In theory, it could have been described as the twenty-first of January, though the sun had yet to truly rise on what Rainbow would usually call a new day. She awoke to a blunt prodding in her side, which she resisted by rolling over. The prodding responded by reaching around her barrel and pulling her outright from her bunk. Rather than a sudden collision with the floor, she landed on a firmly muscled back.

"Good morning, Rainbow Dash."

"Soldier On...?" The pegasus groaned as she rubbed her eyes. "What time is it?"

"Five in the morning, Dash." That was Deadeye's voice. "First light on the horizon."

Soldier On continued where Reckoning had left off. "Will you be getting off my back, or should I carry you to food like your little sister?"

"Little si– Scootaloo?"

On shrugged, dropping Rainbow onto the floor. Then the huge earth pony turned around, so she could comfortably look the younger mare in the eyes. "'Resistant' was quite popular with the Crusaders."

"Yeah... I bet she didn't wake them up at zero in the friggin' morning."

On shrugged. "We need to get used to the schedule for Suida, as around midday it becomes too hot to travel. We will walk in the morning, sleep over lunch, and continue when the air has cooled off."

"Maybe you need to sleep, but the heat doesn't really bother me." Reckoning and On shared an amused glance. "Hey! What's so funny?"

"Just how tough you think you are," Reckoning explained as he stretched his good wing. At Rainbow's offended expression, he laughed. "Not that you aren't tougher than most everypony else out there, Rainbow. But this isn't going to be just a few hours out in the sun; Suida is huge, and we don't even know where the Commander is. We'll probably be in the desert for weeks, and we'll need our strength if we run into any hostile boars, or giant scorpions, or all the other great things you find down there."

"Changelings," On added pointedly, "which is why you will need to be up to par at fighting."

Rainbow smiled. "Reckoning already taught me how to use pegasus magic."

On's brow rose slowly. "I see. Show me what you know."

Rainbow groaned. "Can't we at least get breakfast first?"

"Dining car doesn't open for an hour," she answered, spreading her legs slightly and bending her knees.

"What, in here?" Rainbow struggled for a moment with her words. "On a train? This room is tiny."

Soldier On nodded. "If memory serves, Thunder Crack had you fight in an enclosed space as well. Didn't you learn from him?"

"Well, yeah, but–"

On didn't really hit Rainbow; the action was honestly just a shove. However, a shove from somepony at least twice, if not three or four times the pegasus' weight was enough to send her lurching backward against the door. It wasn't enough to leave a bruise on anything save Rainbow's ego.

She lunged forward, using her wings for speed, and lowered herself just as Thunder Crack had taught her. Focusing her determination and her surge of anger into her right forehoof, she threw a magically potent punch at Soldier On's face.

A moment later, Rainbow was pinned on the ground, her belly on the wood, with Soldier On kneeling on her right wing and controlling both her forelegs. She hadn't even landed the attack.

"Now we know where to start," the earth pony above her observed.

The afternoon of the twenty first of January had no business being so damnably hot. Such were the thoughts of the Royal Guard Staff Sergeant and first string Wonderbolt named Soarin', as he soared over San Palomino City. There was still snow on the ground in the Domain of Canterlot, but winter had clearly been dealt with on the border of the true southern desert.

He felt naked without his uniform, and the unbalancing weight of the messenger bag against his flank did nothing to make the flight more comfortable. A few days earlier, he might have assumed that being the second best flier on the Wonderbolts would get him out of what amounted to messenger duty. Then again, you didn't just say 'no' to Princess Celestia. So now he was enduring the visible waves of heat against his pale blue coat. To take his mind off the temperature and the waste of time that was his assignment, he looked down at the city below.

San Palomino was a strange town. Built around a central lake was a lush garden district where the elite and wealthy built their homes between concentric circular streets. Yet beyond the low fence at the outer edge of the region, the order of the inner streets gave way to utter chaos. It wasn't that the city's denizens were poor or desperate so much as they were simply unorganized. Streets wound in zigzagging patterns with arbitrary width and depth, dodging wildly around wherever the settlers had chosen to plop down their residences.

It was also the fifth largest city in Equestria, having recently overtaken Roam. It was hard for Soarin to imagine how there could be more ponies wandering those zany winding streets than lived in all of the Domain of Stalliongrad or, for that matter, the cloud cities in the Domain of Cloudsdale. Three million ponies, clustered together in the heart of the desert, bending the land to their will. It was amazing, awe-inspiring, and in a way, terrifying.

Yet his attention and the letter in the messenger bag on his flank weren't meant for any of those millions of ponies. His destination was by the lake, where the water from the Coltorado spilled down from the north. He angled his wings down toward the building.

It was old. He could almost smell it. Huge white plaster pillars created three tiers of enormous balconies overlooking the sparkling water. Ponies–mostly unicorns–in old fashioned servant's garb stood outside, fanning themselves and lurking in whatever shadows could be found, trying to escape the oppressive heat. A few glared at the approaching pegasus, but none made any move to address him as he dropped smoothly and professionally onto the lowest level of the tiered porches, just in front of the pair of whitewashed Prench doors that led into the building proper.

"Just what do you think yer doin'?" asked a deep, male voice.

Soarin twitched at the noise, glancing back over his shoulder. "Delivering a letter."

The pony who had spoken up was hidden in the shade of a wide-brimmed cowpony hat and a duster jacket. What little of his muzzle could be seen beneath the garments was a sort of dirty blonde. A little star badge was pinned to his left lapel. "Mhm. Ah'll bet. Ya know whose house this is, kid?"

"Kid?" Soarin, who was beginning to push thirty, puffed himself up with his wings. In total, he came to about level with the other stallion's eyes. The stallion was still slouching against the back of one of the pillars.

"Yep. I figure kid fits you 'bout right." The other pony might have been amused at the way Soarin twitched, were his hat not pulled down too low to actually see the pegasus' face. "You the mailcolt, then? Give it here, I'll take it up to Miss Warden."

"I can't," Soarin answered. "Princess Celestia said I have to give it to the Duchess myself."

At that comment, the slouching stallion stood up properly, and lifted his hat to look Soarin in the eyes. "Celestia? Kid, you'd bet not be tryin' some stupid prank, or so help me..."

"If it were up to me, I wouldn't have flown all the way from Canterlot in the first place; I'm missing practice for this. The Princess said the letter was time sensitive, which is why I powered through this whole flight in one day. Now where's Duchess Warden?"

The stallion sighed, and tweaked his hat again. "She's inside shootin' billiards with her foal and the Sheriff. Come on."

The inside of the building was as deliberately archaic and simultaneously impressive as its exterior. Paintings, ornate glass chandeliers, and exotic Saddle Arabian rugs filled the otherwise whitewashed walls and gorgeous tiled floors. Statues, busts, and potted plants were tucked in corners. Yet for all its glories, there was a sense of claustrophobia to the ground-based home that the pegasus stallion simply couldn't shake.

Two floors up and an architectural wing over, Soarin's escort came to a stop outside a fancy wooden door. His hoof lifted for two gentle taps. The Wonderbolt took curious note of the heavy steel shoe the other pony wore. Despite the softness of his motion, the sound of his knock was astounding to the pegasus.

"What is it?" snapped an exasperated voice from within.

"Some pegasus here. Says 's got a letter from Princess Celestia for you, Ma'am."

"Oh!" The door swung open at the behest of a scarlet aura. "Do come in, Marathon! Why didn't you–" Despite its lilting quality, her drawl did not drain away in volume. Instead, upon seeing the pony she was addressing, her voice simply cut off.

Soarin' stepped inside to an opulent billiards room. On one side of the table, an earth pony stallion with a waxed brown moustache and a larger silver star badge on his vest offered the pegasus a raised brow. Opposite him were two ponies. A little reddish brown unicorn colt leaned against a grown mare of a scarlet demeanor, who glared at Soarin over half-moon glasses. "You aren't the usual messenger."

Soarin' sighed. He recognized this one from the Grand Galloping Gala, though he doubted she could identify him without his uniform. Time to put on his best 'press-conference' smile. "No, Duchess Warden. I'm Soarin', from the Wonderbolts."

Half her glare broke as her left eyebrow climbed her face. "The one with the atrocious table manners?"

The stallion winced, and chose not to answer the comment. "Princess Celestia needed a message sent to you."

"And where is Miss Marathon?"

Soarin' shrugged. "Never heard of her, to be honest."

The Duchess turned her attention to the other grown stallion in the room. "You see, Silver Star? The Canterlot guard can't even keep their own membership straight. Shining Armor's favorite messenger is busy, so he sends some 'celebrity' to give me my mail."

"Seems like a natural choice to me, Duchess," the mustached pony responded with a heavy San Palomino accent. "Ain't the Wonderbolts s'posed to be great fliers or somethin'?"

"That is my point exactly, Silver. We don't waste our best rangers on some... shoe shootin' team, as you might so eloquently put it. I do find myself most at odds with this Shining Armor, and his management of Equestria's defenses."

Soarin' considered himself an even-tempered pony, but it took a great deal of willpower to hold his tongue. "Captain Armor wasn't involved in this, Duchess. Princess Celestia contacted Captain Spitfire directly, and I was chosen to actually carry the letter."

"Frankly, Wonderbolt, I'm not interested in your broken bureaucracy. I'm waiting on your message."

Soarin' dug the letter out of his bag and held it out. Red Warden sighed, pulled the letter across the room, and scanned it. "You can consider your message delivered, Wonderbolt. Enjoy your flight home."

Soarin's mouth slipped ever so slightly agape. "Can I at least have a drink or something? I flew non-stop from Canterlot."

The Duchess nodded without looking up. "I don't care. You, ranger."

"Yes, ma'am?" replied the pony in the broad hat and the duster.

"Get this... 'Soarin' whatever he requires."

"Of course. Come on, kid."

Groaning as quietly as he could manage, Soarin' wandered out of the room. It was hard to be optimistic, so he settled on the thought that at least the other pony wasn't comparing him to a marshmallow like Spitfire so often did. Still, he looked forward to the train ride home, out of the perpetual sweat of the infernal heat.

"Ice." Rainbow thrust her wing into the glass and succeeded at drenching Dead Reckoning's face. He reached up and brushed off his eye patch with his good wing. "That's called water, Rainbow."

"Well, it's hard," Rainbow answered. "I don't just get super sad because somepony says so. I'm not a..."

"An emotional train wreck?" Soldier On proposed with mild bemusement.

Reckoning responded by rapping on the floor with a hoof. "Maybe not the best turn of phrase there, Lieute–"

"No rank, Reckoning."

"Sorry," the once old stallion mumbled, before turning his attention back to Rainbow. "Fire."

"Fire? What am I even supposed to do for that?"

The sound of a hoof meeting a forehead filled the room, and then Reckoning sighed. "I explained this before we started. Air is excitement, earth is fear, water is sadness, and fire is..."

