***

“I ask that you do not make a decision rashly. Though time is short to save Elliot's world, one or two days will not condemn it now.”
Princess Celestia, The Avatar of Albion.

***

Fort Fairpoint, May 14th, Year 3 of the New Diarchy Calendar.

The library of Fort Fairpoint was, to put none too fine a point on it, terrible.

Twilight would have expected the repository of knowledge to be found in a place of legend like this to be the equal of, at the very least, Canterlot, or heck, even her own little library! Instead, however, it was a surprisingly small chamber located in the East Wing of the fortress, and it was sparsely kept at best. There were mostly copies of books that she had already read, along with a few different records of Fairpoint’s history.

That being said, she and her friends hadn’t managed to look through all of the book’s, so, much as she might not rate this place, there might still be information present to help out. Still, three days of searching hadn’t been especially enlightening.

“Not sure I like the smell of some of these old books,” Rarity mumbled as she moved one pile away from Twilight. “And it doesn’t help that we still don’t know what we’re looking for.”

“Something to help in a war,” Twilight replied. “Maybe some way of taking on an Alicorn.”

Fluttershy looked up at her. “Y-you think it’ll come to that?”

“Probably?” Twilight said, shrugging. “Discord laid on some heavy hints about Solamina that didn’t make anypony exactly thrilled about the prospect of taking her on, so…”

“What kind of a name is ‘Solamina’ anyway?” Rarity asked.

“Old high Unicornic,” Twilight said at once. She frowned. “I thought we’d gone over that part, Rarity.”

“Gone over what part, dear?” Rarity asked, frowning back at her.

“Solamina’s name,” Twilight replied. “You asked what kind of name it was.”

“No I didn’t,” Rarity countered. “Are you alright, dear? You’ve been up an awfully long time.”

Twilight shook her head. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Just then, Lyra entered the room. To Twilight’s surprise, she had a big smile on her face, and her normally relatively composed mane was frazzled.

“What the hay happened to you?” Applejack asked her. She and Pinkie were presently proverbially buried in a pile of books about the Griffon army’s military formations. Pinkie, at least, had apparently decided that now was a good time for a nap.

“Oh, nothing,” Lyra replied, grinning like a drunkard. “I just, uh… just finished getting acquainted with Prince Arvalon and his… uh, his ambassador, Elmas. Lovely pair. Couple. Uh, horses.”

“Talk about ‘whorses’,” Rainbow Dash’s voice spoke.

“Rainbow!” Rarity put in, scowling. “That is a horrible thing to say to -”

“Rainbow isn’t here,” Fluttershy said with a frown, the blood draining from her face. “She wanted to go get a look at the Griffon airship, said she’d be back later.”

There was a sudden pause, and then Lyra, her expression suddenly sober, started looking around. Twilight, too, stepped away from the books, frowning.

“Rainbow, are you out there?” she called out.

“Rainbow, are you out there?” her own voice returned to her, followed by a mocking giggle.

“Celestia wasn’t going to invite changelings to this meeting, was she?” Rarity asked quietly, looking up at the various high shelves with a worried expression.

“I don’t know,” Lyra said grimly. “But I don’t think that’s a changeling.”

“How do you know?” Applejack asked.

Instead of answering, Lyra began looking around again.

“Trickster, trickster,” she said, as though intoning. She paused, scowling. “Oh, how did it go?”

“What is it, Lyra?” Twilight asked. “Do you know what this is?”

Instead of replying, Lyra seemed to be reciting something in her head, before looking up at the ceiling, her eyes darting this way and that.

Trickster, trickster,
Prankster, minx,
We’re in no mood
For thine Tricks,
Trickster, trickster,
Devious one,
Show thy face and
Get thee gone!

There was a long, pregnant pause, and then Rarity raised an eyebrow.

“Much as that rhyme was… interesting, dear,” she said, “I don’t see how it -”

A long, low cackle sounded through the library, and Rarity nearly jumped out of her skin. Twilight’s horn glowed defensively, and even Applejack looked perturbed.

Oh where are you going?
And what are you doing?
And where have you come from?
And what have you seen?

Are you a-staying,
Or are you a-flying?
A herald of the future,
Or an old has-been?

“Show yourself,” Twilight said evenly. “We’re not in the mood for games.”

“She won’t show herself just because you ask,” Lyra said, her ears flattening against her skull. “She won’t do anything she doesn’t want to do.”

Another song started.

You talk about games, Celestia’s mare,
But games are not fun when you’re playing fair,
For I am the cheater that cheated the Gods,
The trickster of tricksters, defiler of odds,

So what about chess, with rooks and kings?
What about cards in gambling rings?
What about risk - you’re taking one,
To speak like a king when you serve the Sun.

