it, he began to lay into the enemies that remained in front of him.

Around him were dozens of Guardsponies that had been rallied by the officer he had warned and countless townsponies that had noticed the threat, heard his cries and grabbed whatever could qualify as a weapon. The fight had been fairly one sided with the loyalists barely managing to maintain any cohesion before the Guards had finally arrived to reinforce them. After that the Ivory Shell ponies had started to fall back as the weight of numbers and sheer savagery of the townsponies began to work against them.

Royal Duty raised his sword in a clumsy swing that managed to crush the armour of a Guardspony that had stood in front of him but been distracted by another combatant. The sword crumpled the plate steel and proceeded to snap his spine, dropping the pony in an instant. Royal Duty staggered slightly, feeling the strain of carrying such a heavy blade for so long in such a strenuous situation.

The press behind him pushed him forward again and he tried to raise the blade, bringing it up quickly enough to ram it into the Guardspony in front of him. The ponies around him were starting to pass him by as they laid into the traitors. Pulling his sword out of the front of the Guardspony he had felled he raised it once again. Turning back into the fray, following the ponies around him in search of a new opponent. However there weren’t any.

It was at that point that he realised that the fighting had stopped. The last of the traitors had been killed, the streets were cleared and many exhausted townsponies were starting to drop from the fatigue of combat.

“The gates are clear!” a Guard shouted. “Secure the castle! Secure the Prince!”

The Midnight Guard picked themselves up and rushed for the main gate into Castle Midnight. The battlements were empty of traitors, the towers all flew the compass rose and loyalist ponies could be seen putting down the remnants of the Ivory Shell Guardsponies on the walls.

Catching his breath, Royal Duty strengthened his magical grip on the sword he was now carrying and then paused. He went back a few steps and found his service issue blade, knowing the trouble he would get into if he left it and then turned around. The loyalist Midnight Guard were already moving into formation and several groups were rushing towards the castle. Sheathing his blade and steadying his new sword, Royal Duty charged off towards Castle Midnight, ready to help crush the coup and save the prince.

***

Magnus stepped through the doorway into the main audience chamber. The massive sword he had appropriated was still wet with the blood of the traitors and he knew that it would take at least one more pony’s life before the battle ended.

The room was dark, the compass rose and crescent moon banners had been torn down and piles of bodies filled the aisles to the side. The only thing that had been untouched by the blasphemous touch of the traitors’ hooves was the beatific rug leading up to the silver throne that presided over the entire chamber.

“Who are you?” a voice cut through the shadowy darkness of the chamber. “How dare you enter my chamber?”

The voice was imperious and had an affected hint of aristocratic bearing, not unlike his highnesses’ own speech patterns.

Glancing across the room in the direction the voice had come from Magnus saw a pony sitting on the throne his highness was supposed to occupy. She was a tall and thin Earth Pony mare. Her pristine white coat and shining ebony mane were well groomed. Her mane was braided with silver clasps that had been crafted into the shape of miniature rearing ponies and her body was covered by an elegantly designed mage coat. Her face was locked into an arrogant expression of contempt and she regarded him as if he were an unpleasant insect or a stain on the upholstery.

“I,” he said in reply, his voice dropping to a controlled growl, “am the right hoof of his highness. I am the sharp blade of the Midnight Guard. I am a true and loyal servant of Equestria.” He drew himself up. “I am a pony that is proud of his place in life and, unlike you, traitor, I am a pony that will live through this night.”

He raised his heavy blade in preparation for whatever she would send his way.

Ever Essence smirked in response. “A pony proud of his place in life? I wish there were more of them. You and your ilk have caused me nothing but trouble tonight. So many of you seem to have forgotten your place, and you, sir, are the worst offender. I will suffer your presence no longer!”

She reached into the coat and pulled out a leathery brown bag.

Magnus, realising what was in the bag, immediately fired a spell directly at her. The magical energy rocketed towards Ever Essence and then suddenly arced around her. Flowing energy rolled over the bubble of enchanted powders that floated around her. Magnus cut off the flow of magic to his horn, realising that the attempt was pointless.

Nonchalantly, Ever Essence emptied the bag onto a dainty hoof and blew it out into the room around her. The powder spread fast - much more quickly than it naturally should have.

Magnus raised his guard as the motes of powder settled on the corpses. Lady Ever Essence threw her head back and bared her throat. Closing her eyes she began to speak. A series of terrible and blasphemous words escaped her lips, tearing their way from her throat and harshy spitting themselves out into the reality around them.

Magnus immediately jumped into action and charged an immolation spell. A ball of fiery energy collected on his horn and grew in size as he built up the strength of the spell.

As Ever Essence continued her incantation the corpses that littered the room began to twitch. Low moans were emitted from ruined throats and collapsed chests and tangled limbs clawed at the stone floor of the chamber. Magnus released the spell at the nearest pile of bodies, incinerating them with the arcane fire he had been generating. Flesh burnt and peeled off of bone that began to crumble from the heat. The bodies he had struck ceased their feeble movements but it was already too late. The other corpses around the room had pulled themselves to their feet, blank expressions frozen on their face as their lifeless eyes stared at him.

Magnus turned his head, sustaining the spell with his remaining strength. The fire turned with him, strafing the resurrected Guardsponies in a ragged stream of flame. Many of the corpses the stream hit were set alight as their manes, tails, uniforms and coats were set alight by the flames and the ambient heat. Others weathered the flame with their coats smouldering in a few places or minor burns that failed to incapacitate them.

Magnus' assault was cut off when the corpse of a large Pegasus mare, whose limbs jerked unsteadily like a marionette, swiped at his head. Magnus took the blow hard and was sent reeling by the blow to his horn. His head was spinning and he struggled to repress a scream of pain as the nerves in his horn felt like they were on fire. Shaking his head he recovered his grip on the immense sword that had almost slipped from his control. The blade was swung around in a wide heavy arc that connected with the mare’s face. Her muzzle crumpled before the blade and the rest of her head was caved in the sheer weight of the weapon that had plowed into her. The corpse dropped instantly as the damage rendered it immobile.

Wheeling around Magnus brought his sword close to him. Stabbing would not achieve anything as he recalled the inherent weaknesses of the moving dead.

His blade lashed out, catching a Unicorn that had opened its mouth to let out a loud groan. The blade connected with its open mouth and cut the top half of its head off, causing the Unicorn to collapse. The blade continued its arc and crashed into an Earth Pony, cutting through the thick metal gorget of the former Guardspony and almost cutting its head off completely.

Magnus began to sweat as he continued to swing the sword around him. He effortlessly cut through the dozens of corpses that were slowly shambling towards him thanks to the weight of his massive blade. Limbs and dismembered body parts began to accumulate around him in a grotesque ring, several of the parts still twitching with unnatural life. the strain of fighting with such a weapon was beginning to tell on him and drops of sweat appeared on his brow. Still he fought on, never once pausing as he destroyed every single foe that approached him. The moving dead were simple and the spell that had animated them was rudimentary at best, depriving them of any greater combat skills other than slow, shambling movement and crushing bites.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last of the corpses lay still. A few of them continued to twitch or shuffle on destroyed limbs but most had been returned to true death.

“So, witch,” he sneered, enjoying the look of incredulity that had marred Ever Essence’s features, his words punctuated by laboured breathing. “What do you say to this? Does my defiance still frustrate you?”

“Unimaginably so,” she replied, venom dripping from every syllable. “However I don’t believe you will be a problem for much longer. Your castle is already mine. It won’t take much longer for my loyal followers to finish purging it of the idiotic mules who were dumb enough to follow the fool prince. Once they arrive I doubt you’ll be able to put up much more of a fight.”

Magnus wearily raised his blade into a guard position as he studied the shield that surrounded Ever Essence. He warily eyed the shadows in case of any more tricks or assailants. As he did this he let a smirk crawl up his face.

“Is that so?” he said in the most condescending manner he could possibly muster. “When I came to these chambers I found many of your subordinates dead. Quite a few of them at my own hooves. His Highness has rallied and has already begun the counterattack that will sweep this castle clean of your traitors.”

Ever Essence’s eyes narrowed in hatred and disbelief.

“You’re wrong,” she shouted, “my forces already had the castle under our control. Your prince’s dogs only held a few towers. How could he possibly have launched a counterattack?”

She finished her tirade with a finality that revealed her disbelief. She could not even comprehend the possibility that her attack was failing.

“I’m sorry to say this, but he’s right,” another voice came from just outside the door. A squad of Thestrals, their blades and armour coated with blood, stalked into the room, their heads lowered, eyes narrowed in anger and their weapons clenched in their teeth. In the centre of the group was Prince Blueblood, most of his armour was strapped to his body but he was obviously missing several components that had been left behind in the rush to get him out of his office.

Magnus smirked and straightened at the sight of so many loyalists as well as his prince. If they were here that meant that the castle, or at least most of it, was now clear. Ever Essence’s eyes widened at the sight.

“Y-you’re supposed to be dead,” she stuttered. Her face was now stuck in a manic expression of fear. “You’re all supposed to be dead. How are you here? You’re not meant to be here. This is my chamber. You’re not allowed in my chamber.”

“Sire,” Magnus said, turning to Prince Blueblood and bowing his head slightly in acknowledgment. “She has locked herself within a shield enchantment. It is quite sturdy but she cannot move outside of it now and I have dealt with her defenders.” He punctuated his statement by sweeping his hoof across the room, indicating the piles of limbs and bodies that now surrounded him.

“Is that so,” Prince Blueblood replied, his expression turning dark as he turned to look at the mare in front of him who was beginning to shrink in her seat. “Well we’d better get her out of there then. Guards!”

The Thestrals around him all moved to stand around the throne, surrounding Ever Essence. Once they had all taken position they held their weapons ready and waited.

A team of weary Midnight Guard Unicorns walked into the chamber, ragged expressions on their faces.

Prince Blueblood turned to them. “This is their leader. She appears to have locked herself inside this shield here.” He waved his hoof in the general direction of the shimmering bubble. “Do you think you could get her out of there?

“Yes your highness,” one of the Unicorns, who was dressed in a uniform that revealed his status as an officer, answered. “It shouldn’t be too hard. Company,” he shouted, “take position.”

The unicorns moved to stand in line.

“Shield breaker spell lads. Ready,” the line of Unicorns lit up their horns. “Nexal point, take aim on my mark.” The Unicorn at the centre of the line stepped forward. The energy that the unit was building up streamed towards his horn, concentrating into a large ball of swirling pinkish energy. “Take aim.” The Unicorn lowered his head at the shield. Ever Essence was frantically trying to search for more powder.

“Fire.” At the officer’s command the energy was unleashed in a massive beam of light that impacted on the shield like a battering ram. The bubble of powder and light held for several seconds as the spell continued to hammer at it. Sweat began to appear on the brows of the entire Unicorn team as they struggled to feed the spell. The nexal Unicorn’s legs began to shake from the strain of containing and concentrating so much energy.

Then suddenly the bubble shattered. The energy beam dispersed as the substances it was counteracting spread outwards.

“Cease fire,” the officer shouted and the beam was cut off. The Unicorn team all gasped as they released the breath they had been collectively holding in. The Nexal point struggled to stand and the Unicorns next to him quickly moved to support him.

“Restrain her,” Magnus shouted as Ever Essence, having recovered from the shock of seeing her barrier shattered, moved to grab some other kind of powder. The Thestrals moved quickly and struck her, throwing her from the chair. They grabbed her, restraining all of her limbs and holding her to the ground.

Magnus stepped forward. Looking down at her with a look of utter contempt.

“Your highness,” he suddenly said, never once looking away from Ever Essence. “What should we do with her?”

Prince Blueblood walked up beside him. He glanced at Magnus and then looked down at Ever Essence.

“I would love to see her head on a spike right now,” he whispered, just loudly enough for Magnus to hear. “However,” he continued, his voice becoming loud enough for the rest of the room to hear. “We are currently a nation of laws. We are not the Solaminan Empire and we will uphold the laws that I have inherited. Take her away, confiscate her belongings and put her in the dungeons."

Ever Essence began to say something before one of the Thestrals jammed his hoof in her mouth. They hauled her to her hooves and dragged her out of the chamber, several other Midnight Guard following them to ensure she made it to her cells.

“Ponies of the Midnight Guard,” Prince Blueblood suddenly shouted, turning to face the ponies in front of him. “We may have been betrayed. The ponies we thought were our allies may have turned on us but we have survived, we have persevered and we have come out victorious. We have defended our home and proven that nothing will defeat us. The Midnight Castle is ours.” A loud cheer erupted from every pony in the room that spread throughout the castle.

Blueblood glanced at Magnus. “This isn’t over.” He said. Magnus nodded slightly, his eyes narrowing as he too pondered how widespread the treachery within the Midnight Guard now was.

“Indeed, my prince,” he replied after a moment of thought. “Ever Essence would not have been smart enough to orchestrate an infiltration of the castle. It is obvious she had assistance.” Magnus shot a quick look at the figure of the prisoner as the Guardsponies dragged her down the corridor. “We must find who is still loyal. The plan must be begun now.”

“Now?" Blueblood asked, concern evident in his voice, for what exactly, was unclear.

“Yes your highness,” Magnus confirmed with another small nod. He leaned in a little closer, hoping that the ponies around them hadn’t noticed the slight change in their mood and demeanour. “I will seek out the traitors as promised. It would be best if you sought out assistance from our allies. We must come together now or we will fall.”

“Very well,” Blueblood agreed.

“You should start with the Dead Men, your highness," Magnus suggested. "Their dedication and determination are invaluable. It would be best to…”

“No,” Blueblood interrupted him. “The Dead Men are in dangerous territory right now. We don’t have the numbers right now to find their strongholds.” His eyes wandered to the ceiling for a moment as he quickly thought of an alternative. “We already have contacts with the New Resistance. I will head for Horssia instead,” Blueblood finished, with a finality in his tone that brokered no argument.

“Very well your highness.” Magnus bowed his head and moved for the chamber doors.

Blueblood took one look at the Unicorn and shook his head. Walking up the dais he sat down on the silver throne and looked over his ruined audience chamber and the cheering ponies that were clearing out body parts and organising parties to finish clearing the castle. He raised a hoof to his temple and began to rub it. Everything was about to get difficult from here.

***

Deep in the darkest woods...

She screamed.

She was in pain. No, that wasn't adequate - she was in absolute agony: every nerve ending felt like it was on fire, her very being felt like it was tearing itself apart as she desperately tried not to slip into unconsciousness, as she desperately to push, harder and harder...

Pain was good. Pain meant she was alive, and while she was alive she could bring death upon those who had harmed her kin, harmed her... but that didn't mean it wasn't pain.

She screamed again.

"You're doing well," a voice spoke, and she gritted her teeth and pushed harder. She had to do this. She had to. She had not come this far just to fail now. “Just keep pushing and it will be over soon!”

She had done this so many times before and yet this was so difficult. She had understood that this time it would be different (for how could it not be?), but she now felt completely unprepared as she convulsed and writhed as much as her body would allow her to.

With a sonorous groan of pain she pushed and felt it moving, felt it forcing its way out of her body. She screamed and pushed with it, fighting the intrinsic panic as the thing that she had gestated separated off from her and became a life all its own. She pushed once more, gave a final scream of effort…

And her companion grinned at her, holding a small, squiggling lump of purplish fur in its clawed appendage. Several other Anthroponies, each one of them a grotesque amalgam of human and equine body parts, stared at her in concern and anticipation.

“Congratulations,” he said with a slight chuckle. “It’s here.”

She sat up, smiling with relief as endorphins flooded her body.

“Can I…” she gasped. “Can I hold it?”

Her companion smiled at her, a warm grin spreading up his lopsided face. “Of course, Penny dearest. This is your child. Who could deny you the right to hold your child?"

He handed her the squiggling lump, and she cradled it to her chest. She frowned slightly as she looked at it. There were no distinguishing features - it looked for all the world as though it were merely a squirming lump of fur. No face. No mouth. No limbs. No anything. Were it not for the fact that it felt solid underneath her hands, she would have thought it a soft toy or a shaped skin.

“I don’t understand, my lord,” she said softly, her breath catching in her throat as she held her child. “Didn’t it work?” She suddenly felt so vulnerable. So weak. Tears began to well up in her eyes. “Did I fail you? Did I fail the child?”

“Oh, on the contrary my darling Penelope,” her companion said, stepping into the light. The pony head, griffon claw and dragon tail were somehow ominous in the half-light of her sanctum. He smiled, revealing a snaggle tooth, and yellow eyes gleamed, catlike. “You have succeeded.”

Penelope frowned in confusion, before looking down at the ball of fur as it suddenly began to squirm. There was a momentary shaking, as though it were convulsing, and then it seemed almost to unfold... revealing her child.

Eyes that seemed to hold hidden depths and yet contained such… innocence. Pink fur and a bouncy purple mane greeted her, and the new life smiled with such pure childlike joy at seeing her, its mother, that she could not help but beam with joy in return. Finally she noted the cutie mark, an oddity on one so young and yet oh-so appropriate. A screw next to a baseball. Soon, she knew, this would be the very banner of chaos incarnate.

“You have given birth,” her Lord, Discord the God of Chaos, continued, “to the child of chaos. To the mother of our future. To the cloven hoof, the malformed hand, the bountiful spirit of vengeance. You have birthed an army, Penelope.” He grinned, a thing full of malice and fury and the promise of retribution. “And with it, we shall crush Astra Solamina Maxima, once and for all!”

***

Chapter Three: Going Separate Ways

***

Castle Midnight, Germareny. March 4th. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050 human calendar).

The aftermath of the attempted coup and the short but brutal battle it had caused was a grim and dirty affair. Up to this point the Midnight Castle had never been assaulted by anything larger than a small band of Anthroponies. The attack by the Ivory Shell cadre had shaken everypony within the castle’s walls and the implications of their treachery had only made things worse.

Civilians had been drafted for the cleanup. Ponies everywhere were clearing up the remains of dead Midnight Guards, burning the bodies and repairing any damages that had been incurred during the attack.

Royal Duty sat on the walls of the Midnight Castle and rubbed his head with his hooves. He had never been in battle before and what he had just gone through had been harrowing. Dead bodies were not unfamiliar to him, but the fact that he had actually ended a pony’s life was still a new, and unpleasant, experience for him. Taking several deep breaths he stared over the battlements and looked out over the forests that surrounded the castle.

He looked down into the city at the base of the castle and watched as ponies hustled back and forth, performing whatever duties had been assigned to them. He knew he should have been doing something as well, but he had avoided the draft teams and his privileges as a necromancer allowed him to stay away from such duties. He didn’t particularly enjoy dodging work but he felt overwhelmed by what he had gone through.

“Who are you?” a sharp voice cut through the near silence of the battlements, causing Royal Duty to jump in surprise.

He turned to face the direction the voice had come from. He saw a large dark Unicorn with a dark brown mane walking towards him. The Unicorn wore a jet black cloak on his back and an odd, dark expression was on his face as he regarded Royal Duty.

“L...Lord Magnus,” Royal Duty stammered out as he bowed deeply, extending one foreleg forward and lowering his head in respect. “I...I...I was simply...well I can...explain.” He struggled to speak as he tried to find an excuse to explain why he was on the walls and staring into space at such an integral time.

“That wasn’t what I asked,” Magnus said as he stood in front of the genuflecting Unicorn and looked down at him. Royal Duty could feel his superior’s gaze boring into him. “I said,” he continued, “who are you?”

“I am Royal Duty,” he replied quickly, “a...a necromancer assigned to the garrison.”

“Is that so?” Magnus paused as he regarded the young Unicorn in front of him. “I heard you were the pony that warned the city’s garrison when the traitor launched their attack. Is that true?”

“Um, yes sir. I was.” Royal Duty almost felt like he was being crushed under the intense gaze of the dark Unicorn.

Magnus smirked slightly at the young Unicorn that was prostrating before him. It was rather amusing how so many ponies reacted to him like this. However as much as he wanted to drag out his little game with the youth he decided it was best he finally get to the point.

“That’s good to hear. I was looking for you.”

Royal Duty’s head unintentionally shot up from the shock of what he had just heard. Lord Magnus, one of the most important ponies in the Midnight Castle, had not only asked for him but had personally gone to find him.

His voice still unsteady he stammered his words as he asked, “Y...you were?”

“Yes I was,” Magnus replied, the smirk growing slightly wider. “I had heard of the part you played in the battle against the traitors of the Ivory Shell. What you did was invaluable.”

“Thank you sir,” Royal Duty rapidly said as he lowered his head once again.

“Now don’t thank me just yet,” Magnus said, raising a single hoof to interrupt the Unicorn. “I have been looking for ponies of great skill, fortitude and wit for an especially important mission of unfathomable importance.”

Royal Duty felt a cold sweat break out over his body as he waited for Magnus to continue.

“I want you, Royal Duty,” he punctuated his point by pointing his hoof at Royal Duty, “to accompany his highness as my replacement as his adjutant. He is preparing, at this very moment, to embark on a mission to the deepest parts of Horssia to recruit the New Equestrian Resistance in a new offensive.” He finished by stamping his hoof on the ground as if to emphasise the importance of his decree.

Royal Duty was stunned by what he had just been told. His heart hammered in his chest, his ears twitched in agitation and his eyes twitched.

"But why me?" he asked as he wondered just why he would be chosen. He was an adequate necromancer of routine ability who had only seen battle once if you included the events of the current day. He couldn’t possibly be deliberately chosen for something so important.

A genuine half-smile appeared on Magnus face as he regarded the shocked pony in front of him.

"You used your initiative, followed a lead, and saved the city,” he said, calming Royal Duty with his words. Once he saw the young Unicorn had finally begun to calm down and listen to him again he continued. “These traits will serve you well, and have allowed you to succeed in doing a rare thing."

"What?" Royal Duty asked, a mixture of concern and expectation evident on his face.

"Impressing me.” Magnus said in a matter of fact fashion. “If you continue to do that - and if you survive - your promotion to his highness' temporary adjutant may well prove more permanent than you realise."

***

Prince Blueblood cantered through the central courtyard of Castle Midnight. Around him ponies rushed back and forth, piling up equipment and other items in what he could only call ‘organised chaos’. The courtyard was a mess, but everypony seemed to understand where everything was supposed to be and what each pile was meant to contain. Wagons were being pulled in from the city and loaded for the long trip to the eastern regions of Horssia. It would be a tough journey, and many ponies were coming along for the trip.

Prince Blueblood himself was already dressed for travel. His bulky ornate battle armour had been wrapped in oiled cloth and stored inside one of the wagons but he did wear a much more comfortable and functional breastplate that afforded him much more mobility. A large coat had been thrown over it and whilst it was uncomfortably warm now he knew it would be invaluable once they really got going.

“Your highness, should you really be here?” asked a voice. Blueblood turned to regard a group of Thestrals standing behind him in full armour. They were his guard detail and the recent attack had made them rather paranoid for his safety.

“What do you mean?” Blueblood asked, slightly perplexed by the pony’s question.

“Well sir,” the pony replied, feeling somewhat awkward for letting himself be singled out, “the equipment here isn’t safe sir and this area is so open. Who knows what could happen?”

As if to emphasise his point a wagon pulled by a team of Earth Ponies shot past the procession, barely missing the prince.

Prince Blueblood jumped away from the where the wagon had just passed him, his face noticeably pale despite his pristine white coat.

“I see what you mean,” he said to the Guardspony, as another Thestral took off after the wagon to shout at them for their negligence and disregard for other’s safety.

***

Royal Duty hurriedly packed his belongings. He needed to make sure everything was prepared for his new mission. His heart hammered in his chest as Magnus’ declaration repeated itself in his mind. He had never shouldered so much responsibility before, and the pressure weighed down on his shoulders and back like a block of stone.

“Resurrection powder, four full bags, focusing crystal, needs polishing - I can do that later - arcane spectrum analyser,” he checked off as he placed esoteric items into various carefully assorted sacks and bags.

“Right now the grimoires.” He span around as he rounded on a stack of books that he had let pile up.

Yanking at the ones he needed he let the stack collapse onto the floor as several worn and bound books floated towards him. manipulating them with his magic he flipped them around until they were in order, the first volume of the Necronomicon on top, and then laid them in a box that was quickly closed and wrapped in wire.

Turning to the mess he had made on the floor he frowned and lifted the books back up with his magic before depositing them on the shelves in his chambers.

“Alright,” he said, sweat running down his brow from the exertion, “that’s about everything.”

He turned on the small pile of boxes of bags that contained most of his possessions and equipment. He probably didn’t need most of it but it was always better safe than sorry, even if being safe meant carrying enough miscellaneous items to fill a wagon.

He went to the door of his room and opened it. Outside were a pair of Earth Ponies dressed in light armoured barding. They had shown up about twenty minutes ago and had told him that Lord Magnus had ordered them to collect both him and whatever belongings he was bringing with him.

“I’m ready gentlecolts,” Royal Duty said as he stepped out of his room, two full saddlebags on his back.

Both ponies looked into his room. Their faces immediately fell at the sight of all of the boxes they would be carrying out of the castle.

“Um… I can help if you like,” Royal Duty said as he noticed the looks on both stallion’s faces.

“No, no sir. This is what we're here for,” one of the Earth Ponies replied.

“Yeah, we’re used to it,” the other chipped in, as they both trotted into the room and hefted boxes onto their backs.

“Alright then,” Royal Duty said, “Um… thanks.”

With that he trotted down the hallway and headed for the main gate. he needed to find the prince and take up whatever position he was supposed to be in charge of.

As he walked through the castle he noticed the damage that had been done to the castle. Walls were chipped in places where blades had struck them, tapestries and displays were knocked down or broken and blood was rather liberally splattered about the corridors. At the same time the castle staff were running around hectically as they tried to prepare for the prince’s departure.

