Bright Charger’s arrival at my clanhold a few days after the Ephorate’s last meeting was most unexpected. E’en moreso when she spoke of what brought her to me.

Her reception at the compound was less hospitable than I would have liked. ‘Twas no secret that she and I had come into regular conflict over the matter of Celestia and the future direction of Pegasopolis. Even to those like my father who felt I offered the former commander more loyalty than was her due, the duties of clan and family took precedence. ‘Tis the nature of families to disagree in private, yet stand united ‘gainst any outside opposition.

I approached Bright Charger, who was accompanied by the usual escort of her own clanponies. Unlike many of their clan of late, her escorts showed no signs of their rigorous drills; their gleaming steel armor was polished to a mirror shine, and free of even the slightest signs of damage. E’en their mail, which was normally left in a less decorated state due to lying largely beneath the plate, looked freshly oiled. ‘Twas clear my fellow ephor sought to make something of a display. As I passed near, one of the younger members of her force grumbled two quiet but clearly audible words: “Celestia’s whorse.”

I froze at the insult, e’en as every single Kicker within earshot tensed. Armored hooves clattered against each other, and blades sang as the wings bearing them unfurled. If I had but given the word, my clan would have fallen ‘pon the Chargers and ended them.

However, when matters did come to blows, it was in a way few would have anticipated. One of Bright Charger’s forehooves lashed out, catching the soldier who’d offered me insult full ’pon the muzzle. The sound of bone giving way beneath a steel-shod hoof carried clearly ‘cross all the clanhold, and the young Charger fell to his knees, clutching his face e’en as blood pooled on the clouds ‘neath him. Bright Charger offered the soldier a withering glare. “Shadow Kicker is an ephor of Pegasopolis, and thou shalt offer her all the respect that office is due. Is that clear?”

Though the foolish young soldier was in no condition to offer a verbal response, his chastened nod was answer enough. My fellow ephor turned to two of the others within her escort. “Remove him, before he brings further shame ‘pon his clan.” Her clanponies fulfilled her orders with all due haste, carrying the wounded stallion from my hold.

While her own escort exchanged hostile glares with my clanponies, Bright met me with a congenial smile, if perhaps also a strained one. I was surprised to note that she came to my clanhold unarmed—setting aside that she’d just demonstrated that an armored hoof can cause no small amount of injury on its own. Given the rather tense state of things between the ponies of our clans ‘twas not hard to guess at her reasons for not bearing arms. When she spoke, her tone carried the careful civility of one who knew that the slightest verbal misstep might lead to regrettable consequences. “I apologize for the actions of my kin, Shadow Kicker. Will you or yours demand satisfaction on the matter? I’ll not stand in his defense, nor allow any other in my clan to do so.”

Despite the offense to my honor, I saw no point in seeking juris ungula over the matter. No doubt Bright Charger had so quickly and harshly disciplined the stallion in the hopes of saving the young fool’s life. Had she not done so, I would have had little choice other than to demand blood for such an insult. Thankfully, such was no longer necessary to satisfy honor; given the current tension ‘tween our clans, open bloodshed would only make things worse. “I do not think juris ungula will be required in this matter, provided that he is appropriately disciplined by his own clan.”

“He shall be, this I swear to you.” Bright offered a slow, respectful nod to me. “However, I did not come to your clanhold so that I might see my own clanponies shame me. My business is such that I would prefer to speak with you in private. There are things I would discuss, and not where all Pegasopolis might hear us.”

Though I wondered at what she might wish to say to me, given the current state of things between our clans, I could hardly refuse such a request. Indeed, given that she had made a point of coming to my clanhold bearing no weapons, it seemed quite likely her intention was to calm the very tensions that troubled me. “I would not deny hospitality to my sister ephor.”

“But of course not.” Bright cast a final, pointed look back at her escort, then stepped forward to walk at my side. “As your honored guests, we will of course conduct ourselves in a manner befitting the hospitality you have so graciously offered us.” She gave a flick of her head, as if dismissing a particularly troublesome insect from her mind. “Now then. I confess that with all the troubles plaguing Pegasopolis of late, I’ve had precious little opportunity to take even a moment’s relief. Might I request that we speak in your clan’s baths?”

“I’ve no objection to it.” In truth, I found myself in much the same situation. ‘Tween the duties of my station and the troubles that had plagued me, especially of late, there had been precious little time to see to my own cleanliness, let alone set aside any time for proper relaxation. The baths would certainly suit the sort of private conversation Bright no doubt sought as well. (1)

1: Baths were one of the few luxuries which even the most conservative and spartan Pegasopolans regularly indulged in. While most bathhouses were open to the public, most of the major clans also operated smaller, private facilities within their clanhold. Given that bathhouses were a traditional place of leisure, relaxation, and socialization, it should come as no surprise that a great deal of informal politicking went on in Pegasopolan bathhouses. In fact, Pegasopolan bathing customs actually transferred over to unicorn and earth pony societies, though unfortunately social customs have shifted to the point that this has largely died out in modern Equestria.

Our bathhouse was a relatively modest affair, though not lacking in any of the essentials. Bright Charger and I began in one of the steam rooms, where a roiling thundercloud provided more than sufficient heat for the waters. Once we settled in, we spent a few minutes exchanging the usual pleasantries: Bright Charger asked after my father and daughter, while I spent a considerably longer amount of time making inquiries into her own rather more prodigious brood. I do wonder how she has managed to uphold the duties of Ephor and materfamilias both while also seeing to the raising of nine foals. Even though she’d spaced the births over the course of her career and opted to sire two of them rather than carry, ‘twas a considerable burden of motherhood.

Once she finished speaking of her youngest’s keen desire to come of an age where his training could begin, we both judged that the appropriate courtesies had been exchanged, and she wasted no more time moving to the true matter. “I would ask a boon of you, Shadow. It is my keen hope that, in addition to the direct aid you render in this matter, such an exchange of favor might allow our clans to enjoy better relations with one another.”