"Anger?"

Reckoning chuckled. "You can't say it like that, Rainbow. It's anger." He accompanied the word with a sort of throaty growl, and then rose up on his hind legs and spread his wing as if to accentuate his faux-foul mood.

The two mares in his company laughed at the show, and in return, Reckoning gave them a full standing bow. His work done, the actor returned to sitting, and focused his attention on Rainbow. "Now, do fire."

"But you just made me laugh."

Reckoning gave her a rather dead-eyed stare, and simply waited. Equestria's greatest flier closed her eyes, spread her wings, and focused. At first, there was nothing. Merely memories. But then she felt it. A spark, at the tip of her wings, and a warmth that seemed to fill her blood. "I... I've got it!"

Rainbow opened her eyes in time to see Reckoning lick his right forehoof. Then he pinched her wing. The tiny sizzle sounded like disappointment.

Behind the Wonderbolt, the door to the billiards room swung shut at the behest of Red Warden's magic.

"What's it say, dear?" Silver Star asked as soon as the unicorn rolled up the message.

"The best news I've heard in years," Red Warden answered, picking up her cue. "And an opportunity."

"Ooh, mommy, what did it say?" The little colt at her hooves smiled as she gave him a disaffected glance.

"Politics, Junior," Silver Star told the little colt. "Nothing to worry over."

"Aww, but Dad..." the foal whined, only to be cut off by a gentle embrace from his mother.

"Now, Silver, I think Flannel has earned the right to hear a bit about his future." After scolding the grown stallion, the mare turned to face her son. "We're going to make you the Prince of Canterlot, sweetie."

"Huh? You mean like Princess Celestia? Will I get wings?"

Red Warden smiled. "First thing's first, dear. Why don't you go swimming? Silver and I need to have a little chat. Grown-up stuff."

"Aww... Okay, I guess." The little colt ran out of the room as a smile returned to his face. "I'm gonna be a prince!"

"Ya shouldn't get his hopes up like that, dear."

"He'll understand when he's older, but for now, I'd rather let him have his dreams. It will help him learn ambition."

With his lips hidden behind his moustache, Sheriff Silver Star seemed to have no expression at all. "Fine. Now, what's the letter actually say?"

"Shining Armor is dead."

"What?" The news seemed to generally trouble Silver Star, who slowly removed his own hat.

"Oh, save the theatrics for Cadenza. He was an incompetent leader." Red Warden set down the letter, and her magic opened a cabinet against the wall, which doubled as a rack for the room's store of billiard cues. Out came a bottle of extremely well aged brandy, alongside two glasses, and a few ice cubes. "Now, we have a chance to move up in the world, for Flannel Mouth's sake."

"How far up 's there ta go, really? He'll be Duke of San Palomino some day."

"Bah. Ruling over six million farmers and a sandbox? That's what you want to leave him? He has the blood of Commander Hurricane and Princess Platinum in his veins."

Silver Star's brow rose. "Uh, ain't that kinda weird. Just two weeks ago, I saw the Appleoosa pageant, and–"

"Don't take your history from that stupid play." Red Warden pinched her brow, before taking a slow sip of her drink. It coated her mouth like syrup, lending a silky tone to her words. "Most of the nobility in Equestria can trace themselves back to Princess Platinum the Third–the daughter of Commander Hurricane and Princess Platinum the Second, who was Hurricane's... seventh wife? Eighth? I can hardly remember my pegasus history on a good day, dear, but..."

"Eight wives?"

"Well, perhaps 'wives' isn't quite the right term." Red Warden chuckled. "Pegasi aren't known for being the most faithful of lovers, after all. But the point is that the nobility of Equestria follows the line of Platinum the Third, the warrior princess and the first Captain of the Royal Guard. Ever since then, her offspring have been the advisors of the Princess...es, and more importantly, the protectors of the common ponies who can't take care of themselves."

"I don't see you out on patrol, dear," Silver Star taunted.

"The hardest leadership isn't done from the front, dear. That's what Shining Armor never understood. Because unlike Unending Vigil and Iron Curtain, he isn't from the Line of Platinum. I'm certain he made an excellent blunt instrument for Vigil when she led the Royal Guard, but he had no business giving orders himself. So now his position is open, and we have an opportunity."

"What're ya saying, dear?"

"I'm saying that Princess Celestia will soon need a new Captain of the Royal Guard. For the moment, she has a replacement, but that one is guaranteed to be temporary. And, as she showed with Tsar Eye's son, she is more than willing to look outside Canterlot when she cannot find a competent leader within. She's already taken the Black Cloak's leader, and I can't imagine she'd go to them again, given their reputation. Prance's military is a joke, almost as bad as Armor's, and Trottingham doesn't have it much better. Our biggest real competition is Prince Eccesivo from Bitaly."

"Whoa, dear, hold your horses. I'm no good at all this political stuff, ya know."

"We play to our talents, Silver." Red Warden smiled. "I'll summarize for you. There is a group of three ponies trying to make their way from Canterlot down into Suida, and Princess Celestia wants them caught. She seems worried about starting a war with the boars. One of them was behind the plot against Princess Luna. I want you to take your rangers, grab them all, and bring them in."

"They aren't my rangers, Red. They're the rangers."

"I disagree, Marshal Silver Star." Red Warden refilled his drink telekinetically, and raised a short toast before savoring another glass. "And if you catch those ponies before Celestia's Royal Guards do, I'd imagine it will be Captain Silver Star after that."

"You want me to be Captain of the Royal Guard?" Silver Star's mouth hung open until a telekinetic nudging from the mare pushed it shut.

"I think you'd do fabulously; you certainly handled the buffalo uprising last year better than anypony could have expected. Celestia will be proud to have you. Once you're running Canterlot Palace and I have Celestia's ear, we'll see about replacing that... imbecile Blueblood. Everypony knows he'll never have a legitimate noble heir."

Silver Star took a long slow breath ,and drained his glass in a single gulp. It was refreshing, in a sense. "You said I have to beat the Royal Guard's to the capture? Won't the Princess be mad if I'm steppin' on their hooves?"

"Ah, but that's the best part. Celestia's sending her new 'replacement' Captain herself on the mission."

"How in Equestria is that a good thing for us?"

"Because the pony in question is the biggest disgrace in the history of the Royal Guard. I'm sure you've heard of White Flag."

Rainbow was awoken too early once more on the morning of the twenty-second. Soldier On had led her in near total silence to the back of the train. The short journey came to its end on the small open platform that hung off the back of the caboose. All around them, in the warm light of a sun that had not yet crested the horizon, a desert of vibrant shrubs and tiny creatures was coming to life. While not often one to sit and stare, the pegasus had to admit that what she was seeing was beautiful.

Then On threw her off the train.

After a moment to catch herself, and another to start flying forward, she shouted at her companion. "What the hay?"

"We're going to work on your endurance, and your speed," On called off the edge of the train, before grabbing a blanket off her back and wrapping it around her forehoof. What she ended with rather resembled the cushioned targets used to train boxers.

Rainbow took the hint. A thrust of her wings propelled her forward, trailing a faint rainbow outline as she moved. Her hoof struck for a single hard punch, and then she returned her attention to flying in the wake of the train.

"One hit isn't any good, Rainbow."

The pegasus groaned, though most of the noise was lost to the wind. "I can't keep up with a moving train and fight that fast. When I hit your hoof, it's going to push me back too!"

"Your father could do this," On observed.

Rainbow glared. "Well, sorry my special talent isn't being a colossal jerk."

"He's a hero," Soldier On noted with even more iron in her tone than usual.

The pegasus lunged forward, barely managing to land three hits before she had to flare her wings and gain altitude. The sudden drag of extended feathers also pulled her back, out of reach of On's padded hoof. "Really? Everypony says that, but then I always wind up hearing about how he killed something."

Rainbow's next flurry only landed twice before wind and gravity tugged her away.

"He's a soldier," On stated. "I guarantee you that more ponies are alive today because of what he's done than there are ponies that he has killed."

"How can you say that?" Panting in a mixture of anger and fatigue, Rainbow nevertheless landed four hits against On's hoof. "Just counting lives like that? Like they aren't even real ponies?!"

Solder On's words were calm. " No. We don't think of them as numbers. Every single one is a real pony, a pony with hopes and dreams and a family. A pony just like us. And we do everything we can to keep as many of those ponies alive as we can." On looked away for a moment, as if lost in thought. "But somepony has to make the choice. And the choice hurts."

"I don't think so," Rainbow answered, matching the train's speed to effectively hover above Soldier On. "Your choice sounds like giving up to me. I'd save everypony."

Letting herself drop and lashing out with all four hooves, she managed thirteen strikes against On's hoof. But her wings flared too late, and she landed hard on the tracks. The wind and the fleeing train stole Soldier On's reply.

The twenty-third of January bore witness to a perpetual snowstorm. Of course, this was exactly as was to be expected in the city of Stalliongrad. The glum looks on the faces of the ponies of the city did little to better the weather, trapped as they were beneath the strict curfews and tight observations of the dreaded Black Cloaks.

Yet high over the city, looming out of the cliff-side, Castle Burning Hearth and its inhabitants were far from the troubles of the common ponies below. Instead, they had their own problems, of far more secretive and threatening natures.

Secretary Foresight, who had not been called by his given Stalliongradi name in nearly thirty-six hours, sighed heavily and readjusted his scarf as he stared out the window in his study. "Princess, I'm saying this with the utmost respect for your rule and your intentions, but that is by far the most ridiculous idea I have heard out of anypony's mouth in months. You still aren't healed from the last time you spoke with him."

Princess Luna, who had taken up residence in Foresight's tall and extremely well cushioned armchair, magically summoned water from a carafe on a nearby table. Before her, it swirled into a perfect mirror. In it, she saw the truth in his words. Though her cheekbones had fully set, the swollen purple lumps that covered her cheek had only grown larger. With a quick flare of magic, she prepared a simple illusion. The magical makeup restored her face to its natural state. Satisfied, she returned the water to its vessel.

"We have to do this, Foresight."

"Princess."

Luna groaned, shooting a narrow glance across the room at Mirror Image. The unicorn with the split horn had recovered well, and as such could be found leaning against a bookshelf near the door of the room.

"I have to do this. We don't know what it is that Krenn desired, and unless I ask him, my sister will search in vain until war comes."

"That is perfectly understandable, Princess. What I don't understand is why you insist on taking this risk yourself. Why not send Miss Marathon–"

"Marathon has not been seen in two days, since I dismissed her from my service. I believe I told you so earlier." Luna frowned momentarily, before allowing herself a drink of water. When she looked up, Foresight had turned away from the window and was staring at the mare with wide eyes. "Hath I said something wrong?"

"Two days ago..." He shook his head. "It's nothing you need to worry about, Princess. Domain business, for once, rather than dragons and assassins. But you haven't answered my question. If not Marathon, then why not one of your... 'vamponies'."

