A few months later…

A crucible was turned on its side as the liquid iron poured from the spout, flowing down the trough on the waiting cool top. Slowly but surely the edges of the top were covered up until the whole surface was nothing more than an orange hot sheet of metal, as long as a stout built Pegasus wing span, and as wide as a pony from muzzle to flank. Ready and waiting to be cooled down and milled to what the country needed for the war effort.

As the temperature of the sheet dropped from the combination of the cool water being pumped under the cool tops’ surface and the application of frost spells from the unicorns above, the metal solidified enough for the mill workers to hook on to its ends and move the piece down the line for the next one to be made.

Rolling across a conveyor belt, the sheet came to rest on the stack of its brothers, waiting to be carted off and cut to shape for the plate armor and weapon blades that were to be machined the one of hundreds of assembly lines built in to the base of the princess’s castle.

Glancing at the still red sheets, Grace continued to walk past the many lines, as they cranked out rough metal so her artisans could work on them. Mass production to her nation was nothing new, they had done it before in petty squabbles and have always come out on top because they could make more than they ever needed. Though to fight a war against two other nations that would be doing the same, she needed every skilled hoof she could get to make the tools for her soldiers.

“Well production seems to be keeping steady,” Silvertongue mentioned as he took a look from the clipboard in claw, “we aren’t falling behind with what we thought we’d need at all.”

“But we aren’t increasing output either,” Grace grimaced.

“That’s what happens when these suits of armor are made by hoof…” her scaly friend reminded her.

Armor plates could be mass produced, but in order to make the suits themselves it took a little know how of metals and how to work it. A fine mix between magic, and simple hoof work. Too much hoof work, the time to make a single suit could be a month. Too much magic, and the metal suffered because it wasn’t strengthened properly through the repeated pounding of a hammer, and the skill of the artificer.

“Although we have all the known artisans working from around the nation here,” Silver threw in as he put the clipboard up for now, “there just isn't that many now of days. Metallurgy’s kind of a dying art it seems.”

‘At least the war hasn’t gone hot,’ Grace muttered in the back of her head, ‘the Gryphon Kingdom and the Diamond Dog Republic seem to be perfectly content stockpiling their resources for the fight.’

With that little affirmation, Grace and Silver continue with her rounds of the production effort for her country. Everywhere she went in the plant, she could see the many different citizens working in harmony with one another. Gryphons that wanted to call her country home instead of their own, Zebras who didn’t like a life on the plains anymore, and even the occasional young drake that were more accustom to ponies than their own kind (much like her own companion). Each one working in sync with the other on a single effort.

To protect this nation.

The diversity was another reason Seren usually triumphed in time of need. Dragons were very resilient to injury and even one on the field of battle would almost certainly mean victory. Gryphons were able to handle weapons far better than ponies thanks to their opposable claws and ability to grasp object. Even the zebras brought their own medicines to those that were injured, and natural remedies that treated casualties over the years, plus the various fighting styles.

‘A perfect harmony,’ she reminded herself, “maybe this is what the Equestrians were striving for.”

“What was that?” Silver asked, with Grace not realizing she was talking out loud at the moment.

With a shake of her head, the princess brushed it off and settled her mind, “nothing Silver, just thinking that’s all.” Grace glanced up to the wall clock overlooking the production area, even with it covered in soot from the fires around, she was still able to make out the time. “Come on, my council should be gathering soon.”

With that, both the princess and the dragon walked out of the room, and left the workers to see that their efforts would not be in vain.

The large circle table sat all those that she had requested for to attend. A couple of her generals, the armor production chiefs, supply coordinators, Arms-masters, and even several of the largest farm owners in her country joined in. All the while, Grace sat amongst them in her own chair as they went over the months’ reports of production and training.

“Produce is being syphoned off and put in to the long term storage from all of our farms, your majesty,” one of the farm managers read off of his report, “the food previously stored there also seems to be keeping very well. With the cool air of the caves you have preserving them nicely.”

“Thank you, Gin,” Grace nodded to him, before she turned to the others. In particular, her own in the military, “what’s the word on the troops?”