“Who is that?” Applejack asked, frowning.

A figure appeared from the shadow of the nearby bookshelves, an expression of mischievousness upon a foxlike face, set upon a vaguely bipedal body. She wore a long red cloak, a rich, red and black kimono that cut off at the knees of her hindlimbs and had nine large lustrous fox tails that were visible behind her body, all of them swishing and coiling about in an almost hypnotic fashion. The only sign that she was armed was a short blade girt at her side.

“Greetings, strangers,” the creature said with a grin and a wave of her hand, her tone playful, even flirty.

Lyra bowed her head. “You do us honour, oh beauteous queen of liars.”

“Indeed?” the creature said with a smirk, raising her hand over her mouth in a dainty expression that seemed to be trying to hide her growing grin. “And what are the names of the duly honoured?”

“This is Twilight Sparkle,” Lyra said, motioning to Twilight. “These others are Fluttershy, Applejack, Rarity, and… well, the sleeping one is Pinkie Pie.”

True enough, Pinkie was still sleeping.

“And you, little mare?” the creature persisted. “What are you called?”

Lyra swallowed. “Lyra Heartstrings, your most gracious.”

“Indeed?” the creature said with a flourish, her tails dancing behind her. “Well, I am called ‘you bloody pest’ by many, but my name is Tamamo No Mae, daimyo and chief of the Kitsune.” The creature bowed, one of her paws set within the other before straightening again. “My friends call me Tama. You, little ponies, may call me Tamamo, until such time as I decide you bore me… or that you do not.”

“It’s, uh, nice to meet you,” Twilight said, glancing between Lyra and this Tamamo No Mae. She thought she had heard the name in passing, from both Celestia and Lyra, but she didn’t know the reputation.

Lyra groaned, giving Twilight the impression that she might have said the wrong thing.

“Nice.” Tamamo No Mae snorted derisively. “Nice. You have no idea who I am, do you, little pony?”

Twilight swallowed. “Uh… not… really?”

“Then allow me to educate you,” the Kitsune hissed. And then she seemed to shimmer, before leaping to another shelf, moving more like air than a creature of flesh and blood. “I am Tamamo No Mae. My name is legend, my deeds infamous. Where I walk, none may see, unless I allow it. I am silent and deadly, I am behind you and above you. I can always see you and you can never see me.”

“That, uh, must make conversation awkward,” Rarity said dryly, trying to smile.

Tamamo laughed at that. “It can. My equals can see me, at least. You aren’t quite there yet, and the paths you walk may never lead to such illustrious heights. Or maybe they shall. None can tell.”

She dropped to the ground before the little group, her body seeming to shimmer as her tails writhed and wrapped around her like a whirlwind of fur before straightening yet again.

“I am curious what made Celestia choose to act as she has,” she said, smirking. “It is entirely like her to act as emotion dictates, swiftly and with surety, but this is still a bold move for her.”

“You know her?” Twilight asked.

“We are… friends,” Tamamo replied, giving a toothless smile that could only be described as curt.

“I find it hard to believe anypony would want to be your friend,” Rarity said with a snort.

Lyra winced. “Rarity…”

“Of course others wish to be my friend, ponies and other, more interesting creatures alike,” Tamamo said indignantly. “I am the great Tamamo No Mae! I am a shadow and a shade, fast and lean, deadly and powerful, and very attractive.”

And suddenly she had assumed the form of an alabaster pony mare, lithe and beautiful, and was strutting around some six feet from the group.

“I could do whatever I wanted, with whomever I wanted, if I wanted to,” she said with a suggestive wink. She then pouted, the pony lips looking exaggerated. “If only the great Shogun would let me.”

“The Shogun?” Twilight whispered.

“Mighty Tengu,” Lyra said, somewhat louder. “He keeps the entire nation of Yamato in relative order despite the different groups.”

“He likes me to maintain a certain decorum, as a daimyo of a race,” the Kitsune shrugged. “And I am willing to maintain it, as a sacrifice for my kindred.”

Applejack clucked her tongue and snorted. “You're lying.”

“Applejack,” Lyra hissed. “You don’t just come out and tell Tamamo No Mae that she’s a liar!”

“Of course I’m lying,” the Kitsune said with a bark of laughter, startling Lyra. “I am Tamamo No Mae! I speak what I wilt and if I speak truth or falsehood, only I may say!”

“You are…” Rarity said, choosing her words carefully, “very… odd.”

The Kitsune gave a toothy grin. “You have no idea, tiny one.”

And with a sudden flourish, she had disappeared. Lyra looked around frantically, but after a moment of silence, she sighed.

“Girls,” she said slowly, “please, whatever you do, try not to antagonise her.”