I took the excuse of brushing out my mane to give myself time to consider the proposal. I could conjure no reason not to at least hear the rest of her proposal. Though I misliked her politics, there was no profit in escalating the matter beyond a simple difference of opinion in the Ephorate’s chambers. We disagreed, and would likely continue to do so for the forseeable future, but we should do so in a manner befitting our status as ephors of Pegasopolis. “I would gladly seek better relations with your clan. What boon would you have of me?”

Bright Charger languidly stretched and spread her wings, an easy smile on her face. “Come now, Shadow, there is no need for us to stand ‘pon formality. ‘Tis no secret that Rightly would court thee, and that thou wouldst welcome such. Such a union would make us all but kin.”

I regarded her for several long moments, pondering the invitation. To reject an offer of friendship out of hoof would hardly endear me to her, but at the same time I was hesitant to grow any closer to a pony who stood as one of Celestia’s most passionate foes. Only Swift Blade seemed more firmly against her, and ‘twas always Swift’s way to remain silent and avoid the public eye. I do not know what Commander Celestia would think if she learned that I named one of her keenest foes as a close companion. However, Celestia was now far distant from Pegasopolis, and prudence dictated I look to my clan’s own wellbeing first and foremost. ‘Twas not as if I sought to conclude a full-fledged alliance with the mare; I would simply place my clan and hers on better terms.

The decision made, I nodded and slowly sank in the waters until nought but my head remained above the surface. “Aye, such a union would bear those consequences. Though for all the joy wedding him would bring me, ‘twas only through thy sister’s tragic passing that such could come to be. I think that given the choice, I would be happier if thy sister lived, and I never had the opportunity to wed him.”

A ghost of old but not forgotten pain crossed her face. “Aye. Though I bear thee no animosity, I would prefer that thou didst not have the choice to wed him as well.” She closed her eyes and briefly ducked her head under the water. When she emerged, the old pains had left her eyes, and once more she wore a strained smile. “But I would not have Rightly spend his whole life in mourning for my sister. If thou canst bring him joy, then so much the better.”

“I am glad to hear it.” In truth, I had often wondered if Bright Charger might be hostile to the idea of a union ‘tween Rightly and myself. ‘Twas not beyond conceiving that such a thing might be seen as dishonoring her sister’s memory. I was much relieved to receive her blessing in the matter.

“And I am glad to speak the words.” She offered me a kinder, more genuine smile, though it soon faded to a mild grimace. “But we did not come here to discuss such trivial matters—we have the business of our clans to be about.” She paused, brushing a hoof through her tail several times as she carefully considered her words. “The latest adjustments to the allotments have made me aware that I have need of certain skills within my clan. Skills that thy clan is best suited to instruct mine in.” (2)

2: Because a great deal of Pegasopolan military power lay in the hooves of the major clans, most of which preferred to stick to their own traditions and customs when it came to training and equipment, the Ephorate often had a difficult time maintaining a flexible, cohesive army. The allotment existed to counteract this tendency towards overspecialization by requiring that a certain percentage of every clan’s pegasi be trained to at least basic proficiency in other styles of warfare. The exact ratios within the allotment were frequently adjusted, primarily to account for emerging needs within Pegasopolis and to allow the clans to adjust their tactics for likely opponents.

Though she did not speak the request directly, I had been present at the meetings in question, and was well aware of how the allotments had been adjusted. Some of those changes, including the one which I was all but certain brought her here, had been ones I staunchly opposed. “Name thy request, then.”

I wondered if Bright might attempt to avoid the difficult issue for a time, until she could find an appropriate way to delicately broach the topic. To my immense relief, she did nothing of the sort. Instead, she spoke simply and directly. “My clan does not have enough ponies trained in the ways of fighting spellcasters to meet the current allotment in a timely fashion. I would ask that you provide my clan with additional instruction.”

It was as I suspected, then. Though I’d opposed the alterations to the allotment, I could not deny the reasoning behind them. ‘Twas rare for the warriors of Pegasopolis to face proper spellcasters in open battle, and thus the skills for countering them had been allowed to fade from use. Valiant Doo’s inglorious defeat had shown a clear weakness, and in light of the rising tensions with Unicornia ‘twas only prudent to address that weakness. However, every step that Pegasopolis took in the process of preparing for war, however sensible, only increased the likelihood of such a war.

‘Twas a great irony that, despite my own position on the matter of relations with Unicornia, my own clan had more training in the art of hunting spellcasters than most. The maintenance of such skills was a natural outgrowth of my clan’s talent for the subtler forms of warfare: one of the better ways to kill a spellcaster was to do so by way ambush or assassination. Moreso than with any other class of warrior, the magus benefits from time to prepare for battle and properly gird themselves in spells, and is thus especially vulnerable to being taken unawares. In addition, much of the gear for best countering mages is specialized: cold iron is normally a poor choice compared to steel from our thunderforges, as it is naturally more brittle and its resistance to magic renders enchantment impossible. However, the same resistance that normally made cold iron a poor choice for open warfare makes it an ideal material for weapons meant to be used ‘gainst those who wield magic.

I confess that I was uncertain how to answer her. On the one hoof, refusal would only worsen the already tense relations ‘tween our clans. On the other, to offer her ponies training in the art of combatting unicorns left a sour taste in my mouth. Still, so long as the actual training was not put to such uses there was little harm in simply holding the knowledge, and the best means at my disposal for ensuring the continuation of peaceful relations ‘tween pegasus and unicorn was to hold a strong voice on the Ephorate. On the margins and friendless, I could do little good.

I opted for carefully measured neutrality. “An intriguing proposition.”