As he walked through the main gate and out into the courtyard Royal Duty realised that the chaos inside the castle was nothing compared to the chaos outside it.

Ponies were scurrying everywhere. Most carried boxes and bags full of weapons, food, clothing and other supplies of indeterminate purpose that would be needed for the expedition. Everypony seemed to be converging on a wagon of sorts where they quickly deposited their burdens before running off to grab another.

The only island of calm in the endless sea of activity was a cluster of Thestrals surrounding the unmistakable shape of Prince Blueblood himself who seemed to be observing the preparations with a simultaneously confused and amused expression.

Royal Duty picked his way through the crowd, dodging ponies and working his way around wagons and stacks of supplies as he headed in the direction of the prince.

After what felt like an eternity he finally reached the group of ponies that seemed strangely detached from the hustle and bustle around them. Looking at the prince for the first time in his life Royal Duty felt awed by the stallion before him. He was unusually large for a Unicorn and seemed to tower over most of his guards. His coat, his horn, his bearing, everything about him seemed perfectly regal, every inch the pony he had expected to meet and serve.

Standing to attention, Royal Duty snapped off a salute and then immediately began to worry whether he should have bowed instead.

Prince Blueblood immediately turned to look at him, the expression of amusement replaced by a calm professionalism.

“Hello there,” Blueblood said as he eyed the colt in front of him, “who might you be.”

“I am Royal Duty, your highness,” Royal Duty replied firmly, forcibly keeping a stutter from emerging, “I was assigned by Lord Magnus as your temporary personal adjutant.”

The professionalism remained but Blueblood’s voice became noticeably more open and friendly. “Oh yes, I remember Magnus mentioning he had found someone to take care of his duties. I suppose you’re the pony he was talking about?”

“Yes I am, your highness,” Royal Duty also replied, hoping the concern he felt wasn’t noticeable. “I intend to conduct myself with dignity and honour worthy of your highness. I will not disappoint you or Lord Magnus sir.” He stood even straighter as he resisted the urge to salute again.

“And it is well that you should not,” another voice said, interrupting him. “Disappointing the Prince is unwise. Disappointing me? Unhealthy.”

Royal Duty spun around as he realised who the voice was. A familiar dark Unicorn was walking towards them, ponies stepping aside as he did so.

“Ah, Magnus,” Blueblood said as he greeted his friend and adjutant. “I see that you're ready to go.”

“Yes, my prince,” the Unicorn said matter of factly, “I was merely seeing whether the young stallion here had availed himself to you at the appropriate time. It is good to see that he is punctual.”

Magnus eyed Royal Duty as he said this, seemingly pressing down on him with his glare.

“Well if you have high hopes for him then I guess I can expect good and devoted service,” Blueblood said in return, also turning to regard Royal Duty, who was doing his best not to faint.

“Indeed. Unfortunately, I cannot stay for a moment longer,” the dark Unicorn said gravely. “I must join my own forces now. Farewell your highness, I wish you the best of luck.”

With that Magnus bowed before turning and walking away to whatever ponies had been assigned under him.

“Well,” Blueblood said with a slight sigh. “We have a force of probably quite antsy soldiers out there waiting for us, and a long march ahead. I suggest we go join them.”

“Yes, your highness,” Royal Duty said.

“And do me a favour,” Blueblood added as they began walking out of the gate. “Try to relax a tad. I might be the Prince but I’d rather you didn’t strain yourself with all the standing to attention you seem to be doing. It wouldn’t help me if you passed out every time I asked you question”

“I… will try, your highness,” Royal Duty said, uncertainly.

“Good,” Blueblood said as they reached the procession waiting outside. “Remind me to tell you about my last adjutant before Magnus, Captain Doo. Wonderful mare. Absolutely insane, but she made excellent tea…”

“COMPANY ADVANCE,” a voice shouted over the procession. Outside the castle walls was a column of ponies in heavy armour. Beside them were other ponies, each of them in some form of ornate battle dress. This was the small army that Blueblood would be travelling with. In certain ways he was required to travel with them. Another army of clerks, bureaucrats and advisors was milling beside them, waiting for the sight of the wagons that would be carrying all of their possessions.

Royal Duty couldn’t help but stare at the sight of it. He was now a part of an army on the march: an army on a mission of extreme importance. Beside him, Prince Blueblood smirked. Now was the time for him to make his move.

At the command of the officer that had shouted the order to mobilise, the procession set off, marching into the forest for what would be a very long and harrowing journey.

***

Canterlot, March 4th. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050).

She paced within her chamber, eyes closed, concentrating. The room was filled with broken furniture, and the walls were scarred and pitted as though a thousand spells had been thrown within these walls. The only thing preventing more damage was the presence of two hundred arcane runes etched into the walls, each one glowing, repelling the worst damage and maintaining the structural integrity of the building.

She didn’t care about the damage she had caused. All that mattered was the battle within her mind.

Silence, she thought to herself. Within my mind let there be silence. I am one. I am in control.

There was a brief, blissful moment where she could feel the silence within her own mind, the sweet abyss of empty thought, free of conflict, free of her.

...monstermurdresstraitortoselfthingofevilslaughtereroftheinnocentraperofthemindsandsoulsofabillionsoulshowdareyousitthereand…

“Damn you!” she screamed, her horn glowing. At once, the furniture in the room, already shattered from a thousand such moments, was raised into the air, flying everywhere. Shrapnel and shards of glass smashed into her, cutting her open in a thousand places, but she didn’t care.

Pain of the flesh is better than pain of the mind, she thought angrily. Let there be pain of the flesh. Let pain be my salvation, my freedom! Let my freedom release me from this accursed voice!

...youwillneverbefreeofmeIwillhauntyouforever…

“Silence!” she yelled. “Silence! I am Astra Solamina Maxima! I will allow no intrusion! I will allow no contention! I will allow no insult! The only thing I will allow is the crushing of my enemies beneath my hoof!”

There was a moment of dead silence as Solamina stood in the room, her eyes scanning the battered space as though the room were filled with enemies. And then there was a soft knock at the door.

“Your majesty?” the familiar voice of Commander Twilight Sparkle asked. “Your majesty, are you in? May we speak?”

Solamina closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to calm herself. Her horn glowed and the soundproofing spell on her chamber disappeared.

“One moment, my dearest Twilight," she called out.

Her horn glowed, and suddenly the entire room was swept clean of broken and tarnished furniture, replaced instead by intact, ornate tables, chairs and ornaments. Solamina closed her eyes, and her body glowed with light, the wounds healing as though they had never been there.

“Enter,” she said quietly.

A moment later, Commander Sparkle entered. She bowed her head before Solamina.

“My lady,” she said. “The Solaminan Church refuses to acquiesce to my request for the authority to command their troops.”

“Do they now?” Solamina said, raising an eyebrow. Once upon a time, loyalty to her was loyalty to Twilight - that was when the control of the Converted was absolute. Now, though, there was a plague of doubt in the Converted, and even the most faithful distrusted any who were not Solamina herself. “One moment.”

She quickly drew up a letter, signed it and placed her seal upon it. The letter demanded that the Solaminan Church treat Twilight as if she acted with the authority of the Empress. Technically, such an edict had never been needed, for it had always been assumed. Now though, nothing was certain.

“Here,” she said. “This gives you carte blanche to do as you will with the Church. They will follow any command you give - or they will answer to me.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” Sparkle said, bowing.

“How are you, Twilight?” Solamina asked, eager to get onto happier conversation topics.

“I am fine, my lady,” Sparkle replied, a touch of frustration in her voice. “Eager, in fact.”

“These last few years have been especially hard on you, my student,” Solamina said quietly. “After everything that’s happened…”

“After everything that’s happened, my lady, I am only more eager,” Sparkle cut her off with a slightly vicious edge. “Your enemies will die at my hoof. I swear it.”

Solamina’s eyes narrowed a tad. “Be careful in your eagerness, my faithful student, that it doesn’t lead you into insubordination.”

The dangerous tone in Solamina’s voice had Sparkle abasing herself immediately.

“My apologies, your most beneficent majesty,” she said humbly. “In my eagerness to effect your will, I have erred.”

“It is forgiven,” Solamina said airily. “While you are in Canterlot, I suggest you visit your… friends. It may make you feel better.”

There was a stiff pause for a long moment. “As you suggest, my lady. May I be excused?”

“Of course, Twilight,” Solamina said quietly. “Take care.”

“Majesty,” Sparkle said with a bow, before turning and leaving the room. Solamina breathed out. Her horn glowed with energy as she once more put the silencing spell back up… and once more, she went into battle against her personal demons.

***

In the depths of Canterlot dungeon, there was a chamber where Twilight Sparkle and the Empress’ most important project was being kept. The High Commander passed them: rows of the silent, the armoured ranks and ranks and ranks of ponies, humans, Griffon travellers who had ‘volunteered’... any who could be found… all of them in the same, blue-silver metal armour, armed with swords, spears… all of them still as stone. Some of them were still hung on meat-hooks, awaiting the moment where the magic would be used that would make them whole. Others had already reached that final stage, and stood silent by their own power, awaiting commands that - as of yet - had not come.

Twilight did not know when her Empress would authorise the use of the Eternal Guard. The project had created an army of eternally loyal, preserved, undying warriors, each of them imbued with magic that made them stronger and faster than their rotted forms would suggest. The project had been begun twenty two years ago, during the height of the war, whenever bodies could be retrieved for its use.

She sighed as she reached the special chamber. There was a momentary hesitation before she pushed open the door.

Four figures stood in a perfect line. Three of them were ponies, and one of them was the small figure of a dragon. The ponies, despite magic preventing such things on the Eternal Guard, were all in various states of decomposition, a side effect of the amount of time between their deaths and being found by Twilight’s forces. The one with the least damage was the cyan Pegasus, who stood at the far right end, wings neatly folded by her sides, disguising the damage done to them that would forever prevent her from flying. Her throat had a bandage around it, disguising the hole where she had been brutally stabbed and terminated. Her cold and empty eyes were staring forward at nothing. Twilight moved to stand right in front of her, almost making it seem like the body of Rainbow Dash was staring at her.

She looked to the left of Rainbow at the other two pony bodies. The corpse of Applejack had needed significant work to make it usable, thanks to the decomposed state it was in when they found it: they had retrieved it from the insane pile of pony bodies found on one of the islands surrounding Britain. Though they had searched for as long as they could (and that was not as long as they would have liked), they could not find any trace of Rarity’s corpse. She was lost to them forever.

Fluttershy’s body, meanwhile, was an even harder thing to find - she had fled from Equestria after Rarity’s demise, and no one save the thrice-damned Avatar of Albion that had slain her could have told them where she lay. All they knew was that she was somewhere in Britain, and that was a place no pony went to if they wanted to live. And so she was not here either, and Twilight felt her and Rarity’s absence keenly.

The final pony body was that of Pinkie Pie, a large metal plate, barely disguised by her hair, over one side of her face and her missing left eye. She had been found by advancing Equestrian Guardsponies during the battle of London and sent home, as had Shining Armour. Shining Armour, though, was sent home to Cadence in a closed casket. Twilight would never have used him for the Guard - she loved Cadence too much to deny her Shining’s burial - and in any case, his entire head had been smashed apart.

The final body in the line was the dragon. Spike had, for the longest time, been held prisoner in the dungeons. It was only with the greatest of extolling that Solamina had allowed him to be equipped and… repurposed for the Eternal Guard. It was, in some respects, better.

“Hey guys,” she said quietly to the bodies. There was no response.

She turned to Rainbow’s corpse, the cold eyes still staring forward. She sighed. She hated having to do this - it broke the illusion even more than the armour and the injuries.

“Rainbow Dash,” she spoke clearly. “This is Commander Sparkle.”

Rainbow’s mouth opened, and a croaking voice emerged. “Commander.”

“Friendship is magic,” Twilight said softly.

The cold eyes blinked, and looked at Twilight. A smile, which might have been reassuring on anything other than this mockery, appeared on the face of the corpse.

“Hey Twi,” she said, her voice suddenly normal, apart from a slight echoing quality. It wasn’t really her vocal cords making this noise of course - Twilight had created intricate spells, a half-decade in the making, that made it possible for this illusion to happen. She could almost believe it, some days.

“Hey Rainbow,” she said, smiling slightly. “How are you?”

“I’m cool,” the corpse of Rainbow said with a grin. “Literally - no body heat. I’m like, one hundred percent cooler than I used to be.”

Twilight chuckled. The personality matrices she had created could imitate Rainbow - and when she activated them, the others - to the best of her memories. They would never be the real things - they were at best, impressions of her friends, how she remembered them - but they were… almost enough.

“Aren’t you going to wake the others up?” ‘Rainbow’ asked, looking at the other bodies. There was a slight cracking sound in her neck, and her dead eyes glanced downward. “Oops, sorry. Something popped.”

“I’ll have the morticians come in and check on you later,” Twilight promised, smiling sadly. “At least it doesn’t hurt.”

“You’re right there,” ‘Rainbow’ grinned. “You gonna wake them up?”

Twilight looked at the others. She sighed.

“Applejack and Pinkie,” she said quietly. “Not… not Spike. Not today.”

“You never wake Spike up,” ‘Rainbow’ pointed out.

“No,” Twilight said, and her voice cracked slightly. “I… I like letting him sleep.”

“‘Kay,” ‘Rainbow’ said, shrugging. There was another crack. “Damn joints.”

Twilight turned to the others. “Applejack. Pinkie Pie. This is Commander Sparkle.”

The two seemed to stiffen slightly, but neither replied.

“Friendship is magic,” she said quietly.

Suddenly, Applejack blinked and rolled her decomposed shoulders. There was the slightly creaky sound of exposed bones rubbing together. Pinkie tapped her metal plate, as though it were irritating her.

“You alright, Pinkie?” ‘Rainbow’ asked.

“Itchy,” ‘Pinkie’ said, her voice echoing in the same way Rainbow’s did. “This plate itches.”

Twilight chuckled. “I told you before, Pinkie, you don’t have nervous responses to feel itchy.”

“You might as well tell a dog not to bark, Twi,” ‘Applejack’ said, her voice echoing as well. “Ya’ll know there’s more to Pinkie than meets the eye, even now.”

“I guess she wouldn’t be Pinkie otherwise,” Twilight said with a smile.

“Well, I’m not,” ‘Pinkie’ said, “not really - I’m just…”

“Pinkie,” ‘Rainbow’ said in a warning tone. “We had this talk.”

“Oh, yeah,” ‘Pinkie’ said. “Sorry Twi.”

Twilight didn’t say anything. Though she had never hid what they were from them, most of them seemed content to think themselves the same ponies as they were before. They tended to ignore - pointedly - any discussion of what they really were. Only the matrix that impersonated Pinkie was any different, seemingly both perfectly content to act like Pinkie and perfectly content with the knowledge that she was a copy.

“Hey,” ‘Rainbow’ said, “any joy on getting something for Flutters and Rarity?”

Twilight sighed. “No scouting parties have returned from trying to find Fluttershy. She didn’t tell me where she was going, and none of the Converted we have left from Britain were ever told where she died, only that she was dead.” She sighed. “She didn’t happen to tell any of you…”

“Twi,” ‘Applejack’ said gently, looking upset even with her decomposed face. “Ya’ll know that even if she did, we wouldn’t know.”

Twilight closed her eyes, grimacing. Occasionally, even she caught herself thinking these were really her friends instead of matrices that she had created.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“Heck, it’s ok Twi,” ‘Applejack’ said. “We all understand. This is -”

“Friendship is dead!” Twilight snapped suddenly, her voice full of distress.

At once, all three ponies snapped back to attention, all warmth gone from their faces. Twilight, tears escaping from her eyes, turned away from them and left the room.

The Empress had encouraged her research - she thought it might prove helpful to the Unicorn who had lost everything... but despite the fact that it made her burdens easier, giving her ponies to talk to, they were not her friends, and those dead visages only served to remind her of how much she had failed. How much she had failed to save them.

The Resistance - Blueblood and the other traitors. All this was their doing. She scowled, her misery turning to rage, a fire blooming in her chest.

“Friendship is dead,” she whispered, “but vengeance... vengeance is sweet.”

***

Redbookville (formerly New Darwin), Horsetrailia. March 4th. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050 human calendar).

Red Book smiled at the pony before her, she had always had a good feeling about the young mare in front of her, she had been a loyal subordinate and student and she had worked hard over the years to impart her knowledge of the revolution into the youth’s mind.

A few metres away from her was a lime green Pegasus with a magenta-and-blue striped mane. She stood stock still, her eyes level with her own as she stood at attention.

True Path had not been there when the revolution liberated Horsetrailia, but Red Book preferred that. The revolution had changed since those early days of the fledgling Ponies State and younger minds proved more susceptible to change.

“My dear True Path,” she said to the Pegasus. “Do you know what a traitor is?”

“A traitor?” the Pegasus replied stiffly. “Yes, ma’am. A traitor is one who betrays the whole.”

“And how do you betray the whole?” Red Book asked.

“You betray the whole by turning against the common good of the collective and only serving your own interests,” True Path replied at once.

“I’m not asking how as in what treason constitutes,” Red Book corrected, a slight condescending tone entering her voice. “I’m asking how one might achieve such betrayal.”

“I… I don’t know,” True Path said, frowning. “I don’t know how one might do so. I’ve never thought about it.”

“It’s good that you haven’t,” Red Book said, “that’s the first betrayal.” She motioned with her hoof, and suddenly an Earth Pony in a labourer’s uniform was dragged in by two armoured guards. “To think of betrayal is a betrayal itself. It is to invite the question of betrayal into your heart, to invite the idea of betrayal into your mind, and that is the first step on the slippery slope toward being an Enemy of the Ponies State.”

She walked up to the Earth Pony. The mare had a gag in her mouth and looked like she had been beaten. Red Book regarded her coldly.

“This one,” she said quietly, “was responsible for hoarding essential supplies she did not require. She believed this was appropriate. In this, she was a traitor.”

The mare began shaking her head frantically, her eyes full of fear.

“What happens to traitors, True Path?” Red Book asked softly.

“Death,” True Path said at once.

“Exactly,” Red Book said with a grin. “True Path - the traitor is here. As my latest Enforcer, I want you to be personally responsible for dealing with traitors and enemies of the state, both external… and internal.”

True Path nodded, before turning to the traitor. She walked right up to her, took a spear from one of the guards, and without hesitation rammed it into the mare’s chest. There was a strangled, muffled cry from the pony… and then silence.

“Traitor dead,” she said quietly. “Where am I needed next?”

“Ah, Comrade,” Red Book said, smiling widely, “next I shall send you to deal with our greatest enemies. For too long, we have allowed the Solaminan Empire and their imperialist oppression to keep us trapped on this continent. No more. Now, Comrade True Path, with you at the head of my armies, we shall begin to destroy them utterly.”

Chapter Four: First Engagement

Germaren border, Germareny. March 7th. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050 human calendar).

It had barely been a few days since they had left Castle Midnight when the massive procession managed to reach the poorly defined border that separated the colonies of Germareny and Ponland. Though secrecy was virtually impossible for such a large and noisome group, the Midnight Guard had managed to avoid detection. The fact that the former European continent was poorly settled compared to the rest of the Empire had been a massive boon for them.

Royal Duty had been especially surprised at how quickly the procession had moved from Southern Germareny. In a mere three days, they had actually managed to reach the border of the next province. It had of course been thanks to the gruelling pace set by the Guard Captains, which many of the administrators and court officials attached to the prince had complained endlessly about.

Royal Duty felt just as exhausted as the ponies around him, but didn’t complain. He was somewhat used to this thanks to the basic training he had gone through, but most of his admittedly short career since then had been spent indoors surrounded by magical theory and alchemical projects.

“ALRIGHT PONIES!” the voice of the commanding officer belted out above the comparatively quiet crowd. “COMPANY HALT!”

The Midnight Guard all stopped in perfect unison, whilst the civilians, aids and attached civilians all let out a sigh of relief and groans of exertion. Sergeants began to shout out additional orders as tents were set up, duty shifts were assigned and fires were started. The baggage train was pulled forward by the teams of Earth Ponies that had been manning them until they were at the centre of a large circle of ponies. Tents began to rise into the air, some of them were very simple affairs whilst others, like the prince’s, were cloth and silk palaces that almost seemed to be several storeys tall and had windows in the walls.

Almost immediately Prince Blueblood peeled off from the rapidly dispersing column and went in the direction of his tent. Several other prominent officers and officials went after him. For the next few hours his tent was likely to be where they would strategize the next few steps of their plans.

“Set up your tent and then join me inside. I’ll need you to take notes for tonight’s meeting,” Prince Blueblood ordered, turning his head to look at Royal Duty for a moment before returning his attention to the large and luxurious pavilion in front of him.

Royal Duty stammered out a quick affirmative, and then went over to one of the wagons that had been manoeuvred into a circle at the centre of the encampment. He found the one that housed his belongings and grabbed a folded tent with his magic. Carefully lifting it from the carefully placed pile of other items, Royal Duty pulled the tent out of the wagon and trotted off to find a space close to the prince where he could pitch his tent.

For a moment he eyed the forests beyond the clearing they had chosen to make camp in. The first of the camp fires had already cast long, threatening shadows onto the tall trees. The darkness of the evening was now more heavily contrasted against the golden light of the fire, which made the forests that surrounded them all the more frightening. Despite the large number of Guardponies that were now stationed around the edge of the camp and dutifully staring out into the darkness he couldn’t help but feel worried.The Midnight Guard were supposed to be in their element at night but Royal Duty had never felt comfortable in the darkness.

More often than not the shadows weren’t his friends.

***

Horsaw, Ponland. March 8th. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050 human calendar).

An unseasonably cold wind hit Freedom Heart as he disembarked from the Interdiction, the zeppelin that had spent the past two and a half days ferrying him from Canterlot to the provincial capital of Ponland.

His new appointment as Field Marshal of the colonial forces in what was now officially called Mareope had been a sudden one and the significance still hadn’t quite sunk in yet.

Two columns of Royal Guard flanked a red carpet that led from the zeppelin’ boarding ramp to an elegant golden carriage pulled by more Guardponies. Several stallions and mares, all of them dressed in some form of aristocratic finery, were waiting by the carriage. Upon noticing him they all began to carefully walk towards him, every step a deliberate and elegant action.

Their leader was a chocolate brown Pegasus mare with an elegantly coiffed cream, yellow mane. She wore an enormous dress that bulged out around her rump, covered her wings in heavy lace ruffs and was coloured in alternating stripes of grey brown and maroon. However the enormous fashion abomination that covered her body still managed to somehow not encumber her movements.

Freedom Heart also walked out to meet them, descending the ramp until his hooves brushed against the rich velvet of the carpet.

The ponies all bowed respectfully as they approached, each of them inclining their heads though they did not lower their bodies to the ground like they would were they in Solamina’s presence. They stayed that way for a couple of heartbeats, never once saying a word, before straightening once again. The Pegasus mare in the huge dress was the first to rise.

“Welcome to Horsaw, Commander,” the Pegasus said in an affected upper class accent. “My name is Just Deserts. I am the duly-appointed viceroy of the Mareopean continent. If there is anything you need then I am the pony to come to.”

She smiled as she spoke and her head tilted upwards slightly in a manner similar to the nobleponies of Canterlot. Freedom Heart guessed that she was very much used to getting what she saw as due deference from anypony around her.

The other ponies assembled in front of him also offered their greetings and announced who they were but Freedom Heart struggled to remember the details of their names, lineages and positions of power. Now that he had actually arrived at his destination he was finally beginning to tire from the long trip from Canterlot.

“Thank you noblemares and gentlestallions,” Freedom Heart said in a calm and measured voice, carefully considering his words as he addressed them. “I am of course honoured that you’ve placed your confidence in me, and I assure you I will deal with the threats to your colonies.”

With that said he walked towards the carriage, watching as the collection of politicians and aristocrats gave one another somewhat inscrutable looks before turning and heading to the carriage with him.

***

Freedom Heart settled into the office he had been given. The Horsaw Viceregal Palace was a large and opulent building built in the same style as Canterlot’s elegant spires and domed buildings of white marble and shining gold. Of course it still paled in comparison to the now enormous city that dug into the sides of the Canterhorn and jutted out over the landscape below but it was luxurious nonetheless.

The office itself was well furnished but appeared to be rather spartan compared to the much more well decorated rooms and corridors of the rest of the palace. Whoever Freedom Heart’s predecessor had been appeared to have been relatively utilitarian, and Freedom Heart could appreciate that.

There was of course a large and sturdy desk with what looked like a large and comfortable chair. A cursory glance still managed to reveal that it was a swivel chair of sorts though much more extravagant than the cheap store-bought model he had back at home. The desk already had several papers placed on it that had been arranged in preparation for him. However the reports that were on his desk could wait another day as Freedom Heart was immediately drawn to the door in the side of his office that led to the attached personal quarters.

Opening the door that was already ajar, he entered the room. It was much more opulent than the office, with a large four poster bed, a carven wardrobe with scenes from Equestria’s history on the panels and several more desks that suggested much better craftsmanship than the one he was expected to use for work. Despite his admiration for practicality over extravagance Freedom Heart was incredibly grateful for the massive, soft bed. Trotting wearily over to it he flopped down on the cloud-grade mattress, not bothering to pull the covers over his body, and shut his eyes.

Sleep came very quickly for the tired stallion.

***

Unknown area, Ponland. March 8th. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050 human calendar).

The column had been making increasingly remarkable progress as they made their way through the ruins of Europe. They had broken camp in good time and marched several more miles (he lost count a while back), before stopping for another break for lunch. Despite how quick it had been the entire column had returned to marching filled with a wary vigour that had seen them trundle down the woodland path they were currently in. Royal Duty didn’t exactly know where they were by this point but it was now the early evening, the sun was starting to dip in the sky and the column had managed to devour mile after mile with their grueling pace and it showed in many ways.