One of the generals stood up, giving her every respect she deserved, “The soldiers have been given all the training they needed sense recruit school, we’re merely brushing them up on need to know things and running more drills than before. They’ll be ready, don’t worry.”

“Excellent,” at least she could rest easy knowing that when things got hot she could count on having trained troops to back her up, “any rumors getting out with what's going on between the soldiers?”

“No your majesty,” another general spoke up, “as far as they know it’s just training as usual.”

The princess simply nodded once again and continued to go around the table, listening to what they all have to say. All of it so far is positive, things are still in the shadows about what the other countries are up to, product being stored in large numbers will give little need for rationing to make life for her citizens as comfortable as possible, and the training her military is going through is something they have prepared for.

‘I may not be able to prevent the fight, but at least I can see it through,’ Grace smiled internally at that notion.

“Princess?” the Arms-master said, breaking her from her trance.

“Yes sir? What is it?”

“We in the production side of things are still running in to a problem,” he brought out the records for reference as he read them off, “the nation has a standing army that, while as of now, is fully out fitted and ready for a fight,” he watched as her brow twitched, as if she knew where this was going, “however, should a draft need to be put in place so we can call our citizens in to action, there may not be enough equipment to go around…”

A small sting in the side of her temple forced Graces’ hoof to rub out the spot. She’s heard this before, actually for the last couple months now. When they first started building up their military production was nonexistent. So Grace had crafters brought in from around her nations’ capital of Boralus to help with the effort. When that wasn’t enough, she stretched out to her nation, calling on those specializing in metal production to help out. However, now it seems that is even stretched thin.

“What would you have me do this time Chief?” she asked of him, “it would take far too long to have new apprentices taught in the art, and masters of the craft are short these days.”

“I understand, your highness,” the Arms-master bowed for a second, “however as I have talked with other guards about the armors, and even with my own knowledge. I believe I have an idea,” with a cast from his horn, the chief levitated the list in hoof over to the princess to see for herself.

“Hmm I do not recognize any of these names?” she said, “what’s their significance?”

“They are ones that deal with the craft of metallurgy not as a profession, but as part of another career,” he explained, “we expanded our look in to the census records from that of simple ‘Metallurgist’ to any profession dealing with casting, shaping, milling or even forging metal.”

Grace looked down the long list of names that have come up. Some of these occupations she didn’t see at first how they could possibly use them, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Construction worker, yes many of the buildings in her capital while made of concrete, had a metal infrastructure. Window framer, most frames were wood, but on bigger buildings like forts with thicker panes the frame had to be metal. Wagon maker? No even that one made sense, after all it wasn’t just nails that held them together; metal straps were used for the frame and even the wheels.

Setting the list aside, Grace looked back to the Chief, “they will still need training on how to make the suits to specifications,” she added on to his argument, “although with past knowledge of the craft they could be taught much faster than a brand new student.”

With that in her mind Grace picked up her hoof and gently tapped it on the table, “Well I believe I can call this meeting to a close, Chief,” she watched as his head popped back up, “Good work with this call, I’ll be sure that these citizens are brought to our attention as soon as possible. We need all the help we can get.”

With a simple bow, the Arms-master and the others around him made their way out of the meeting room. Leaving Silver and Grace alone, aside from the royal guard standing watch at the door.

“Are you coming, Grace?” Silver asked as he prepared to head out.

“I will in a few,” she waved him off, “I just want to look over this a few more times that’s all.” A simple smile dismissed him, and with that she was more or less alone to look over the names.

Minutes passed in silence, with only the princess looking and making note of the several dozen names that had popped up. With each name, she wrote down a quick letter, stamped it with her royal seal from the table and piled them to be sent off later. In time they could have the means to better arm new soldiers that came to the fight, and protect them as such.

“Ehem… your majesty?” she heard off in the corner of the room.

Looking up she saw a familiar face, and only could smile at his presence, “Oh hello Freefall, I didn’t realize you were the one keeping guard this evening?” she remarked to the Pegasus colt.