“Whyever not?” Rarity said with a raised eyebrow. “She didn’t seem altogether fussed about not antagonising us.”

“Tamamo No Mae is the oldest and greatest of all Kitsune,” Lyra replied with a sober expression. “If she wanted to, we’d all be dead. And she pranks creatures more than Rainbow Dash, except half her pranks in the old days maimed or even killed their targets.” At the others’ shocked expressions, she sighed. “It hasn’t been that bad in recent history. I don’t know if she’s mellowed, or if Tengu stops her, but that’s what history says.”

There was a momentary shocked pause as everypony took in this information.

“Well,” Rarity finally said. “It seems we’re going to meet some interesting creatures while we’re here.”

***

Fort Fairpoint, May 16th, Year 3 of the New Diarchy Calendar.

The next group of ‘interesting creatures’ the girls would end up meeting, at least, were more familiar to them all. One early morning, after dreams full of shouting, horns, drums and marching feet, Twilight walked groggily into one of the many dining halls of the fortress, only to find Pinkie Pie and Lyra already there… along with a good dozen moles.

They were short, squat creatures, probably a good two hundred of them. Most of them, if not all, were clad in some sort of bulky, thick plated armour. Many of them were armed - battleaxes, pickaxes, halberds, crossbows, shortbows… if there was something potentially sharp and lethal, it was probably on display somewhere.

Oh: and there was singing.

“Drink when you're happy!
Drink when you're sad!
Drink when you're melancholy!
Drink when you're mad!

Drink for the best of times!
Drink for the worst!
Drink for the blessed times!
Drink for the cursed!

Drink when you win a fight!
Drink when you lose!
Drink when you've got no choices!
Drink when you choose!”

“Twilight!” Lyra yelled, interrupting the singing. “There you are!”

She was inebriated: her cheeks were ruddy, her eyes were wide, and her speech was more than a little slurred. Twilight raised an eyebrow.

“You ok there, Lyra?” she asked.

“I’m great!” Lyra replied with a grin. “I was just telling Dunar and Molvir about you!”

“Ah, this is the one?!” one of the moles - a slightly taller one with a long, greying beard - said, standing and approaching Twilight. “I am Molvir, High King of the Mol-kin! I hear you’re the one who approved the building of Mol Carstann!”

“Mol… Carstann?” Twilight repeated, too dumbfounded to realise that she was being addressed by a king.

“Oh, forgive me, they probably didn’t name it in front of you!” Molvir chuckled. “You called it the Smokey Mountain, didn’t you?”

“Oh,” Twilight said, nodding, “uh, yes. I was, Uh, pleased to help.”

“Help, yes!” Molvir grinned. “The more of our kin we get in new Mols the better!” He turned to the other moles. “Dunar!”

Another mole, slightly younger looking but with an equally commanding presence, stepped forward, before bowing to the collection of ponies.

“Dunar Sternhammer,” he introduced himself, his voice gruff and full of humour. “Mol of Mol Hydannik. Lyra Heartstrings tells us you’re the bearers of the Elements of Harmony!”

“That’s right,” Twilight said, throwing Lyra a look. She had the decency to look abashed, at least.

“We’re familiar with your magic trinkets,” Molvir said with a chuckle. “Very handy, from what I hear. Strange that Equestria should call for help, then, when you’ve got such tools at your disposal.”

Twilight felt the blood drain from her face. “I think that would be better saved for the Concordat meeting proper.”

“Heartstrings said the same,” Molvir said, his expression shrewd. “Clever. But I’m not an idiot, Sparkle. There’s only a few reasons why the mare holding the sun calls for help, and I’m guessing it’s because she’s found something big enough that we’ll all be wanting to pitch in. Or because we’ll all need to for it to not go totally beards up.”

“Oh, come on Molvir!” Dunar grinned. “Let’s not get tangled in politics, that’s going to bore the stone out of me!”

Molvir chuckled. “You’re right, Dunar.” He looked back to Twilight. “We’ll talk again, Element Bearer. No doubt there’ll be much to do before this is over!”

That said, he and Dunar tottered back to the crowds, hefting mugs of ale as they did so.

“Drink when the war is won!
Drink when it's lost!
Drink when the beer is free!
Drink when it costs!

Drink with your enemies!
Drink with your friends!
Drink when the drinking starts!
Drink when it ends!”

“Lyra,” Twilight said slowly, “what were you thinking, telling them who we were?”

“Is it a secret?” Lyra asked dumbly. “I mean… y’know. Who else would you be? Besides, Pinkie didn’t stop me.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Pinkie Pie is not good at deciding what not to tell ponies - or moles, as the case may be.”

“Hey!” Pinkie Pie said from next to Twilight, a frown of consternation on her face. “I resemble that remark!”