The forests of course remained very thick since settlement was thin. During, and after, the war with humanity so many years ago, the natural world had largely recovered thanks to the complete obliteration of human civilization and the relatively slow pace of colonisation by the ponies of Equestria. Still, though he couldn’t really tell the difference between them, the Midnight Guard had marched past countless trees. At the same time their pace was also reflected in the haggard looks of the ponies that made up the column. Fatigued expressions were on everypony’s faces and no small amount of groaning emanated from the camp followers and adjutants.

Everything had been going smoothly enough. Of course the column’s movements had to be very steady despite the pace they had set. Scouts had been sent out into the woods to check for any possible threats and report back. It was an unwanted job that nearly everypony tried to avoid. The woods were deadly enough as it was and the increased sighting of Anthroponies had made straying off the roads and beaten paths all the more dangerous.

At the thought of the scouts Royal Duty realised he hadn’t seen any for a while. They were supposed to report in on an hourly basis and it had been far too long since anypony had emerged from the woods. despite not wanting to worry anypony with his speculations he glanced at the other officers and adjutants around him. They too had controlled expressions that failed to entirely cover the concern and anxiety that they felt as well.

Something was wrong.

As the column tramped through the forest Royal Duty stole glances at the trees and undergrowth around them. The trees pressed in closely around the dirt path they were marching down and the canopy hung over them like a shroud. It was late in the day but the branches, leaves and needles of the treetops made it seem like it was already evening.

“Your highness,” a voice to Royal Duty’s right whispered to Prince Blueblood. “We should prepare the troops for attack. The scouts have been gone far too long now.”

The prince nodded slightly in response. “Be discrete though. We can’t afford to spook the attachments.” He paused for a second. “And set a guard over the rear of the column,” he added. “There’s something… not right.”

“Sir,” the pony replied. The Guard saluted before briskly trotting off into the centre of the column to give out orders. The Thestrals, already on guard, moved even closer around Blueblood and the rest of the command group. Royal Duty could hear whispered orders being passed throughout the column and noticed the sounds of Guardsponies readying weapons. The intense atmosphere that had already surrounded the column thickened as ponies eyed their surroundings for any suspicious signs.

The column continued down the path in silence. the only sounds that weren’t created by the forest was the trampling of hooves, the sounds of armoured plates knocking against one another, the rumbling of wagon wheels turning and the heavy breathing of the nervous ponies.

Royal Duty’s heart hammered in his chest. Every desperate or concerned look he saw from the ponies around him served to fuel his paranoia. He stole glances at every shadow expecting some kind of monster to emerge from it. The fact that he could still hear bird calls and that the sun was still in the sky did nothing to alleviate him of his fear. He knew what could be out there, and despite the fact that he knew better, he expected Anthroponies and Solaminan soldiers hiding behind every tree.

More time passed and the scouts still hadn’t shown up. The Guardsponies in the column were on high alert and were now spread out along the column to ensure that the civilian entourage and the baggage train were safe and secure. Runners galloped up and down the column, passing messages to ensure that everypony was present and accounted for and relay and possible suspicious sightings to the officers.

Royal Duty’s ears perked at the sound of a grunt behind him. He turned his head to look behind him, his heart still racing from the surprise of the sound.

One of the runners moving to the head of the column had just stumbled. the sound had simply been his hooves scraping over the dirt path as he tripped. However the runner failed to correct his balance, in fact he fell over, his body cartwheeling as his momentum carried him forward. It was only when the runner’s body slid to a halt that Royal Duty and the ponies around him noticed the blood that was liberally spilling from a wound in the Guards forehead. A large stone was lodged into his skull, one of his eyes had been ruined by the impact whilst the other had rolled back.

Before anypony could make a move a hail of similar stones burst out from the surrounding foliage on both sides of the column.

“Take cover!” a pony shouted and the entire column descended into confusion and chaos. Unicorns levelled shields around as many of their comrades as they possibly could whilst civilians scrambled for the dubious safety of the wagons.

The barrage of stones then suddenly stopped. However barely a second later a horde of monstrosities charged out of the same dense woods.

Every abomination was uniquely disgusting. Many walked upright but there were still many that galloped forwards on all fours and even a few that loped or scrambled along the ground, switching between the two separate gaits at random. They all had some kind of recognisably equine feature but there was barely any resemblance between these foul creatures and the ponies they were now attacking. Some walked upright on equine hooves and had pony heads and faces but possessed long muscular arms tipped with broken hooves or cruel claws. Others looked like ponies but their legs were mismatched, some being longer than others, with grotesque faces that were stretched or squashed like some sadistic child had smeared a portrait. Others were massive hulking abominations with flattened faces and massive hairy forearms. Some had horns, others had wings but all of them had the same hate filled looks marring their warped faces.

“Anthroponies!” somepony yelled over the roars and cries of the disgusting horde.

“Defend the prince!” another shortly followed.

The Midnight Guard scrambled into some kind of formation but the narrow path had left them vulnerable. Guardsponies closed ranks, their spears pointed outwards on either side of the column. Unfortunately the column was barely five ranks deep and their attention was divided. Unicorns hurriedly charged and let off magic shots that connected but did little more than slow down their targets.

The horde met the column in a crashing wave of noise. The Guardsponies’ line buckled slightly but held. It was then that the killing started.

Anthroponies were pierced by spears or shot point-blank by magic shots. In turn ponies had their heads caved in by heavy bludgeons and axes. The Guards did their best to push the foe back but the Anthroponies’ greater size and strength kept forcing the ponies back. Slowly the line was compressed in on itself.

Royal Duty hid behind the prince’s bodyguards, letting them hold the enemy at bay while he fired magic shots into the rearmost portion of the attacking host. Unlike his colleagues he sacrificed speed for power, letting the energy build before unleashing his magic. This way he was sure that every shot was a sure kill. Prince Blueblood and the rest of his personal entourage were beside him, firing their own spells into the Anthropony horde. However he couldn’t help but notice that the battle was turning against them. It was a miracle that they had even been able to muster some kind of defence and hadn’t immediately descended into chaos.

It was then that everything went wrong.

An enormous Anthropony charged out of the woods on the column’s left flank. It was a giant standing far above all of its kin. Like the rest of the horde it was a grotesque beast. It’s shoulders bulged with muscle, its arms nearly as thick as the tree trunks around it and its fists as large as shields. It’s head was like that of a human, if only barely. It was elongated slightly like a pony’s muzzle which served to make it’s beady eyes all the more misplaced and disturbing. Those same eyes were filled with bloodlust and hate that it pointed at the ponies it was barrelling towards.

“Hefter!” a pony shouted in alarm as the massive abomination closed in on the fight, crushing and throwing aside its smaller kin in its urge to reach the column.

When it reached the column it swung its fists in a wide arc. Ponies and Anthroponies alike were thrown into the air by the Hefter’s powerful strikes. With a single blow the entire battle descended into anarchy. The line was broken apart, discipline breaking down as the attacking Antroponies tore into the fragmented formation.

Royal Duty was swept up in the chaos. Panicking slightly, he drew the blade he had kept since he took it from the traitor Guardspony he had fought back at the Midnight Castle. Prince Blueblood’s guards tried to rally around their leader but several were torn from the loose circle they had formed by their attackers. The only thing that saved them from being overrun was the fact that the chaotic melee was just as detrimental to the Anthroponies as it was for the Midnight Guard.

In an instant Royal Duty went from the centre of the defensive circle to the edge when the guardspony in front of him had half of her face sheared off by a horse-headed beastman. Panicking Royal Duty lowered his head and thrust forward. He felt the Anthropony’s blade just miss his head, clipping the tip of his left ear instead of cutting into his skull. Without pausing to think about his near miss with death he rammed his horn into the monster’s crotch. With a squeal of pain the creature bent over double and in that instant Royal Duty span on his forehooves and bucked as hard as he possibly could. His best simply caused the monster to fall to the ground but that allowed Royal Duty to turn back to face the beast, rear up and bring his steel shod forehooves down on the creature's head. It took several tries before he had killed his attacker and several more before he realised it. When he finally realised he had slain his opponent he found that the defensive circle was around him once again and that the prince was shouting orders to everypony around him.

“Bring our formations back together,” Prince Blueblood yelled. “Make sure they don’t get a chance to break us up again. Make sure you don’t present an opening to the enemy, and for Pony God’s sake make sure they don’t get into the baggage train. If they take our supplies we are all dead!" He span around to two Thestrals beside him that were not currently engaged in fighting. “You two distract that abomination in the centre,” he said pointing at the Hefter whose fists were coated in blood but continued to swing at everything around it. “Try to get it away from us and we can rejoin with the larger group.”

The two Thestrals nodded and jumped into the air. They immediately made their way to the Hefter, dodging its clumsy swings as they moved to circle around its small, apeish head. With barely a glance at one another the two trained Guards swept in simultaneously. Thin, flexible and razor sharp blades that had been attached to the front of their wings cut into the Hefter’s shoulders as they flew by. The beast roared and tried to reach for them but they quickly moved out of its range before swinging around and slashing at its head.

The Hefter’s attention now firmly set on them, the Thestrals moved away from the centre of the path, the Hefter following after them in a blind rage.

“Now!” Prince Blueblood shouted. “We have to regroup with the centre. Everypony must stick together. We can’t afford to be broken up like that again. Stay close and keep you blades pointing out at all times.” With the enormous Anthropony abomination now occupied the Prince’s entourage scrambled over the relatively clear area that had now been made. They galloped for the largest group of Guardsponies left on the path, who had formed a rough circle around the baggage train and were now surrounded by a baying mass of twisted monsters. In front of them lay dozens of pony bodies, the remains of those who had bore the brunt of the Hefter’s charge and suffered the most in the ensuing anarchy.

Royal Duty felt the impact of flesh and metal as his group smashed into the rear of a knot of Anthropony warriors.

The first Anthroponies to receive the full brunt of the charge were skewered on the blades of the Guardsponies. They were quickly pushed aside and trampled but the group was large and every remaining attacker was a strong and savage warrior. The charge’s momentum faltered quickly in the face of so many larger and stronger opponents and quickly descended into another melee. Enraged at being assaulted from behind the rearmost of the surviving monsters spun around and brought their weapons to bear against the Midnight Guard.

Royal Duty flinched as the Thestral that had stood in front of him was cut down by a gigantic abomination that pulped the pony’s skull, helmet and all, with a misshapen club.

Its immediate foe now dispatched the vile Anthropony turned its attention to Royal Duty. Now able to look at it more closely, Royal Duty was both repulsed and terrified by the creature that stood in front of him.

The creature stood upright on hair covered legs that bent in a similar fashion to pony hindlegs. However its feet were very broad, not unlike a humans, and ended in a single broad unbroken sheath of bone that looked like a pony’s hoof that had been pushed to the front of the alien appendage and then overgrown by flesh. It’s body was a thick slab of muscle that somehow appeared both powerful and emaciated at the same time. One arm ended in a pony’s hoof whilst the other held the Anthropony’s weapon. It took barely an instant for Royal Duty to suddenly realise that the monster’s other arm was it’s weapon. What had probably been a hoof had been broken and twisted into a new form. It split at the start, as if trying to branch off into the fingers that it had once possessed years ago. However now it was a mangled lump of bone that jutted out in various directions from a thick knot of that was attached to the wrist. It waved its gruesome appendage around in wild arcs, the blood and gore of its previous victims flying everywhere with every swing.

However it was the foul beast’s face that drew Royal Duty’s eyes. The right side of it’s face had a pony’s muzzle but this ended in the middle. The left side was stretched back, like something had tried to pull it halfway around its head. It’s lips were pulled back and up by the strain of whatever had misshapen them, leaving a half-rictus grin permanently plastered on. It’s left eye was also pulled across it’s face until it almost reached its ear. Despite being so horribly misshapen the creature could still blink the oversized orb.

The moment it’s horrible eyes fell on Royal Duty, an expression of unrelenting hate grew on the nightmarish beast’s face. Royal Duty lifted his heavy blade as the Anthropony swung his club-arm at him, barely catching it in time. The thick bone of the warped appendage was too dense for the sword to cut through but the beast recoiled in pain as the sword dug into the club. Royal Duty tried to swing his sword around again to finish his opponent off before he could recover but a Guardspony that had been fighting a little bit to his left knocked into him, distracting him and allowing the Anthropony to recover.

All Royal Duty saw when he turned back away from the pony and towards his momentarily forgotten foe was the club-arm swinging towards him. It impacted in his side, breaking several ribs, knocking the wind out of him and throwing him several feet, out of the melee and into one of the open parts of the clearing.

Royal Duty’s vision swam as he struggled to orient himself. His sides screamed with pain and his breath was laboured. The pain was almost too much for him but he pulled himself to his hooves, slowly and torturously righting himself. Luckily his sword was close by, having not fallen out of his faltering telekinetic grip until he had hit the forest floor. He regained control of the blade just in time to meet the furious charge of the Anthropony that had sent him flying.

The blade impacted with the club-arm just in time to prevent it caving in his skull. This time, however, it lodged in the bony appendage and, with a wild scream of pain and fury, the Anthropony ripped it out of Royal Duty’s grip. The sword was immediately dislodged from the Anthropony’s arm and sent flying across the clearing towards the fight where the Midnight Guard were finishing off the last of their Anthropony assailants.

Emboldened by the fact that it had just disarmed it’s opponent, the enraged abomination raised it’s club-arm to strike at Royal Duty once again. Suddenly it realed forward when a spear was rammed into it’s side by a Pegasus Guard dressed in the Prince’s colours. Unfortunately this did little more than cause the monster to stagger and he immediately rounded on the Pegasus who failed to fly out of reach. The Anthropony’s arm clipped the Pegasus’ head and sent it crashing down into the groud. The Anthropony quickly lumbered over to the downed Pegasus. A cruel grin on it’s swollen and deformed face, the beast raised one of it’s grotesque feet and brought it down on the Pegasus’ skull, pulping it with several mighty stomps.

In that time Royal Duty took the opportunity to prepare a spell he knew would destroy the Anthropony. Building up the necessary power he quickly recited the incantation both in his head and under his breath, constantly keeping his eye on the Anthropony as he watched it finish off the unfortunate Pegasus that had come to his aid.

A small pale blue sphere built up on the tip of his horn. By the time the Pegasus Guardpony had been killed the sphere was the size of an apple. Royal Duty decided the spell was sufficiently developed just in time for the Anthropony to round on him again and lift it’s club-arm for another strike.

With a shout of exertion Royal Duty released the spell and watched as it impacted with the Anthropony’s chest. The ball burst, splattering pale blue liquid over the beast’s broad muscles. At first it did little more than cause the mighty beast to pause in confusion but barely a second later the spell’s effects began to take hold.

The Anthropony’s chest immediately began to decay, the skin withering and muscles atrophying in a fraction of a second. The liquid then began to spread, crawling over the Anthropony’s body, coating it’s stomach, arms and groin before moving up his neck and legs. The Anthropony tried to roar and scream but only a withering gasp escaped as his lungs and throat shrivelled and his chest collapsed in on itself. Soon the paper dry skin began to flake away, revealing desiccated flesh and black, dust dry blood. The Anthropony’s deformed eyes dried up and his grotesque lips fell off as the liquid entropy finally finished covering the beast’s entire body.

Finally the monster’s legs gave out and the dried up husk of the Anthropony fell to the floor, shattering into dusty fragments upon impact.

When the Anthropony finally fell to the floor Royal Duty let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Taking several deep gulps of air, he tried to ignore the burning pain of his broken ribs.

A roar of anger and pain finally alerted Royal Duty to the battle that was still going on around him. Looking to his right, in the direction of the roar, he saw the enormous Hefter finally collapse, bleeding from a dozen cuts and gushing blood from several massive gashes on his throat and wrists. One of the Thestrals that had been fighting it was clutched in the Hefter’s left hand, her middle crushed by the beast’s death grip.

Royal Duty quickly snapped his gaze back towards the column. What he saw made his heart leap with relief. The column was reunited and was finishing off the remaining Anthroponies, the few surviving monsters turning and running further up the road. The Prince was at the centre of it all, a sword in his magical grip and blood on his blade, armour and horn. Royal Duty followed the fleeing mutants as they ran up the road they had been following and what he saw made him pause.

A new group of Anthroponies, each as grotesque and deformed as the monsters they had just fought, was gathered in a cluster a few metres along the road. whilst the band of heavily armed and disgusting beasts would have been enough to worry Royal Duty it was the bizarre entity that floated above them that both grabbed his attention and made a ripple of fear run up his spine.

A purple Earth Pony lazily hovered above the group, her tongue hanging out, a silly grin plastered on her face and a cutie mark in the shape of a large screw and a baseball bat on her flank. She looked right at him, her corkscrew eyes burying deep into his soul, and let out a giggle.

***

Screwball was so excited. Whilst she was upset to leave her sisters behind, her mummy and daddy had told her that she had her own special parties to attend, games to play and new friends to meet, and if there was anything Screwball loved it was parties, games and new friends. Apparently her sisters were being given their own parties as well, but daddy had assured her that they would all meet up again and have the time of their lives.

Daddy was so much fun, he played games with her, introduced her to all of his friends and told her about the world and all the fun things that awaited her. Mummy, on the other hand, was rather silly. She kept numbering them because, unlike daddy, she always seemed to mix her and her sisters up. Silly mummy. However, Screwball never held it against her mummy and was just as happy to play with her and listen to her stories.

Her Anthropony friends had been leading her on the longest game of follow the leader ever. Of course her friends had to walk like most people did but Screwball had the advantage of her magic beanie. It’s great power, which was to be used for games and mischief, or so daddy had told her excitedly when he gave it to her, allowed her to fly through the air like a butterfly. They had been going for days, stopping only when they felt too hungry or sleepy to keep playing. Now she probably would have been bored had she alone played it - as she sometimes had when there was nothing else to do - but her friends just never stopped.

Unfortunately the game had been the same for days now and she had started to get a bit bored by this point. It was only a few minutes ago, when she and her friends had first heard loud noises, that she had started to to grow excited. It sounded there were new people, new friends to meet and they must be playing some kind of fun game or having a party because why else would so many people be so loud?

Her friends had begun to run by that point, still following the leader as they went and Screwball had followed them, flying as fast as her beanie let her.

What she saw when she left the confines of the trees made her heart leap. There were dozens of her friends and hundreds of new people - or ponies she realised when she took a closer look - running around playing tag. They chased after one another, sometimes in groups, desperate to tag the other person and when the loser was tagged they fell to the floor only for another tagger to show up and chase the first group of taggers away.

The moment they saw her appear in the clearing her friends ran towards. Screwball let out a happy cry of joy as they all clustered around her to give her a big group hug. She was more than happy to oblige them and soon the purple flying Earth Pony was flitting back and forth, hugging every friendly Anthropony she could reach.

It was then that she noticed one of the ponies running towards her. The pony was a blue coated mare in funny metal clothing that was spiky, like a party costume. Screwballs face lit up in a giddy grin as she realised the mare must have wanted her to join in the game of tag.

Screwball hovered out of the group hug with her Anthropony friends as fast as she could float and headed in the direction of the mare. The mare unfolded a pair of leathery bat wings and jumped at her, her hooves outstretched. Ready for the mare Screwball pulled to the side, avoiding the tackle. Screwball had always been good at these games and wouldn’t lose that easily. Spinning around she lunged at the pony, her own hooves stretched outwards. She collided with the mare, wrapping her in a strong bear-hug.

“Tag! You’re it,” Screwball said, and then she burst.

***

Royal Duty was thrown onto his back, the breath knocked out of his body. His broken ribs screamed with pain as the force caused them to grind together and press against his fragile organs. He would have panicked at the prospect of fatal internal damage but he was too distracted by the explosion that had just engulfed a good portion of the clearing.

He had forgotten about the battle the moment he saw the bizarre floating mare, especially when she started enthusiastically hugging the grotesque monstrosities that clustered around her.

He remembered seeing one of the prince’s own Thestral guards break off to engage the group, other ponies following her as they rushed to finish off the Anthropony force. The flying Earth Pony had then rushed towards her, dodged the Thestral’s spear and wrapped her in a hug.

He had managed to hear the words “tag, you’re it,” and then the clearing had exploded.

An immense purple fireball had immediately burst out from inside the bizarre Earth Pony, engulfing herself, the Thestral, all of the ponies that followed her, and every one of the surviving Anthroponies in a fiery conflagration of off-colour pink and purple flames, confetti and cake icing. The explosion had blossomed out across much of the clearing, throwing everypony it hadn’t consumed down onto the ground, upturning wagons, knocking Pegasi and Thestrals out of the air and flinging those who had been too close high into the air.

The fireball eventually dissipated with a whizzing pop and a final rush of hot air. The centre of the blast was a smoking crater rimmed by molten syrup whilst the edges of the were covered in more familiar burn marks as well as the remnants of whoever had been unfortunate enough to be caught by the flames.

Royal Duty looked around as he propped himself up. His entire body ached, except for the parts where his injuries were worse. The feeling of his wounds, both internal and external, sent lances of excruciating pain throughout the rest of his body. His vision swam and his breath became laboured even as he looked around to what had become of his comrades. He saw that most of the column had fortunately been far enough from the blast to not be caught in it. The last of the Anthroponies had not been so lucky as they had clustered around the explosive pony before her detonation.

For a moment he felt confused. He’d heard of the Resistance rigging suicidal or fanatical ponie with their explosives and then sending them to the enemy as living bombs but he had never heard of Anthroponies hiring them. What’s more the purple Earth Pony had worn no visible bombs or means of detonating them and the blast had been unexpectedly weird.

Groans and mutters broke out throughout the column as the other ponies pulled themselves back upright. Officers that weren’t injured were issuing orders to reorganise the column. The injured were being gathered and seen to by whatever ponies knew any form of medical procedure. The cargo of supply wagons were also relocated to free up space for those amongst the wounded who could not walk. Royal Duty even let out a breath when he saw the prince walk forward, his mane and coat dirty and dishevelled and his armour a little dusty, but otherwise, fine.

“Oi! We got another one!" a voice boomed right over Royal Duty’s head. A team of ponies were rushing over to him with a stretcher. They scooped him into it a little roughly and carried him over to the area of the clearing that the wounded were being prepared on.

It would take another half-hour before the column started moving again and Royal Duty realised in that time that he would probably be spending quite a while on the wagon.

***

Unknown area, remains of Great Britain. March 12th. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050 human calendar).

He ducked and ran, dodging through the trees as he was chased by the shadowy figures. Though he was shorter than them, he was also leaner and stronger. His clothes - battered and hard wearing trousers and boots, a thin but warm jumper and a warm woolen coat - sufficed, but even they could barely keep the unnatural cold from reaching him.

He didn’t know what the things chasing him were, but he knew they killed. Five years ago, his mother had died to one. Two years before that, so had his father. Now he was alone - and he had survived through speed and skill… and not a small amount of luck.

He dodged behind a tree, eyes wide and trying to master the fear that threatened to clog his breathing.

"Alright," he murmured to himself, trying to calm himself. Fear was natural, but it was detrimental to one’s ability to think rationally, and thinking rationally was what he needed to do.

He could no longer feel the icy cold that always followed the creatures and a quick glance revealed that his surroundings were not beginning to coat with frost and ice. He couldn’t hear anything - not the soft whispering of the ghostly figures, not the cracking of the ground beneath their feet. That was something at least.

He began moving off slowly, hoping that he would be fortunate enough not to encounter any more of those things. A quick examination of his surroundings revealed that the forest had no particular defining features - nothing to separate it from anywhere else.

No… that was a lie. There was something… an odd light, further in the trees. Warily, he began moving towards it: odd lights usually meant old technology that was still running, which might mean a brief stint of heat and light. Or it might mean more of the ponies - they were usually easy to kill if you surprised them, and the meat, though it tasted vile, was still meat.

He dodged through the trees quickly, his movements swift and deft. Many years he had been at this, and many more were likely to come.

Then he saw it.

It was a stone, not like any stone he had ever seen. It was shining with some kind of an inner light, the likes of which he had never seen. It looked almost as though it had grown instead of merely being there, as though it had forced its way through the ground like a tree.

Impossibly, he felt an almost irresistible pull from the stone - looking around to make sure there were no dangers, no monsters, no ponies, and none of the impossible… things that had been chasing him around. He pulled off the thin, threadbare glove that covered his right hand, and then slowly reached out to the stone…

There was a flash of light, brighter than the sun, and he moved the hand to cover his eyes. When the light receded, he was no longer in the forest. Instead, he was in a cave of some sort, and his eyes widened as he realised that the entire cave seemed to be composed of the same strange stone.

“Oh…” he said, eyes widening. And then a man stepped forward from the shadows.

The man wore a long brown hooded robe. His head was shaven, and he had a twinkle in his bright blue eyes. A grin found it’s way onto a strange, not-old but not-young face, and a skeletal hand reached out in a gesture the boy’s father had taught him was one of greeting - a “hand shake”.

“You must be Christopher,” the man said in a strange, reedy voice, full of mirth. It felt strange hearing the name again. “My name is Merlin. I’m glad you’re here.”

“W… why am I here?” Christopher asked.

“That,” this ‘Merlin’ said, not lowering his hand, “is a long story. Come with me, and I’ll explain.”

Looking at the hand for a moment, full of uncertainty, Christopher considered the offer, but then he realised that - whether this being was a threat or not - he didn’t have any alternative: there was no exit to this place that he could see, and he didn’t even know by what means he had come here.

Slowly, he reached out hand and grasped Merlin’s.

***

Chapter Five: Wheels In Motion

Unknown area, Burmare. March 12th. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050 human calendar).

True Path stood on a rocky promontory that lay over the jungle paths her armies were marching through.