One of Bright’s ears twitched at my response. No doubt she’d hoped for a more encouraging response from me. She was not long deterred, though. “I would, of course, offer thee the usual considerations for such a favor. ‘Tis only proper.”

“Naturally.” Such had already been understood when the offer was made, though left unspoken. Though money was not an aspect of Pegasopolan society, we were not unfamiliar with the ways of commerce and trade. The exchange of boons and favors was well known to us.

Bright Charger grasped that fact as well as I, and correctly surmised that the current exchange was not entirely to my liking. Though I might have eventually accepted it, I suspected that Bright would willingly offer better terms in order to obtain an immediate answer. After half a minute of consideration, she validated those suspicions. “There are some within my clan who could no doubt benefit from in-depth instruction by thy own clan—my son Dusk, in particular. A fostering would seem a fine way to arrange such, presuming thou dost find such an arrangement acceptable.”

A fostering? An intriguing notion, and certainly one that made for a much finer trade. In truth, I suspect half my clan would question my worthiness to lead if I refused such an offer—I would wonder at it myself. To conceal my own eagerness, I opted for a few questions. “He is of an age with Gale, is he not?”

A smile crossed my fellow ephor’s lips. “That he is. If I might be so bold, I would think Gale would make a fine instructor for him.”

Ah, so that was the way of it. ‘Twas unsurprising, given Bright’s own fondness for bearing foals in the name of politics, that she would seek to encourage her children into unions of convenience. I certainly saw no harm in at least allowing an introduction; I’d not unduly pressure Gale in the matter, but if the two of them grew close over the course of Gale’s instruction, then so much the better. Gale was approaching the age when such things merited consideration.

Rather than directly answer the suggestion, I moved on to other matters.“How many of my clan wouldst thou require, and for how long?”

Bright’s smile broadened; no doubt because she knew, much as I did, that I would not care to discuss the exact terms of an arrangement that held no interest to me. The principal point of negotiation was already decided ‘pon—now ‘twas just a matter of aligning the details. Though ‘twas still possible the arrangement might fail, such was unlikely so long as all involved offered reasonable terms and were willing to bargain in good faith.

It took some time, but Bright and I eventually found our way to mutually agreeable terms. A dozen of my own would venture to Bright’s clanhold to offer instruction, and in exchange she would foster Dusk Charger to me for a six month period, in addition to the usual considerations to compensate me for the time and efforts of my clanponies. Perhaps most importantly, though unspoken, was the fact that she was now in my debt, in some small way. When the time came that I would require an equal boon of her, she would grant it willingly.

As we concluded the arrangement, I began to feel a cautious sense of optimism. Aye, I was still in the political minority, and under no illusions that this was likely to change in the immediate future. Bright and I might be on friendlier terms on a personal level now, but politically we remained opposed. The favor I was owed was nowhere near great enough to win me her support on the matter of Celestia, nor did I expect such.

Despite this, I felt as though I could at least have a valuable role in the new Ephorate. The voice of reasoned opposition is always a valued one, e’en when it speaks uncomfortable truths. By my presence on the Ephorate, I could hope to at least moderate their policies, and ensure that we did not needlessly antagonize Unicornia. ‘Twas an inglorious role, but undeniably an important one. And one that, for the moment at least, I was content to hold.

Dusk Charger arrived at my clanhold the next day, escorted by Gale. ‘Twas quite clear he was his mother’s son, though his mane and coat colors were the reverse of Bright Charger’s, and he sported the thin beginnings of a moustache. He yet lacked some of his mother’s muscle, instead seeming trim and athletic, though not quite so lithe as my daughter. Already he possessed several minor scars, no doubt a legacy of his initial service in the Long Patrol. There was an air of confidence surrounding him which did not seem to originate from outright egotism so much as the usual arrogance of the young and bold.

However, the most important fact of his appearance were the numerous fresh scrapes, scuffs, and bruises covering his body. Judging by the smile and polite salute with which he greeted me, I did not judge my daughter to be the cause of his wounds. That, however, only raised the question of precisely what had happened to the stallion to put him in such a state. At least his wounds all looked to be relatively minor.

Dusk stepped forward, politely inclining his head to me. “M’lady Ephor, it will be my honor to dwell ‘mongst your clan. For the next six months, I shall look upon you as a second mother.” (3)

3: Despite the substantial size of her brood, Bright Charger never married. Aside from her twins, each of her nine children was conceived with a different partner, most of them members of prominent clans or otherwise highly placed in Pegasopolan society. Bright Charger believed strongly in the value of family bonds as a means of gaining and maintaining political alliances—one must wonder whether she might have sought such an arrangement with Shadow, if not for Rightly.

“And I shall treat thee no differently than I do my own daughter,” I dutifully responded. I cast a significant look over his battered and disheveled state. “And if any child of mine were to return to the clanhold in such a state as thou dost find thyself in, I would have an explanation from them.”

Before Dusk Charger could provide me that answer, my daughter interceded, offering an annoyed glower towards her newly fostered brother as she did so. “On our way to the clanhold, we had the misfortune of encountering a number of drunken louts of low character and loose tongues. There was something of an altercation.”

“Honor demanded that I correct their behavior,” Dusk answered simply. “Their comments were crude and unworthy.”

“And the fact there were five of them to the one of thee was of little consequence,” Gale groused, sparing him a disdainful look.

“Six, by my count,” the young stallion answered, cheer evident in his voice despite his current state. “I could hardly begrudge them the advantage of numbers. It made the battle a fair one.”

Joy. ‘Twould seem that Dusk had indeed inherited much of his mother’s ways. Mayhap that was part of why Bright was so eager to foster him to my clan. The Chargers have long had a reputation for being too bold by half, in contrast to Clan Kicker’s fondness for less direct forms of warfare. Boldness was a fine trait for the young, but those who did not learn to temper that boldness with discretion were all too often fated for an early death.