“Meh I blend in princ-”

“What have I said about that?” she casually reminded him, “we aren’t around any pony else.”’

“Right, forgot about that,” he chuckled before walking up to her side, and took a seat next to the princess, “it’s been a while sense you and I had caught up.”

“Far too long for friends,” she said before looking back at the colt, “though what can I do for you? You sounded like you wanted to ask me something a second ago.”

“Well actually…” he loosened the armored collar around his neck, “it’s concerning the list.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Free pointed out, “I’m one of the ponies that the Chief talked to about his idea with the armor. They really aren’t hard to make, and any creature with basic knowledge of metal can learn to make one,” after gesturing for the list, Grace hoofed it over to him and he simply wrote down one more name.

The princess accepted it back and reread the last entry, “Iron Knight?” she muttered, “Who’s that?”

“He’s an old friend of mind, I still mail him every so often to catch up,” Free went in to who this colt was, “he used to serve in the guard with me under your parents. However, unlike me he decided to get out.”

“And why might that be?” she asked, sniffing a trouble maker.

Freefall shook his head, already sensing the doubt she had over his friend, “not for anything bad, oh no. He just didn’t like how things were run here. He could follow orders no problem, but with higher ups going back on their word, a lot of favoritism and back stabbing, he was done with it.”

“That I can understand,” she motioned. The game of politics (either governmental or militarily) reminded her a lot of a soap opera, or at the very least school. “Though why did you add him to the list?”

“Because he is a crafty sort, he built his own suit of armor when he was younger, knows more about metallurgy than most artisans, and has even repaired mine six ways to Sunday when he was in,” Free spoke of his friend in the highest regard possible, “he knows how to work with it, and how to get it to do what he wants.”

With all this praise, Grace was kinda surprised that this colt wasn’t on the list to begin with, “how is it he didn’t show up on the parchment first?”

“Because he’s a teacher now, that’s all the census says about him. Nothing about metal or what he can do,” Free eased himself back in the chair, recalling the many times his friends’ wit has gotten them out of a bind, whether it was on the field or not. Usually it was in a bar where they both had too much to drink and Iron had to use his quick skill, but the princess doesn’t need to know that… yet.

“Hmm…” she thought, “would he be willing to do this and help the effort?”

Free was afraid she’d ask that, “Ahh… maybe?”

“Maybe? What do you mean?”

Shifting through his mind, Free tried to think of the best and most polite way to describe his friend that wouldn’t down play some of his personality traits, “He’s a dick.”

Grace nearly choked on her own tongue for a moment at that explanation, “Pardon?”

Having forgotten for a moment he’s in front of royalty, Freefall recollected himself and explained, “Sorry about that, Iron’s a… special sort. Very smart when he wants to be, with little to no filter in what he says around others because he simply doesn’t care what they think of him, and on top of that his level of sanity may have been called in to question on more than one occasion while he served.”

Red flag, red flag, and red flags. Everywhere, went off in Graces’ mind, “Why on earth would I want some pony like that to help with this?”

“Because although he can be a major prick sometimes,” he said realizing he failed to hold his tongue once more, “Iron is terribly loyal to a cause, and if you can gain his loyalty, he will work with every fiber of his being.”

“Seems like a lot of trouble for only one pony,” she rolled her eyes, looking at the rest of the list.

“You’re the one that said you need all the help you can get,” the colt pointed out to her.

With a simple sigh of knowing he’s right; Grace broke out a parchment ready to write off another letter to this new name to her. That is until Free waves his hoof.

“I’d see him face to face if I were you,” he watched as her eye brow went up, “Iron doesn’t respond well to letters, especially if they’re from the same crown that he hated serving under for years.”

“Very well then…” Grace put the parchment back down, “if you say that he knows his craft then I'll trust you Free, after all that’s what friends do,” she watched him nod in approval as a simple thanks. Though Grace leaned in closer to her fellow Pegasus as he sat there motionless with her under her questioning glare, “So please… tell me more about this, Iron Knight?”