Her scouts had discovered the trail that led up to it and reported it to her due to the possibility it may have allowed an enemy force to stage an ambush. After they found it simply led up to the rock that she now stood upon they had disregarded it.

She, however, had wanted to visit it. She knew she wasn’t supposed to act in this manner but she couldn’t deny herself the minor pleasure of standing over her troops and watching as they filed by.

Standing over her army True Path swelled with pride. Here was the might of the proletariat, the Ponies Liberation Army, righteous iron fist of the workers and the oppressed, marching forth to topple the tyranny and anarchy around them. She continued to stand over her forces, watching as the serried ranks of Ponies Guard marched past her. The thin path had forced the massive army to thin its ranks and spread itself out which meant the column now snaked back through the mountain path for many miles. A few of the marching ponies stole glances in her direction but immediately averted their gaze when they noticed she was watching them.

True Path stood on her impromptu plinth for another minute before turning around. She looked back at her guard detail. Most of them had the same unthinking expression but there were a few who had dropped the mask of stoicism and showed mild concern, whether for her safety or her ideological integrity, she didn’t know.

“We’re heading back to the column,” True Path declared with authority. She pushed past her guards and headed back to the path they had taken to the rock.

The trip back to the main column was as uneventful as the journey to the impromptu plinth she had just left. Her guards did as they were supposed to and remained silent, stoic and vigilant. True Path knew she shouldn’t be concerned but she often felt their eyes boring into her and the weight of their constant glares terrified her in a way she couldn’t really describe.

It didn’t take that long for her to make it back to the long line of marching ponies. Citizen’s Guard, the mainstay of the glorious Ponies Liberation Army steadily tramped past her, their dull grey uniforms hidden under the sparse leather padding and scale mail armour that protected them. Sturdy spears were strapped to their sides, angled upwards in parade position in order to prevent injury. Others carried banners depicting the plain red flag adorned with a black hammer and lightning bolt that was the Ponies State flag.

True Path watched the waving spearheads that bobbed and swayed like grass in the wind. She had grown up around such sights, and even to this day she found the sight of the Ponies State’s war-machine eerily fascinating. The stoicism, the discipline and the zeal that everypony in uniform possessed was something she thought should be both admired and emulated.

A few steps behind the ranked ponies came an enormous contraption. It was vaguely shaped like a pony but made largely out of metal. Gears and gyros whirred and clicked as they ground together with every movement the immense beast made. At the centre of the mechanical monstrosity was a series of iron pads and bands, overlapping the machinery that held the iron beast together. Inside the sphere of metal, visible through the slits purposefully left between the metal sheets, was part of a pony. It’s limbs had been removed, its hair had been shaved off all over its body and various pipes and tubes fed into every orifice but the poor soul’s eyes. What’s more great ports had been carved into its body, ports that, whilst covered by metal and thick glass, revealed the pony’s heavily altered internal organs to the world.

This was a Workhorse, one of the miraculous creations of the Ponies State and a fitting punishment for minor dissidents.

True Path stared into the glassy, unresponsive eyes of the Helping Horse as it slowly thundered down the jungle path. She knew and supported the measures that went into creating such a wretched beast but, all the same, she couldn’t help but feel a bit of revulsion at the sight of the abomination at the heart of the mighty working engine.

Barely a few paces behind the Workhorse came the various forms of Enhanced Enforcers, a veritable parade of freaks and monsters, ponies who had given their bodies to the state in a way that no ordinary pony could. The alchemical concoctions that had given the formerly simple ponies mastery over immense powers were barely being contained by their heavily altered bodies.

The Firestarters, proud symbols of the revolution, those who bathed the icons of oppression in righteous flame, seemed to be on the verge of exploding. The massive, fully-enclosing iron boilers suits they wore were constantly venting steam and flame and no few times they had been forced to stop to set a part of the jungle alight in order to burn off excess heat.

A unit of such ponies clanked past her, their footfalls loud even amongst the cacophony of the moving army.

“Comrade,” a voice began behind her. True Path turned around to see one of her guards was addressing her.

“Yes,” she absently replied, still eyeing the procession of Enhanced Enforcers climbing the rise behind them.

“Not that I would presume to give you orders over your own self Comrade but we really must rejoin the column. The officers would surely be expecting new orders soon.” The guard finished his suggestion with a slightly sheepish expression as he awkwardly phrased his request to her.

True Path mulled over his words before nodding slightly.

“Very well Comrade. Come we should be able to reach the head of the column with ease.” With that she turned and marched along the edge of the marching army, skirting their formations as she made her way to the front, her guards warily following behind her.

***

Colton, Ponland. March 13th. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050 human calendar)

Royal Duty winced as his long set but only recently healed bones ground together on his side. As a member of the prince’s entourage he had been declared a priority recipient of medical attention. By this point his bones merely ached slightly and his head no longer felt light and dizzy.

The column had sustained serious losses, not only due to the Anthropony ambush but also the aftermath where several ponies had been triaged due to untreatable wounds. Whatsmore the loss of their scouts, presumably to the Anthroponies, had left what remained of the column especially vulnerable. This meant any available ponies that had military experience and were not immediately needed to service the column had been drafted for scouting duty. Royal Duty had soon found himself on that very list of available ponies.

Of course he hadn’t been posted to any sensitive reconnaissance missions as he had absolutely no experience in serious scouting or stealth. However he and his small unit of Midnight Guard had found themselves passing by an Imperial settlement whilst doing their rounds.

Now he was on the ground, belly scraping the forest floor as he and his comrades peered over the edge of a rise and into the clearing where the settlement was nestled.

He didn’t know its name but it was a sizable town, surrounded by a sturdy wooden palisade with several towers. The houses were all built in the usual rural Equestrian style but whoever had organised the town’s construction had the foresight to build it so that all of the town’s buildings rose in height as they approached the town centre. This was a perfect layout to provide safe firing positions for Unicorns and other ranged defenders.

Of course the town was less interesting than what was marching into it.

Royal Duty and his scouting party had spotted the Royal Guard force approaching the town about ten minutes after they had reached their current position. They had stayed to ascertain the enemy’s numbers and whether they would be a threat to the column.

It was a little difficult to guess the number of ponies from so far away but Twirlie, a young Earth Pony mare with surprisingly good eyesight had reported close to three hundred Guardsponies so far. What’s more they had a couple of Magecannon crews and even a battery of Arcguns. Royal Duty had swallowed audibly at the thought of the immense magic cannon batteries that had become infamous for their varieties of alchemically charged shots and ability to devastate nearly any foe with a single volley. If the Royal Guard were deploying those kinds of weapons here then that meant they were planning something serious.

“We’ve got something else coming,” Twirlie whispered from Royal Duty’s left.

“What?” Royal Duty hissed back.

“Y’see the back of that column there?” Twirlie pointed to where another regiment of Guardsponies were exiting the thick woods.

“Yeah,” Royal Duty replied.

“Something’s disturbing the trees behind them,” Twirlie whispered.

Sure enough the trees the column was marching out of were shaking, dislodging birds and setting them to flight.

“Whatever it is,” she continued, “it’s big.”

The group continued to watch in silence, seeing several hundred more Guardsponies march out of the trees and into the town, the disturbance behind them creeping closer as they arrived. Finally the trees parted, forced outwards as the massive object that had been following the Guards was revealed.

“Well buck me,” Twirlie whispered to herself.

It was an immense tower. It hovered just above the ground, propelled by glowing runes carved into the base of the structure. the tower was covered in alcoves, small shrines and galleries, balconies ran along the sides, spiralling up to the crown of the tower. Engravings of Solamina were everywhere as were facial busts, and small statues, all of them depicting her as a regal figure of judgment and power. At the top was a much larger statue of her seating in repose, a cold expression on the statue’s face. The wings were folded but the magical aura surrounding it made it imposing and intimidating enough, being attached to the massive hovering edifice enhanced that.

Several ponies were climbing up and down it whilst an armoured Unicorn dressed in the red and gold livery of the Solaminan Church sat in a central balcony at the ‘front’ of the tower directed it with his magic. A great cheer broke out in the town as the local ponies witnessed the arrival of the tower.

“A Solar Altar,” Royal Duty said to himself, running his hoof over his forehead in distress. The mere mention of such a weapon usually gave members of the Rebellion pause, seeing it was enough to almost make him give up. The power of the Altars affected those who saw it. The devout found their wounds healed and their resolve strengthened whilst its enemies were struck with fear and doubt.

“If the Church is sending those things out then we’re really in for it,” another pony in the group said.

“Come on,” Royal Duty said, “we’ve seen enough. We need to report this. This town is off limits no matter what happens. I don’t care if we have to trek south for miles to get around it we’re not getting an inch closer than we already are.”

“Yes sir,” the rest of the group replied and they all picked themselves up and turned their backs on the settlement.

***

Unknown area, Germareny. March 13th. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050 human calendar).

Magnus took several deep, practiced breaths as he sat in the clearing he had arranged to meet the rest of his cohorts in.

It had taken several days for the messages to be sent out and received and every second wasted had made him restless. Of course there was little he could do about it. Every one of his agents and close confidants had been spread throughout the prince’s domain and gathering them together again was a chore that had to be done.

“You’re early,” he suddenly said.

A light chuckle entered the clearing from behind him.

“You know,” a voice followed shortly afterwards, “you really have to tell me how you do that.”

A charcoal black Pegasus with a dark green mane and tail stepped from behind Magnus. He was wearing black filigreed armour decorated with the purple trimming and batwing motifs of the Midnight Guard. His helmet was strapped to the left side of his barding and there was a sword strapped to the right.

“I don’t think you would be capable of figuring it out even if I told you,” Magnus replied with a straight face.

“Ouch,” the Pegasus said in response, a smirk on his face.

“You’re the first,” Magnus stated. “Nice of you to join me so soon Hot Shot.”

Hot Shot’s smirk grew and he pulled his head back, striking a mocking version of a regal pose.

“Oh I merely aim to please,” he said, placing a hoof on his barrel.

“And I am pleased with your punctuality,” Magnus replied before returning to a look of contemplation.

Hot Shot deflated slightly as he realised he wasn’t going to get much of a conversation out of his comrade this time. Seating himself on a rock a few metres away from Magnus he prepared for a session of contemplative self-reflection and boredom. It was a shame really, once Magnus got going he could be a delight to be with, morbid, but a delight for those who shared his predilections.

The two sat in silence, Magnus staring into the distance whilst Hot Shot played with his hooves to entertain himself.

“Someone else is approaching,” Magnus suddenly stated, stirring from his silent state.

Hot Shot wasn’t surprised by what Magnus said, having known his uncanny ability to know when people were coming to him, at least when he wanted them to. He was much more surprised at the fact that Magnus had actually spoken.

What also surprised him was the black-clad Earth Pony mare that had suddenly materialised in the clearing with them. Hot Shot gave a cry of shock and dismay at the figure who had just materialised - right next to him no less - and fell off of the rock he had just been seated on.

“Nice of you to join us Black Shroud,” Magnus greeted the mare, blinking in surprise despite himself. Even when he knew she would be arriving she had managed to sneak up on him.

Black Shroud, an Earth Pony with a grey coat and ashen mane, all wrapped in several tight fitting layers of dark cloth and specially made fibre, nodded in return.

“A pleasure,” she said in a deceptively demure tone before gracefully sitting down on the rock Hot Shot had just vacated and taking out a hidden knife to inspect.

The group once again returned to silence, Magnus staring into the opposite end of the clearing, Black Shroud contemplating one of her secreted weapons and Hot Shot glancing back and forth for any possibility of a conversation.

“Ah, for Luna’s sake I’m gonna go crazy if I have to sit here any longer!” Hot Shot shouted, flinging his forelegs into the air in frustration.

“It’s only been five minutes since Black Shroud joined us,” Magnus said, taking his eyes off of the tree mould he had been trying to bore a hole into with his stare. “Besides, Commander Doo has yet to arrive.”

“Dinky’s coming?” Hot Shot asked, mildly surprised, “I didn’t think she’d ever want to leave the front.”

“She didn’t,”Magnus stated, “but the prince authorised me to requisition whatever and whomever I needed and she was first on my list of required personnel.”

“I can’t imagine she’d be happy with that,” Black Shroud quietly said, almost startling Hot Shot. She had remained quiet since she had arrived and the sound of her voice still unsettled the Pegasus somewhat.

“No she wouldn’t,” Magnus agreed, a barely noticeable smile on his face.

The group returned to their silence once again, none of the ponies in the clearing really looking at one another anymore.

Once again Magnus raised his head and took his eyes away from the opposite end of the clearing. Looking at the other ponies with him he stated, “She’s here.”

A second later a Unicorn mare entered the clearing. She had a dim purple coat and a blonde mane and tail. She wore Midnight Guard armour, decorated with the insignia of the officer elite. What was most striking about her, however, was the massive jagged scar that ran down the left half of her face. Her left eye was gone, ruptured by whatever strike had given her the scar, and was covered by a ragged eyepatch.

She nodded at the ponies in the clearing when she realised they had noticed her.

“Commander Dinky,” Hot Shot exclaimed excitedly, “you’ve finally made it. How’ya doing?”

The glum Unicorn mare gave a small smile in response. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Ah, Commander,” Magnus said, turning to face Dinky, “I’m so glad you could join us. It appears you are the last of us to arrive. With you here we can finally begin our work.”

He stood up and waved his hoof in the direction of another path that lay on the other end of the clearing.

“Now I have gathered all of you here for a special mission, ordered by his highness himself,” Magnus addressed the other ponies, speaking with a dour seriousness.

“Understood, sir,” every other pony in the clearing responded. An air of professionalism descended on the group, stern expressions growing on their faces.

“Very good,” Magnus replied to them, looking them in their faces, “I will inform you of the details of our mission when we return to Castle Midnight.”

With that he set off down the other path.

“Yes sir,” the others said. They in turn followed after the dark Unicorn, ready to engage in whatever activities the Rebellion would now require of them.

***

Canterlot. March 13th. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050 human calendar)

The Canterlot Basilica was one of the most imposing and glorious sights in the Empire. Unlike the city proper which was primarily based on the Canterhorn Plateau, the Basilica clung to the mountain’s side, the foundation built deep into the rock. Like Canterlot itself the Basilica was built of pure white marble and capped by beautifully crafted golden and purple roofs and domes. The massive structure was connected to the capital by a mile long road that curved around the mountain and attached itself to the equally massive city.

Even though she had seen the complex before and even had a hoof in building it, Twilight couldn’t deny that she found the sight of the Basilica’s huge domed chambers and high towers impressive.

Walking along the ramp she admired the many statues of sanctified ponies who had performed some great task for Solamina and had thus been immortalised in stone. They were all placed at regular intervals, often to help serve as a decorative support for the lamps that lined the road.

She had almost paused at the beginning of the ramp when she saw the massive stone form of Shining Armor standing proudly over the gate. The simple sight of a carved image of his face brought back memories and reminded her of how much she had lost in the last few years. Behind him were other heroes of the Empire, some living, but mostly dead. Trying to maintain a passive expression, Twilight studied each one of them as she passed by, wondering if she would become one of these statues when she finally died.

There were hundreds of other ponies walking beside her. Aside from her own Archmagi detail there were also Church agents and countless pilgrims walking back and forth, some going into the Basilica, some coming out of it.

Finally she reached the end of the several mile long ramp and turned her attention back to the building in front of her.

A brigade of False Alicorns stood at the central gate. The regal ponies were dressed in filigreed golden armour decorated with the sun symbol of the Empire and litanies of the faith. They all bore the kind of stoic expressionless look that the Royal Guard were trained to wear and regarded Twilight and her entourage with practised indifference.

Twilight walked past them, never once looking their way. In the early days of the False God Project she had personally overseen every single conversion that had transformed brave pony volunteers into the resplendent beings that now served as the shock troops of the Empire. Now, however, the process was conducted by more specialised personnel, allowing her to return to her studies.

Of course many of the other visitors were not so indifferent. Countless ponies stood to ogle the beatific creatures that stood before them, marvelling at their poise and stoicism. They were Solamina’s adopted children and to be in their presence was to be that little bit closer to Her.

The inside of the Basilica was no less impressive or extravagant than it’s opulent exterior. Deep red painted walls rose to the beautifully carved vaulted ceilings. frescos and murals depicting Solamina and her countless great and historic acts as Empress were everywhere as were statues of the Empress and her sanctified followers.

Twilight forced her way through the crowds of pilgrims, the other ponies moving out of her way the moment they recognised her. This made the harrowing journey through the maze-like complex much quicker and easier. Through it all Twilight kept a look of quiet professionalism, politely acknowledging the other ponies but not truly engaging or recognizing them.

Her journey through the Basilica was a long and trying one as she wandered through countless passages, every square inch of the structure idolizing Solamina in some fashion. Red and gold was everywhere as if the Church were trying to monopolise the two colours for their own purposes. It almost appeared tasteless and the ostentatiousness of the Church put off the somewhat more practical mare.

Finally she came to a great chamber. The room was a quarter of a mile in diameter and dominated by a golden statue of Solamina that wouldn’t have looked out of place on an Imperial Super-Zeppelin. Around it were circular rows of pews that rose up from the center of the room in tiers until they reached the elevated wings. At each seat was a robed pony, official supplicants sending pure prayers to their goddess.

Twilight’s eyes swept the room as she sought out one specific pony from amongst the crowd.

Not that far in front of her, standing in the lowest row of pews, right in front of the statue of Solamina, was a brown Pegasus with a dirty green mane and tail. He was large for his kind, forgoing the lean muscular builds that were more common amongst Pegasi for a bulkier muscle mass that was more likely to be found in the Earth Pony population. His body was covered by an ornate saddle of red and gold that had a red caparison attached under it. Since blessed Sol Invictus’ death this pony had been the Supreme Patriarch of the Solaminan Church, a position of supreme importance that only the most pious and responsible of ponies were permitted to fill.

Twilight walked down the avenue between the pews until she was right behind the pony. “

"Father Eagle Eye,” she said in amiable tone, “I’d like to have a word with you. If it’s not too much trouble right now?”

Twilight might have had mixed feelings about the Church, but she knew she needed to be polite if she wanted to keep the conversation civil.

“Ah, Commander Sparkle,” the Pegasus, Eagle Eye, said as he turned to look at her, “what can I do for you on this blessed day our Empress has provided for us?”

“It is, admittedly, a rather difficult issue," Twilight said as she pulled the proclamation Solamina had given her out of her own robes. “Due to the escalation of conflict in the colonies, Her majesty has expanded the Empire’s military mobilisation. In order to support our war effort she has commanded that the Church deploy the entirety of its own armed forces in cooperation with the Royal Guard.”

Finishing her own practiced proclamation, she handed the scroll to the priest.

Eagle Eye took the scroll in his hoof and opened it, spending several awkward minutes reading the words intently.

“Well everything does appear to be in order," he replied, looking Twilight in the eye. “Thank you, my child. We shall begin preparing our warriors immediately. The enemies of Her majesty and blessed ponykind shall feel the wrath of the faithful.”

He turned away from her and looked over the rest of the chamber. Twilight was, admittedly, surprised that it had been so simple.

“BROTHERS AND SISTERS!” He shouted, his voice echoing throughout the entire room. “HER MAJESTY HAS GIVEN US A MISSION! WE ARE TO MUSTER THE FAITHFUL, TAKE UP OUR WEAPONS AND BRING HER HOLY FIRE TO THE HERETIC AND THE MUTANT!”

In an instant concerned mutterings and shouted proclamations replaced the prayers as ponies scrambled back and forth to carry the news throughout the Basilica.

“Thank you Father,” Twilight said as Eagle Eye turned to regard her once again. “I will be your liaison with the Guard. I will expect regular reports from you and your forces so that I can coordinate them with the Guard’s forces.”

“Very well Commander,” Eagle Eye said, his stance now much straighter, mimicking the Guards stoic poise.

“Excellent,” Twilight replied, happy that everything had gone so smoothly, “thank you again.”

With that she turned around, signaling her Archmagi to follow her as she left the chamber. The Church’s armies would definitely provide the Empire with an edge, she could only hope that they had learned to be more organised and effective than their predecessors, the Equestrian Militia. Now all she had to do was wait for their logistic reports and she could really start organising the war effort.

***

Filleapolis. New Equestria. March 14th. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050 human calendar)

Penelope Hatfield scowled as she looked down at the pony city of Filleapolis. Ever since her lord Discord had announced that they were going to war properly she had been teleported back and forth around the world so that she could observe the war effort. Of course, while the prospect of leading her Anthroponies in battle and actually making a difference was exhilarating, the reality had been a far more harrowing experience. She hadn’t needed to fight in every engagement she witnessed but that wasn’t the problem. It was that fact that she hadn’t been able to stay in one place for anything more than a few hours. Was settling down to sleep for a day or two too much to ask?

Of course none of that mattered now. She was in New Equestria, the former United States of America and one of the more populous Solaminan colonies. Apparently the North American continent, or Amareica as the ponies now insisted on calling it, reminded them of their home country.

A mile in front of her was the vast city of Filleapolis, a thriving and successful settlement, and it was surrounded by thousands of Anthroponies.

A horde of thousands of malformed monsters crowded around the city walls, swinging weapons and limbs, baying for pony blood and screaming in a dozen different languages from around the old, human, world. Dozens of drums were being beaten by insanely enthusiastic Anthroponies who set an energetic beat that riled every creature around them into a frenzy. Ladders had been set up against the walls and those Anthroponies with working limbs were clambering up them. Unicorn spellfire and wall-mounted artillery were shot into the horde, downing Anthroponies with every shot, so massive was the host. Foul, shrieking Harpies and Terra Devils, foul winged monsters, composed of a variety of humanoid and equine body parts, flocked the skies above the city, battling with the Pegasi of the Solaminan Empire.

A swarm of horrifically malformed Twisted, creatures that had been horrible broken and warped by the spells that had changed them into what they were, clustered around a charging Hefter. The massive abomination held a tree trunk in its disproportionately large and ape-like arms, swinging it like a club. The Hefter came up to the reinforced gate and swung the club at it. The wood creaked but failed to buckle. Enraged by the structure’s defiance, the Hefter roared and hammered its club on the door again, this time earning a few cracks in the enchanted wood.

Ponies manning the gate rained magical shots down on the huge beast. The Hefter’s hair and fur ignited as magical flames lit its body on fire. The huge monster roared in pain, dropping its club and ran from the gate in a panic. The Twisted tried to scatter but the press of the rest of the army and their own malformed and vestigial limbs slowed them down. Dozens were crushed or mauled by the Hefter as it rampaged through its former comrades until it finally collapsed from shock and slowly expired.

“Well,” Discord said as he hovered just behind her, his voice somewhat flippant in tone, “looks like that didn’t go so well.”

Penelope shot him another glare, her bat-like wings extending in rage. Discord raised an eyebrow at her display.

“You gonna have a crack it?” he asked, obviously goading her into battle. “I don’t see why you wouldn’t help.”

“Do you think so?” Penelope replied with a sneer, her tone forcibly level.

“Yeah.” Discord said, nudging her pinions with his tail. “Go ahead. Show them what you’ve got.”

Penelope stepped forward, revealing herself to the army. To the twisted, degraded monstrosities that made up her army she was the closest to human. Her body had barely any equine features, with the exception of her elongated, horse-like ears and every one of her limbs was not only identical but properly proportioned. However her features were still off. Her limbs and fingers were too slender and long and her eyes were too large. What’s more her skin still possessed the pinkish tint that she had possessed as a pony.

Whatever spell she had chosen to reverse the ponification had done further changes to her as well. While she had returned to a human form her Unicorn horn had remained jutting from her forehead whilst massive, bat wings had burst out of her back. The entire change had filled her with unfathomable power, making her stronger than any of her kind. However none of this had been able to fix the eternally painful gnawing sensation inside of her very being. To any other creature who saw her, she would have looked like some terrifying demonic monster.

However when the Anthropony horde turned to look at her they cheered and roared in celebration.

A grimace of anger and disgust spread over Penelope’s face as she locked eyes on the gateway. Opening her mouth impossibly wide she let out an inhuman screech and leapt into the air, beating her wings so that she shot high over the rear lines of the army.

Leaping high over the Anthroponies she landed directly in the middle of the host and took off running at the gate. Terrified beasts ducked out of her way as she unrelentingly sprinted for the offending obstacle before her.

The ponies manning the gateway panicked when they finally saw her coming and redirected their fire at her. Magical shots were sent in her direction in hail of magical missiles. Most of them missed but several struck her body. However instead of doing damage they simply slid off of her body, the magical energy steaming into nothing as if the heat of her anger was evaporating it.

Screeching again, Penelope channeled energy into her arms. Her horn lit up as magical power was funneled out of it and down over her arms until it pooled into her hands. By the time she was barely a few metres from the door her hands were glowing with red hot flames. The fire then spread from her hands and back up her arms and onto her body until she was appeared like a living bolt of fire.

“Shoot her!” Penelope heard as she closed in on the gate, sprinting as fast as she could.

She struck the gate with a cataclysmic bang and burst right through it, the overtaxed enchantments on the wood and metal detonating violently. With her magic strengthening her body, she ran through the splintered wood, through the reinforcing barricades and into a large group of panicked Guardsponies, crushing their armour and pulping the flesh underneath with the sheer force of her entrance.

Roars of triumph followed behind her as dozens of angry Anthroponies followed her. Not wasting a second Penelope leapt back into the air, spreading her wings to maintain altitude, and unleashed the final remnants of the fiery energy in her hands. Several Guardsponies exploded from the volatile energy she had struck them with, tearing several more holes in their ruined formation.

Anthroponies flooded into the courtyard beyond the gate and overwhelmed the Solaminan forces sent to stop them. Some ran up the stairways leading to the walls, crashing into the ponies trying to stop the Anthroponies manning ladders and slaughtering them.