I evaluated the young stallion now in my care once more, looking beyond the obvious signs of his most recent altercation. Yes, he was young and took valour to the point of foolishness, but that was a common affliction of young pegasi, or e’en ponies in general. However, Gale and Dusk himself both said that he’d sought battle on the basis of honor. There was a very great difference between one who would enter a conflict despite being outnumbered because honor demanded it and those who started needless battle merely to satisfy their own foolish bravado. Dusk Charger was much like a piece of thunderbolt steel: raw and unforged, but with the potential to become a formidable warrior if he could be properly shaped. The fact that he could engage in battle against such long odds and emerge relatively unharmed was testament enough to his ability.

However, much of that forging was not in my hooves. As Bright had suggested, the training of Dusk Charger was to be in my daughter’s hooves, so ‘twas her to whom I turned. “Gale, how dost thou intend to proceed with thy task?”

Gale turned to her new foster brother, a displeased frown on her face. “First and foremost, I think I will need to beat the foolhardiness out of him. He is an artless churl with the fighting skills of a goat and the manners of a timberwolf. Of all Bright Charger’s many foals, he is clearly the runt of the litter, and unworthy of being fostered to our clan. In all my many years, I’ve not seen a more clod-brained canker blossom that claimed to be a warrior of Pegasopolis. He is so dull of wit that to call him an arse-breathed mewling miscreant would be a compliment. The best use I could imagine for him is to toss him to the ground, so that he might at least be of use as a tail-leasing profligate.”

I began to suspect that my daughter was not overly fond of Dusk Charger.

For his part, Dusk turned to me, a faint smile on his face. “M’lady, your daughter is most charming and comely. Might I pay court to her?”

The sound of Gale’s teeth grinding ‘gainst each other was clearly audible.

So, ‘twould seem they had somehow fallen into the patterns of sibling rivalry within moments of Dusk’s fostering. Well, perhaps ‘twas time I put that energy to a more productive use than bandying idle words. “If my daughter is to teach thee our clan’s ways, she must first have an accurate assessment of thy current skills ‘pon the battlefield. A spar, then.”

I’d not seen Gale smile so widely since the last Hearth’s Warming. Unsurprising, given that I’d just granted her free license to strike the current object of her ire. For his part, Dusk regarded her with a pleasant smile that only served to intensify her own fury.

I had to wonder at just what had provoked such excessive hostility from my daughter. Gale is not normally given to such quickness of temper. If anything, she is far more level-headed than I, at times. Upon brief reflection, one obvious cause sprang readily to mind: Gale was wise enough to the ways of politics to guess at why she had been assigned to train a stallion of an age with her, from a clan I sought better relations with. ‘Twould not have surprised me in the least to learn that she opposed the match on the simple principle of it. Or, if not active in her opposition, at least quick to find fault with the stallion for the smallest of offenses.

Either she would warm to him in time or she would not. I had no intention of forcing the matter, regardless. A happy marriage would certainly be of use to me, but one where bride and groom despised each other would only damage relations between our clans. I would be just as satisfied with a bond of friendship as I would by one of romance. It would, perhaps, be prudent to speak with Gale on the matter at some point in the near future—ideally before her fury at the poor stallion drove her to doing something irreparable. At least Dusk seemed to be taking no insult from her choler, thus far.

Soon enough the two had exchanged their clan armor for the unadorned and unimpressive suits used for training purposes. Weapons were similarly padded and modified to reduce their impact, though e’en a practice lance at full charge will leave behind painful bruises or shatter bones with a heavy enough blow. As my recent visit to the Charger clanhold had demonstrated, training and spars could cause severe damage to the equipment, and the ponies wielding it. Though given my daughter’s current mood, I feared more for the stallion bearing the armor than for the wargear itself.

As the two stepped out onto the training fields, they quickly attracted an audience. While a good spar is always likely to draw a crowd, in this case there was more to the matter. My daughter’s involvement naturally drew eyes, given that I did keenly hope she would succeed me as leader of the clan—ponies are always eager to take the measure of their future leaders. However, the bulk of the attention rested squarely on Dusk Charger. The spar was to be his first real introduction to most of the clan, and his performance on the field would substantially impact how my kin viewed him. First impressions are a powerful thing. Though I naturally favored my daughter in the contest, I did hope he could at least acquit himself well enough to avoid any problems.

I suspected that Gale had no intention of allowing him to do so, however. No doubt she sought to vent her choler at him by making a mockery of him whilst all the clan stood witness. So long as she did not descend to a level of cruel pettiness I did not think her likely to seek, I saw little reason to intercede. Dusk Charger was a warrior of Pegasopolis, and well capable of fighting his own battles. Indeed, coddling him would bring him far more shame than merely allowing Gale to show the inadequacies of his current training.

Dusk Charger bore the traditional lance of his clan. A dangerous weapon, but one in many ways better suited to the battlefield than a spar. Though Bright Charger had proven herself deadly with it in many a duel, most ponies had difficulty wielding it in close quarters; I’d never mastered the art for myself. My daughter bore wing blades much like my own, though anypony who knew her would grasp that the true threat lay not in the weapons she carried openly, but the ones she concealed.

As was her way, Gale wasted no time in engaging her opponent. A bare instant after I’d given the signal to begin, her wing snapped forward, launching a volley of her throwing spikes. E’en with their tips blunted for the spar, their impact would be unpleasant. Especially given that she had the skill to aim them for sensitive areas, and likely antipathy enough towards Dusk to do so.

Not that the young stallion had any intention of passively accepting my daughter’s blows. Though the first spikes caught him unawares and clattered ‘gainst his armor, when Gale struck again he took to the sky, his lithe form and powerful wings allowing him to quickly put distance between himself and his opponent. The throwing spike has many virtues—penetration, concealment, and quickness of draw among others—but range is not one of them. As suits my daughter’s role, her weapon of choice was better suited to sudden ambushes than extended open battle.