Luna chuckled. "They are the Night Guard, Foresight, though I suspect they may be the origins of that myth. Regardless, alone they would not be well received by Krenn, or some of the older dragons who live near him...for much the same reason that my sister draws offense at their presence."

Foresight opened his mouth for yet another protest, but was cut off by the door to the study swinging open. Before the butler could even speak, Foresight was on him, glaring over the tops of his glasses. "Stockyard, this is a private discussion."

The rather dull gray unicorn butler recoiled. "Цесаре́вич, Графиня Февраль прибыла чтобы увидеть вашего отца."

Foresight winced. "I'm sorry, but we will have to cut this conversation short for now." The unicorn stood up and started walking toward the door. Without even really paying attention, his magic loosened his scarf until it hung freely from his neck. He made his way out the door of the chamber, only to find not only Stockyard, but Princess Luna and her bodyguard following in his wake.

"Pray tell, Foresight, might my guard or I be of assistance in this issue?"

"Not now, Princess," the unicorn told her with a certain sharpness to his voice. "It's..." He took a moment to consider his words. "Pest control." His legs were rapidly approaching a gallop as he made his way through Burning Hearth Castle.

"Most stallions don't blow off a beautiful mare to deal with pests," Mirror Image noted aloud.

Foresight responded with an agitated glance to the Honor Guard, though his words were meant for a different stallion. "Who let her into the castle, Stockyard?"

"Э... Их-"

"Speak Equiish."

"Apologies, sir." Stockyard paused to pant from keeping up with Foresight's pace. "It's not just Countess February. Duke Conclave, Lady Populous and a few dozen other nobles are waiting in the ballroom, with their entourages. I understand it was Commandant Molot who let them pass."

"Who are all these ponies?" Mirror Image asked.

Foresight gritted his teeth. "Pests. They're the old blood of Stalliongrad. Nobles from before the Blizzard Revolution. More than a few of them share Frostbite's blood..." He let the words trail off, sucking down breaths as he sprinted the halls. "My mother was one of them, so I have noble title in this domain, but Father does not." Foresight flung open a door ahead of the group with his magic, and began making his way down a pleasantly wide spiral staircase.

"Father was of the opinion that we ought to do away with noble titles and land entitlements completely after we took over. Yet another of his philosophical ideas that doesn't work in reality. We needed them in place for infrastructure, and because of their holdings in other domains. Stalliongrad imports more than two thirds of its food from Canterlot and Trottingham, and at the time I didn't have the money to cover the imports."

The other ponies let the rather self-inflated comment slide as Foresight's lecture continued. "Since then, they've cut us off at every turn. Some of them are unhappy because Father isn't a noble, but the ringleaders like Countess February still haven't gotten over what my brother did to Frostbite. And I'd bet my horn at least one of them is funding Stoikaja's rebels. Without proof, though, there isn't much I can do." He stopped at one of the doors out of the stairwell, took a series of three very deep breaths, and stepped out onto a broad mezzanine overlooking a mass of ponies.

The Burning Hearth Castle ballroom mirrored the same chamber in the Canterlot Royal Palace. In fact, Burning Hearth had been the inspiration for the chamber that played host to such glorious events as the Grand Galloping Gala and the annual Hearth's Warming Ball. However, where Canterlot adored its reds and purples, Burning Hearth played host to a scheme of white and gold. At the far north end of the room, Foresight and the three ponies following him stood at the top of a broad flight of white marble stairs that curved outward in both directions to form a sort of fleur-de-lis that spread over the dance floor. Below, rather than checkers, the same white marble of the stairs created an ornate smooth surface that rather resembled a frozen lake, and shone like a mirror. Overhead, an enormous chandelier of golden rings and glass gave the room light, courtesy of well hidden electrical wiring Foresight had installed himself. Two huge fireplaces sat on the east and west walls between arched windows that looked out on the snowy world beyond. False buttresses filled the corners of the room, filigreed in gold and silver to add color and a sense of wealth without consuming space. Far to the south, opposite Foresight's group lay a pair of massive wooden doors that opened on the main foyer of the castle.

Tsar Watchful Eye himself stood at the foot of the northern stairs, his gold coat matching perfectly with the gilded nature of the structure. Though most ponies would see him as entirely calm, Foresight noted the way his father's shoulders had pinched just above his wings–the sole sign on the alicorn's body of any dismay. Opposite him, before the foyer doors, one particularly distasteful white mare with a golden blonde mane was addressing her ruler.

"...и именно по-этому, Государь, вы должны–" She looked up as the rest of Foresight's party stepped into full view. "Princess Luna?" The stiff looking unicorn mare dropped to a knee in a deep bow, and almost eighty ponies followed suit. The Tsar did not, nor did he even turn around.

Luna stepped to the edge of the stairs, where she was in plain view of the assembled ponies. "Rise. We are not–" Mirror Image let out a barely restrained cough that nearly sounded natural. Luna gave him a grateful glance, rather than her usual annoyance. "I am not here to address you; I merely followed my host."

The same leading mare rose first, and behind her each rank of ponies stood so that the crowd took on the appearance of an ocean wave. Most were garbed in heavy coats of brown or gray. The front ranks of the crowd wore furs, while those behind them favored wool and canvas. Even in a simple glance, the separation of wealth was obvious.

Watchful Eye momentarily closed his eyes, as if offering them respite from looking at the faces of his peers. He turned slowly to glance up the stairs behind him. "Предвидение, что ты сдесь делаешь?"

Foresight took advantage of his youth by darting down to the main floor two steps at a time. Soon, he was side by side with his father. "I think we should speak Equiish for Princess Luna's benefit. And I'm here because as the Secretary of Stalliongrad, it is my obligation to hear the complaints of our citizens. Isn't that what you're always going on about, Father?"

Watchful Eye's normally smooth brow creased. Despite literally being Foresight's father, the two might well have been the same age for the lack of wrinkles or gray hairs on the alicorn. An astute mind would recognize his apparent youth as the effects of Endura, though such a matter was second to cruel politics in the thoughts of all present. "I have things under control here, Predvidenie."

"Do you, Tsar?" The mare at the head of the crowd spoke up. "Some might consider it the height of pride to claim that a single pony had an entire crowd under control, alicorn or not."

Watchful Eye's wings flared in anger. "Yes, February, and some might also consider it the height of pride to claim that any pony is better than their peers simply because of the deeds of ancestors they have never even met. Even more so to claim that such blood ties ought to come with the privileges of authority, money, and land."

"I don't expect you to understand nobility, Eye, seeing how much respect your family has had for us in the past." Countess February smiled almost militarily as she loosed her heavy coat, letting it sag over her shoulders. "But you would not have the company of every noble in the Domain standing in your ballroom if we were just here to discuss your inadequacy as a leader."

One of the other ponies in furs–a stallion of pale blue coat and thinning green mane–stepped forward. "We're here because you've taken our rights!"

Eye's brow rose. "I must admit, that is not an accusation I am used to hearing. You're referring to the curfew that the Army and Guard–"

"Just call them the Chernyie Plashchi... or the 'Black Cloaks' since we're speaking Equiish. Even your son Krovyu does." February gently flicked her carefully styled shoulder-length golden mane, smiling as charmingly as she could. "And yes, that is what we are referring to. Namely, the fact that your so-called curfew is now depriving us of trade, and thus of money and property. Meanwhile, 'Secretary' Predvidenie profits when his business goes unobstructed, using tax funds from your precious 'equal citizens'. Is that the equality you're so desperate for, Tsar?"

Foresight held out a hoof toward his father, before stepping forward. His voice twitched with agitation, presenting him as stilted and on-edge. "Countess February, I own the Stalliongrad Rail System completely independently of the Domain."

"Well of course you do, now, Predvidenie," February countered, with a calm and silken voice. "You took the funds out of the treasury for your own pocket, just like you did to buy out Duke Conclave's gem mines or the countless farmlands you've stolen out from under our hooves."

"I have never taken a single bit of the Domain's money."

"Oh, of course not." February glanced across the faces of her fellow nobles. "Yet I can't help but think my favorite cousin Frostbite made a similar claim a few years ago. Tragic we don't have the opportunity to ask him or look at his books. If only the Commandant had a less fiery temper, no?"

"I will show you my ledgers, if they'll convince you," Foresight offered through gritted teeth.

"Predvidenie, don't–" the Tsar muttered under his breath, only to be cut off.

"Oh, of course. Ledgers that I'm expected to trust. Just the same way you trusted my cousin's when he told you his taxation for the border was well within his legal right?" February's smile dropped away to a flat glare that matched Foresight's rather perfectly. "Nopony makes half a billion bits trading stocks, Secretary. Everypony knows your story is as honest as that story about your dead brother–"

"Как ты смеешь?!" Watchful Eye roared, lunging forward to loom over the countess. Though short for an alicorn, he still made for an imposing presence over the unicorn mare.

She wilted back for a moment, and then played the motion off as a casual step. Her hoof brushed her jacket as she smiled nonchalantly, looking at nopony in particular. "You see what Stalliongrad suffers under, Princess Luna? Rule by the constant threat of violence, and outright robbery of its citizens." Luna said nothing, but it was clear February hadn't been expecting a response. "If you're so keen on fighting, Tsar, then I propose we settle this once and for all. I challenge you to a duel, for the rule of Stalliongrad."

Gasps swept over the room, not only from Watchful Eye's guests, but from the assembled nobleponies as well. Whatever their original plan, February had broken it completely.

"I have better things to do than waste time throwing pastries or balls of paint at you, February."

"I wasn't proposing a Canterlot duel. This is Stalliongrad, after all. Would you prefer spells, or swords like your pegasus sons?"

"Absolutely not," Watchful Eye told her, stepping backward and folding his wings. "You won't goad me into battle by mocking my loss."

"Oh? A coward, then? I don't suppose I should be expecting your guards to show up at my home in a few nights?"

"I have nothing more to say to you," the Tsar responded. "Go home, or be arrested for trespassing."

February stepped toward the alicorn. "But you said yourself this castle belonged to all the ponies of Stalliongrad. I remember it perfectly; it was the same day your son killed my cousin. Or are you going to steal that right from me too, Predvidenie? Buy it out with your stolen money?"

Foresight nodded. "Very well, Countess. He accepts your challenge."

"What?" The Tsar's head jumped to the side to stare at his son. "I do not!"

"Father, please. I am not going to sit idly by while she mocks Polnoch's memory."

"You're behaving like Roscherk, Predvidenie. I expect better of you than resorting to violence over something like this."

"Damn it, Father! Just say you'll do it!" Foresight was approaching shouting.

The Tsar remained calm. "I'm not about to degrade myself to a 'duel' for her benefit. Do you think this will honor Polnoch's memory? Do you blame her for what happened? Perhaps you recall what happened when Roscherk assigned blame for your brother's fate."