Penelope wheeled around and shot back down into the courtyard, crushing another pony beneath her feet as she landed and then laid into the Guardsponies that surrounded her with her powerful fists, crushing bone and clawing through flesh with every strike.

When there were no more opponents running towards her and all she could find were Anthroponies she finally stopped moving and stood still, her back bent as she placed her hands on her thighs and her chest heaving from the previous exertion.

“So?” a familiar flippant voice cackled in her ear. “Feeling better?”

“Fuck you, Lord Discord,” Penelope said wearily as she straightened back up and turned to find the grinning Draconequus floating next to her. He turned to give a more serious appraisal of the carnage around him before turning back to her.

“Now, now dearie,” he said, a frilly bonnet appearing on his head in a flash, “you should really watch your language. What would the children think?”

At his words a group of purple Earth Pony mares lazily floated through the gate, every one of them giggling as they spun and pirhoueted in the air.

Penelope sighed as the Screwballs hovered over to her and gave her a hug, every one of them wrapping their forearms around a different part of her body. She nuzzled the one that had clasped itself onto her chest and cooed at it.

“Well then,” Discord suddenly said enthusiastically, clapping his claws together, “come on kiddies we’ve got a lot of work to do.”

He flew off leisurely. The Screwballs detached themselves from their mother and took off after him, squealing in joy at the possibilities of more fun. Soon enough Penelope was alone with only a few of the more insane Twisted left in the courtyard with her. She took a moment to regard the pitiful creatures as they gnawed on the bodies of the dead.

Penelope sighed yet again and took off, beating her wings so that she could see the section of wall immediately by the shattered gate. Her people were overrunning the closest portions but the Solaminan Guardsponies were rallying. If they lost the gate her forces would be trapped but if she took the walls then her warriors could sack the city that much faster.

Penelope shot towards where the thickest of Guardsponies were clustered, eager to tear them apart. After all, this was merely the start of her new war. A war that would end with Solamina’s head in her claws and her blood decorating her body.

Chapter Six: Getting Information

New Krakhoof, Ponland. March 18th. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050 human calendar)

Prince Blueblood tried to make sure his eye didn’t visibly twitch as he looked over the reports he had been sent. The sudden increase in Solaminan military presence had set him back by several days and the detour had taken them through a particularly wild patch of forest. It had been days since he had been able take a decent bath and despite his better judgment he felt ready to scream at somepony to let out his frustrations.

His own personal hygiene aside, the Empire’s activities alone were almost enough to drive him to pull his mane out.

In front of him were all of his attendants, adjutants, officers and anypony else responsible for the column’s organisation. They filled his tent both with their bodies and their endless bickering. Few of them were able to agree on any decisions by themselves.

“If we don’t find a replacement wheel for the aft wagon we’ll have to abandon it,” one of his various camp followers stated. Breakdowns had become much more common since they had been forced to detour around the increasingly prevalent Imperial presence.

“We don’t have any more replacements with us,” another pony said, “we either abandon it…” Various ponies exploded in anger and indignation at the statement, but the pony continued regardless. “Or we nail the spoke with a simple brace.”

“Yeah that’ll work,” one of the weary adjutants said in a sarcastic tone. “For a few miles - then it’ll break again and be that much weaker the next time we take your advice and patch it up.”

“Well maybe we could try and find some new replacements in Krakhoof,” another pony cautiously suggested, which led to even louder exclamations from several other ponies in the room.

Finally tired of the endless arguments, Blueblood rapped his hoof on the foldable table that lay in front of him. It took nearly a minute of endless tapping before every pony in the tent settled down to regard their prince. Sighing heavily, Blueblood lifted his head to look everypony in the eye.

“I’ve made a decision,” he said simply. “I have been listening to as many of your concerns as possible, and I’ve finally decided what we’ll do about all of… this.” He waved his hand over the various papers that gave a depressive report of their situation. “Our liaison is in the city of Krakhoof,” he began, several ponies giving satisfied smiles at his words whilst others grimaced slightly. “Therefore we will seek our supplies there. However we will be discreet, and our top priority will remain meeting with our contact.”

***

Royal Duty took several deep breaths as the tent erupted into noise once again. None of them were questioning the prince’s decision now. Instead they were discussing the best way to go about obtaining supplies from Krakhoof, how to defend their current encampment and make the most of their existing resources.

He himself had been taking notes, his quill rapidly scratching a rough, shorthand scrawl as he kept track of as many details as possible. He was trying to gather as much information as he possibly could about his peers and superiors, trying to gauge their moods, their motivations, their general dispositions.

“Royal Duty!” The young Unicorn’s head shot up as he heard the prince’s voice cut through the general bustle of the tent. He immediately made his way through the huddling ponies, taking care not to bump or upset any of them until he stood before Prince Blueblood.

“Your highness,” he said with a slightly bow of his head.

“Glad to see you’re attentive,” Prince Blueblood replied as he regarded the young adjutant. He had found the Unicorn to be useful and diligent enough, a decent addition to his entourage and somepony who hadn’t let down Magnus’ recommendation yet.

“Thank you, your highness,” Royal Duty replied nervously, waiting for his prince to finally tell him what he wanted of him.

“To put things simply,” Blueblood began, “I want you to liaise with our contact with the Resistance.”

Royal Duty’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Your highness?” he said questioningly. “Apologies, but what do you mean?”

Blueblood smirked, bemused by his new adjutant’s reaction.

“I mean,” he said, “that I want you to meet with the agent the Resistance has planted in Krakhoof and recruit her.”

He gazed deeply down onto Royal Duty, gauging his reaction. Aware that he was being evaluated, Royal Duty straightened up and fixed a determined look on his face.

“As you command, your highness,” he said with as much confidence as he could muster.

“Excellent,” Blueblood said with a smile, “According to our sources she is based at the Tipping Wagon, a small inn somewhere on Sunshine Street in the eastern residential quarter. You will be looking for a light pink Unicorn with a magenta and teal mane, most likely working as one of the serving mares. She will know who you are by the code phrase ‘It looks like it will be a dark night tonight’. If she replies with ‘Yes. There are likely to be long shadows’ then you will know it is her.”

Royal Duty ran the two phrases over and over in his head, memorising them. “Understood, your highness. I will just go and prepare and then leave with the supply runners.”

***

New Krakhoof. Ponland. March 18th. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050 human calendar)

Krakhoof wasn't exactly a vibrant metropolis when compared to the major cities of the Empire but in Mareope, it was one of the grander settlements. Like most cities on the continent it was surrounded by a sturdy wall that kept out the various threats that had also populated the Mareopean Continent and had several fortified citadels for the ponies to retreat to should an attack take place.

Of course the city inside of the walls was a bit more typical of the Empire. It had the homely form of architecture that many Equestrians were fond of with an imperial touch to it. The slender Canterlotian towers couldn’t be found here and instead were replaced by more practical highrises reminiscent of Manehatten skyscrapers.

Royal Duty tried to keep a low profile. He had shed his uniform and replaced it with a more generic brown cloak and saddlebags requisitioned from some of the camp followers. He had separated from the supply runners just before they had left the shelter of the woods, hanging back whilst the teams of ponies and their small wagons went on ahead.

Having been raised under the gothic shadow of the Midnight Castle and lived within the somewhat morbid city that sheltered at it’s feet, Royal Duty found the brighter aesthetic of Krakhoof to be mildly alien.

As he passed through the gate he tried to maintain a look of innocence, only idly gazing at the guards and defences that watched over the main gate into the city. That wall was nearly four metres thick and the gateway showed they had spared no expense in reinforcing it. Royal Duty noted there were two separate portcullises and a number of murder holes all of which protected the massive enchanted doors that would have barred entrance into Krakhoof itself.

Making his way through the gateway he finally entered the city proper.

Whoever had built Krakhoof had planned it accordingly as a wide avenue immediately led from the gate into the heart of the city. Orienting himself so that he was facing east, Royal Duty tried to find a sign that would help lead him to the eastern sector.

***

Sunshine Street wasn’t exactly that extravagant an avenue. It was only a few metres wide and the poorer quality of the houses and other buildings revealed the class of ponies it was built to cater towards.

Royal Duty casually trotted down the street, trying to remain aware of his surroundings without appearing suspicious. He had seen plenty of guards on patrol but thankfully his disguise was working. It appeared Krakhoof got enough travellers for them to develop a rather loose attitude towards traffic from the countryside.

Whilst the architecture was still rather unfamiliar he easily recognised the sounds and smells of the city. The entire experience was comforting to him, especially after so many days camping in the wilderness.

Turning his attention back to his mission he tried to find the Tipping Wagon. The street seemed to be some kind of visitors sector, with cheap hotels, pubs and travelers inns dotting the area. There were ponies in travelling gear wandering back and forth, checking prices and taking account of their expenses. The entire thing helped him blend in and avoid suspicion.

Eventually he found an inn with a sign that showed a wagon on its side, The Tipping Wagon written underneath in a large yellow font.

Smiling slightly at his discovery, Royal Duty walked up to the inn. He was careful to make sure that he didn’t appear too anxious to get inside. Whilst there were plenty of travellers walking in and out of the building his actions would look very suspicious if he wasn’t careful.

The Tipping Wagon was a rather simple inn. There were plenty of tables and chairs spread around the room with a bar at the other end and a flight of stairs on the right end wall. wanting to blend in, Royal Duty set off to one of the corner tables, taking an empty seat and sitting down to plan his next move.

A young Pegasus mare, little more than a filly, trotted up to him, a tray with several empty pewter cups balanced between her wings.

“D’you want anything?” she asked cheerily.

“Uh, water, thank you,” Royal Duty said carefully, “I’m parched.”

He smiled in what he hoped was a nonchalant and disarming fashion.

“Right y’are,” the mare responded and set off for the bar.

Settling into his seat, he then went through his saddle bag. He had packed some basic supplies, a blanket, a rollable sleeping mat, a few water skins and a large dagger, all traveller’s gear. However sequestered away was a book, ‘Virtues of the Kingdom’. The book had been a gift from his father when he was a colt and detailed the history behind Equestria’s moral principles and ethics. It wasn’t illegal but the book wasn’t exactly popular either in the modern empire. To most, if they knew it even existed, the book was considered a niche philosophical text, made even more unpopular by the fact that it was also very dense. Royal Duty had been forced to read and reread it until he understood the jumble of words that were printed on each page. However his father had insisted he become a learned stallion and Royal Duty had later discovered that if he wanted to be a Necromancer he had to be well read. Therefore he had persevered and whilst the actual philosophy still escaped him at times he found the history behind the virtues and their embodiments fascinating.

“You like reading?” a voice suddenly said. Royal Duty looked up from the book and saw a light pink Unicorn mare with a magenta and teal mane standing in front of him. She had a tray similar to the previous serving mare’s in her magical grip and she wore a fairly flippant expression.

“Uh...yes,” Royal Duty said, unsure of what to make of the mare. Was this his contact? How was he supposed to recite the code-phrase without it sounding weird and suspicious?

“That looks like a thick read,” the mare continued, “we don’t normally get ponies that interested in reading. Are you some kind of teacher or something?”

“Oh no, no,” Royal Duty replied, waving his free hoof and smiling slightly, “I’m a student of sorts. just looking for a place to stay while I go south.”

“We don’t get many students,” the mare said with an inquisitive smirk, “you new in Krakhoof? You don’t sound like a local.”

“Oh no, I’m from Trottingham, originally anyways” Royal Duty replied as he cobbled together a story, “I’ve been spending most of my time in Marelin in Germareny. I’m just going down to Hoothens to see some relatives.”

The mare puffed her cheeks as she let out a long sigh in surprise. “Whooah, that’s a long way to go. A bit dangerous too these days. I’ve heard there’s all kinds of stuff roaming the forests now. You can’t be too careful.”

“Yeah,” Royal Duty then said, spotting an opportunity to test her, “It looks like it will be dark tonight. Can’t be too careful.”

To his disappointment the mare didn’t show any sign of recognising the phrase. Then a second later she spoke.

“Yes. There are likely to be long shadows. Best to find somewhere safe.” She winked at him. “My room’s the third one on the left. Meet me there in an hour.”

Royal Duty blinked slightly and then nodded to her. Winking again she set off into the crowd to return the tray to the bar. He took a quick glance at her flank, finding she had a cutie mark depicting a cup wrapped in a blanket. The first serving mare returned with a full tray.

“Yer water,” she said.

Royal Duty looked into his bag and took out a bag of bits the prince had given him for the mission and pulled out two.

“Keep the change,” he said to her and took one of the pewter cups she had offered him.

Relaxing slightly, he returned to his book, occasionally sipping his water whilst he perused the chapter on Loyalty.

The hour went by fairly slowly. After finishing Loyalty he moved onto Integrity, the subsection of the chapter. Occasionally he would glance up to see what his contact was doing. He tried to make his observations look nonchalant, or at least mundanely unsuspicious.

Finally he noticed the mare heading for the stairs. He guessed that it must have been long enough for the appointed time and so he marked the page he was currently reading, gathered his belongings and moved up from his seat. After spending a few seconds jostling his way through the, now very full, seats he made it to the stairs and climbed up.

The second floor of the Tipping Wagon was about as unassuming as its first floor. A wooden hallway dotted by doors that doubtlessly led to rooms lay in front of him. He could see another flight of stairs in the left-hoof side of the hall that led to another floor.

“Okay,” Royal Duty muttered to himself as he collected his thoughts, “she said third on the left.” Finding the door he walked over to it. Taking a deep breath he knocked on the door.

“Come in,” a familiar voice replied in a cheeky, sing-song fashion.

Royal Duty wrapped the doorknob in his magic and twisted. He opened the door casually and walked in, not wanting to attract the attention of anypony who might walk into the hall and find him suspicious.

Walking into the room, he saw the room was a generically decorated and furnished. There was a drab double bed, colourless white curtains, a wardrobe and a chest of drawers. A desk and chair were set up by the opposite wall and sitting in the chair, half-turned towards the door was the mare.

“You mind shutting the door?” she asked.

Slowly closing the door, Royal Duty turned to face his contact, keeping his magic ready to grab his short, service blade in case anything went wrong.

“So to business,” the mare said, “I assume you’re my contact, a little young but I’m not one to talk.”

Royal Duty wasn’t sure what to make of the mare, she was talking to him in a casual, jokey manner.

“Yes,” he replied, mustering up as much of his professionalism as possible yet keeping his voice quiet in order to avoid other ponies from overhearing. “I am Royal Duty, corporal and necromancer acolyte 1st class and personal adjutant to his royal highness Prince Blueblood.”

The mare suddenly became much more serious. She straightened in her seat visibly, a more professional expression appearing on her face.

“A pleasure,” she said, the playfulness now much more subdued. “I am Young Nan, private and infiltrator 1st class of the New Equestrian Resistance. I was stationed here a week ago to receive you.”

“Young Nan?” Royal Duty asked incredulously before he could rein in his thoughts.

A smirk grew over her face as she rolled her eyes. “Yeah I got it from my mum. It’s a weird one.”

“Oh sorry,” Royal Duty tried to backpedal, “I didn’t mean to…”

“Nah, nah,” Young Nan cut back in, waving her hoof in a dismissive fashion, “I get it all the time. It’s not a problem. Anyway let’s actually get to business.”

Setting her hoof back down she turned to look at Royal Duty intently.

“Right,” Royal Duty replied in return, walking over to the bed and sitting himself down on it. “I’ve been sent to guide you to where the prince’s entourage is camped. It’s better we wait until we’re outside of the city before we continue. We’ll be ready to depart as soon as you’ve got whatever you need.”

“Great,” Young Nan said, an upbeat smile spreading over her face. “I just need to pack my stuff and tell my boss I quit.”

Still smiling, the Unicorn trotted over to the wardrobe and threw it open enthusiastically. Several large saddle bags levitated out and were quickly filled with clothes that Young Nan simply threw in without a care. A couple of books followed afterwards and various other miscellaneous items that were pressed in over the clothes. Royal Duty blushed and averted his eyes when a pair of silken socks flew out of the back of the wardrobe and were hurriedly stuffed into a saddle bag. He did catch Young Nan suddenly, and rapidly, check to see if he had seen that, a heavy blush on her own face.

It took only a few more seconds for her to finish packing. She lit up her horn again when the last clasp of the saddle bags had been fastened and a heavy travelling cloak fluttered off of a hook on the door and wrapped itself around her. Taking a deep, finishing breath, she then looked at Royal Duty.

“Alright,” she said, “I’m going to go and quit. You go and wait at the end of Sunshine Street. I don’t want it to look like were obviously leaving together so you go ahead. I’ll catch up to you in about ten minutes.”

“Right,” Royal Duty said, nodding. He then trotted out of the door and back down the stairs. He walked through the, still crowded, common room and out of the Tipping Wagon’s door.

Even after so long Sunshine Street was still full of ponies walking back and forth. The press helped keep him hidden as he, once again, blended into the crowd. He casually made his way to the corner and laid his saddle bags on the cobbles of the road. leaning on the wall he began to wait.

Ponies continued to rush past him, every one of them attending to their own business as they ignored him. Royal Duty tried his best to appear nonchalant and innocent. Most ponies simply walked past him without sparing him even a single glance, let alone a second. Thankfully there were no guards on patrol at the time which made it much easier for him to keep his cool.

***

Young Nan trotted out of the Tipping Wagon with a spring in her step. She had politely submitted her verbal resignation, her rapidly packed bags making it clear to her employer that she was leaving immediately and left the building. She wasn’t sad to see the place go. It had been nice enough but being a serving mare just wasn’t for her and the customers could get really annoying. Quite a few stallions and mares had decided that making inappropriate remarks about her and not keeping their hooves to themselves had been good ideas.

Walking out into the streets she found the familiar crowds were still out in force. Though the owner had been kind enough to allow her to rent a room at a discount she had taken plenty of opportunities to wander the streets of Krakhoof.

This wasn’t her first mission of course but she had never been stationed in such a large settlement before. She had used every opportunity to scout out the city, enjoying the sensations and sights as much as she could. It hadn’t been that hard to keep her cover as she could easily just claim she was shopping, or visiting a park, or simply exploring her new home.

Now however she was done.

She kept her cheery smile on her face as she trotted down the street but inside she was jumping for joy. Whilst the city had been nice she just hadn’t been able to just relax. Like all of her previous missions she had to keep her persona going. It was fun, of course, playing her cover character but sometimes it just got tiring and the flirting did bring the obvious problem of attracting the wrong kind of attention.

It didn’t take long for her to find her contact. Royal Duty, the stallion sent to collect her, seemed rather normal, she would have said average but obviously he had to have distinguished himself if he was trusted with taking charge of recovering her.

She saw him sitting by the side of the street. He was trying to appear unconcerned but she knew he was concerned. He did a decent job hiding his nervousness but the way he quickly ducked his head every time he checked to see if his company was coming seemed less like the actions of a bored pony and more like those of a suspicious one.

“Sorry I took so long,” she said amiably as she trotted over to Royal Duty. To his credit the stallion didn’t jump in surprise though he did give her a look of exasperation. “It takes a while to politely tell someone you’re quitting immediately,” she continued. “I also had to wait for him to give me my last pay...it’d look weird if I didn’t.”

“Right,” Royal Duty said in response, a little unsure of what exactly to say but still keeping his casual tone. “Better get going then.”

And with that he placed his saddlebags back on and waited for her to make her own move.

Smiling in a friendly manner to the stallion, Young Nan stepped forward and began walking. She knew the way to the main gates better than he did, having spent enough time in Krakhoof to memorise the common exits as well as the most feasible means of escaping in a hurry.

The journey through the streets was rather easy. By this point the crowds were starting to thin as the early evening wound on and ponies began to go indoors. There were still plenty of ponies out on the street and a number of shops remained open but it was obvious that part of the city was preparing to go to sleep.

Both Young Nan and Royal Duty kept silent throughout the entire journey, an unspoken agreement passing between them that it would be best to save any discussions for when they were outside the city’s walls. However they did stick close together and keep friendly expressions on their faces, keeping up the image that they were familiar travellers going on a journey together.

By the time they had got to the gates Young Nan was fairly relaxed. They were on the edge of the city and the afternoon guard were starting to be rotated out for the evening shifts.

Both ponies still kept up their friendly, innocent smiles as they passed through the gateway and left the city’s boundaries. Young Nan refused to drop her facade, knowing that they still weren’t safe until they were, at least, under the forest canopy. A quick glance at her new companion showed that he was at least smart enough to intuit the same thing.

As they approached the tree line Young Nan glanced back at Royal Duty. Turning her head she saw him studying her flank intently with a look of inquisitiveness. Internally she frowned and turned towards him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, her friendly expression still on her face but her tone now turning cold and irritable. The last thing she needed was to be paired with another pony that thought of nothing but getting put up to stud.

“Oh… uh, no…nothing, nothing like that,” he said quickly, a shocked and worried expression on his face. “It’s just… I, uh, I just wanted to see if you were a Converted, or a Convie-born like me.” He then wrapped the end of his travelling cloak in his magic and lifted it, revealing a cutie mark in the shape of the planet Earth. “See.”

Raising an eyebrow she did the same, showing off her identical cutie mark.

“Yeah,” she said in a nonchalant fashion, “what about it?”

She never really thought that much about her cutie mark and when another pony did it was usually more of an excuse to check somepony out.

“Nothing much really,” Royal Duty admitted in an apologetic tone, “just curious.” Then suddenly he blinked a look of equal parts surprise and curiosity. “Wait a minute,” he said, turning back to her, “I swear you had a different cutie mark when I first saw you.”

Young Nan smirked in response. “Oh, so you were taking a look. That was a fake, a concealment spell with a projected image placed on top. It’s a pain to maintain but I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“I see,” Royal Duty said in an accepting fashion, as his mind turned to contemplating what she had just told him.

An awkward silence descended on the pair as they approached the forest. Once the first few branches had passed over them they visibly relaxed. They had maintained a rather casual stance as they walked and had managed to keep their placid and friendly expressions, the previous faux pas notwithstanding. However now they both shifted into a straighter stance, old training taking over as they returned to the positions they were most used to. The friendly smiles also disappeared and were instead replaced by wary frowns.

“So?” Royal Duty began in a questioning tone, “how much do you know about this mission?”

Young Nan smirked. She hadn’t exactly pegged him as the type to try to get the first word in on an interrogation with a non-hostile.

“I’m to escort you, the prince and whoever he’s brought with him to high command,” she said. “I’ll lead you to friendly territory first and then we can take it from there.”

“Right,” Royal Duty replied, satisfied with the answer. They both returned to their silence as they walked down the path.

After another half hour of silent walking and contemplation Royal Duty then stopped and pointed down one path.

“We take a right here,” he said.

Young Nan looked up and saw no indicators or markers to tell him where any path was.

“You trekked through the wildlands to get here didn’t you?” she then asked, turning to him.

“Yeah,” Royal Duty replied.

“Good job,” she said in return, “though I’m not sure how you could possibly tell where your path is. Did you set something as marker for yourself?”

Royal Duty let a small smile emerge on his face at the praise.

“Yes,” he said, “that tree over there, the one with the three brown toadstools and yellow mould on it.”

He pointed out a large, innocuous oak tree that had the fungus he had mentioned growing at its base. Young Nan nodded approvingly. He had picked a marker that was useful to him but not patently obvious to anypony else and therefore dangerous.

“Good job,” she said again and then turned right at the tree, leaving the path and stepping onto the leaf litter of the forest proper.

They trudged through the undergrowth for several metres, the sound of their hooves brushing aside mulch and rotten leaves the only thing they could now hear.

Bored of the monotony and now fairly confident in their safety and secrecy Young Nan turned to her companion.

“So,” she began in an amiable fashion, “what’s the news in the Midnight Guard?”

For a split second she saw Royal Duty give her an inscrutable glance. It almost seemed like he was weighing his options on whether or not he should tell her anything. Internally she smirked. She certainly approved of a healthy dose of paranoia.

“We’re at war,” Royal Duty then said, “I mean properly at war. Things have escalated and we have to weed out a few traitorous elements.”

Young Nan winced inside, not letting her nervousness show in her facial expressions or body language. She knew as well as anypony privy to certain information that the New Resistance was having trouble with traitors and zealots. If the Midnight Guard, the group they were supposed to swear allegiance to, were talking about traitors then that meant things were really starting to go wrong.

“Traitors?” she asked, letting the word speak volumes for her.

“Yeah,” Royal Duty replied noncommittally, as if it didn’t matter. “A few ponies here and there have got it in their heads that they can take on the Solaminan Empire by themselves and don’t like the approach we’ve been taking so far. We’re having a… survey, you might say, in order to deal with it.”

Young Nan almost rolled her eyes at the obviously vague terms the stallion was throwing around. It was obvious he was trying to obfuscate her and hide the problem.

“So your prince is trekking all the way over to HQ for help in this ‘survey’?” she asked.

“More or less,” Royal Duty replied. To his credit he had managed to keep his voice level and casual throughout the conversation. “So what about the Resistance?” He then said, taking the initiative. “What kind of reception can we expect?”

“I’m not really sure,” Young Nan replied, slipping into her element, “There's a lot of us who think we’d be better off without you lot butting in. There’s also the anti-monarchists, the anti-Blueblood lot and a bunch of weirdos with their own ideas of what Equestria should be when we take it back.”

She looked to Royal Duty who was digesting her words.

“How about you?” he said after a moment. “What do you think?”

“I just do my job,” Young Nan replied, “I’m a professional and a damn good one I might add. I get given orders, I complete them and then I move on to my next assignment. I don’t really think about politics or what his highness thinks all the way back in Germareny.”

“So you spend a lot of time in enemy territory?” Royal Duty then asked, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

“Yeah,” Young Nan replied in a manner that implied it was obvious knowledge, “I’m a field agent. I’m supposed to be out here.”

“First time for me,” Royal Duty admitted, returning his attention to the unmarked path they were taking.