Gale took to the air after him, intent on closing the distance and harrying him until he conceded the matter. Whilst she could hardly still the flapping of her wings for time enough to unleash more of her throwing spikes, she had numerous other weapons at her disposal—more than once I’ve been impressed by her hidden armory. Dusk, for his part, had difficulty engaging her with his lance. Gale’s strategy was quickly apparent; the lance is at its deadliest when its wielder has a moment to bring it to bear and ready his strike. If Gale pressed him relentlessly enough, Dusk would never have that moment.

As the aerial duel continued one important fact became clear: for all my daughter’s nimble maneuvers and subtle ploys, she lacked the raw wingpower of Dusk Charger. Gradually, despite her efforts, he was able to pull free of her harassment. Once he grasped his advantage, Dusk quickly put it to use. Rather than try to shake free of her, he simply powered upwards in a straight climb. Gale’s agility was of little use in a contest of raw speed and strength, and he quickly pulled free.

However, when Dusk Charger turned about to begin his counterattack, my daughter had vanished from his sight. I’ve trained Gale well enough that she would not vainly attempt to win a contest where she was clearly outmatched, and in his rapid upward climb Dusk had made the critical mistake of taking his eyes off of my daughter for a few brief moments—more than sufficient time for Gale to drop to the clouds and conceal herself amongst them.

The battle now stood at a stalemate. Dusk dared not approach any of Gale’s hiding places, and Gale could not show herself openly and give him a target for his charge. So the two combatants waited, each hoping the other would commit some error that allowed them to turn the tide and claim victory.

After the stalemate persisted for several seconds, there was a brief flash of blue and white as the tip of Gale’s tail briefly poked above the clouds. To my surprise, Dusk did not immediately leap upon the seeming opening. No doubt he surmised, much as I had, that Gale would not make such a simple and careless mistake.

So the next phase began, as Dusk slowly drifted nearer the clouds, and Gale showed fleeting glimpses of her own position. Each hoped to goad the other into precipitous action, or that the other would so expose themselves with a feigned opening that a real weakness would be created.

In the end, ‘twas Dusk who made the first error. No doubt Gale had used the opportunity of his earlier skirmish with the drunken louts to take Dusk’s measure. Beyond that, there was the simple fact that Dusk clearly had not yet overcome the natural impulsiveness of youth. It took several difficult lessons to teach Gale the restraint she currently exercised, and she’d been careful and calculating by nature. Impatience is an all too common affliction of the young.

Gale’s head fully breached the clouds, and Dusk charged in. The fact that Gale neither showed any dismay nor made any desperate move to dodge him should have forewarned the young stallion of his peril, but he did not halt his attack. In the stallion’s defense, once one is fully committed to a lance charge, it is difficult to break the maneuver off without exposing oneself to far more danger than would be the case if simply seeing the charge through. A pony turning about and trying to halt their advance is a far easier target than one rushing past at full speed. His best hope now was to see the charge through, and hope that he could counter or endure whatever Gale intended for him.

Whatever the case, Gale quickly turned matters in her favor. When she fully emerged from her cloudcover I saw a length of chain in her hooves, punctuated with a heavy weight on each end, one of which she was currently spinning about to build momentum. I had less than fond memories of facing that particular weapon in spars. Gale had something of a fondness for more exotic arms, such as the meteor hammer she currently intended to use ‘gainst Dusk. In my experience, the main advantage of most of the more exotic weapons Gale preferred was their novelty; few ponies have ever fought against such, and that causes hesitance and uncertainty. Wing blades, hammer hooves, and lances are known quantities, while a meteor hammer is a much rarer weapon. However, once the initial shock wore off, Gale’s unusual weapons could be countered easily enough by most skilled warriors. Granted, my daughter prefers to secure her victory before that initial surprise has faded.

Despite the oddness of Gale’s weapon, Dusk had no choice but to hope he could defeat my daughter before she could bring her meteor hammer to bear. ‘Twas not a vain hope in the slightest; one of the larger weaknesses of the weapon was the fact that it required time to build enough momentum for a strike. Like many of Gale’s preferred weapons, it was far more effective ‘gainst a pony caught unawares.

The end of Gale’s chain snapped out, exceeding the reach of Dusk’s lance for long enough to catch him across the muzzle. The blow snapped the stallion’s head to the side and diverted his charge, causing him to plow into the clouds a few hoofspans to Gale’s side. My daughter wasted no time with her followup strike, wrapping her chain around his lance and yanking it away before he could even begin to recover. A tight, triumphant smile crossed her face as the lance landed at her hooves. “Thou art beaten, sir. Yield.”

Dusk slowly climbed back to his hooves, rubbing his muzzle where Gale had struck him. From the looks of things she’d pulled the blow enough to avoid doing him any lasting harm, though he’d still likely have a notable bruise in a few hours’ time. Such was hardly unusual after a bout on the training yard, though. Once he stood tall, the stallion offered my daughter a confident smile. “Yield? But madam, the match is yet in its opening phase.”

Gale’s only answer was a cold smile as she set her meteor hammer back into motion, slowly advancing on the unarmed stallion. Dusk slowly backed away, his eyes carefully following the weapon’s movements as he went. I’d half expected him to just charge in and accept any blows Gale landed; but his discretion showed that perhaps there was hope for the young stallion yet.

When his move came. it caught me by surprise. Rather than produce a new weapon, he removed one of his hoof coverings and tossed it at Gale’s face. Before the improvised missile could even come close to striking it crossed the meteor hammer’s path—the chain knocked it aside easily enough, but since Dusk’s weapon struck about halfway up the chain, it robbed the meteor hammer of much of its momentum. A few quick swings would resolve the matter, but Dusk had no intention of allowing that. He charged the instant he confirmed the success of his ploy.