"Father, either we end this now, or it will end like Coltpenhagen. Just finish it." Foresight gestured with a forehoof in February's direction, though his head remained locked toward his father.

Watchful Eye stared at his son for what seemed like a very long moment in total silence. Then, slowly, he turned to face February. "Very well. I accept your challenge."

"Honestly? After all that shouting?"

"Are you hesitating?" Watchful Eye responded calmly.

"Absolutely not. Well, you've been challenged, Tsar, so the choice is yours. First blood, surrender, or death?"

Foresight stepped forward, placing himself between the mare and his father. "If I might interrupt. Princess Luna, could you join us down here?" A moment of flapping wings later, and the princess was standing calmly nearby. "Would you be so kind as to officiate, to spare us the need for seconds?"

Luna hesitated for a moment before nodding. "I should frown upon an unnecessary death in this circumstance. However, for your honor, I shall permit whatever other form of conflict you request."

"Excellent," Foresight observed. "Now at this point, Countess, I would like to call on the Right of Sun Sue."

Luna suddenly beamed, even as the Countess cocked her head. "The what?"

Foresight smiled. "I'm certain you know the rule, even if you aren't familiar with the name. Princess, would you care to explain."

"I should love to!" Luna exclaimed rather loudly, causing those nearby to wince. "I recall this; I was present that day. It must have been three thousand years ago when Sun Sue, the Captain of the Royal Guard at the time, was challenged to a noble's duel. However, as an earth pony, she stood no chance of success, given the rules of the event. Our sister ruled that if a non-Unicorn noble were challenged to a duel, they might have a unicorn stand in for them, and thus, Lady Miracle stood in for the guardsmare."

February's eyes grew slightly wide. "But he's an alicorn! He has a horn!"

"And wings," Foresight countered. "Princess, as our judge, might I stand in my father's place?"

"I shall allow it," the Princess responded. "Though knowing this, I shall allow the Countess to withdraw without penalty if she so desires."

"Absolutely not!" She hissed, unclasping her jacket properly. "What are your terms, Predvidenie?"

Foresight's magic removed his scarf, his glasses, and his jacket. Each in turn was handed to his father. Only when he had been reduced to a lavender dress shirt with rolled back sleeves on his forelegs did the unicorn respond. "Princess Luna has given her restrictions, February, so I choose a Duel to the Mark."

A second wave of gasps escaped the crowd, though Foresight paid the most attention to the sudden look of... guilt?... that danced over Luna's face.

Whispered warnings were offered to the Countess, but she ignored them with a cocky smile. "I can best the Tsar's whelp. When I win, after I take your mark, you and your father will yield control of the Domain. I will take all your holdings, all your titles, and all your power. You will leave Stalliongrad, and never return."

Foresight nodded. "Then I offer you the same terms, February. Upon my victory, you and your entire family will travel to the Stable of Lords in Trottingham, where you will renounce your every claim to noble title or lineage. Your lands and holdings will become property of the Domain, and if you should ever return from your exile, I will allow my brother to decide your fate." Foresight could not help but smile a little bit at the reaction his phrase earned. At least three of the other nobleponies in the crowd raised their hooves to shield their horns. Perhaps that feeling was why Roscherk was so fond of intimidation.

Forcing himself away from emotion, Foresight continued. "Because I have been challenged, I choose our place of battle to be this ballroom, our time to be now, and our weapons to be the full range of our spells."

"Agreed."

The room became deadly quiet. Not even the sound of hooves on the dance floor resounded, though the mass of ponies shuffled back to clear a space for the Arcana that would be soon to come.

Countess February walked up to Foresight and leaned her head forward. He matched the motion, so that their horns touched and crossed in midair. A flare of sparks filled the air as both ponies forced the full strength of their magic into their horns, as was tradition. Gritting his teeth with exertion, Foresight gave the mare a quick glance, and was surprised to find her eyes closed. For just a moment, his heart jumped, as he feared that he might have misjudged her skill. Then his head was whipped away by the greater force of her magic, and he thrust out a foreleg to steady himself.

February didn't laugh or open her eyes, but she did smile. The action was enough to put a chill down Foresight's spine. Then the time to look at one another was over. The opponents turned away from one another, and pranced proudly with high knees for a distance of twenty strides each. Princess Luna stepped away from them, opposite the mass of watching ponies. Watchful Eye moved to her side, brow creased with worry beneath his dark red mane.

As was tradition, the challenger turned to face her foe and spoke up first. "I am Countess February, of the Line of Miracle, the First Archmage of Trottingham and founder of the Stable of Nobles." The white mare's horn ignited with a similar aura, removing her coat and tossing it into the crowd. Beneath it on her naturally white coat Foresight spotted her cutie mark: a heart frozen solid and dripping with icicles.

Foresight nodded slowly, and took a breath to steady himself. "I am Predvidenie, known in Equiish as Foresight, son of Tsar Watchful Eye of Stalliongrad. I belong to the Line of Cyclone, son of Hurricane and founder of Stalliongrad."

February scoffed. "You claim the line of a pegasus?"

"Tradition holds that the Line of Platinum comes from Hurricane as well." Foresight momentarily glanced toward Luna. For just a moment, she wore a surprisingly fierce frown, before her face once more went slack and even. "Though it is unlikely, I still hold no shame for claiming the line of such a pony, regardless of his form." The stallion nodded to his princess, who turned her head to February.

"We declare this a Duel to the Mark. The duel shall continue until surrender or unconsciousness, and then terms shall be concluded. I forbid the maiming or torture of the defeated. Is this understood?" Both combatants nodded. "Then we shall begin in three..."

Foresight closed his eyes and focused, letting his mana build up at the front of his brain, and settling into the minor headache that accompanied such pent up energy.

"...two..."

It took all his effort not to think, but he knew better. Rigidity was defeat, and to plan ahead was to lose flexibility.

"...one..."

Scholars and professional show duelists called it 'the longest moment'–the pause between the final count and outright combat. Like the first roll over the peak of a rollercoaster, Foresight's stomach lurched up and forward in his belly. Fear, excitement, and adrenaline mixed into a potent cocktail that numbed the throbbing of his frontal lobe.

He opened his eyes just in time.

"...begin!"

February lowered her head to point straight at Foresight, firing off a salvo of raw, overcharged stunning bolts. Even a single hit would spell unconsciousness. Rather than waste energy blocking with a shield, the stallion teleported a dozen feet to the side, avoiding the full attack.

Hers seemed to be a style of speed and aggression. Were he observing, Foresight might have admired the strength behind her spells. In the heat of the moment, he only spared himself time for useful observations. The way she held her horn downward, always pointing in his direction was the indicative trait of the Trottingham School of Dueling, which stood quite at odds with Foresight's Canterlot form.

There was something more to be learned, though: a terrifying flaw in what had been his plan. Amongst unicorns, there were two kinds of spellcasters. Mages, or magi, were scholarly ponies who trained their minds and horns to the study and memorization of a complex variety of spells. Concepts like thaumic resonance, mana density, and an immense variety of spells were crammed academically into the mind of the practitioner. Foresight was nothing if not a skilled academic, and his vast knowledge of the many schools of magic made him an excellent match for any dueling mage.

Unfortunately for Foresight, the Countess February was not a college educated spell caster. Just as she rejected academia, so too did it reject her manner of magic. There was no formal name for such a practitioner, though 'witch', 'shaman', 'warlock', and 'sorceror' were all popular choices. What mattered was not what she was called, but rather how she cast. Rather than wielding magic by complex mental forms and training, she wielded her magic by throwing a mixture of imagination, willpower, and sheer Arcana toward a problem. Her magic was more draining and tiring, but also far more versatile than Foresight's rigid spells. Worse, he had no real means of identifying or countering them directly.

Forced to adjust his goals, he let off a simple but incredibly rare spell. For the moment, it did nothing beyond causing his horn to flare momentarily in royal blue. He then began to charge his horn, getting ready for an attack of his own.

Then came the image in his mind's eye.

The dance floor surged up, wrapping into shackles around his hooves.

Foresight lunged to the side, only a second in advance of February's next attack. The ballroom's marble tiles rose up where he had been standing, narrowly missing their prey. Seeing his opening, Foresight fired off a beam of complex magic. It had some long, alliterative name that had no place being remembered in the heat of the duel. All that mattered was its purpose: to disrupt February's own spells, rather than genuinely stunning her.

Her spell lanced back at him in turn in a curve, so that it never touched his spell. She lost her magic. He lost consciousness.

Rather than dropping his spell, Foresight let his head tilt ever so slightly to the right at the vision that flashed though his mind. The stunning white blast she let fly came into contact with his own beam. Soon, the Arcana had connected into a single bulging bulb, crackling wildly with the scents of ozone, power, and desperation.

A connected beam of Arcana–known as a 'column' in the bloated and complex vernacular of the unicorn duel–was a common and extremely dangerous form of conflict. In addition to the raw power of the two spells that had combined to make the column, canny mages could make use of the connection of magic to cast secondary charms directly against their opponents. It took an incredibly skilled mind to both put the force into maintaining the column itself, and also fight off the secondary enchantments traveling at higher speed and potency through air already inundated with mana. It was said Celestia herself had fallen to such magic when she sparred with the Changeling Queen in her palace in Canterlot.

In a very different castle overlooking Stalliongrad, Foresight's head screamed in agony as he pushed himself forward. Though a trained mage, his magic was simply not known for its strength. Without even looking, he could feel his magic being pushed back as hers advanced.

The blast overwhelmed him, stealing his magic and frying his horn.

Making a desperate decision, Foresight cut off his magic, reforming what little mana he could pull back into a simple warding shield. While it couldn't steal her mana or reflect her spells upon her, he simply didn't have the time for something more complex. After a moment of pushing in vain, February released her magic, and smiled. And, for just a moment, Foresight felt a heat in his loins.

"A charm?"

Foresight spared a quick glance around the room. No face in the mass of nobles caught his eye, but he could see both his father and Princess Luna watching him closely. Thoughts of their attention did little to help his addled mind.

February smiled at him, and he had to fight not to get lost in the way the light from the chandelier overhead glistened across her teeth. "Nothing as glorious as the Bitalian princess, but lust can be just as effective as true love. Do you concede?"

"Over a foalhood crush?" Foresight concluded the thought with a rather boring stunning blast, which took far too much of his own willpower to produce. "I would never."

"I'll give you a kiss, Predvidenie."

The stallion cursed the hormones that were a natural poison coursing through his veins, and struggled to focus the new conflict of his priorities.

She teleported behind him. He moved to conjure a shield, but hesitated too long. The ensuing blast felled him.

When he heard the distinct crackle of space being torn apart to make way for teleportation, Foresight lunged to the side. Yet again, February's magic wreaked havoc on the ancient, priceless tiles of the ballroom floor.