“You’ve never been in the field before?” Young Nan asked, her incredulity slipping through.

“No,” Royal Duty replied, trying not to sound embarrassed. “I got assigned to his highnesses’ retinue shortly before we left. It’s been a bit difficult I’ll admit. I hadn’t ever killed a pony until the night before we left for this mission.”

“Really?” Young Nan asked unsure how to react to what her current partner was saying.

“Yeah. I’ve had plenty of opportunities since to be sure but I’d never really gone out into the field until a little over a week ago.” Royal Duty now felt incredibly nervous as he bit down on his bottom lip slightly.

“Brilliant,” Young Nan said, a hint of disdain in her voice. “So I’ve been put with a rookie that was pretty much a civvie until a few days ago. Probably shows what I’m in for with this mission.”

“Actually,” Royal Duty butted in, “I’ve only been sent here because the other guys that were supposed to collect you died on the way here. We haven’t exactly had the best of luck what with the Anthroponies, the wounded and having to take detours past every single Solaminan settlement we come across. I probably wouldn’t have had to be sent for you if we had anypony else to spare.”

“Y’know that’s not exactly encouraging either right?” Young Nan said.

“No,” Royal Duty replied, “but it’s the truth. Shows you just how important your guidance will be.” He then rounded on her giving, her a falsely reassuring smile and bowed his head slightly. “I hope we can put our trust in your hooves. I mean it’s only the fate of the Rebellion that’s now riding on your back.”

Young Nan snorted and gave him a sneer in response.

"Smartass,” she muttered under her breath as she watched the stallion right himself again and turn to lead her down the path.

“It won’t be much longer now,” Royal Duty said after they passed a large rock standing upright in the woods. Despite its bizarre shape and stance the stone was surrounded by so many weeds and bushes and draped in so much moss that it seemed as innocuous as anything else in the woods.

However, true to his word, the sounds of a large encampment began to drift through the woods after only another ten minutes of walking.

“Ah looks like were here,” Royal Duty said, a smile growing over his face.

Young Nan didn’t reply, simply continuing to follow the stallion. After a few more seconds the trees began to thin a little and both ponies walked out of the trees and into a clearing. There was a perimeter marked by stacks of spears surrounding a closely packed circle of tents surrounded by wagons. The tents were mostly the small, easily pitched squares of fabric that were issued to most soldiers. However the centre was dominated by a monstrous pavilion that might as well have been a noble’s suite made of cloth, mostly.

“Halt,” a pony said. Young Nan turned from regarding the actual encampment to see a grey coated Earth Pony stallion dressed in the familiar dark blue batwing barding of the Midnight Guard.

“Corporal Royal Duty, necromancer 1st class and personal adjutant to his highness Prince Blueblood of Equestria.” Royal Duty said in response, “Service number 2GEA-42266. I was sent to retrieve the liaison with the New Equestrian Resistance.”

Young Nan saw the unicorn briefly incline his head in her direction which led to the Earth Pony looking directly at her for the first time. She kept a stoic expression as the Guardspony seemed to study her for a few seconds before nodding.

“Alright,” the guard said, “go on in.”

***

Prince Blueblood set his quill down for a moment, letting the writing implement rest back in it’s ink pot as he sighed.

It had been several hours since he had sent out Royal Duty and he was concerned for the young adjutant. He knew very little about the newest addition to his personal retinue and hadn’t really made much of an effort to know him. Now however, with so much riding on the colt’s back, he couldn’t help but worry, both for Royal Duty and the mission he was responsible for.

Of course he had recently received some good news. The last of the wounded had finally recovered and thus the wagons that had been repurposed for them could finally be made to carry goods. This would certainly make transporting their new batches of supplies much easier. As an afterthought he did also remind himself that his subordinates being healthy was a good thing but that was at the back of his mind by this point.

His thoughts were interrupted when his tent flaps rustled. Raising his head from the reports, he saw one of his Thestrals walking in.

The pony saluted. “Your adjutant has returned with the contact.”

“Excellent,” Blueblood replied, his mood lightening, “show them in immediately.”

“Yes, your highness,” the Thestral replied, saluting again before turning around, lifting the tent flap and waving.

Two young ponies, one of them the latest addition to his retinue and the other a mare he had never seen before, walked in.

“Royal Duty reporting back from Krakhoof, sir,” the young stallion said, bowing as he spoke. “I successfully retrieved our contact with the New Equestrian Resistance.”

“I am Young Nan, private and infiltrator 1st class of the New Equestrian Resistance,” the mare said in turn, bowing beside Royal Duty. “I was stationed at the city a week ago and am under orders to guide you to Resistance Headquarters in Eastern Horssia.”

“Excellent,” Blueblood said in response. “I am looking forward to observing your performance.” He smiled in a much friendlier fashion as both ponies stood to attention. “Royal Duty,” Blueblood then said, turning to his new adjutant who now looked somewhat nervous about being addressed directly, “you are to be commended for your performance; you completed your mission successfully and promptly. You have, so far, vindicated Magnus’ trust in you.”

Royal Duty’s face lit up at the praise whilst Young Nan remained impassive.

“Resistance Operative Young Nan,” Prince Blueblood then said, turning back to the mare, “we will be waiting until the next morning, when our new supplies arrive, and then we will move out.”

He saw both soldiers nod in understanding.

“Well then. You’re both dismissed,” Blueblood waved them away and watched as they bowed again and walked out of his tent.

Alone again, he turned his attention back to the reports, sighing as he reviewed their current supply situation. The numbers did not favour them at the moment and anything the reconnaissance groups brought with them would be invaluable.

***

Hoofington, Equestria. March 18th. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050 human calendar)

Memory was the worst enemy.

Memory gave her flashes of a smile, of dark hair and eyes and a kind heart. Memory gave her flashes of a man - the kindest man, the bravest man - saying goodbye in her dreams.

And dreams… they gave her flashes of what might have been. Impossible happiness that could never be and would never have been, but still made her heart pang in ways she didn't think the metal could anymore. Then when she woke up, it made her rage all the more palpable.

She decided, on reflection, that she hated memory, and hated dreams more. The damn things were there to taunt her and nothing else.

"Don’t worry" a voice - was it a memory or a wisp of daydream? - spoke in her mind. "Keep going. Everything will be alright."

Lyrium took a breath, forcing air down her metallic throat where it filled her chest cavity. She sometimes liked to fancy it whistled as it passed between the complex mechanisms that now made up her body. Still the brief pretence at regular life worked. Her churning thoughts calmed and the memories faded from her mind’s eye.

“Lady Lyrium,” a deep sonorous voice with a metallic edge said, “it is almost time. We await your command.”

Smiling at the sound of her new companion, Lyrium turned to regard the figure that had joined her. By the shape of its meticulously crafted body it was male. The figure stood taller than even her, towering over most other Iron Men. Its body was shaped like a human knight, enchanted steel plates, moulded into the gothic appearance of the old armour designs. Litanies and scripture were engraved all over the figure’s body lending an even more eerie quality to its appearance. It had no visible face, as its head was shaped into a closed helm, within which was contained a burning golden light that shone through the seams.

He Who Remembered, a physical memorial, an avatar, to the fallen and a memory of a bygone age.

“Hello Eric,” Lyrium said, the metallic joints of her mouth forming into a playful smirk. He Who Remembered seemed taken aback by the name for a second but regained his composure in the blink of an eye. To anyone but Lyrium, who knew him better than any other, it was as if he hadn’t responded at all.

“We await your orders,” he replied slowly and coldly. Lyrium’s smirk disappeared as her thoughts returned to the town a mile away.

"It's a choice," a familiar sounding voice spoke in her mind, "between the overt and the covert." She could almost imagine the owner of that voice smirking at her, and she dearly wished - if only for a moment - that he really was here, and he really could. "Just this once, I'd go with the overt. It's not like they can stop you. Hell - I'd like to see them try."

“Form up for battle,” Lyrium said as the mechanisms of her mouth formed into a grin. “Let’s forgo subtlety for tonight.”

“By your command,” He Who Remembers responded. The knightly figure then turned and walked away to assemble the army, leaving Lyrium alone with her thoughts again.

“Oh wonderful diligent Eric,” Lyrium said to herself, raising her head but not looking at anything in particular, “you’d have been proud of him.”

"The lad certainly had potential," the voice spoke again, "You couldn’t have picked a better person to remember us."

Lyrium cackled to herself as the voice finally began to fade away, bringing her back to reality. Turning around she appraised her army, her Iron Men.

Hundreds of figures stood before her, each one of them similar but still individualised in subtle ways. They were not perfect representations of old humans. they had been adapted into forms more fitting for the war Lyrium tended to propagate against Equestria. Their faces were steel masks sculpted into the vague shape of a human face whilst their bodies were much more intricate and advanced. In their arms were a variety of weapons, swords, spears and heavy mauls that were held in tight grips.

These were her Iron Warriors, her foot soldiers, ready to tear through the Guard and shatter the Church.

Behind them were the Iron Marksmen, former Unicorns that still possessed their powers. They too were built like the Iron Warriors but had prominent horns fused to the foreheads of their face plates. Through these they could channel their magic, making them invaluable in battle.

Countless packs of Forlorn Souls, recent converts to humankind that still had functional but somewhat unfinished metal bodies. Patches of armoured plating were missing from them and many of their intricate innards were exposed to the world where they ticked and whirred visibly. They held themselves lower than the Iron Warriors, their arms clutched closely to their bodies as their heads bobbed in disbelief and dismay. They were still unused to their new lives and had to be directed closely by her guiding hand.

In the centre of the front lines was a block of large, armoured figures, decorated in silver and gold. They were the Iron Retributors, the elite of the Iron Men and Lyrium’s finest warriors. They stood at seven feet tall and carried enormous polearms that crackled with magical energy. The powder of stolen Unicorn horns had been ground down and mixed into the alloys that had made their bodies and so their magic had become a part of them. Through them she would avenge humanity against the ponies of Equestria.

Behind that were other, less identifiable things. Warriors and war machines, every one of them made of metal and polished to a shining gleam. Though they all bore the same expression there was a palpable aura of anger, rage that was barely being held back by military discipline. This was an army thirsty for vengeance against those that had violated them and robbed them of their humanity.

At the head of the metallic host was He Who Remembered, standing tall and proud amongst his warriors.

Walking up to him, she smirked, indicating the town ahead. “It’s time.”

Nodding, He Who Remembers turned his head to his forces. “DEVASTATORS! MOVE INTO RANGE!”

Lyrium took another deep breath as she watched four large machines wheel their way up to the front of the army. They were massive metallic catapults, built from steel boxes and placed on massive wheels. They were weighty but the supernatural strength of the Iron Man crew that manned it meant it was pushed into position with swift efficiency.

The crews began to man the cranks that pulled the machine’s arms into position. Barrels of pitch, which were stored in the body of the machines, were rolled out and placed in the sling at the end of the arm. An Iron Man stood nearby with a hot brand, ready to light the wick that stuck out of each barrel.

Lyrium raised her arm to signal the crews to fire.

Go ahead, the voice said, do it.

She threw her arm down and the first Devastator fired. Due to the low light it took time for her order to be relayed but soon the catapults were firing in quick succession. Six barrels, the lit tapers looking like small shooting stars shot through the air.

Not far in front of the army was the fortified town of Hoofington. After the rise of the Empire and the industrialisation of Ponyville, Hoofington had become a trade hub that accommodated the convoys of ponies and equipment travelling to Twilight Sparkle’s research facilities.

Six lit barrels fell over the wooden walls and exploded. Fire rained down on the front of the city and ignited the palisades.

Lyrium heard the scream emanate from the town as the ponies inside noticed the fires now burning the edges of their home. She smirked as she even saw a few silhouettes scramble back and forth along the intact portions of the wall.

“Companies advance.” He Who Remembered bellowed. “Retributors at front. Charge your weapons.”

The sound of lightning building in strength began to fill the air as the massive iron Men warriors fed power into their polearms. The instant He Who Remembered spoke, the entire army began to march forward, leaving the Devastators and a single guarding company behind.

The Iron Men’s pace built up as they approached the town. Soon they were sprinting at the wall, the Retributors in front, their weapons crackling and shining as the energy continued to build up.

Lyrium charged to the front of the army, catching up to He Who Remembered, his own fists shining with the same inner light under his helmet. Her own hands did the same as she felt her magic, a feature of her days as a pony, build up within her beautifully crafted hands. Soon both she and the knight by her side were shining beacons at the front of the charge.

As they approached the gates, Lyrium raised her fists above her head and brought them down, slamming into the wood of the gate. The gateway shifted but held. He Who Remembered’s fists crashed against the gate a moment later and the gate splintered. Several lightning wreathed polearms from the Retributors stabbed at the gate, their power shooting outwards and the wooden structure exploded inwards.

Lyrium sprinted through the flaming portal that had just been opened. In front of her were scattering ponies, few of them in armour. Several held spears and wore portions of Guard armour, proving that the town had been particularly unaware of their approach and were struggling to respond.

Lyrium gave them a feral grin and charged forward. Raising her right fist, the energy in her hands formed into a long blade of magical energy - the thing’s ethereal shape might have been familiar to those who had fought in the old war, a long time ago.

Holding it over her head, she swung it round and the weapon extended, reaching out and slicing through the pony closest to her. Behind her, the Retributors charged through and ran into the panicking ponies. Their polearms rose and fell as they mercilessly cut into the routing Guardsponies. Lyrium cut through another before the panicking Guard could even try to attack, and laughed, the metallic noise echoing into the night.

“This isn’t a good fight,” He Who Remembered said as she stepped up to her side, a similar magical blade in his hand. “It isn’t even good sport. Why bother?”

“Why bother?” Lyrium repeated back to him, incredulous. “They deserve it, Eric! This is vengeance!”

She walked off to the side of the gate as the Iron Warriors followed after the Retributors. She could see the fires a little further away spread larger and higher as the flames spread unchecked.

A large figure suddenly stalked through the gate as the last of the Iron Warriors filed in. It was vaguely humanoid, standing on two legs and with a stooped posture but it seemed to be stretched. It’s head was more avian than human, jutting forward with an almost pronounced muzzle. A series of long metallic probosci were attached to its shoulders and ran down its back almost like a cloak.

“Penitent Engine,” He Who Remembered shouted at the creature. It turned to look at him, boring into the knight with an inhuman gaze. “I want you to seek out as many townsponies as possible. Don’t kill them. Incapacitate them.”

The Penitent Engine nodded once and then stalked off into the chaos of the streets.

“Do you think we should join him?” He Who Remembered asked. “Keep an eye on him maybe?”

“No, I trust him,” Lyrium said with a smile, “It’s about time we see what he can really do.” She looked down the street the Penitent Engine had walked down. “Come on,” she said quietly, “they should be done shortly. We might as well help with the cleanup.”

“As you say,” He Who Remembered replied, and the two of them set off into the town.

Hoofington wasn’t that different to how Lyrium remembered Ponyville, though it was a little bit bigger. From outside the town had appeared huge but that was because the wall was enclosing a settlement that liked to have wide spaces between all of its buildings and plenty of spaces for gardens and other green areas. To Lyrium it actually appeared rather pleasant.

Now however there were plenty of signs of intense combat and butchery having taken place. Dismembered Guardsponies were littered around the main street along with other ponies that Lyrium presumed had put up a fight. She could still hear screams and whimpers further into the town and the crackling of a distant fire was very audible. It wasn’t as pleasant but it had to be done.

“Please,” a voice called out, “somepony help! Anypony!”

Lyrium saw a stallion crawl out of a ruined house. He was missing one hind leg and he had a red slash over that ran horizontally over his face. Lyrium looked closer and saw that both of his eyes had been destroyed by the blow to his face and that he was now blindly scrambling around for help.

“I’m here,” she said, walking up to him and firmly grasping his body in her hands, “but I’m not a pony.”

“Please,” the stallion cried out, “don’t… don’t hurt me anymore.” He then broke down and began to cry. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why?” Lyrium said, “I’m doing this because your kind did worse to people who didn’t deserve it. I think it’s high time that the ponies of Equestria felt what it was like to be a human not that long ago. Now come on. I have so much more to show you.”

With that she tucked the sobbing pony under her left arm and carried him down the street, ignoring his cries and his futile squirming.

She walked up to the body of a dead Guardsponies and appraised the corpse.

“Do you think this one’ll do?” she asked He Who Remembered.

“It should be fine,” he said indifferently as he stared at the pony in her arms.

“Alright then,” Lyrium replied cheerfully before she returned her attention back to the stallion. “Now when they first offered the Ponification Potion to humans all those years ago they said it could cure ailments and diseases and they were right. The unfortunate thing is they counted being human as one of those diseases as well. Now I haven’t missed the fact you’ve been horribly hurt so I’m about to give you a helpful little solution that will fix you right up. Call it… a taste of Equestria’s own medicine.”

“Wh… what?” the stallion asked uneasily, too terrified to do anything else.

“Quiet now,” Lyrium said in response as she began to concentrate.

A silvery mist began to form beneath the stallion. It curled and grew around his body as well as the corpse of the stallion. Slowly a metal figure began to form from the mist. Inch by inch it took shape, forming legs and then hips, building itself from the ground up. As the construct formed, the body of the stallion and the corpse of the Guardspony began to unravel and disappear. At the same time another, darker grey fog emerged from the stallion’s body, which went deathly still as it disintegrated. The grey fog began to sink into the metal body as the construct reached completion. As the faceplate of the new Iron Man finished forming, the last of the grey smoke sank into it.

“Can you hear me?” Lyrium asked the newly born Iron Man, performing the ritual greeting she had performed on every soldier she had created.

“Yes,” the stallion’s voice nervously answered from the construct.

“And you know me?” she asked as well.

“You are Lady Lyrium: mistress of the Iron Men, my mistress,” he continued.

“Excellent,” she said, stopping her personal ritual since she knew there was still the rest of the cleanup to see to. “Come on Eric,” Lyrium said to He Who Remembered, “we still have a lot of work to do.”

She walked down the street, leaving the new and bewildered Iron Man to acclimatise himself. It didn’t take them long to find a large town square at the centre of the settlement. Dozens of Iron Men filled the open space and more were arriving, dragging crippled or frightened ponies into the area.

Already several of the more powerful Retributors had begun converting the ponies into new soldiers. Corpses had already been piled up to provide more raw materials for the shining new bodies that were being built for the prisoners to inhabit. Ponies everywhere were screaming as they saw their friends, neighbours and family members were being torn apart to create more of the monsters that were attacking them, knowing that soon, very soon, they would be next.

One particular conversion drew Lyrium’s attention. Not that far away, the Penitent Engine had corralled several foals. As they screamed and squealed in fear, his metallic tentacles shot out and impaled their small bodies. The same smoky mists began to form around them and from their bodies. However it was obvious that there weren’t enough raw materials to form bodies for all of them. Instead only one tendril of grey smoke sank into the Iron Man body that began to build itself from the flesh of the foals. The other grey tendrils instead were funnelled into the Penitent Engine who shuddered in grotesque ecstasy for a moment before his tentacles retracted, allowing the final scraps that were left of the foals to collapse to the floor.

“We’re going to have to take an account of how many new people we’ve created,” He Who Remembered said to her.

“Oh indeed,” Lyrium agreed with a nod. “A lot to take account of. Many new names, new forces. Be sure to see to it that any spare material is used to upgrade the Forlorn. I don’t like leaving work half finished.”

“It’ll be difficult keeping track,” He Who Remembered noted.

“True,” Lyrium said. “Still it’s not like we can make too many. We need every man that we can get.”

“In this, we are agreed,” He Who Remembered said. “Will it be enough to break through the wall?”

Lyrium looked around, a metallic grin on her face.

“Not yet,” she said simply. “We’ll need to take more.”

***

Castle Midnight, Germareny. March 19th. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050 human calendar)

“It feels like forever since I last visited Castle Midnight,” Hot Shot said as they passed through the gate into the citadel. “It hasn’t changed that much.”

“I have to say he’s right,” Dinky added as she looked through the clean and orderly, if dark, hallways, “I honestly thought there’d be more damage, y’know from the battle.”

“It was troublesome,” Magnus said in response, “but it appears I was right to entrust the garrison with helping repair the citadel. We couldn’t allow it to be left in such a terrible condition so I ordered the staff and local work crews to oversee the repairs.”

“So what’s our next move?” Dinky asked.

Magnus smirked, turning to look at his companions, making sure all three of them were assembled alongside him. “I currently have a prisoner, Lady Ever Essence, who should be able to provide us with the details of her co-conspirators. She has spent the time since her ill conceived assault languishing in the dungeons. I ordered she be moved to the interrogation rooms before our arrival.”

“The torture chambers?” Black Shroud asked from behind the room, her voice now cold and professional.

“Yes,” Magnus replied, “I do, however, prefer to use their official name.” As he spoke he opened a door that revealed a stairwell leading down deeper into the castle. “Now I would like all of you to help organise our forces. I will interrogate the prisoner myself.”

“You brought us all here just to send us off?” Hot Shot asked incredulously, a sentiment the other ponies seemed to share.

“I brought you here,” Magnus replied, “to assist in my response to these traitors. Expedience is a virtue and I need everything prepared as quickly as possible. Hot Shot I would like you to commandeer whatever forces are available to us, make sure they know that you have my authority to do so. Black Shroud I want a complete list of our arcane and alchemical inventory as soon as possible and Commander Doo,” he turned to address Dinky, “I want the logistics divisions ready with whatever you deem necessary for our expedition. I will review all of your progress once I am done dealing with the prisoner. Now go.” Magnus punctuated his orders with a wave of dismissal.

With that he turned and walked down the stairwell. The spiral stairs led deep into the bowels of the castle, with only a few small hanging lamps to illuminate the path. Magnus felt his mood shift as he continued to descend, darkening as he contemplated the interrogation and just what he would do to his prisoner.

Finally he came down to the bottom of the stairs. He stepped down into a large circular chamber with a single door in the wall opposite the stairs.

He smirked as he took a deep breath. As he reached the door, his horn lit up, grasping the door handle in his magic. Finally on the threshold of the interrogation room, he ran his thoughts through his head once again and decided just how he was going to deal with Ever Essence.

Opening the door, he stepped into a cold, shadowy room. Inside were various intricate devices, torture racks, endless rows of hanging chains, an assortment of exaggeratedly spiky machines and stacks of weapons and tools, some of which looked more similar to sharpened cooking implements.

Tied down to one of the racks was Ever Essense, her mane now bedraggled and messy and her coat stained by dirt and dried blood. The look in her eyes was both terrified and withdrawn, as if she had resigned herself to whatever horrible fate awaited her.

”Well that won’t do,” Magnus thought, ”She was supposed to be left long enough to stew in her own fear but not so long she would stop caring. I’ll have to have talks with whoever was foolish enough to put her in here too early.”

Making a note of having a future discussion with the chief interrogator, Magnus stepped forward so that Ever Essence could see him clearly.

“Good evening,” he said politely.

“Is it?” Ever Essence asked, “It’s been so long since they put me down here I lost track of time a while ago. What do you want with me?”

Magnus grinned ferally, showing off his teeth. They weren’t sharpened but when combined with the insane look in his eyes, the expression appeared predatory.

“You know what I want,” he said, still maintaining his ferocious look, “Information on your co-conspirators. Their identities, their locations, the strength of their forces and their objectives. You’re going to tell me all of that as soon as possible.”

“And you honestly believe I will talk to someone like you,” Ever Essence replied imperiously. “Your disgusting lackies have left me to rot in this dungeon for a day now. I’ve spent hours surrounded by these devices and I can tell you they no longer have the kind of terror you were hoping they would.”

“You say that, but I haven’t used any of them on you yet,” Magnus replied with a dark chuckle that was devoid of any mirth. “Tell me Lady Ever Essence,” he then began, his tone shifting to a more conversational one, “you’re a learned mare. How much do you know of Equestrian history?”

Ever Essence didn’t reply for a long moment.

“Just the usual stuff,” she replied after a moment, confused but cautious.

“I’ve looked into it a little bit more,” Magnus said with some enthusiasm. “Particularly the history of torture concerning the pony races. Did you know, for example,” Magnus then began, his horn lighting up, “that the Adamantine Empire of the Unicorns liked to encase portions of their prisoners of war in molten iron. Not only was this unbearably painful but it slowly built an excruciating cage around their bodies. It’s the half-remembered stories of these practises that the rumours of Princess Celestia petrifying her enemies originated from. Unicorns were in fact masters amongst ponies at experimenting in ways to torment their opponents.”

Magnus then walked to the other end of the room and pulled a long implement out of one of the tool racks. It was a knife with an incredibly thin but visibly sharp blade.

“The Pegasi, however,” he began again, keeping the same casual tone, “were a little more blunt. After their ancient Legions began to fight opponents that didn’t possess wings, they adapted their dewinging traditions to cutting away at limbs. Where they would usually pulled feathers off of prisoner’s wings, they instead began to cut away small squares of flesh, flensing the unfortunate soul’s limbs slowly.”

He placed the knife on the end of one of the racks and went and pulled out a large hammer that was studded with small blunt spikes.

“Earth Ponies were even more direct and to the point,” he continued. “They prefered to hear the results of their torture so they perfected a method of breaking their opponents bones in precise manners. Now this hammer may look large and unwieldy but there’s a quirk in its design that allows the wielder to swing it with far more precision than most ponies would think. The personal torture technicians of the Earth Pony magnates were experts in smashing bones so that their subjects were rendered completely immobile but alive.”

Magnus finally rounded on Ever Essence and looked right at her. The Earth Pony mare was completely pale and whilst she was trying to maintain her composure the expression on her face betrayed her fear. The more Magnus told her about his knowledge, the more worried she became. This was how she had wanted her to be when he first entered the room but he found he was now glad she had been calm when he talked to her. Breaking her personally was proving to be much more fun.