Gale reluctantly dropped her meteor hammer—there was no time to bring it to bear before he closed, and in close quarters it was a poor weapon—and tried for another volley of throwing spikes instead. However, this time Dusk anticipated the move, and gave a few quick flaps the instant her wings twitched, carrying him over the attack. He came back down to Gale’s level with one armored hoof extended, almost using it as an improvised lance.

Gale tried to dodge to the side, but Dusk was upon her too swiftly for such a maneuver—all she managed was to ensure that she only took a glancing blow to the chest rather than a full one. ‘Twas fortunate for her that she did, for a full strength blow likely would have wounded her badly, and done no small amount of damage to Dusk’s foreleg as well. E’en with a mere partial blow, Gale still fell to the clouds, and then beneath them.

I wondered if my daughter intended to play the game of evasion once more, but ‘twould seem that for all my training there was yet an element of youthful pride to her. Rather than break contact and reengage under more favorable terms, Gale only slipped under the clouds for long enough to strike from below, planting both her forelegs in the stallion’s stomach. The force of the strike stole Dusk’s breath away, but my daughter is not possessed of great physical strength—the blow rocked him, but did not overturn him.

One of Dusk’s hooves lashed out at the same instant Gale’s wings snapped forward, each arresting their blow at the last possible moment. Dusk’s armored hoof rested squarely upon Gale’s muzzle, while her wing blade lay at his throat.

“A stalemate,” I announced. In truth, the battle could have continued to a firmer conclusion, but I saw little point in allowing more combat. I’d already taken the measure of Dusk Charger and my daughter both, and in breaking their current clench one or both might have taken injury. Better to end the spar now than risk things escalating beyond control.

The two combatants broke from one another, though Gale’s discontent was clear to see. “I had a blade at his throat, and the match is called a draw?” Judging by the intensity of the glare she directed at Dusk Charger ‘twas clear that Gale blamed him for the perceived injustice.

For his part, Dusk turned and offered a genial smile. “A fine match, Gale.” He offered his hoof to her. “We must do so again, at some point.”

Gale eyed his hoof in silent annoyance for some time, before reluctantly conceding to chivalry and shaking it. “I judge thy skills to be something approaching adequate. Had I been throwing real spikes or trying for a killing blow with my hammer, thou wouldst be dead several times over.”

“It is possible,” the stallion conceded with a faint shrug. “Though I would note that I did not seek thy lifesblood either. Let us hope we never have occasion to know the outcome of a true battle ‘tween the two of us.” He offered Gale a slight bow. “For as long as I am to be fostered by thy clan, I am to be as a brother to thee in many ways. ‘Twould be a pity if there were ever cause for discord ‘tween us.”

“I am certain I would find a way to endure it.” Gale, as seemed to be her rapidly developing habit, glowered at the stallion. After subjecting him to her poisonous glare for several more seconds, she turned to me. “Might I be dismissed, Mother? Our guest will require accommodations for the duration of his stay, and ‘twould seem that I am charged with such.”

Her words carried a clear undercurrent of resentment and anger which I misliked. Thus far I’d indulged her fit of pique, but my patience with her was wearing thin. Perhaps ‘twas time I had words with her on the matter. “Another can tend to that. There are things I would discuss with thee, daughter.” I turned to Dusk and offered a welcoming smile. “I hope that thou dost find thy stay in our clanhold pleasant and enlightening, young Charger. If thou art in need of anything, merely speak to one of my clanponies, and I shall do everything in my power to accommodate thy reasonable requests.”

“Your hospitality does you credit, m’lady Ephor.” Dusk offered me a quick salute and a smile of his own. “I already feel like unto a member of thy family.” He turned to Gale, his smile never faltering even in the face of her clenched teeth and glare. “Madam Gale, I thank thee for thy kindness in seeing me safely to thy clanhold, and for indulging me in a friendly spar. I look forward to training at thy side.”

With a visible effort, Gale managed to growl out a few polite words of her own. “A good day to thee, then.” As soon as the words left her lips, she turned her back on the stallion and marched to my side.

I put a single hoof on my daughter’s shoulders, letting it rest there heavily enough to make my displeasure clear. As Sergeant Stalwart took Dusk in hoof, I shepherded my daughter away from the public eye. Though I would not subject her to a scolding where all the clan could see, the knowing looks many of my ponies directed to her as we moved along revealed that my purpose was clear enough regardless.

Once we were safely out of sight in my private quarters, I gave Gale a sharp cuff on the back of her head. “Unacceptable. I raised thee to have better manners than that.”

Gale a raised a hoof to rub at where she’d been struck, but wisely restrained any impulse to complain about her well-earned punishment. I awaited her response, but was only met with silence. Once it became clear she would offer no answers of her own volition, I demanded them. “Dusk Charger is our guest, and has acted in every manner as a guest should. I will have an explanation for thy rudeness, or I’ll have thee on punishment duty for a month.” (4)

4: A common Pegasopolan (and modern Guard) practice for dealing with particularly unruly or disruptive soldiers. Potato peeling or latrine duty are the two most famous examples of this, but just about any assignment that’s boring, repetitive, involves dealing with garbage and excrement, or is otherwise unpleasant can do in a pinch. Punishment duties largely supplanted traditional flogging due to being more effective and not diminishing the soldier’s combat effectiveness. Some officers can get very creative with their punishment duties; I once spent several hours saluting every single creature that came within eyesight, including a family of squirrels. The cheeky buggers didn’t even salute back.

