What is the most important trait for an Emperor to have?

Spike ponders this as he stands behind the golden railing of his balcony, nearly at the top of the Crystal Castle, and looks out over his Empire of Crystal. Well, stands isn’t exactly the right word; the thick bar blocks his view when his claws scrape against the marble floor. He’s certainly not going to peer around the ornate filigree like some foal peeking out from between her dam’s legs, like some prisoner trapped in a gilded dungeon. It would be more accurate to say he hovers, wings beating a steady and slow rhythm while claws dig into the soft lacquer coating the railing.

The setting sun casts long shadows throughout his realm, turning once bright and cheery streets into intermittent corridors of light and dark. He frowns; where is the pony, or ponies, responsible for maintaining the street lamps, and making sure they are turned on every evening and off every day? It was his chore while he was a ward of Twilight’s, so he knows the importance of keeping stock of their candles and glowstones. But no matter how important it is to know what needs to be done, one of the first lessons Princess Celestia impressed on Twilight was the importance of delegation.

“Golden Wheat,” he calls out.

A few moments later and the balcony door opens; an older mare, golden coat with a cutie mark of a stalk of wheat, steps out. Golden Wheat tucks her duster away in a pocket of her maid uniform as her right front hoof steps just behind her left front, head dipping respectfully in a quick curtsy. There is a hopeful note in her voice. “Your Imperial Majesty? You have need of me?”

Spike continues staring out over the city, watching ponies and carts, laden with their meager belongings, traverse the darkened cobblestones. “The lists of everypony’s residence and business. Have they been completed?”

“To my knowledge,” Golden Wheat affirms, tail flicking happily. “Ponies have already begun to relocate, as befitting your glorious plan.”

Spike frowns at the embellishment; his accomplishments don’t yet feel deserving of such praise. “Very well. I’m going to go out for a bit. You know,” he adds with a hopeful upbeat, “try to figure out what else needs to be done.”

“Of course, your Majesty,” Golden Wheat answers, again giving a quick curtsy. “Your chambers shall be ready upon your return.”

The guarantee doesn’t lift Spike’s dour countenance. He had never needed anything special as Twilight’s ward, just a small berth at the hoof of her bed, and the majestic quarters are far more ostentatious than he requires. “Mm,” he grunts unhappily.

Golden Wheat’s smile flickers. “I shall personally ensure they are so, your Majesty.”

Spike realizes, too late, that she took his unhappiness as her fault. “Alright, cool.” He offers her a friendly wave, which seems to brighten her spirits. She backs up into his chambers, softly shutting the door behind her.

He hops onto the railing. The height is dizzying, nearly thirty stories to the hard foundation. But it’s a fall he’s made before, before he had wings, back when he saved the Empire from Sombra. There’s even a giant statue of him over the broken ground left in the wake of Sombra’s assault, and Twilight’s subsequent defense!

Curiously, two construction ponies are cordoning off a section and preparing to drill into the reinforced concrete. The foals who commonly ride his gargantuan tail watch from every vantage point. They aren’t worried about falling, and neither should he!

His wings spread. He recalls the brief - too brief - training with Garble and Ember, and he’s itching to again put their tips to good use. Their advice feels a lot more applicable than Rainbow Dash’s, despite Ponyville’s lead weathermare having trained dozens of pegasi in her seven year’s tenure. He chuckles; the solitary dragons are as likely to insult another’s flying technique like bickering foals than offer any sort of constructive criticism.

And so he leaps, enjoying the gradually increasing wind against his face. The buffets quickly turn strong enough for his wings to catch enough air. They bend at the joints, curling far more than a pony’s, and whip him back into the sky! He soars, roaring in defiance at the ground as it stops rushing toward him and instead flees away, the many cheering ponies again turning to quiet specks between tiny toy houses.

The city itself takes up a good portion of the Empire’s land, perhaps a tenth, a shimmering jewel plunked down amidst rolling hills and green fields. They stretch to the edge of the barrier, with massive crystal shards plopped down seemingly randomly, strewn about like splatters of batter after he makes one of his favorite gem cakes. Mm, he could go for a gem cake right about now. But he can’t only think with his stomach.

Where to begin?

He circles high above the Crystal Castle, first touching the pink dome just to say that he has. There’s token resistance before his claw slips through the translucent material, briefly exposing himself to the everpresent chill outside their bubble of safety.

Is that the most important trait an emperor can possess - the ability to withstand the elements, or more broadly, to overcome adversity? That was Burnferno’s power in Warrior From Within, his favorite series. Or is the most important part the protective aspect, how the translucent barrier shields those within?

But strength can just as easily be turned against those one is purported to protect, and he needs to look no further than his own experiences to find examples of this, like when he rampaged around Ponyville and captured Sweetie Belle. And while being protected is great and all, in the short term, it breeds weakness and vulnerability, by coddling those inside and denying them opportunities to grow and toughen up. Again, he needs only look at his own example: enjoying the comforts of an Equestrian existence while his fellow dragons endure the hardships of the Dragonlands. Or his fellow Crystal Ponies brave the elements outside.

Could he survive out in the Frozen North? Is he strong enough?

Gritting his teeth, he pulls himself through the rest of the way. The cold air nips at his exposed scales, bites at the green fronds along his back, and needles down his mouth and to his lungs, seeking any pathway to that raging furnace inside him. He shudders, claws running along his scales in a vain attempt to keep that heat internal. He can’t help but equanomorphise the cold, imagining a desire to make everything just as cold and lifeless. Are there Windigos here?