Growling, the mare sent a flurry of further blasts in Foresight's direction. Unable to recover from his dive, he lashed out in desperation. Foresight's telekinesis caught his own shoulders, and he recklessly hurled himself up toward the towering ceiling. The irony that she was the one with carefully prepared actions, and he was the reactionary was not lost on the aching, tired unicorn.

Unlike the beginning of the duel, the lurching of his stomach as he hit the peak of his climb was a completely natural occurrence. Bursts of magic exploded against the ceiling overhead, but February was not a pony skilled at picking out flying foes.

He moved to slow himself as one might under Iron Curtain's Gambit. Already enjoying the luxury of her hooves on the ground, February dispelled the magic meant to slow his fall. His neck snapped on the cold tile.

He reached out frantically not with magic, but his own forehooves. He caught onto the chandelier only by a hair, and for the action, the tug of his body wrenched itself hard against his shoulder. His teeth locked together, gritting in pain. Struggling to remain focus, he turned to face where his lover was pacing below.

Where his foe was pacing.

"You know, Predvidenie, I'm not certain I can catch you if I stun you while you're hanging up there. Do you surrender, or shall we continue this charade further?"

"I'm not going to surrender to you."

"Very well."

She shot a blast of stunning magic, and he countered with a curse of outright disintegration. Of course, he hadn't aimed at her.

The chain holding the chandelier to the ceiling snapped free of the roof, and the massive work of glass and gold plummeted downward toward the Countess. In the chaos, Foresight didn't see what happened to her.

In a literal flash, the major source of light for the room was gone. The smash was jarring, and it sent the unicorn stallion spilling over the floor with a dislocated shoulder. By the time the pain had lessened enough to clear his vision of spots, Foresight's eyes had adjusted to the darkness. Now the only light in the broken room was that cast through the raging storm behind the chamber's windows. The son of the tsar stood slowly and shakily, fighting not to make a noise despite the pain in his leg. His next challenge was to find the other mare, and for once, his body agreed on the goal.

The heat and the lust were beginning to become dangerous distractions, but Foresight did not know a spell to undo the effects of her charm. Instead, focusing his magic inward, the stallion attempted something much more dangerous, and entirely against his usual way of thinking.

He started to cast without knowing his spell.

Blue sparks flared from his horn, expending unnecessary energy that he couldn't control. The clearing of his mind's fog came at the cost of a dozen needle-like surges of pain stretching down from his horn into his mind. All he could see in the room was a swirl of gray, with a huge huddled mass of frightened ponies off to one side, and the broken shards of the chandelier beside him.

She saw the light from his horn, and by the time he knew where she was coming from, it was already too late.

With a wounded foreleg, leaping out of the way was out of the question. Instead, Foresight spun as best he could, letting his hind legs and flank suffer the brunt of the spell. With a brilliant white blast, her spell came flying, and he fell backwards as his legs seared with pain.

The stallion screamed. He could smell his own flesh cooking off his flank, not from fire or lightning, but the raw energy of her Arcana. What he had endured would likely have killed him, had he not turned. Tears swept down his face, matting down his coat, though he made no further noise in response to the action.

"Predvidenie!" Watchful Eye yelled from somewhere off to the side. Foresight heard his father's wings flapping, only to be stopped by the potent aura of Princess Luna's magic.

"Tsar, you must control yourself–"

Foresight had little time to listen to the argument. His horn barely managed a teleportation spell, tossing him aside further as he avoided another of February's attacks. He knew where she was now, but the information did him little good when he could barely focus through his pain.

Watchful Eye loosed a bolt of magic at the Princess, trying to get away from her grip. She swatted it away with little more than a thought. A moment later, he quite literally bounced off the marble tiles as Mirror Image slammed him down with sheer telekinetic force. Gasping with pain, and likely a few broken ribs, the Tsar nevertheless managed to shout in desperation. "I won't lose another son, Princess! She's trying to kill him!'

A full beam of her magic cut across the room, and Foresight only avoided it by laying flat against the floors. He felt his mane wilt under the power of her magic, and his eyes clenched shut in a paltry attempt to focus.

Luna gave order curtly. "Mirror Image, restrain him. We are monitoring the duel, Tsar, and our eyes see in darkness better than yours. Trust us, and do not make the mistake of crossing us again."

Foresight heard February approaching, and struggled to stand. His legs failed him. Her hooves tapped briskly on the clean marble tiles and then began crunching over broken glass. "I hope we can all agree, this revolution was an awful lot more pleasant than the last one. Now all you need to do is surrender, Predvidenie."

He gritted his teeth, trying to push the pain out of his head. "Not a very... noble thing to do, February." And then he lit his horn.

She sneered as her own magic began to collect.

One of the nobles she had brought with her called out. "Февраль, сзади!"

She didn’t consider that such an announcement would violate the rules of the duel, and so she did not question Luna’s silence. Yet for all his varied skills, Foresight wasn’t surprised that the princess had seen through the illusory voice.

Rather than blasting the vulnerable stallion, the mare reshaped her Arcana into a quick teleportation spell.

Countess February landed partway up the side of the chandelier and threw out a powerful shield to protect her from Foresight's attack.

He only had a second, and he had to make the most of it. Foresight's horn wrapped up the broken glass and gold, fusing them together even as February popped into being over the broken chandelier. By the time her hooves had touched the glass, he was done, and his horn fired off the last of his mana in a single, brutal bolt that left the world spinning.

Her shield came up. His bolt missed.

She moved her lips to laugh as the bolt shot past the side of her hooves and struck the glass. Noise never reached her lips when his shot hit the surface of glass and gold, and bounced off. Rising from straight up beneath her, it avoided her shield entirely, and caught her in the gut. She fell unconscious in a mass of limbs, tumbling down the pile of glass shards and broken gold. She came to a rest near Foresight's hooves, wearing a smile.

Before Princess Luna could even announce the conclusion of the duel, Watchful Eye wrested himself free of Mirror Image's grip and soared across the room. Foresight found himself buried in yellow wings which muffled an incredibly pleasing announcement.

"We declare Foresight the victor."

Inside his father's embrace, Foresight wished he didn't need to move. Stalliongrad, however, was not known for such kindnesses. "Father, help me up," Foresight whispered.

"You need to rest," the Tsar cautioned. "You're hurt."

"Believe me, Father, I've noticed. But I need to address the nobles. So please, help me to my hooves."

Reluctantly, Watchful Eye slid a wing beneath his eldest son, and then together hefted both their weights as he rose to his full height. Foresight managed to conceal the pain of putting weight on his legs behind a creased brow, but he knew he would have to keep his message short.

"I trust this resolves your issues, nobleponies. Those of you who live in this city have one hour to return to your homes. Those of you who do not are to wait here in the castle until Commandant Molot and I arrange for your escort to Trotsylvania or Saraneighvo. If you flee, or if any of you are caught in violation of our curfew again, you will be summarily stripped of your titles and handed over to the Honor Guard under charges of treason for aiding the attempted assassination of Princess Luna."

Nopony had anything to say, so Foresight smiled. "Then thank you for your time. I'll be sure to take your complaints into consideration." He waited for the mass of stunned ponies to move until the pain in his legs and horn left the world spinning. "You are dismissed," he told them, before collapsing against his father's wing.

Rainbow Dash sat with a plate of salad in front of her. She poked it with her fork, and it shifted slightly, but nothing really changed. The ranch dressing just sat there, as she slowly realized that despite her fatigue, she wasn't really hungry.

Her legs were sore, and her wings sorer still. She didn't really understand that. She could fly all the way to Zebrica in a single day. She could shatter the sound barrier simply by focusing herself. Yet somehow, merely keeping up with a train for an hour had left her shoulders screaming. Her best guess was that the strain came from keeping herself sharply upright, so that all four of her hooves could strike forward. It wasn't a natural position for flying, or even really for hovering.

The lettuce was crisp, and it crunched between her teeth, but she barely tasted it. Her mind was stuck on three thoughts. She was tired. She was sore. She hated her father. She looked up from the food to stare out the windows of the dining car. What had been beautiful and entrancing that morning was now boring and flat and endless. Occasionally, a butte or a valley or a river interrupted the monotony of the desert, but by and large, there was nothing to see.

Why were things so hard? Sure, she hadn't bucked lightning in six months, since she played her role in Reckoning's funeral, but the rest of her Empatha was no weaker for the wear. And while she had never made fire before, it certainly hadn't been hard to do ice for Scootaloo. There was something else, she'd decided, though she couldn't put her hoof on it. Something bothering her beneath the surface. Tragically, neither her salad nor the plains of the San Palomino desert seemed to hold her answers.

"Uh, 'scuse me, Miss..."

Rainbow glanced down from her seat at the counter to the sight of a little colt, probably no older than six or seven. He had a brushed back blue mane and a huge smile in the middle of his lighter blue face. A rainbow bandana was knotted around his neck.

"What's up, kid?"

"Are ya' Rainbow Dash?" His accent reminded Rainbow of Applejack, though that thought was quickly lost in a flare of pride.

"You betcha."

"Oh boy!" He jumped in the air and started flapping his wings so fast that he didn't actually come down. "The real Rainbow Dash! Can ya' teach me how ta do a Sonic Rainboom?"

"Slow down there, buddy," Rainbow told him, turning properly in her seat to grant him her full attention. "Well, I guess you've got hovering down."

"I can do more than that!" he told her, performing a little loop-de-loop in front of her, before landing at her hooves. "What do you think?"

"I think you're pretty awesome," Rainbow told him, ruffling his mane. "Though you've still got a way to go 'til you're as awesome as me."

"Yeah, but it's hard," there was a tinge of a whine in his voice. "I try super hard, but sometimes it just feels like I'm not getting any faster."

"It is hard," Rainbow told him, nodding. "You just can't give up. Just 'cause it doesn't seem like anything's changing doesn't mean nothing actually is."

"Wise words, Rainbow."

It was the stunt flier's turn to jump in the air and hover as Dead Reckoning chuckled at her reaction. She was sure he hadn't been so stealthy when he was older. After a moment to catch her breath, Rainbow tried to play off her action as cool, and not startled at all. Judging by the colt's expression, he wasn't buying it, though he seemed too engrossed in the new arrival to really comment on Rainbow's behavior.

"What's yer name, mister?"

"I'm Deadeye."

The colt chuckled. "Cause of your eye patch?"

"You got it," the grown stallion lied. "How about you? What's your name?"

"Rocket," he answered with a smile. "Are you Rainbow's fan too?"

Reckoning's eye flickered in Rainbow's direction briefly, and then he nodded. "Yeah, I guess you could say I'm her fan, Rocket."

"Cool! I didn't know any grownups were fans of Rainbow Dash!"

Reckoning chuckled. "Well, right now, Rainbow needs to go get some flying practice in. Okay?"