Gale’s ears went flat ‘gainst her skull, and she stepped back from me. Though she remained silent for some time after, the way her head hung low and she refused to meet my eyes made clear that her silence was not one borne of defiance, but shame. When at last she spoke her voice was quiet and chastened. “It was not my intention to bring dishonor ‘pon thee or our clan, Mother. If I have done so, then thou hast my sincerest apologies.”

I offered a single nod, pleased that she had at least conceded the existence of her error. While there were still matters left unresolved, now was not a time for harsh discipline. I stepped up to my daughter, and gently placed a wing ‘cross her back. “What troubles thee, Gale? ‘Tis most unlike thee, to behave so rudely before a guest.”

Gale stepped into my embrace, but remained silent nonetheless. I allowed her to simply take comfort in my presence for a time, before she gathered herself enough to provide me with an answer. “There is no singular thing that drove me to it, but rather a collection of events. Am I to be wed to him?”

Ah, so it was as I expected. Gale was too much of a free spirit to see the value of the arrangements I’d made for her. “Bright and I had given the matter some consideration, aye. A union ‘tween Charger and Kicker would do much to calm the current difficulties ‘tween our clans.” My answer caused Gale to begin worrying at her lower lip, and I made haste to clarify. “However, we would not have a union that would make either of thee unhappy. If he pleases thee then so be it, and if he does not then the matter can be set aside. We are not as unicorns, who would force thee to marry unwillingly for the sake of our bloodlines. All I ask is that thou dost show him the hospitality and decency he is due as our guest.”

“That much, I will offer him.” Gale turned her head, refusing to look at me for some time. “Beyond that ... there will be nothing. He does not please me in that manner, nor will he e’en if we become the dearest of friends over the next months.”

A curious statement. My first instinct was to wonder if I’d guessed wrongly at my daughter’s preferences by selecting a stallion, but that did not seem likely. I’d seen her make approving observations ‘pon stallions in the past, so it seemed unlikely to be a matter of preferences. My mind moved to the next logical conclusion. “Is thy heart already claimed by another, then?”

“Neigh!” Gale’s words came out quickly, but without the sort of haste that would imply that she sought to cover some hidden truth. I let my gaze linger on her expectantly, waiting to hear more in the way of explanation from her. When she answered me at last, there was a slight evasion to it, as if she sought to later the subject of our conversation in a subtle way. “That matter aside, I find his personality most grating. He is foolishly impulsive, and excessively ... cheerful. I do not trust a pony who smiles as much as he does. It is unseemly.”

I regarded my daughter levelly for several long moments. “Is that the extent of it? Thou art so unsettled by the mere fact of his pleasant temper that thou dost feel the need to treat him poorly?”

“There are ... other factors.” Gale fell silent once more, awkwardly shuffling in place. “Many of which I would rather not speak of with my mother, of all ponies.” She turned her head from mine, refusing to so much as meet my eyes. “I would appreciate it, Mother, if thou didst not attempt to arrange such things for me in the future. I will tend to such matters on my own, if at all.”

The wing I held ‘round her shoulders drew her in closer, and I offered her a gentle nuzzle. “Gale, what troubles thee so greatly? I did but think to look to thine own happiness. If I have erred in that, I would know the way of it so that I might avoid such errors in the future.” I gently turned her head so that I could meet her eyes. “Though I’ll confess I gave thought to the politics of the matter too, I would not have given Bright’s suggestion e’en a passing moment’s thought had I known it would bring thee such distress. Thou art my daughter, and I would not sacrifice thee for political gain.”

Gale turned and wrapped her forelegs around my neck, pressing her face into my shoulder. “I know, Mother. I am deeply sorry for having failed thee. If it is thy—” Her words were cut off in a brief, choked half-sob. “If I am no longer worthy to be thy daughter...”

“Nonsense,” I cut her off before she could go any further down that path. “Thou shalt always be my daughter, for I love thee dearly.” I kissed her gently ‘pon the head, and held her close to my breast.

More words passed between us, but such private moments ‘tween mother and daughter are not a thing I would share in this account.

The next full meeting of Ephorate and Gerousia both seemed a most curious experience to me. On the surface, ‘twas no different from any other gathering of the groups that I’d attended since my ascension to their ranks. However, the removal of Commander Celestia had cast things into stark contrast for me. Where before I had felt like a welcome comrade ‘mongst my peers, now the entire atmosphere of the place held an air of hostility I misliked. It felt as if I’d walked into an enemy camp, e’en though I was amongst my own kind.

For all that Bright’s gesture of friendship and camaraderie should have reassured me, in many ways it merely left me more troubled than I’d been before. ‘Twas touching to know that e’en despite our differences we both still served Pegasopolis, until the more troubling aspect of the matter occurred: that such a gesture had been needful in the first place. We should not need to go to such lengths merely to show that we still named each other as friends and sister ephors. Such should have been plain simply by virtue of our respective positions.

Though ‘twas normally my habit to accompany my father to these meetings, on this day I’d departed early so that I might speak with Steel Striker ere the meeting began in earnest. As it stood, he was the closest thing I had to an ally amongst the Ephorate. I hoped to make his moments of support for my positions firmer, and mayhap even sway him to my point of view. Or at the very least properly take his measure, and learn the extent of the support I could hope for from him.

Steel Striker sat in his accustomed place, alongside the two geronts who hailed from his clan. He raised a single eyebrow at my approach but said nothing, waiting to see why I’d approached him. Given Steel’s laconic nature, I thought it best not to waste words on small talk or dancing around my point. Like many who are blunt and direct, he appreciated the same from others. “Where do you stand, politically?”

He let out a neutral grunt to acknowledge the question, then remained silent for several seconds as he considered the matter. In a moment of irreverence, I wondered how much of his thoughts he occupied with pondering how to make his position clear with the fewest possible words. Despite his best efforts, his answer was not a short one, at least as he would reckon things. “When your point is fair, I will back you. When your position has no merit...” He trailed off, having no doubt presumed I could conclude the rest of the matter without requiring further words.