“Where’d you come from?” Twilight asked.

“My ears were burning,” Pinkie replied simply, as though this were obvious.

Twilight frowned in confusion. “What, you mean like a Pinkie sense?”

“No, I mean literally burning,” Pinkie replied. She tapped her ears. “Think that beer made them go funny.”

Lyra rolled her eyes. “You drank Stoneale, didn’t you?”

“Yupperoony!” Pinkie said with a grin. “Figured being a rock farmer’s daughter that stone ale would be right up my alley!”

Lyra sighed exaggeratedly. “Pinkie, Stoneale is literally magically liquefied sulphurs and other minerals that Moles dug up mixed with whiskey to create a cocktail. It’s not supposed to be drunk by other creatures.”

“Will she be ok?” Twilight asked.

“Of course she will,” Lyra said patiently. “She’ll just get random odd burning sensations just about everywhere at some point for the next four months.”

“Four months,” Twilight repeated. “Months?!”

“It’s minerals,” Lyra said, shrugging. “A lot of them take a while to work through the system. It’s why the only drink that moles drink with us is normally stuff like Ol’ Trotspur.”

“Drink when you're drinking!
Drink when you're drunk!
Drink when you're thinking!
Drink when you’ve thunk!”

Shaking her head as the moles kept singing, Twilight sighed.

“I’m sort of torn between thinking about how loud they all are and wondering why they think ‘thunk’ is a word,” she said.

Lyra grinned. “Don’t get too worried, Twilight. Moles are probably some of the best friends you could ever have in a…” She paused. “Well, a situation like we’re probably facing.”

“I’ll take your word for that, Lyra,” Twilight said softly. She looked around at the moles, all of them heavily armoured and armed, and sighed. “When did this become what we needed?”

“Drink when you're feeling fear!
Drink when you’re bold!
Drink when you're young and hale!
Drink when you're old!

Drink if the Gods’ll hear!
Drink if they won't!
Drink if they come for you!
Drink if they don't!”

***

Fort Fairpoint, May 19th, Year 3 of the New Diarchy Calendar.

Celestia took a sip of her drink, watching the distant road from her bedroom window. In the distance, she could see a convoy marching down the road towards the fortress: a convoy of Changelings. Many were the steely gunmetal of Hive Metaxis, but she could see envoys (and flags - surprisingly ostentatious ones for the Changelings) representing Hive Chrysalis, Hive Stinger, Hive Venom…

I should have figured they would be coming, Celestia thought, restraining the grimace that threatened to push its way onto her face. As if Metaxis would ever miss something this big.

“Worrying, isn’t it?” a voice said from behind her. Celestia glanced back, to see Arvalon of all horses standing behind her, an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face. He met her eyes. “To see them coming in such numbers. I’d wager there’s at least a thousand of Metaxis’ own personal guards.”

“The strongest changeling army in the world,” Celestia said quietly. “Yes, it is somewhat… disconcerting, to say the least.”

“You must have known they would come,” Arvalon said quietly.

“Oh, I expected them, yes,” Celestia said with a mirthless smile. “I might have hoped they would be disinclined to come.”

“Well, they seem more than ‘inclined’,” Arvalon said. He shook his head. “I could never seem to get over my discomfort around them, you know.”

“Not many can,” Celestia replied. “It’s part of what they are.”

“And yet here we are, called together - by you,” Arvalon said, raising an eyebrow at her. “One wonders just what threat is so great that the Mare Who Holds The Sun would call such ancient enemies together.”

Celestia smiled ruefully. “The Conclave will begin soon. And then, oh Prince, you will know.”

“Indeed I will,” Arvalon said, inclining his head. “Now if you will excuse me, I have arranged a meeting with the lovely Miss Heartstrings.”

“Yes, I had heard something about your ‘meetings’ with her,” Celestia said with a small frown. “Be careful you do not hurt her, Arvalon.”

“My dear Celestia, she knows what an acquaintance amongst my people is,” Arvalon said with a small chuckle. “She is enjoying our cultural exchange. Nothing more. Her… time with Elmas and I is no more or less important to her than her evening drinking with Dunar and Molvir. Which, by the way, I must join her in - her description of it was stupendous.”

Celestia sighed. “You had best be certain she remains unhurt, then. I shall hold you to account.”

“I will be the perfect gentlehorse, oh Princess,” Arvalon said with a bow. “Now, if you will excuse me.”

He turned to leave, and Celestia returned her attention to the approaching convoy of Changelings. With even them here, alongside the Fenri, the Horses, the Simosians, the Griffons… the conclave would be full, indeed.

Now all I have to do is convince them to join us, Celestia thought ruefully.

***