“Now,” Magnus said, placing his hooves on the rack and bringing his face right up to Ever Essence’s, “I could go on about the details but I’m just here to inform you of what is in store for you. I can flay you slowly, force feed you until you choke and your bowels void themselves. I can slowly debone you like a Griffon chef would do to a fish or maybe slit your stomach open and remove your internal organs in a way that would leave them visible to you but unharmed so that you might stay alive. I even have a few handy little Pegasus tools that are just perfect for tearing your hooves off without cutting your flesh. If I bring the clamps in I can dismember you whilst reducing the blood loss, all to keep your ruined body going. Finally, I am an expert in reviving you in the event of the shock paralysing you or rendering you unconscious. It just wouldn’t do for you to pass out in the middle of my ministrations after all.”

As he spoke, keeping his eyes on Ever Essence’s he saw the mare start to shake. Once he was finished Ever Essence was quaking, tears in her eyes and a croak of fear struggling to escape her throat.

“Now,” Magnus then said, “I’ll give you one more chance. Are you going to tell me what I want to know?”

Ever Essence shook but a minute but finally nodded, moaning an affirmative.

“Excellent,” Magnus said cheerily, “I’ll bring in a cartographer and several scribes and we’ll get everything you say down in writing. Of course we can’t let you leave this room. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Wait, what,” Ever Essence said shakily, “you won’t let me down?”

“Oh no,” Magnus replied with a dark smile, “you may have won the chance to keep your life, so long as you tell us the truth, but your freedom is still a way away from you. Prove yourself to me now and I will see if you can be vindicated.” His look then turned terrifyingly cold and dark. “Lie to me, or withhold any information and I assure you I will show you just how well versed I am in the long history of torture and its practical application.”

With that he turned out of the room and left to gather the personnel he needed. This was the second step in his plan to dismantle the traitors and he had sworn that he would make sure every one of the traitors suffered everything he had just threatened Ever Essence with.

“Ah, soon,” he said aloud to himself, contemplating that momentous day with a soft smile. “Soon.”

Chapter Seven: Bad News

Horsaw, Ponland. March 22nd. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050 human calendar)

Freedom Heart rubbed his forehead with his hooves as he went over the paperwork. He wasn’t a stranger to administration, but he was now having to handle it by himself. Prior to his new appointment he had, at the very least, had colleagues to take part of the burden with him.

Now he faced a large stack of reports, bills, announcements and other bureaucratic paraphernalia alone. He had been rifling through them for hours, skimming the basic details and then rejecting them, or sending them further down the line for his approval. He wasn’t technically the viceroy, but with the turbulence that was wracking the Mareopean continent, his authority had been expanded exponentially.

Barely a week ago he had picked up an abandoned report informing him that Solamina had ordered a contingent of three hundred Guardsponies to go to the British Isles for classified reasons. Apparently they were still there and he had to stamp their logistical requisitions, not that they really needed his approval.

Lighting his horn, he levitated another stack of papers into his immediate view. Maintaining the spell, he fluttered them in front of his face, scanning the titles of each sheet of paper and seeking something, anything amongst them that could grab his attention. Countless proposals flew past him, asking for small changes that only really affected the immediate departments and communities that each member of the government was in charge of managing.

Finally he glanced at something that seemed more interesting than the others. Slowing his stream of paper and ink, he settled the report on the desk in front of his eyes.

“Sightings of Midnight Guard personnel increasing,” he mumbled to himself, “bodies recovered in Midnight Guard armour.”

As he read the report he became even more agitated. He had already received numerous reports concerning the military situation of Mareope. Anthroponies were the most common threat, infesting the woods and forests across the continent, but the region was also rife with traitors. Ponies associated with the New Equestrian Resistance had been sighted in the east, and now there were Midnight Guard running around as well.

Sighing heavily, Freedom Heart realised the situation in Mareope was far worse than his initial estimates. Now that there was confirmation of Midnight Guard activity on top of everything else, he knew he needed more support.

He immediately pulled out a spare segment of parchment and wrapped a quill in his magic. Dipping the quill in ink, he brought it to the paper and began to write, mumbling his message to himself as he worked.

“To the office of High Commander Twilight Sparkle,” he muttered. “I am reporting from the viceregal palace of Horsaw in Mareope. The situation is far more dire than initial reports and estimates suggested. At present the continent suffers from infestations far beyond what previous forces could handle.” He paused for a moment, wondering whether it was wise to admit he was out of his depth. “I request immediate reinforcements in order to suppress the major concentrations of enemy forces present in the continent. Commander Freedom Heart.”

Putting the quill down and giving the ink a moment to dry, he pondered whether it was worth using the magical link directly to the High Commander’s office.

Sitting up in his chair, he reached over and wrapped his hoof around a pull-cord. Tugging on the rope, he rang a bell to summon one of his aids. A minute later, a pony cautiously opened his office door and entered the room. He was a young Pegasus stallion with a grey-ish blue coat and light lilac mane with a cutie mark depicting a quill wrapped in parchment.

“Sir,” the stallion said bowing his head. “What do you need?”

“I need,” Freedom Heart began before pausing, struggling to remember the name of the pony he wanted. “I need the Archmage, the one that can send this notice directly to Canterlot.”

“Yes sir,” the stallion replied, already knowing who the Grand Marshal was talking about, “right away, sir.”

With that the pony turned and trotted out into the hall.

Freedom Heart sat back down again and contemplated the situation. He was unsure whether or not the High Commander would listen to him or not. In his experience, unless it was the Empress herself, she didn’t particularly like magic messaging, whether it was sending or receiving them.

Soon enough the doors to his office opened again and a Unicorn dressed in elaborate arcane robes walked in imperiously. It was a rust red mare with a purple mane, her cutie mark obscured by her clothing.

“You sent for me,” the Archmage said, her exasperated and irritated tone making it obvious it was a statement rather than a question.

“Yes I did,” Freedom Heart replied, equally annoyed at having to deal with the mare. “I need this message sent to Canterlot immediately. Directly to the High Commander’s office if possible.”

He held up the roll of paper tied with a red ribbon and held together by a wax seal with his new office’s seal placed upon it.

“Is that it?” the Archmage asked, a hint of incredulity now added to her irritation.

“Yes,” Freedom Heart replied bluntly. “I need it sent right to her immediately.”

“Understood sir,” the Archmage said. The message was quickly wrapped in the mare’s magical aura. It then suddenly burst into flames and disappeared into wisps of magical energy and flew out of the room, passing through the walls and into the distance.

“The spell has already been anchored to your office,” the Archmage said. “It will materialise in front of your desk without my assistance.”

“Thank you,” Freedom Heart said. “You are dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir,” the Archmage said gruffly before walking out of the room, shutting the door with her own magic.

Freedom Heart settled back into his seat and turned his attention back to the paperwork. He was anxious about whatever reply he might get from the High Commander and wanted to at least occupy his mind for some time before he received any word from Twilight Sparkle.

After a few minutes of waiting and filing through more reports, a tendril of magical flame appeared in his office. The flame moved in front of his face and curled in on itself, materialising into a roll of paper tied together with a ribbon with Twilight Sparkle’s insignia of office attached to it.

Freedom Heart immediately grabbed it in his magic and broke the seal, slipping the ribbon off and unfurling the long sheet of paper.

From the office of Twilight Sparkle, High Commander of the Solaminan Royal Guard, Archmage of the Solaminan Empire and Personal Adjutant to her supreme majesty Empress Astra Solamina Maxima, the letter read, the handwriting indicating that Twilight herself had written the reply.

Due to unprecedented hostilities against the Empire’s borders, the imperial military has expanded its recruitment and mobilisation. Unfortunately the threat presented by various entities has forced high command to prioritise certain war efforts. The situation in Mareope has been reviewed but has been deemed of lesser importance. Our government has accepted the assistance of the armed forces of the Solaminan Church and has called upon our military reserves. Should the situation change we will allocate the nearest available forces to your command. Until then we expect you to maintain the imperial presence on the continent and conduct yourself with the professionalism expected of your rank.

Regards.

High Commander Twilight Sparkle.

Freedom Heart paled as he read the High Commander’s response. His entire body shook with barely suppressed rage as he scanned Twilight Sparkle’s words over and over again. He was being left to secure an underdeveloped, understaffed and undermanned viceroyalty and the reason why he was being refused reinforcements was because there were other problems elsewhere.

Taking several deep breaths, Freedom Heart calmed himself. He then tugged on the bellpull again, summoning the stallion that was now stationed at his reception desk. The stallion entered the room a few seconds later, a wary expression on his face.

“Sir?” the pony said, “what can I help you with?”

“Get me every report we have on our current military situation,” he commanded. “Also, I need you to find as many projections on the viceroyalties' productivity, recruitment rate and expenses as possible.”

“Right away, sir,” the stallion replied, shutting the door as he went to collect the requested information.

Freedom Heart settled down and cleared his desk. If he was expected to make do with his available resources, he had to see what exact resources he had at his disposal. He’d do more than hold Mareope, he'd scour it of enemies and make sure it never bothered the Empire again.

***

Canterlot. March 24th. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050 human calendar)

Papers, notations and magically projected graphs swirled around the office of the Solaminan High Commander’s office in a whirlwind of information and data. At the centre of it was Twilight Sparkle, who organised the flow of paper and magic with practised ease, occasionally paying attention to one particular paper, making notes, applying signatures and returning it to the maelstrom.

Twilight read in silence, her eyes scanning over a paper and assessing its contents before sending it back to the whirlwind. Checking an exchequer report assessing the cost of mobilising and transporting the Church's armies, she lifted her quill in her telekinesis and placed the paper down on her desk in front of her.

“To Minister Bank Note,” she mumbled, old habits forcing her to dictate her message even as she wrote it. “I have reviewed your report on the estimated costs of the war effort and have found your evaluations to have merit. I have approved your request to increase a transportation tax on rock farming exports within the New Equestrian Midland regions. Enclosed is a decree providing legitimacy to any and all actions you take in the implementation of the new reforms. Sincerely, etc.” Her words trailed off as she wrote out her title of office like she had a million times before.

Sighing, she enclosed the message in her magic and then transported it to the Royal Ministry, the paper disappearing in a cloud of magical fire.

She was about to pull another sheet of paper out of her office’s maelstrom of data when she heard a knock at her door. Immediately, the whirlwind of paper crashed to the ground as Twilight’s concentration was interrupted. Groaning in frustration, Twilight lit her horn again and quickly resorted the papers, sending them to their appropriate filing cabinets.

“What is it?” she asked irritably, her voice carrying through the door.

A nervous Pegasus mare poked her head through the door.

“A Lady Warm Embrace to see you High Commander,” she said.

Twilight groaned in exasperation. She had been dreading the appearance of the overbearing zealot and had actually thought, considering how long she had gone without hearing from her, that the Converted mare wasn’t actually going to show up.

“Send her in,” Twilight said, waving her hoof dismissively as she tried to get her thoughts into order.

A few seconds later the doors to her swung open, crashing loudly into the adjoining walls as an Earth Pony mare stormed in. She was slender and tall, dressed in the red and gold livery of the Solaminan Church and with a modest gold tiara atop her head. Underneath her robes, her coat was a greyish green and her mane a green tinted blonde. Her face, a rest would have actually been incredibly beautiful but at the moment it was stuck into a rictus of rage and indignation.

“How dare you?” she hissed at Twilight, her normally soft and calming voice now venomous and hate filled. “How dare you think that you can take command of our holy church’s sanctified forces?”

Twilight sighed as she felt the mare’s glare hit her.

“Those forces,” she said, emphasising her point, “are servants of the Empire and as soldiers are expected to answer to me.”

“They are a tool of peace!” Warm Embrace shrieked back. “They are only to be unleashed on the unholy. They are not to be squandered on regular conflicts and are not supposed to answer to mares like you.”

“Well,” Twilight said, trying hard to not let condescension show in her tone, “a mare like me was appointed by the Empress to oversee the cooperation between the Guard and the Church’s armies. I have her majesty’s full permission and authority where her armies are concerned.”

“If I remember High Commander,” Warm Embrace spoke with an indignantly condescending tone, “you are merely granted authority over the Royal Guard. I do not remember your position giving you the right to command the armies of the Church.”

“And I believe,” Twilight shot back, “that Father Eagle Eye granted me permission to command them, and that is if we don’t mention the fact that the Empress ordered me to take command.”

“Father Eagle Eye does not have the authority to grant you control of the holy forces unilaterally,” Warm Embrace said venomously. “He cannot mobilise without my approval as well. Also, I will not accept that her holy majesty has given you the right to abuse your power in such a manner. Until I hear the commands from Her mouth directly I will not approve of you ordering my forces to mobilise.”

“Is that so?” Twilight replied with a smirk. “So only She herself can command you to finally leave me alone?” She looked Warm Embrace in the eye and lit up her horn. “Alright then. I can get her now if you like.”

She knew she couldn’t really demand Solamina appear before her but the mere threat of the Empress’ disapproval was likely more than enough to scare off the Converted priestess.

“Go ahead,” Warm Embrace replied, calling Twilight’s bluff, “bring Her before us now.”

Twilight kept her face fixed as she brightened the light at the tip of her horn.

“I see her majesty likes to keep her oh so important protegee waiting,” Warm Embrace sneered.

By this point Twilight was fuming with rage. She and the High Priestess had never liked one another; it was a dislike that stemmed from their respective views regarding Solamina. Twilight respected and admired her Empress but still remembered the days when she was her princess, her personal tutor and essentially a second mother. Warm Embrace however had swallowed the ideas of their Empress’ divinity completely and happily regurgitated it to the masses with religious fervour. The similar yet opposing views both mares - who enjoyed positions of prominence in Solamina’s presence - had quickly set the two against one another and the more they clashed the more their hatred entrenched itself.

“I may call her but I wouldn’t presume to order her around,” Twilight said, continuing her charade. “I merely asking that she come in to help me. Even I will admit a student needs help from her teacher.”

Warm Embrace sneered again at Twilight’s confidence.

Suddenly a knock came from the door.

“What is it?” Twilight snapped. The pegasus mare from before cautiously opened the door.

“Um…” the mare said worriedly, licking her lips, “her majesty is approaching my lady. I thought I would inform you.”

A tense atmosphere descended over the room. Warm Embrace quickly spun to face Twilight, her eyes on the Unicorn’s horn and an incredulous look in her eyes. Twilight suddenly remembered her horn was still lit. She quickly winked the light out and nervously returned Warm Embrace’s look.

A moment later the door to the office opened. Both mares bowed as a golden light filled the room.

In walked Solamina, Empress of Equestria and all its conquered territories. She was a regal figure, surrounded by a halo of fiery golden light and dressed in her regalia of office. Atop her head was a tiara, barely changed from the one she wore when she was merely a princess, except now a large fireruby had been set in the centre. Her face was locked in an expression of serene confidence and divine grace.

“Your majesty,” both mares said as they bowed low, one hoof placed in front of their bodies as they lowered their heads.

“My little ponies,” Solamina said, her voice as measured and graceful as her stance. “Twilight Sparkle,” she then said, her tone becoming warmer and more inviting, “I was looking for you. However, I did not expect Lady Warm Embrace to also be here.”

Solamina turned to face the Earth Pony mare who still kept her head lowered.

“What are you doing that requires my precious student?” Her tone was even, but there was now a cooler hint to it.

“Your most glorious majesty,” Warm Embrace said in a reverent tone, “it is an honour to see you before me on this most beatific day you have deemed to gift us with.”

Twilight sneered slightly at the zealous mare’s words. The worst part was the fact that the Converted believed everything she said with the utmost conviction. Solamina’s day was not a gift given by a god, it was the proud duty of a mare, an act worthy of respect and devotion but not blind, unthinking worship.

“Why thank you,” Solamina replied, “but I must ask again, why are you here?” Her voice cooled substantially as she eyed Warm Embrace.

“Your majesty,” the Converted mare continued as if she had not noticed the change, “I was merely protesting the mobilisation of your holy church’s armed forces. I have stressed over and over that your flock’s militant arm is a force of peace to be used only in the face of truly unholy conflict,” she then threw a look at Twilight, “not another bludgeon to be used for political gain.”

“Lady Warm Embrace,” Solamina began, her smile shrinking into an indifferent line on her face, “I do believe I permitted my student to mobilise my forces as I see fit. Your wishes have repeatedly been accommodated but in these times I did see fit for her to take command.”

The temperature in the room reduced noticeably, as if the heat were being sucked into Solamina’s radiant body.

“O… of course your majesty,” Warm Embrace stuttered, “I perfectly understand.”

“Then why,” Solamina said, “are you still protesting my decision?”

“Y… your most divine majesty,” Warm Embrace said, “I was expecting your personal missive. Your most blessed shepherds are prone to arguing amongst one another, and I did not trust the words of Father Eagle Eye and the High Commander here. I came to protest the news I had received and intended to respectfully seek audience with you once I was done in order to present my case.”

“Well that is unnecessary,” Solamina replied steadily, the temperature of the room increasing once again. “I did in fact order the Church to mobilise their armed forces. Now that it has been made clear, I expect you to contribute as fully and enthusiastically as your brethren.” Solamina then turned to regard Twilight Sparkle. “I also expect you to send full reports of your contributions to Twilight here.”

“Of course, your majesty,” Warm Embrace said, bowing low.

“Very good, my little pony,” Solamina replied demurely, “you are dismissed now. I have urgent business with my protegee now.”

“Your most divine majesty,” Warm Embrace said, her head still lowered as she hurried out of the room.

Solamina then turned to Twilight, smiling politely. “Well now that she’s been dealt with, I have some news for you.”

“News?” Twilight asked, now somewhat confused.

“Yes,” Solamina replied with an indulgent smile, “Do you remember the expedition I sent into the remains of the British Isles?”

“Yes,” Twilight replied, perking up.

“Well I just received news from them,” Solamina continued, “and they have found Fluttershy and Rarity.”

“Really?” Twilight shouted, leaping onto her desk in excitement, an unhealthily wide smile on her face.

“Indeed they have Twilight. I ordered them to return the bodies immediately, and they are already kept within the lower dungeons,” Solamina’s expression then became grave. “However, the bodies have already suffered severe decomposition.”

Twilight’s face fell at the news. “How severe?” she stammered out, “I… I mean I know it’s been over twenty years now but I was kind of hoping for some kind of preservation to take place, you know like the peat bog mummies in New Eagleland and I…”

“Twilight,” Solamina chided the young mare, “I’m afraid it was too late to preserve much of them. However the remains are waiting for you down there.” Solamina inclined her head to the door. “I’m sure with a bit of clever application you could come up with something.”

Twilight’s thoughts were already racing. Several plans were formulated and dismissed in a matter of seconds as she sorted through every technique she could devise. Finally she came up with something, it was not only feasible but could improve upon her other friends if it worked and it was going to work.

“Thank you, your majesty,” she said in a grateful tone, bowing low.

“It was no problem at all Twilight,” Solamina replied. “Go ahead and visit them. I’m sure you want to get to work as soon as possible.”

“Thank you, thank you so much!” Twilight almost shouted, her head shooting up. She bowed one more time and then galloped out of her room, racing through the corridors of the Royal Palace until she reached the doors that led down to the dungeons.

Barely hesitating, she pushed open the doors and made her way down the steps, slowing just enough to prevent her from tripping over her robes of office.

Twilight ignored everything else as she trotted through the halls of the Canterlot dungeons. She had remembered when she had first seen them, barely full and laxly guarded by disinterested Guardsponies that didn’t particularly care for the assignment. Now the cells were full with dissidents, heretics and criminals who had flourished in numbers not seen since the days of Nightmare Moon.

At the back of the maze of cells and corridors was another door. This led into the lower dungeons, a deeper level of secret rooms and laboratories. Here Twilight had conducted secret experiments unseen by everypony but the Empress and the few attendants she allowed to assist her. Even her Archmagi were not permitted to see what she had done in these rooms.

Opening the door, the arcane wards and locks undoing themselves in her presence, she entered the room. Right in front of her was a large operating table designed to appear more like an altar. Lying on top of it were two collections of bones. They had been prearranged into the semblance of a pony skeletal display, clearing indicating that one was a Unicorn and the other was a Pegasus.

Twilight felt weak kneed and struggled not to vomit. These were her friends, faces she hadn’t seen for over two decades. The more she looked at their vacant skeletal faces, the more her mind and heart were filled with rage. The Avatar of Albion had murdered them and then left them to rot. He had turned his beloved British Isles into a haunted wasteland so inhospitable that it had taken all these long, harsh years to finally recover her friend’s bodies.

Twilight trotted over to the table. She reached a hoof out and tenderly rubbed the skull of Rarity. She then did the same to the wing bones of Fluttershy.

“You don’t deserve this,” Twilight soothed to the bones, a hint of bitterness in her voice. Still staring at her friends’ remains, a new idea formulated in her mind. Her previous plans were insufficient, much more work would be needed if she wanted to repair her friends.

“Attendant!" Twilight shouted, shaking the dungeons with the Royal Canterlot voice.

The sound of rapid galloping heralded the arrival of a very nervous Earth Pony stallion who bolted through the door, the wards permitting him to enter. He was dressed in a simple grey smock that had Twilight’s cutie mark emblazoned on it.

“Y... yes High Commander,” he stammered.

“Bring me bodies. Immediately,” Twilight said, never once taking her eyes off of the table. “I have a new project.”

“Understood,” the stallion said, a horrified expression on his face. He clearly wanted to be as far from her as he could manage whilst still attending to her demands, knowing full well what could happen to him if he failed. He quickly turned and ran back out of the room to find whatever his mistress sought.

As the sound of the attendant leaving echoed through the chamber, Twilight peered down at the bones, tears in her eyes. A manic grin split her face as she silently cried and she moved to stroke the remains once again.

“Don’t worry,” she said in a disturbingly calm tone that didn’t match the insane look in her eyes, “I’ll make both of you whole again.”

***

Unknown Area, Horssia. March 25th. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050 human calendar)

Surprisingly, moving out of the more heavily forested regions of Eastern Mareope hadn’t soothed the nerves of the Midnight Guard royal entourage. In fact entering the more open wetlands and meadows of Western Horssia had made them even more nervous. Now Thestral and Pegasus patrols were required to scout the area from the air before and after the column made camp.

Royal Duty, however, was happy to leave the oppressive canopy of the trees. Ever since he had fought the Anthroponies he had been nervous of the forest and what lay within its dense foliage.

At present the column was on the move again. According to Young Nan, who was walking by his side, stepping forward on occasion to help direct the Prince and his advisors in directing the column to friendly territory, they were already in lands claimed by the Resistance. Shortly after hearing this, Prince Blueblood had increased the pace of their march. He had said that he wanted to be deep in their ally’s lands as soon as possible.

“So,” Royal Duty said, hoping to strike up a conversation, “how can you tell where we’re going?”

Young Nan gave him an aside glance in response, her eyebrow raised.

“We’re on the tracks that we usually send larger armies through,” she said in response. “Normally I travel through the concealed back channels but this area was cleared to allow slower forces through.”

“Really?” Royal Duty said in a disbelieving tone. He looked down at the dirt track they were currently walking on, wondering how the smaller forces of the Resistance normally travelled if these were the tracks set aside for their actual armies.

“Well it’s officially a trade route but we make use of them,” Young Nan replied. “Most of the ponies that live here work for us and the frequent use means it’s more difficult to notice whether the wheel ruts and hoofprints are from soldiers or merchants.”

“Doesn’t that mean you can’t tell if Solaminan’s are coming your way?” Royal Duty then asked, giving her a similar aside glance.

“They’re a lot slower than us,” Young Nan said, smirking, “We catch them every time they try to move in here.”

“Well,” Royal Duty sighed, “I hope they find us soon as well. We could really use the help now.”

He glanced behind him to scan the long line of bedraggled ponies. The Guardsponies armour, which had once shone silver, was now dusty and splattered with mud. Despite daily maintenance and cleaning, the exertions of the day quickly soiled the silver veneer and deep blue tabardry. He knew the wagons that carried their supplies were in even worse shape. Despite frequent repairs, they were becoming increasingly flimsy and prone to breakdowns.

“Oh trust me,” Young Nan said, distracting him, “they’ll notice us.”

Royal Duty realised she had been appraising the column with him and she now wore a knowing smirk as she made similar assessments of the situation.

The column continued on down the track. By now the burden of their travels was weighing down on them, morale was flagging, and conversation, which had at least existed as a quiet background noise amongst the camp followers, had quieted to nothing.

“Movement!” a voice suddenly shouted over the column. Everypony looked up abruptly to see one of the Pegasus scouts pointing to the north. “We’ve got movement!” the scout shouted again. “It’s another column!”

Everypony tensed, the camp followers inching closer to the Guardsponies that were now standing to attention.

“How many?” Blueblood shouted back up.

The pegasus scout, now joined by several more that had been scouring the skies, peered closely in the direction he had been pointing.

“I see a horseshoe flag!” the Pegasus shouted again. “It’s the Resistance!”

The column relaxed again. Royal Duty felt relieved, glancing at his prince and then Young Nan, both of whom had intense looks of contemplation. He assumed they were considering how to greet the forces that were likely bearing down on them now.

“We got Pegasi incoming,” another scout said, pointing back to the north.

Royal Duty watched as several Skyrangers, Resistance flyers, came up to the Midnight Guard Pegasi in formation. They seemed to be addressing one another, likely giving their ranks and credentials.

One of the Skyrangers then angled itself downwards and flew to meet the column.

The Pegasus, clad in a dark grey uniform and cloth face mask and armed with wing-blades that shone in the weak sunlight, landed right in front of the prince’s entourage and saluted.

“Your highness,” the Skyranger said, “I am lieutenant Cloudy Skies of the New Equestrian Resistance. I have been sent to inform you that Captain Once Over is moving his own forces to meet you. We were dispatched from Headquarters to escort you and your retinue to meet with High Command.”