In defiance of the frigid cold he remains outside the pink bubble, staring out over the snowy expanse. Above, ominous black storm clouds threaten to release their bounty of snow, but thankfully stay far away. He spots a puff of smoke off in the distance, by the base of one of the nearby mountains that gradually recede higher and higher into that ominous black. He knows Mount Everhoof is among those mountains, but now isn’t the time to mount an expedition purely to glimpse the ever-shrouded peak. Much less touch it, with the winds and storms preventing even an elite flyer from getting close, though he doubts it would restrain Rainbow Dash for long.

The puff of smoke gradually draws closer to the Crystal Empire. He struggles to make out the squat metal boxes pushing through the newly fallen snow. Is that the most important trait, the ability to provide the necessities of life, shelter and food? Or maybe something rare, some unearthed treasure or perhaps a clue to a hidden vault. Going out and exploring, leading an expedition into parts unknown? The adventurous, oubliette-delving part of him wants to see what it’s like out there, to find hidden caves and chasms. But why? To what purpose?

Is the most important trait perception, being able to see what’s going on around him? Not to say perception isn’t a useful trait for anypony else, or even everypony else - navigating life’s twisting circumstances requires knowing precisely where one stands, lest one be a lucky foal stumbling blindly. But it is especially important for a ruler such as himself. For sometimes danger lurks in plain sight, ineluctable and inscrutable, and precautions must be taken for the inevitable consequences.

Before he knows it the train pierces through the pink bubble, and out of curiosity he zips down and inside to spectate. The train station bristles with boxes and crates despite the only other arrival being an airship yesterday. He wonders what is inside, or why they haven’t distributed the packed goods. They have to be useful, right, or why else ship them this far?

The single squat, utilitarian car disgorges its complement of packed passengers - six green changelings, dull from gray dust covering their chitin, and seventeen youngsters, one less than they left with. He frowns when they leave the valuable crystals and gems in the four open-topped hoppers.

Before he can inquire as to the fate of the missing changeling grub or the final destination of the valuable raw materials - the gems especially enticing to his grumbling stomach - two earth pony stallions arrive pulling carts heaped with books. He recognizes them from the train ride over! The older one, Withers, light gray with a shifty look behind his dark sunglasses, hops inside the recently emptied passenger compartment. He stacks the books that the smaller, dark red stallion, Totem, passes him.

Curious, Spike flies forward. They are all old titles, ancient even, mostly storybooks with a few bibliographies, science and thaumic textbooks, and a full set of encyclopedias. All in reasonable to pristine condition. Collectors would pay dearly for such a trove. Where could they have gotten so many high quality books? Somepony’s personal collection? The library?

Spike takes a closer look at the cart. Yup, stamped on the metal, Crystal Library.

“Must have gotten a pretty good bargain for so many books,” Spike comments to Totem, lifting one of the encyclopedias. He stacks six more on top, flying them to Withers. “But I just have one question.”

“Oh, yeah?” Totem replies, grateful for the help. “What’s that?”

Spike grins. “Did they have to tell you to tote ’em over here, or did you figure that out on your own?”

“Hey, we got a wise guy over here,” Totem complains good-naturedly, offering Spike a hoof to bump. The dragon returns it, though doesn’t grab another load - he’s got other things to check on. “But that Amethyst Maresbury? She couldn’t believe we were paying damn near double what they’re worth, but I’m not gonna ask questions when I’m spending the Princess’s bits.”

Spike’s chuckle fades. “The Princess’s bits?”

Withers has a sour look on his face. The older earth pony glances back and forth between the two and opens his mouth, though nothing comes out.

Totem nods blithely. “We swapped a few I.O.U.'s, made some promises, but the bulk of it came from her, yeah.”

“I.O.U.’s?” Spike asks, curiosity piqued once again. He feels awkward just repeating what Totem says. “What for?”

“Grain, mostly. Vegetables that could survive the cold journey.” Totem motions to the containers around them. There are about half as many remaining as would fit inside the four hoppers. He pulls out a master brochure for Flim Flam Brothers Shipping, totalling what orders have been made for the various farm equipment, clothing, and general items. “A mix of other stuff, whatever they ordered.”

“I… see.” Spike notes how many orders have already been placed for a new product, some 5-F! alcoholic beverage. The prices are… good. No, better than that, practically insane, anyone selling these products would be taking a loss on every sale! Like, Sweet Apple Acres apples at sixteen bits a barrel? What sort of scam are they running?

But what really gets his blood boiling is a single line at the bottom in an elegant golden cursive he has seen many times before. A guarantee, by the Equestrian crown, of any purchase made by a citizen of the Crystal Empire, regardless of their capacity to repay such a debt.

He thinks back to the green hills and open pasture. Where are the fields of flowing wheat, the vineyards of crystal berries, or the flocks of sheep? Why work when they can instead live off Equestrian largess, or sell off their history and their rights to the ground underneath them? What is next - selling their houses of crystal to the dragons?

How can the ponies of the Crystal Empire possibly stand on their own hooves when offered a deal such as this?

Next Chapter: Ch. 93 - Emperor's Cunning, Part Two Estimated time remaining: 17 Hours, 15 Minutes