"Ooh! Can I come?"

Rainbow was briefly lost for words, but Reckoning took up the burden again and shook his head. "Sorry, Rocket. This is special secret practice, so Rainbow Dash can do a... uh..."

"A Fiery Phoenix Flare!" Rainbow cut in. "It's kinda dangerous, or I'd let you come watch."

"Oh... okay." Rocket frowned slightly, before looking up at Rainbow again. "Are you gonna be on the train tomorrow?"

"Y–"

"She's very busy," Reckoning interrupted. "So it probably wouldn't be a good idea to make any promises. But maybe."

"Oh. Okay. Well, it was still super fun to meet you!" Rocket grinned again, and then turned around and ran back toward the rear passenger cabins, most likely to tell his parents about the celebrity he'd just met.

Once he was out of earshot, Reckoning raised his visible eyebrow. "Fiery Phoenix Flare? Is that what you call the little candle flame you made when we were practicing?"

Rainbow rolled her eyes. "Everypony has to start somewhere."

As she made her way out the dining car side by side with the other pegasus, she felt like she might have finally made some progress. Whatever weight had been holding her back was lighter than it had been before.

Foresight did not recall much of the next few moments. Somehow, he was moved from the ballroom through the boring gray halls of the castle. A veil of confusion swept over him, and he watched the lights go by overhead with fascination, wondering how their coronas had come to be such perfect squares.

Before he could come to an answer, the lights were stolen away, replaced by a sea of fur and feathers. He spilled across the silken surface, unable to embrace the comfort for a lack of motion in his limbs, but uncaring about the leaden feeling that had overtaken his legs.

Lucid thought returned in a sudden rush, that felt like nothing so much as an icy chill. For just a moment his eyes resisted his control. Then he scanned the room. His room. A single rather plain bed with a thick pile of comforters, cushions and pillows lay in the center of a half-dozen shelves filled with tomes, scrolls, and curiosities from his university days.

Three ponies stood around him. Watchful Eye's expression could be summarized entirely as relieved. Mirror Image was harder to read, and any analysis of Princess Luna's features was a cause doomed from the start.

"What... happened?" Foresight managed to ask, rubbing his last uninjured leg over his brow in an attempt to fix the singed foreparts of his mane.

"Illusions are not merely the domain of Masquerade," Luna responded. "Nor are they solely an evil. I hath not the energy to heal your legs at the moment, for my body is still recovering from Krenn's attack. I have removed the pain for you, however, so that you might recover in peace."

"Thank you, then, Princess." Foresight looked down at his legs and grimaced. His coat had been burnt away in more than a few places, striping his hind end in char and bitter red. He turned back toward Luna. "I'll have to settle for jackets with coattails for a bit, but otherwise I should survive."

"You say that like it was a given, Predvidenie." Watchful Eye gave his son a stern glare. "You risked not only the Domain, but your own life."

"I... had not intended to risk anything, Father, and I am sorry for what happened. But I had everything under control."

"How can you possibly claim that?" Mirror Image asked. "She was taking you apart out there. And don't even try to claim that last stunt was anything but luck. If White Flag or I had been facing you–"

"I wouldn't have accepted the challenge," Foresight countered. "I'm not stupid enough to try and duel the Honor Guard, any more than I would face down Princess Luna."

Luna nodded, before turning. "Calm yourself, Officer Image. I see nothing wrong here."

"Then you're missing the point, Princess." Mirror Image snapped, before realizing what he had said. "Apologies. Regardless, I know how a noble's duel works, probably better than anypony else alive."

"Is that so?" Luna asked.

Image answered by tapping the crevice that ran down the length of his horn. "What I saw today was that Foresight got lucky in dodging February's attacks. Too lucky. Nopony's timing is that good, and if he'd been tapped into the arcane field of the room, I would have noticed. Too many things are going on in this city for me to just take this on faith and still call myself an Honor Guard. So, Foresight, let's hear it."

Foresight sighed, and afforded himself a long, slow swallow. "I looked into the future."

"What?" Mirror Image asked as he stepped in front of Princess Luna, whose eyes widened in mild surprise. Watchful Eye showed no reaction at all.

"Two seconds," Foresight answered, trying to defuse the situation. "I know the story of King Electrum as well as any educated unicorn. I wasn't sitting there making prophecies or looking months and years ahead. It wasn't a real prophecy, even. More like a siren."

"You know that magic is illegal?" Mirror Image pressed.

Foresight shrugged. "I had assumed two seconds was too little time for any real harm to be done. I wrote the spell when I was in the Royal Academy, taking dueling courses from Dr. Rapier for my P.E. credits." At Mirror Image's raised brow, he continued. "I hate Polo."

"So you have never looked any further into the future?"

Foresight hesitated, glancing to his father. Watchful Eye nodded, and the stallion on the bed began to speak again. "Not since the Blizzard Revolution. And before you begin accusing me, I did that because Steel Lining told me to."

"You made prophecy about a war?" Luna asked incredulously. "Even after Electrum–"

"With the utmost respect, Princess, King Electrum is a foal's ghost story more than a real pony. Historically speaking, he would have lost his war with the Crystal Empire regardless, as a simple matter of economics. The conflict was over well before he ever made the prophecy that everypony seems to be so riled up over. But the prophecy I made was not about the revolution."

"What?" Mirror Image stepped forward to the edge of the bed. "Explain."

"I don't even remember it that well," Foresight protested. "He was the one who took a record. Something about boars, I think. It had nothing to do–"

"You made a prophecy, and you don't remember it?" The unicorn with the broken horn was incredulous. After a moment's thought, he pinched the bridge of his nose and afforded himself a deep breath.

"Boars, you say?" Luna stepped around her guardian, resting her forehooves on the bed and lowering herself to Foresight's level. "I would like you to try and recall whatever you can of that prophecy, Foresight. I fear it may be of truly great significance."

Foresight nodded, and closed his eyes. "Let's see... it was in our old house on... it would be 'Cable Way' in Equiish. In Saraneighvo. Um... the revolution was almost over, really. We were raiding supplies, and planning our assault on Burning Hearth..."

I made my way into the living room, and shot a glare at Roscherk's friend Serp. Of course the imbecile would be spilled over the entire couch. His namesake sickle was lying on the floor, staining our carpet with some unfortunate 'loyalist's' blood, and all I could think about was how much it was going to cost to deal with the stain. It didn't occur to me we'd be moving out of Mother's little manor. Nopony else was in sight, but I could hear the raucous sounds of brother's laughter from our 'game room' down the hall. For a moment, I confess, my mind was occupied with how much it would cost to replace the billiards table when Roscherk's gin and tonics had stained rings onto the wooden border.

I wandered my way down the hall, letting my bag of stolen alchemical supplies float gently to the ground in front of my door. I'd be spending most of the next few days making Dragon's Breath and Beaver's Tonic, though the little vial of Galm's Elixir I had found was perhaps the most interesting and most terrifying of my prizes. One of the most dangerous poisons known to equinity, and certainly the most painful. At the time, I imagined it would be what killed Frostbite. If Roscherk had known that was my thought, he probably would have said I had no imagination. Turns out he was right.

The game room was not, as I had assumed, full of Roscherk's friends. At least, not exclusively. In addition to his little cadre of 'super soldiers', I found the majority of our generals and leaders. For a moment, I thought there might have been some important tactical meeting going on.

Then I saw our normally stiff general hoof-wrestling Roscherk.

"Come on, geezer. I'll put you on the table faster than you can blink."

"Geezer?" The accent that dominated Steel Lining's Stalliongradi was one of the funniest things I had ever heard. "How old you are to think I am, Roscherk?"

A pensive look crossed my brother's face. "I don't know, fifty?"

"Not close even," the Commander replied. And yes, that was what we called him too, though I knew his real name. Well, sort of. He told me it was 'Steel Edge' in Stalliongradi when I'd pressed him on the issue, though I'd wager a good few bits that was just his lack of skill in the language at work, instead of some strange deception. "Be with counting, or I am reach fifties before we are going."

"All right, Mentor. Three, two, one, go!"

The red and blue stallions pressed hard against one another, and before long, the other ponies in the room were chanting and stomping their support. The Commander was the taller and larger stallion, but Roscherk's immense musculature was more than enough to counter the older pony's mechanical advantage. Steel was pressed down slowly, and the chanting grew only more forceful. Soon, though, hoof met table, and the game was over.

"Ha! Take that, Mentor! Maybe you aren't quite as young as you think!"

"Tongue watching, Roscherk," the Commander replied almost incomprehensibly, stepping away from the table.

"Think you're a big shot, big bro?" Polnoch asked. It was always strange to think of him as the 'little brother' when he was so much taller than Roscherk. He certainly took after mother in that way, and in color as well.

Roscherk leaned back in his seat, dragging his precious jacket along the ground. He hadn't even taken it off inside, instead allowing it to drag snow all over the carpet. "I am a big shot, Polnoch. I'm the best fighter alive, and everypony knows it."

"Leg strength only not mark of fighter," Steel muttered as he poured himself a glass of water from a pitcher on the nearby 'bar' counter.

Polnoch laughed aloud. "I love you to death, Mentor, but you might consider shutting up for once. We finally have a night off, where the weather is actually too bad to fight in, and you're still shoving your sayings down our throats?"

Roscherk laughed. "And the mares might find you more attractive if they don't know you can't talk." Someday, the irony would be delicious, though it didn't really occur to me at the time.

I was standing close enough to the bar to hear the Commander mutter "Foals," though I know neither of my brothers caught the word.

Roscherk would have missed it even if he'd been closer. He stood up, on his hind legs, with one on the tabletop and the other on the ground. His forelegs flexed. He looked like a moron. "Anypony care to challenge the greatest fighter in Stalliongrad?"

Polnoch chuckled. "You've got a big head there, bro."

"Are you trying to say something, Pol'?"

"I've got a challenger for you," he answered with the absolute smallest smile I have ever seen. That was the way Polnoch always was, twitching up just the very corner of his lip and showing way more happiness with his eyes than his lips.

"Alright, bring it!" Roscherk called, gesturing with his foreleg.

Polnoch chuckled. "Stoikaja?"

I had never really gotten used to her standing up, and realizing that she wasn't a wall, or a table, or some other architectural feature. She gave Roscherk a look, and I'll never quite forget the way he gulped. Of course, it isn't as funny now, knowing it was her, but still...

"I can't do this," she told Polnoch.

The taller pegasus laughed. "Why not?"

"I'll break the table."

Everypony laughed. I certainly did. It was the most fun some of those ponies would ever have. Thinking back, seven of the ponies in that room would be dead within twenty-four hours.

I would have stayed to watch those ponies wrestle, were it not for a hoof placed on my shoulder. Without a word, the Commander led me out of the room and away from the noise.