“Very good,” Blueblood said curtly.

“The captain has requested that you stay here. My comrades are already reporting your position back to him and he is already diverting his troops in your direction.” Cloudy Skies then blanched slightly. “With all due respect of course your highness.”

“Very well, Lieutenant,” Blueblood said. Royal Duty didn’t miss the slight downturn of his prince’s lips. He was clearly annoyed with the presumptive Resistance officer that had made such an arrangement.

Cloudy Skies saluted once again and then shot back into the air, angling towards the direction he had arrived from. He was returning to his own column to give his report.

“Well it looks like we wait now.” Blueblood turned to his own officers. “Give the order to halt. I want us to form a defensive formation but remain ready to move out as soon as possible.”

The Midnight Guard ponies saluted and set off to execute their own orders. Royal Duty turned away from his prince and back towards Young Nan.

“This Once Over anypony you know?” he asked her.

“Nopony I served under,” Young Nan replied, “and I haven’t heard about him either.”

“Thanks anyway,” Royal Duty said, “I just wanted to see if you could tell us anything about the pony who’s supposed to be helping us.”

“Yeah I can’t you anything. Sorry.” Both ponies returned to silence as they watched the column reform itself.

Guardsponies moved the wagons and camp followers to the centre of the formation as the Midnight Guard encircled them. Everypony remained ready to move at a moment's notice but it was clear the arrangement was far more relaxed and sedentary.

***

Prince Blueblood was, in a word, annoyed. He had been tramping through the muddy tracks of Western Horssia for days, accumulating dirt and sweat and ruining his coat, mane, tail and armour. Now, when he was finally going to make contact with the New Resistance, they had presumed to boss him around and delay him further.

He didn’t care if it was only going to be a few minutes, he wanted to be on the move. The sooner he made it to a proper base of operations, the sooner he could begin orchestrating the new war effort.

“They’re here,” one of the Pegasi scouts shouted from above.

The entire camp tensed as they prepared for the arrival of the Resistance contingent.

The Resistance ponies appeared more ragtag when compared to the silvery Guardsponies of the Midnight Guard. Freedom Fighters, the mainstay of the Resistance’s armies, marched over the hill, the horseshoe flag flying over them. They were dressed in light leather barding that lay over them like a padded jerkin. Most of them were Earthponies armed with lances but behind them came Skyrangers that were marching on the ground, presumably to save energy.

On the side were the infamous Wranglers, ponies dressed in dulled chainmail armour that roamed along the formation’s flanks in loose groups. They were armed with ropes, bolas and stabbing blades that they hung from their sides and brought out to harass the foe and strike down the vulnerable and the unwary.

Blueblood could see workers bringing up the rear of the larger column. They were carrying large bundles, presumably the column’s supplies. It was a more strenuous method of transporting provisions but also less conspicuous.

The moment the Resistance forces were spotted the Midnight Guard returned to attention, reforming into their regular formation.

When the Resistance column finally made it to the Midnight guard contingent, they halted as one and stood at attention. Both forces eyed one another, likely analysing the ponies in front of them.

A large Earth Pony dressed in heavy chainmail armour covered by a set of leather barding over the top trotted forward. He approached the prince and then, first, bowed low before saluting.

“Your highness,” he said smartly, “I am Captain -”

“Once Over,” Blueblood suddenly interrupted, wanting to get in one jab at the rudely presumptive officer. “I’m glad that you were close by to receive us. My troops and I are grateful for your assistance.”

Once Over stalled, unsure how to respond to the praise.

“Thank you your highness,” he said hesitantly.

Blueblood fixed a smile to his face. “Well my forces are rested and ready to move out. The sooner we can make it to your headquarters the better. We have been on the road for a long time and many of us our anticipating a proper billeting.”

“Of course your highness,” Once Over said with a bow. He then turned away from the prince and back to his own forces. “Company! About turn! We’re going back to HQ.”

With practised ease, the Resistance column turned around and began to march in an eastward direction.

“Midnight Guard!” an officer in Blueblood’s entourage shouted in turn, “Advance!”

His column lurched forward, the weary ponies returning to the gruelling pace they had become accustomed to. Blueblood scanned his personal entourage, seeing the various looks his officers and advisors were wearing. Most of them seemed to be anticipating the arrival at Resistance Headquarters, probably for different reasons.

Blueblood kept a straight face but was grinning internally. Finally he could meet up with his old allies and coordinate his war effort. Finally he could take action against his many enemies and bring his rebellion back under control. Finally being able to have a good bath once he got there wouldn’t hurt either.

***

Horsaw Ponland. March 26th. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050 human calendar)

“So the missives from New Prance tell us that the chaos in Germareny is beginning to spill over into their province’s territories. Rumours of Midnight Guard are starting to be confirmed by actual reported sightings.”

Freedom Heart sighed as Just Deserts continued to read off the summaries of the countless reports that had passed over his desk. He already knew this but the aristocratic mare had insisted that protocol be followed during their staff meeting.

The highest authorities in Mareope had gathered in the lavish stately room that now served as their meeting hall. The room was circular, beautifully painted walls depicting regal ponies striking down enemies or prostrating themselves before images of the sun, led up to the vaulted dome ceiling. At the centre of the room was a round table that had been varnished to an almost glassy shine. Several ponies now sat around the table, more ponies standing behind them and attending to them whenever the seated officials demanded anything.

“Thank you very much, viceroy,” Freedom Heart said wearily. “I think the situation is very clear now.”

He turned to the ponies in the room, Just Deserts looking mildly annoyed at having been interrupted.

“Fillies and gentlecolts,” Freedom Heart began, addressing the entire assembly, “the threats to Mareope are obviously far more severe than anypony could have predicted. The continent is rife with traitors, heretics and monstrosities that cannot be tolerated. It is quite clear that the current methods we are using are no longer adequate to contain or counter them.”

“Just what are you suggesting Marshal?” a well dressed Earth Pony mare asked in an indignant tone. “Are you implying that what we have done is inadequate?”

“Indeed sir,” an overdressed and overweight Pegasus stallion piped in. “I will have you know that we are poorly equipped and staffed here and have done the best we can.”

“I suggest nothing,” Freedom Heart calmly replied, “at least in regards to you noble ponies and I acknowledge your hard work. However, it is clear that we cannot continue to simply ignore the conflict and try to continue with business as usual whilst our enemies proliferate under our very noses.”

Freedom Heart then stood up from his seat, his hooves pressing on the table so he could raise himself higher.

“Good ponies,” he began, pausing as he carefully chose his next words. “I would suggest we place the Viceroyalty under martial law.”

The entire room immediately exploded into chaos. Ponies everywhere shouted out their objections, bombarding Freedom Heart with their reasons and justifications for opposing his decision. Just Deserts sat back in her seats with a heavy sigh, watching as her government verbally tore one another apart.

Finally tired of the commotion, she rapped on the table with her hoof, growing progressively louder until the room had eventually quieted back down.

“Everypony please compose yourselves,” she said with practised calm. “I am sure we can come to some kind of agreement. Field Marshal,” she turned to regard Freedom Heart, “could you please provide some outline for your intentions should we place ourselves under martial law. We can then debate the merits of taking such an action.”

Freedom Heart sighed internally. He didn’t relish the idea of a lengthy debate with politicians over the necessities of taking action against the Empire’s threats.

“Thank you viceroy,” she said, “I would like to begin with…”

He was suddenly interrupted by raucous laughter from outside that filled the room with an unsettling presence.

“Good morning everypony,” a jovial yet sinister voice announced, “I hope you don’t mind me popping in.”

Freedom Heart stood up from his seat and went over to the window. Peering down onto the square in front of the viceregal palace, he saw a very bizarre sight. A strange patchwork creature was stood in the middle of the square. He had a vaguely equine head attached to a serpentine body, mismatched limbs were attached to it along with a pair of wings. It’s face bore an excited expression and it was striking a dramatic pose with its avian claw held high in the air whilst it hovered over the ground.

“I’m just here to drop my kids off,” he continued in his speech, barely missing a beat. “I hope you don’t mind.”

He then snapped his fingers. There was a flash of light and then the air above him imploded into a white void. Shapes moved behind the milky skin of the spherical white anomaly, disturbing the liquid sheen of the shape.

Countless hundreds of grotesque monsters suddenly spilled out of the sphere in all directions. Horrific monsters that appeared similar to deformed humans that had been twisted and warped with pony features charged into the square, roaring and yelling as they went.

Overhead, the bizarre chimera flew in loops, laughing like a maniac as his minions began to ravage and destroy everything they could reach.

“Summon the guards!” Freedom Heart screamed to the ministers and officials. “Somepony, anypony get as many guards as possible and barricade the palace!”

Several of the servants and adjutants that had been standing in the room rushed out of the doors. Freedom Heart turned to the other viceroyalty officials.

“Get to centre of the citadel,” he said to them. “This is an emergency situation and your safety is our top priority. Head for the fortified safe-room in the foundations.”

The various governmental officials all nodded their affirmatives and hurried out of the room with their guards. He saw Just Deserts throw him a glance of concern as she was shuttled to the safe-room and then they were gone.

“Right,” Freedom Heart said, primarily to himself. He turned to one of the remaining Guardsponies in the room. “Send out the signal.”

The Unicorn Guard ran to the window, charged up his horn and fired a ball of green light into the air. The ball of green magic shot high into the sky over the city and exploded in a nimbus of green and yellow colour.

Freedom Heart ran down to the main entrance into the palace. The Grand Hall, a massive structure that, like the conference room, reached high up to a vaulted ceiling and was covered in red and gold painted frescos, was filled with Guardsponies.

“Ponies of the Solaminan Empire,” Freedom Heart shouted as he trotted into the hallway, his magic drawing his sword from its sheath, “the enemy is at our gates. We all knew it would happen eventually, that our foes would attempt to strike us in our homes. I say we show them why that is a bad idea.”

The crowd of ponies cheered at his words as he ran to the front, his sword pulled from its sheath by his magic.

“Open the doors,” he commanded. “It’s time we took the fight to them.”

Everypony’s face was set with a look of grim determination. They all knew what was awaiting them outside the palace’s doors.

The moment the great doors opened, they heard the screams of ponies and the bloodcurdling cries of the abominations that were attacking them. They could not yet see the chaos as the outer compound of the viceregal palace still separated them from the city proper but there was no longer a great distance between them and the monsters they were about to face.

The ponies hurriedly marched through the compound, every one of them quiet except for the sound of their hooves stomping on the stone courtyard.

“Get the gates!” Freedom Heart shouted to the ponies manning the compound walls. The Guards immediately went to work, grabbing the wooden bar that kept the doors shut and pulled the reinforced doors open. Atop the walls, Unicorns took position, their horns lighting up in preparation for bombardment.

Freedom Heart and his troops quickly filed through the passage, filling it with their armoured bodies before any enemies could exploit the opening.

The moment he stepped beyond the boundaries of the viceregal palace, Freedom Heart found he had descended into chaos.

Foul abominations were running rampant throughout the city centre. Disgusting mutants, combinations of pony and human features, were butchering everything in sight, defacing buildings, toppling statues of Solamina and screaming obscene curses at everything around them. Freedom Heart could see the raw, palpable hatred in their eyes and it almost made him pause for fear of drawing their gaze.

“Marksmages!” Freedom Heart shouted, his voice carrying over the ungodly din. “Now!”

“Loose!” another voice atop the wall screamed in response. The familiar hissing noise announced the firing of dozens of bolts of magic. Points of light shot over the heads of Freedom Heart and his Guardsponies and impacted the roiling horde beyond.

Anthroponies were sent flying by the powerful shots that impacted them. Many fell to the ground with burning wounds in their bodies whilst others were simply stunned. The horde had been sent reeling by the fire against them but now every one of them had noticed the pony force assembled before them.

“Ponies of the Empire!” Freedom Heart shouted. “Charge! For the Empress!”

A great roar of rage erupted from the pony column and, as one, they ran forward. Their spears were lowered and grim or enraged expressions were fixed to their faces. The Anthroponies, responding to the roaring commands of one of their horde, also formed a rude battleline and charged forward in response.

Freedom Heart pulled his sword closer to his body and braced for impact. It felt like an eternity as he watched the wall of misshapen flesh and bone rush towards him and his ponies. He tried to think of the things he fought for, order, the Empire, the safety of his fellow ponies.

In an instant, the two lines clashed. There was an audible crash as armoured ponies collided with creatures larger than themselves. Anthroponies fell as spears were lodged deep into their bodies. At the same time, ponies were pushed back or smashed to the ground by heavy blows from their enemy’s weapons and fists. Overhead magical shot continued to fire into the rear of the Anthropony horde.

Freedom Heart thrust his blade forward, skewering a deformed beast in front of him in the chest. The creature doubled over and collapsed as he pulled his sword out of its chest. He turned the blade just in time to catch an axe swung at him by a monster with a human face stretched over a pony’s muzzle and one leg that ended in a broken hoof. Freedom Heart pulled his sword back and twisted it in his magical grip. The sword spun, letting the axe fall for a moment. However, the sword changed direction again, slicing down on the Anthropony’s fingers and severing them. The beast howled in pain, dropping its weapon. In that time a nearby Guardspony rammed his spear into the monstrosity’s throat, silencing it.

The pony line was holding, the Anthropony’s dashing themselves on the golden plated wall that had formed up immediately after the momentum of the charge had bled out.

“Hold!” Freedom Heart shouted, pulling back and taking his place in the formation.

A loud shout then echoed over the square. The Anthropony horde split as a loud horn sounded.

Freedom Heart’s heart slowed for a moment as he saw what approached them. Huge beasts with the bodies of ponies, swollen to the size of a horse, the heads and torsos of human and with a pair of twisted Unicorn horns atop the crowns of their ugly semi-equine heads were charging at them. Male and female, some armoured, others baring their naked chests to the foe, the disgusting Anthroponies ran at them, baying for blood and swinging cruel mauls and blades.

“Brace,” Freedom Heart was able to shout just before the beasts crashed into his formation.

For Freedom Heart it was like being struck by a train. He was bowled over, a hoof striking him in the chest and denting his barding, breaking several of his ribs as well. A huge flail clipped his helmet, just missing his head but sending him reeling. Despite his scrambled thoughts, he saw several of the beasts use magic, their horns lighting up and feeding energy into the blades which now spat fire and magical energy at any unfortunate ponies in front of them.

The Anthroponies charged on, overrunning the Solaminan forces and scattering them. Several portions of the relief force routed, fleeing into the other streets whilst others withdrew into tight defensive circles. The line was broken and now everypony could only look after those in their immediate presence.

Freedom Heart stumbled to his hooves, his brain still too jarred for him to think properly.

“Hello murderer,” a young, smooth voice said above him. Freedom Heart looked up, his vision finally clearing and beheld a nightmare.

It was one of the demi-horse beasts but it was far larger, towering a full head over its foul kin. Its face was the closest to resembling a human’s Freedom Heart had yet seen on any Anthropony and it bore an expression of smug superiority. It's warped Unicorn horns had grown as if they were woven to form a bizarre branching crown and were tipped by a ball of magical flame that followed the movements of his head, bobbing and weaving as the crown shifted.

“Wha…” Freedom Heart tried to say, his addled mind still struggling to respond. “What are you?”

“Me?” the creature said. “I’m a young man here to do my bit for a righteous cause.” He grinned revealing human teeth with prominent canines. “I’m an avenger.”

He reached down, bending his forelegs and reached a hand out to grab Freedom Heart. The stallion struggled but the beast was far larger and much stronger than the wounded and disoriented Unicorn. Freedom Heart could feel the beast wrap his fingers around his throat and lift him up from the ground. His vision swam once more and dark blotches appeared before his eyes.

“I’m Isaac,” the Anthropony said as if he were greeting somepony over tea. “But most people call me the Stonewall.” He paused, looking up at the wall of the palatial compound which was still manned by Unicorns. Freedom Heart was glad to see the Guardspones atop the walls were still raining fire down on the Anthropony horde. “And,” the beast, Isaac, continued in the same friendly tone, “I’m here to get back at your kind for creating this hell.”

Freedom Heart could see the demi-horse beasts were now directing magic at the ponies on the wall.

“I really wish this would go quicker,” Isaac said, his tone becoming irritated. “I guess things can only ever be done right when you do it yourself.”

Freedom Heart felt the grip around his throat tighten as a light lit up in Isaac’s other hand. He could see the beast charging magic and directing his hand at the gate. The massed Anthroponies, realising what their leader intended to do, moved out of the way, eagerly waiting for the spell to shatter the doors that separated them from their prey.

“Strike from the sky brothers! For the empress!” a voice suddenly shouted. Freedom Heart was able to glance up just in time for a golden blur to crash into his captor.

The Anthropony horde looked up to see the sky filled with formations of Solaminan Pegasi. The golden cohorts of flying warriors whirled overhead. Then, almost as one, they tucked in their wings, held down their spears and dove down, crashing into the foe beneath them. Anthroponies everywhere dropped as spears and armoured bodies slammed into them, piercing them with sharpened steel or crushing them with armoured hooves. Then, as if they had never touched the ground, the Pegasi were airborne once again, returning to formation and wheeling around to make another strike.

Freedom Heart shook his head again as his vision cleared. He saw that the beast, Isaac had managed to grab the Pegasi that had struck him before the unfortunate pony had been able to escape. Still weak, he was only able to watch as he saw the Anthropony sorcerer conjure fire in his free hand and force-feed it to the mare.

The Pegasi above had reformed and began diving down into the fray again. isaac, raised his hand, a grimace of hatred on his face and built up magical energy again.

The Pegasi crashed back down onto the Anthroponies, scattering them and slaying dozens with spears and trampler clad hooves. Isaac, however, avoided their assault. The magic in his hand formed into a wall of energy. Pegasi that had aimed for him collided with the shield, violently bouncing away and crashing into the ground. He effortlessly held up the magical shield as several more Pegasi were thrown away by it.

“For the Empress!” the familiar cry of the Empire sounded once again as a battalion of Guardsponies appeared from the south street.

Freedom Heart was relieved to see the several dozen strong unit plough through the square. The Anthroponies, who had now been scattered and stunned by the Pegasi, were trampled by the armoured ponies baring down on them. The demi-horse creatures put up the biggest struggle but were either toppled by the more numerous ponies or skewered by their lances.

“Discord!” Isaac shouted into the air with a roar. His face had transformed into a foul mask of primal rage and any pretense of friendliness or joviality was gone from his voice.

Freedom Heart staggered upright, the sight of his comrades heading his way giving him renewed strength. He lifted a sword from a nearby corpse of a Guardspony and held it in his magical grip. The sword swayed as he struggled slightly to keep a hold of it but he fixed Isaac with a challenging glare.

Isaac looked back at the stallion in front of him and sneered.

“Oh don’t think this is the end of it,” he said with contempt and hatred in his tone. “I’ll be back.”

In an instant a flash of light engulfed Isaac and the Anthropony was gone. So too were the other living abominations. In that single moment the entire square and the city beyond had emptied of living Anthroponies, leaving only bodies behind.

Freedom Heart stood still, stunned and dumbfounded by how abruptly the battle had just ended. He looked around for any sign of an enemy but all he saw were ponies and the corpses of the beasts he had been fighting. He listened out for any sign of trouble but only heard the cries of the wounded and the panicked.

He dropped the borrowed sword from his magical grip and wobbled on his hooves. His mind was still addled and the adrenaline that had kept him going through the fight was beginning to run out. He wanted to collapse, to just give in to unconsciousness but he couldn’t the ponies around him needed to see he could stand up to something like this.

He ambled about the battlefield and finally found his own sword. He picked it up in his magic and sheathed it, ignoring the gore he was now wiping all over the inside by doing so.

Finally he turned around and saw ponies coming out from the palatial complex. They were carrying stretchers and bore the red cross that indicated they were medicare personnel. Smiling slightly, he tottered over to them and didn’t struggle when a pair of stallions grabbed him and lifted him up. As they placed him down on a stretcher he let the fuzziness on the edge of his vision finally become darkness and he slipped into unconsciousness.

***

Unknown area, former Britain. March 25th. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050 human calendar).

“Are you afraid?” Merlin asked him.

Christopher shook his head, feeling confused. He was sat on a stone, though it felt soft and comfortable. Merlin’s cavern home was always this way - you expected one thing and yet received something else.

Merlin had told him many things - had told him the story of the war, in a way that made it far more thorough than Christopher’s parents had (and those stories were at best half-remembered). He had spoken of the Avatar of Albion, the warrior chosen to fight for humanity… and of his failure.

Most tellingly, Merlin had told him that he was, quite possibly, the last human. He had told him that he had a destiny to fulfil: with no other humans left, the Light would only choose him to be it's Avatar.

“Why?” Christopher asked.

Merlin had paused at that. “Now, I don't claim to speak for the Light - older and wiser fools than I have tried. But even it operates with a certain level of… well, shall we say ‘pettiness’, for want of a better word.”

“‘Pettiness’?” Christopher had repeated.

“Oh yes,” Merlin said, nodding slowly. “Light and Dark are strange things. The greatest of the Dark’s champions may act with more honour and loyalty than a servant of the Light, depending on the person chosen. And Light itself is not beyond vengeance - its last Avatar, after all, was a symbol of precisely that.”

“So… it doesn't like the ponies?” Christopher had said slowly.

“If you like,” Merlin had said, nodding once.

“So… I have to be like the Avatar you talked about?” Christopher had asked, frowning. “To… to be a hero?”

“It sounds more impressive when you say that,” the old wizard had said, looking morose. “But make no mistake - your destiny is full of trials and challenges, and then there's the final battle to consider. I dare say you've got a harder time ahead of you than the last fellow. It's quite likely you won't survive it.”

Christopher had listened intently, taking all this in. At that final pronouncement, he had nodded once, saying nothing. Merlin had seemed confused by that, and then he had asked his question.

Christopher didn't know why his answer was so confusing. He wasn't afraid - was he supposed to be?

“Why aren't you?” Merlin asked, narrowing his eyes at him appraisingly.

Christopher frowned. “Should I be?”

Merlin’s mouth twitch slightly, almost into a smile, and then he brought himself to his full, rather impressive height.

“Some men, when told they're likely not to survive a task, would rather not do the task,” he pointed out.

“But… if I don't, who will?” Christopher asked.

“Don't you think that's rather a simplistic way of looking at it?” Merlin asked, raising an eyebrow.

Christopher thought for a moment, trying to voice his thoughts as best he could.

“My parents are dead,” he said after a moment. “And so is everyone else. Right?”

“So it would seem,” Merlin said, nodding slowly. “If they are not, they are hidden from my sight.”

“And if I become the Avatar, I can… make it right?” Christopher asked. “Make it better?”

“You can't save those already lost,” Merlin replied.

“But I can save anyone else, right?” Christopher asked more insistently.

Merlin nodded, frowning slightly himself.

“Then… I need to, don't I?” Christopher said, nodding to himself. “I need to save people, even the good ponies if there are any. Maybe… if I die doing it, that's not so bad. People die a lot. If I do something good first…”

He trailed off, shrugging. Merlin was frowning, and Christopher had the horrible feeling he had said the wrong thing.

Suddenly, the old wizard grinned. “Alright then. We had best get started.”

Christopher blinked, then nodded. “Ok.”

***

Canterlot. March 26th. Year 20 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2050 human calendar)

The dreams were always the same - she dreamt of other worlds, other lives. Some were peaceful… happy. Others were hard, filled with toil and strife. All, though, were somehow, impossibly, her.

This dream, though, was different.

She was… somewhere. Towers of steel reached towards a sky that was scarred and black, turbulent clouds rolling across the expanse into the horizon.

Everything you have built I will bring down around you.

Ponies and humans walking through the streets, their faces bland. Some seemed almost to be walking with their twins, save for slight changes. Posters were on the walls, showing images of a dark figure with a soft purple glow where its eyes should have been.

Everything your demon-Empress has created, I will lay low.

And there were the warriors: armoured soldiers marched hither and thither, their sleek rifles looking deadly. And every so often, a large figure, clad in bulky armour that looked like an unholy combination of technology and magic, would appear, the crowds seeming almost to part around them out of respect - or fear.

I have strode the dark space between the worlds until that infinite nothing was part of me and I part of it. I have laid low Tyrant upon Tyrant, and I will do the same to your demon-Empress.

She seemed almost to be floating towards a tower - the highest, most gothic tower of them all. Turrets covered the massive structure, sitting on a thousand smaller towers that jutted from the main structure. Hangars were visible, containing flying machines of types she didn't recognise. She kept floating higher and higher, before reaching the top - and suddenly, she was inside, zipping through corridor after corridor after corridor…

It is only a matter of time.

And then she was in a large, open room, a single throne set at the far end of the room. She floated slowly towards it.

You cannot hide from what is to come.

A shadowy figure seemed to form as she approached the throne. Little could be made of the figure, save for its human shape.

You cannot hide from me.

And suddenly she was right in front of the dark figure, purple glowing orbs glaring at her from the shadows. Twilight froze in shock as an overwhelming presence pressed down on her. She felt like every part of her was being crushed, body mind and soul. The gaze pierced right through and made her shrink away in fear but she couldn’t move, couldn’t turn away and couldn’t try to shut out the cold purple eyes that bored into her very being.

I see you, Twilight Sparkle.

***

Twilight shot awake, gasping for breath. It took her a moment to remember that she was in her bedchamber in Canterlot, her body soaked in a cold sweat. Sitting up, she waited for her frantic heartbeat to slow down once again and tried to control her thoughts. She slumped back into her bed, before closing her eyes again.

The dreams were always strange - but that had been new. Unheard of.

It was just a dream, she thought to herself. Just a dream.

She went back to sleep, and forgot the nightmare.