When we had made our way down the rather narrow hall and around the corner, he spoke to me in Equiish. "I need your help, Predvidenie."

"Of course," I told him. You didn't say 'no' to a pony who'd saved the lives of your whole family more than once.

"This isn't about the revolution, Predvidenie. With providence, nopony will ever know. But this is for Equestria's benefit, and for Celestia's."

The way he skipped 'Princess' was always a bit jarring to me, but then, he certainly knew her better than most anypony else. Regardless, I wasn't about to turn down his request.

He walked up to the farthest door on the right side of the hall and opened the door. It had been my parent's study before Mother died giving birth to Polnoch. When she was alive, Father had been an accomplished mage, but he gave up on the practice almost completely when she died. Now, the chamber of bookshelves with simple spell books was also home to a single bed, a desk, and an improvised wooden stand to hold Hurricane's Armor.

As a student of history, the cuirass and helmet were a forbidden idol to me. Even with the pain that the void crystal armor put in my horn, and the high-pitched ringing that echoed out when it drank my mana, I could barely resist the tug. But the Commander would never let me touch the armor, or even examine it without his presence. I knew he kept... something beneath the peytral. That day, I saw what.

With his unusually dexterous wings, he peeled back the black flaps that connected to the central lightning-bolt insignia. Behind the flap that sat on my left were four slender crystals. Three shone with a slight light, which I imagined was being consumed by the armor. Purple, green, and gold lights held my eyes. The fourth lacked an internal glow. They caught my eye foremost, though I recall a few other vials, a small knife of some jet black metal I didn't recognize, and some other trinkets within. He grabbed something and tucked it into the shoulder of his wing; he wasn't really concealing it, but the wing was in the way of my sight. Next, he opened the other flap quickly to claim the rest of the items he was seeking. Namely, a flat metal flask and a silver bowl.

"What are those?" I asked him plainly.

"Quicksilver and molten Aether. The silver bowl is exactly what it looks like."

"Aren't those... extremely toxic?" I asked.

The Commander chose not to respond. He set the bowl on his desk, and emptied the flask into it. Soon, a swirling mass of featureless silver and ambient mana offered a uniform glow.

"Okay... what do you want me to do?"

"Prophesy," he answered. "Tell me the future."

"And then I... was done."

"Thou skipped the most important part," Luna observed with a pointed lack of amusement.

"I don't remember, Princess. The next thing I can think of is the Commander tucking his gear back into Hurricane's Armor and going back with me to see if Stoikaja had broken Roscherk's foreleg."

Rather than responding with words, Luna's horn began to glow. Foresight had only the time to gasp before his mind was hers. Once, and then twice, he watched over the memories he had described. Once, and then twice, Luna's magic found a dark and gaping void in his thoughts.

Luna's horn lost its glow and her eyes fell, coming to a rest staring at the corner of the room. "This is most troubling. "

"What's wrong?" Tsar Eye asked. "Did something happen to Predvidenie?"

"Calm yourself, Tsar. Foresight, you are well, both in body and mind. Forgive me, stallions, but this is a most troubling revelation, and time is short. Foresight, you are to remain within this city; I may have need of your mind when I return."

"Wait, Princess, what do you mean? Where are..." Watchful Eye didn't manage to finish the thought before Mirror Image and Luna had both paced out of the chamber, and the door had shut behind them. "...you going?"

Foresight rolled his head over his pillow to look his father in the eyes. "Krennotets, Father. She intends to visit the dragons personally."

"Earth."

Rainbow focused on the pile of stones in front of her. It didn't take long for a thin spire to form.

"Good." The rocks fell. Reckoning nodded. "Earth is probably the hardest element to use in combat because your fear can override your rational thought. As far as I know, even the Commander hardly ever bothers. Next, ice."

Rainbow's wing thrust into a small bucket beside her. A short splash spilled free, but most of the water froze fairly quickly. "Yes, yes, yes!" the mare exclaimed.

"Good work. We discussed this a lot in Zebrica, but water isn't very useful for direct attack and defense. Making mist and mud, or freezing a puddle as a trap is a lot more useful than trying to throw icicles. Also, be careful in the desert. If you don't have any water around, you might wind up dehydrating yourself; the Empatha will use the water in your own body."

"Really?" Rainbow's brow rose. "How does fire work then?"

Reckoning shrugged. "Air's flammable, I guess. On that topic, fire."

The cyan pegasus squinted, focusing her anger. Her wings flared, and she felt the heat beneath her feathers. Yet despite her best efforts, nothing came out. Another failure. After a minute of trying, she slumped to the ground in defeat. "I just can't get angry enough."

On stepped forward. "You want me to make you angry?"

Suddenly left in an imposing shadow, Rainbow afforded herself a notable gulp. "Uh...sure?"

She'd been expecting something to the effect of a punch in the gut. In Rainbow's mind, that would have been a very storybook means of producing anger. With Soldier On on the other end, however, it was also likely to produce broken ribs.

Instead, to Rainbow's surprise, Soldier On sat down and looked the younger mare squarely in the eyes.

"You want to know why you aren't a member of the Wonderbolts?"

Rainbow's eyes widened. "Oh, come on. Now you're going to tell me I'm not a good flier or something?"

On shook her head. "For five years now, your father has been blocking your applications."

"What?!"

"You're the Bearer of Loyalty, and it's not as if he really cared about your happiness compared to the safety of Equestria. He's kept you working a dead-end weather management position so you'd never leave Ponyville."

It explained so much. Puzzle pieces snapped together in Rainbow's head, and with each one came a newfound sense of rage. Years of applications not denied, but completely unreturned. How she'd been totally ignored despite her success at the Wonderbolt's Academy...

"Too much!" Reckoning shouted, grabbing a blanket and tackling Rainbow. As he essentially stomped on her wings, between lungfuls of smoke, he called out. "On, window!"

"How could he–"

"Stop, Rainbow!" Reckoning told her, struggling to restrain her flailing wings. "You're going to light the room on fire!"

"I–what?"

"You did it," Reckoning told her. "Most fire I've ever seen."

"If only," On muttered as she pulled open the window. "But it was fire, and that is enough for now."

"Эй, ухнем!" the ponies on the shore cried out on the morning of the twenty-fifth of January. Their ragged clothes strained against their bodies as they pulled on enormous ropes, dragging the makeshift barge through the loose shards of ice in the Straight of White Wind. "Эй, ухнем!"

The sky was filled with falling snowflakes, absent in beauty for their sheer volume, and for the winds that they accompanied. Even the hardened Stalliongradian sailors were shivering beneath their makeshift coats, and struggling with the icy water that rose in waves over the deck.

Twilight Sparkle stared off the edge of a plain wooden railing that didn't seem enough to keep her away from the icy grave that the water promised. Her eyes were almost glazed over, lost to the world in thought. Her body was covered in lush quilted black velvet, and a trimmed, brimless round hat of the same material adorned her head. Most other ponies on the barge seemed to be ignoring her; they were occupied with maneuvering the fragile vessel between the huge, loose chunks of ice. She was grateful for the privacy, though it didn't last long.

"What's wrong, Twilight?"

The mare twitched, as if suddenly discovering the ability to move. "That's the Dragon-Fire Bridge, Going."

The ponies on the shore continued to chant as Going Solo approached her ward. "It's Solo, Twilight," she managed through chattering teeth. "Also, it's freezing!" A misty blue wing reached out from beneath Solo's cobalt jacket, and wrapped around the mare. After a moment in the embrace, the pegasus started to feel warmth across her body again. "Now, that's better. Why don't you tell me why that broken bridge has you all mopey?"

"Shining..." Twilight swallowed hard, shaking her head. "Whatever happened, it happened there. Masquerade blew it up."

Solo grimaced momentarily, before pulling on Twilight's shoulder, leaning the other mare against her. Twilight stood stiff, resisting the motion.

"Let go."

"Oh, come on, Twilight." Solo took a moment to pull her mane back and adjust her hair band. "Too tough to lean on anypony else for support? Or does the blue coat not do it for you?"

Twilight slapped the pegasus on the chest, but the little smile Solo had earned was what really mattered. "Fine, Solo, what do you want?"

"Well, we're almost to shore now, so you should probably put that book back in your crazy magic bags."

"This is my Stalliongradi dictionary," Twilight responded. "I only know a few phrases, so I'm going to need it soon anyway."

"Oh." Solo shrugged. "Don't drop it overboard, then. Do you know what those ponies are saying?"

"Ещё разик, да ещё раз! Эй, ухнем!"

Twilight looked up from her book just as the barge lurched up onto the rocky shore. "Yo, heave ho?"

"Fun." Solo stood up and wandered to the edge of the deck. A burly sailor stallion offered her a hoof down onto land, and she took it gladly. Despite not needing aid, it was nice to be waited on. Soon, her hooves were resting on icy stones, and she was closer to shivering for it. She turned back to the boat, waiting for Twilight to disembark.

The Bearer of Magic offered a hoof to the stallion. Rather than help her down, his eyes traced her over, and then he went out of his way to step away from her. A bit shocked, it took Twilight a moment to refocus. She teleported to Solo's side.

"Who the buck does he–"

"Language!" Twilight hissed.

Solo laughed a little to herself. "Stalliongradi or Equiish? It's not like they can understand me."

"You don't know that." Before Solo could answer her, Twilight stared up the beach toward the small village on the banks of the straight. "Well, this is Arkhayngelsk, if I'm saying it right. My tourism says the locals are very friendly, and they like to tell fairy-tales."

"Whee," Solo noted, with a sarcasm as bitter as the winter storm surrounding them. "Are they known for having buildings? I'd love to be inside one right now."

Twilight nodded, and the two foreigners set on their way through the knee-high snow, shivering all the way.

Arkhayngelsk was a smallish town, consisting of a few hundred wooden homes and workplaces centered around a statue so weathered by snow and wind that only the oldest residents of the city could remember a time when it resembled a pony. Beyond that simple fact, nothing was known of it.

The weather was bad that day, even for the Domain of Stalliongrad, as Twilight and Solo made their way toward the town's singular inn and restaurant. It was a hardy thing of stone as well as wood, two stories tall and as large as a barn. Though its face held only six windows, they cast a vibrant light that glimmered in the falling snowflakes.

As they progressed through the village, the native earth ponies going about their work in the opposite direction took their time giving Twilight odd looks, and more than a few bitter glares. At first, she brushed them off, but soon the paranoia was taking just as much a toll as the weather.

Neither mare spoke through the short journey. Soon, Twilight's magic was pulling open the inn door, and they both rushed inside. It shut heavily, rattling in its frame. The change in heat was glorious, but it was the lack of wind that finally returned the sensation of blood to their limbs.

"Phew," Solo muttered, brushing snow out of her mane and shaking it off of her wings. "I thought somepony was going to jump us."

"Jump us?"

The guardsmare gave her ward a flat stare. "You saw how those ponies were looking at us, right? I think your book was wrong, Twilight. They didn't seem very friendly. Take a look at this place." True to the pegasus' observation, the public room of the inn was virtually dead, despite no fewer than twenty six occupants. Huge, burly earth ponies of both genders sat at tables alone or in very small groups, drinking and eating unfamiliar foods in near-total silence. Tables near the room's large fireplace were popular. More than a few patrons had looked up from their meals or their company to stare at the newcomers.

"Uh... hi!" Twilight raised a hoof gently and gave them a weak wave. Most went back to their meals, but a few eyes lingered.

"What the hay's going on?" Solo whispered.

Twilight gulped. "I was afraid of this. Stalliongrad has historically been known for social stratification, and–"

"Equiish, please."

Twilight sighed, before whispering back. "It's because I'm a unicorn. My friend Roscherk said it wasn't such a huge problem anymore in the cities, but maybe the villages aren't so nice." She shrugged. "We'll just have to deal with it and get moving. I'd like to find some sort of transport to Trotsylvania now that we're on land. Let's ask the innkeeper."

Solo nodded, gesturing to the far side of the room with a wing. "You're the one who speaks to them, Twilight."

Nestled into one corner of the room was a bar-like countertop, behind which a pegasus stallion was polishing a pewter tankard. He was a wiry thing that seemed out of place amongst the burly forms of the other ponies in the room. Rather than slim, though, he struck Twilight as malnourished. His cheeks and eyes were sunken, though the former hid behind a heavy black beard that matched his mane and tail. But most notable of all were his wings: black, withered, sickly things that looked dead from frostbite. The vast majority of their feathers had fallen out,, revealing wiry skin and obvious bone. They stuck stiffly to his sides, as if he could not move them.

"Тебя не обслуживаю," he muttered when Twilight approached, looking up but not really seeing the ponies in front of him.

"Oh, uh..." Twilight smiled. ""Здравствуйте. Я Сумеречная Искорка."

"Ты меня не расслышала?" he asked her, in a rather flat monotone. "Убирайся из моей гостиницы."

Twilight struggled with her book, flipping through as fast as she could. "Did... did you not... Oh! No, I heard you. Um..."

The stallion reached out a hoof and slammed the book shut, before pushing it toward Twilight. "Архейнгельск не ратует сторонников Черных Плащей." He combined the complex phrase with a hoof pointed straight at the door.

"Hey, watch it!" Solo told him, pushing his foreleg down.

Four ponies stood up from their tables. One mare walked forward, eyeing Going Solo angrily. "Хочешь, чтобы мы с ними что-то сделали, Гурман?"

The question must have been directed to the stallion behind the bar, for he answered her immediately. "Я не хочу проблем."

"Oh, I know that!" Twilight beamed at having picked up the phrase. "He said he doesn't want trouble."

"Not really the time, Twilight," Solo observed, pointing out that the entire inn was glaring at them. Twilight's grin faded quickly.

"Я не думаю, что она настоящий Черный Плащ, но на всякий случай один из вас должен дать знать калеке. Грубый, ты немного знаешь их язык, так? Убери их с моей гривы."

An oily black pony rubbed his brow and rose from his seat. "Хорошо, Гурман." He cleared his throat. "Greet. Am Crude. What are you want?"

"Finally, somepony who speaks Equiish," Solo muttered under her breath.

Twilight gave the stallion an unsure smile. "I'm Twilight Sparkle. This is my friend Going Solo. We're here from Canterlot, looking for my brother. You might have heard of him, his name is–"

"Slow words. Toe fast." Crude glanced over at the bartender, and then shook his head. "Bad clothes."

"What?" Twilight asked in surprise.

Misinterpreting her shock as confusion, Crude rephrased his thought. "Clothes..." He ran a hoof over his chest as if pantomiming a jacket. "Not good black."

"Black?" Twilight looked down at her clothes, and revelation dawned plainly on her face. "Oh! You don't like that I'm wearing a black jacket? And I thought this was about me being a unicorn!"

Crude addressed the room. "Она просто какая-то иностранная дура. Нечего волноваться. Гурман, ты бы дал им еды."

The unicorn smiled, recognizing 'foreigner' as an explanation for her perceived ignorance. "Oh, thank you very much, Mr. Crude." Twilight and Solo moved over to a table near the bar, where Crude joined them momentarily.

Going Solo raised a curious eyebrow. "They've got something against black clothes?"

Twilight nodded. "Here in Stalliongrad–"

Crude interrupted. "This Arkhayngelsk. Stalliongrad north, east."

"The Domain of Stalliongrad," Twilight noted.

Crude shook his head. "This Oblast Trotsylvania."

"Oh-blast?" Solo asked.

Twilight nodded. "When Tsar Watchful Eye overthrew Baron Frostbite, he abolished all the duchies and counties and noble territories, at least in terms of legal rule. They still kept their family properties, but actual leadership got turned over to a set of governors that the tsar and the secretary appoint. The land each governor rules is called an 'oblast'. There are three oblasts, for the three major cities: Trotsylvania, Stalliongrad, and Saraneighvo."

Solo rolled her eyes. "I wasn't really looking for a school lecture."

"Information is important," Twilight responded calmly. "Especially if we're going to be trying to find Shining here."

"Right... so what were you saying about black clothes?"

Twilight nodded. "Well, the guard here are called the 'Black Cloaks'." The mare looked up briefly, but nopony in the room reacted to the word. Even Crude remained silent. "A lot of the locals aren't very fond of them. There's been an ongoing resistance ever since the Blizzard Revolution ended."

"Stalliongradians in black jackets..." For a moment, Solo was lost in memories of Canterlot, and her adventure with Shining Armor. It took far too long to shake off the past. "I think I've met a few before. Not very nice ponies."

Crude nodded slowly. Twilight merely shrugged. "Anyway, I should have had Rarity make something else, but after what happened with Res– sorry, Soldier On, I wasn't really thinking about colors." Twilight chuckled. "She was so dead set after she didn't get to put any trim or jewels on my friend Roscherk's coat–"

Crude cut into the conversation like a blade, not at first with words, but by leaning forward. Twilight realized very slowly what she had just said, and swallowed audibly. It wasn't Crude's attention that sent a shiver down her spine, but the stares of the entire inn. Crude spoke for them, every word laced in accusation and hatred. "Roscherk not many name. You say he friend?"

Solo shuddered at the sudden hostility in his voice, eyes darting across the room at the hardy country ponies who were slowly rising from their seats. "Uh, Twilight, what did you just say? Who's Row-shirk?"

As Twilight stumbled for a suitable answer, Crude addressed the inn. "Она говорит Росчерк Кровью её друг. Она с ними."

The innkeeper's sunken apathy was replaced with focused anger. "Ты уверен?"

"Кто вообще назовёт Коменданта своим другом, Гурман? Даже остальные Черные Плащи не делают этого."

Solo took a moment to whisper to the mare at her side. "We should get out of here, Twilight."

"But what about–"

"Does this look like it's going to end well?" Solo shot a quick glance to the door, and saw four ponies who had taken up positions in front of it. She rose to her own hooves and stepped up to Twilight's side, putting herself between the crowd and her unicorn companion. "Twilight, when I tell you, I want you to blow up the wall."

"What? I can't just blow up the wall!"

The Stalliongradians slowly moved forward from all sides, tightening their grip on the two foreigners.

"Aren't you some sort of super unicorn?" Solo asked, struggling to look in every direction at once.

"Blowing things up is Empatha, and even if I could make a bunch of fire, I wouldn't! Why don't we just talk to them?"

Going Solo shook her head and then grabbed the heavy pewter candlestick off their table, letting the candle itself fall free of its socket. The flame at its tip remained alive, dribbling molten wax onto the wood below; for just a moment, Solo's eyes told her it was blood. She could feel heart quickening as the noose drew shut around her neck.

"C'n 'ou te'eport ss?" the pegasus asked around the shaft of metal in her mouth.

"Not very far," Twilight answered. "It's dangerous to teleport somewhere you aren't very familiar with."

Apparently, that had been too much conversation. A stallion took a swing at Solo. He was a huge thing, but the pegasus mare was used to being on the wrong side of a size disadvantage. She dropped until her belly was nearly touching the floor, and felt a slight sting as his hoof slapped her left ear. The strength behind the blow left him off balance. She moved fast, bringing up the pewter against his jaw with a blow that sent him reeling to the ground. A moment later, the candlestick followed, released from Solo's mouth.

"Outside, Twilight!"

A hoof moved straight for her face, but only an inch away, it became a snowflake. The pop of her ears and the sensation of vertigo did horrible things to her body in tandem with the sudden cold and wind. She staggered, and nearly toppled backward, before catching herself by flapping her wings.

They were in the streets of Arkhayngelsk, and a nearby door swung open. Twenty voices shouted in Stalliongradi, but one was enough in Equiish.

"Run!"

On the afternoon of the twenty-sixth, it was raining hooves. Rainbow ducked under a wide swing from Soldier On's right foreleg; it wasn't hard when On's shoulder was naturally higher than Rainbow's head. The pegasus caught On three times on the neck, before spinning around and delivering a buck with both of her hind legs straight into the earth pony's chest. She would have taken another kick, had the train not suddenly lurched.

The braking noise squealed through the tiny room, and soon, the train had stopped.

"What the hay?" Rainbow asked, pulling herself up out of a tangle of legs and wings. "You said we wouldn't be stopping until tonight."

"We aren't in Salt Lick City," On observed, moving slowly to the door. "Reckoning, watch the window."

"On it," he told her.

"What's the big deal?"

"Rangers, Rainbow," Reckoning told her.

Soldier On nodded. "I thought we'd hit San Palomino City at least. This is too fast–" She cut off her thought at the sound of hooves running down the central corridor of the train. A mass of ponies, no fewer than four by Rainbow's guess, had darted past their cabin. One, however, had remained behind, knocking on doors. There was speaking too, though the thick walls concealed the meaning behind the words.

"Anything?" On whispered.

"Nopony outside," the stallion answered. "Skies are clear too."

"Well then let's just run for it." Rainbow walked over to the window. She might have opened it up and jumped right out, had a distinct knock not sounded on their door.

"Open up!"

In a single fluid motion, Soldier On flung the door open, grabbed the pony outside, and slammed him to the floor of the cabin. The hoof not pinning his chest struck suddenly against his neck, and before he could make another sound, his eyes rolled back and his body went limp.

"Did you kill him?"

"No," On answered, shutting the door. "He'll wake up in a few hours.” The earth pony pulled their bags and garments out of the cabin’s closet and began to put on her bladed shoes.

Rainbow’s eyes stayed locked on the stallion in the center of the floor, doubting Soldier On’s words. He didn’t look like he was breathing. “Is he a guardspony?"

Reckoning stepped away from the window and shook his head. "They're train robbers."