I did, though his answer was not what I would have preferred. I suppose it should come as no surprise; Steel had never struck me as one who would care for matters of faction and politics. He preferred to keep his own council, rather than conspire and consult with another.

He surprised me with an inquiry of his own. “Heard about you and Charger. Intriguing.”

“Aye.” I considered how best to explain the matter. “We’ve not found accord on the matters of Celestia and the future course of Pegasopolis, but we’ve at least come to an agreement on ... disagreeing.”

“Pity,” Steel answered, one of his wings giving a slight flick. “Hoped you might have come around.” My confusion at his remark must have shown clearly, because Steel opted to continue speaking to clarify his point. “Celestia’s out. Not going to change. No point fighting for a lost cause.”

So that was the way of it. Much as it irked me, I could not deny his logic. I was under no illusions as to the likelihood of Celestia’s return to power—barring the unforeseeable, Rightly would be confirmed as Commander of Pegasopolis within a few weeks’ time, and then the office would be his until he died or chose to retire. Considering his age and health, he might well be able to retain the post for decades. I would be lucky to still hold my position in the Ephorate when Celestia’s next opportunity to reclaim the Commandery arose; Rightly could hold the post so long as wished and was capable, while I would still be subject to the normal retirement age of the Ephorate.

“Heard you are providing Chargers mage hunter training.” Steel shot me a curious look. “Surprising, given your position.”

“I don’t believe they’ll have any need of it in the foreseeable future,” I answered him simply. “There are tensions, aye, but there’s no reason for things to move beyond that point.” I fell silent for a moment as my eyes drifted to the other ephors. “Though I disagree with the decision, Celestia’s removal was done in full accordance with Pegasopolan law. What cause could either side have for seeking war over the matter?”

“The simplest cause,” Steel offered. “Fear. Pegasi are scared Celestia will not accept the deposition, legal or not. Unicorns are scared we won’t stop with just removing her from Pegasopolis. All it takes now is for somepony to do something foolish, and...”

My mind went to some of the things that had passed in the last few days. Common soldiers disrespecting their betters over political matters. Brawling in the streets over points of honor. Ephors feeling the need to confirm that for all their differences there could be peace between them, and e’en all but exchanging hostages to seal that peace. It was a situation where a single spark could easily escalate matters beyond all reason.

However, it was not yet time to despair. “Matters will not come to that. Bright was quick to restrain her clanmates when they sought to act unwisely, and I would expect no less from yourself and the others. So long as we keep our younger and more foolish elements under control, there will be no offense so grave that it must provoke an open conflict.”

“Optimistic.” Steel scowled out at nothing in particular. “Matters could reach a point where we’ve little choice in how we react. Clans mind their paterfamilias, or mater, until the moment when they choose not to. I expect things are much the same ‘mongst the unicorns. Ponies are ponies, ground or cloud.” He turned and fixed me with a piercing gaze. “If blood is shed, blood must be demanded in return. That is the way of clans. Easy to get into a fight nopony wants.”

There was more logic to his argument than I would ever care to admit. If the blood of my clan were shed, I would not let such a thing pass unremarked—nor would any proper clan head. My control over my clan rested on the assumption that I would properly guide it and see to the protection of all its members. A leader who could not even protect her own clan would not long retain her post. As Steel said, much the same was likely true of the unicorns as well. Bloodshed could quickly reach a point where leaders would be all but compelled to go to war, regardless of their personal desires.

Thus, the buildup and war preparations in Pegasopolis, and likely Unicornia as well. ‘Twas not that either side desired a war in the slightest. However, once things reach a certain point, events begin to develop a sort of gravity. We cease to be the masters of our own destiny, instead compelled to act by forces far beyond our control. We did not prepare for war because we desired it; we made ready for battle because we feared that we could not stop it.

‘Twas not a line of thought I cared to linger on, especially as it brought an even more troubling question to mind. One which I suspect was a large part of why my fellow pegasi regarded me with such suspicion since Celestia’s removal. If matters did come to war, what would I and my clan do? Would we fight alongside our fellow pegasi, e’en against Celestia herself? Could I bring myself to do such a thing? To seek the blood of my rightful Commander in support of a government I stood morally opposed to?

Yet the alternative was equally abhorrent to me. If I did not fight against Celestia, I would have to fight for her. To shed the blood of my fellow pegasi in her name. What if all my clan did not or could not subscribe to my interpretation of matters? The division could split my very clan in twain. E’en if it did not, I named the Strikers as kin through my late father. The others of my clan shared similar divisions; parents, spouses, and sometimes even children who named themselves members of other clans. The thought of fighting pegasi was foul enough to drive me to ill, but to think that I would be forced to shed the blood of kith and kin... (5)

5: Given the long-standing Pegasopolan custom of marrying outside of one’s own clan, many Kickers had marriage ties to the other clans. While marriages to clan-less ponies were generally more common among the lower ranks of the Kickers, if only because the clan-less constituted a majority of Pegasopolis’ population, there were still many Kickers who suffered from divided loyalties. Though she never makes mention of it, Steel Striker was her second cousin once removed, and she shared more distant blood ties with Bright Charger and Swift Blade. It’s no surprise that many of the most popular tragic plays and novels in the decades following the war explored the theme of ponies torn between loyalties when their friends and families chose opposite sides of the war.

“What of the elections ‘mongst the earth ponies?” There was a note of desperation in my voice that sat ill with me, but I could hardly prevent it. The idea of war between ponies, and a war that for all my power as an ephor I was helpless to stop, was so upsetting to me that I sought any excuse to shift the topic of conversation. “How fares the contest ‘tween Celestia and Apple Tree?”

“Fare.” Steel let out a quiet little snort. “Your choice of words is more telling than you realize.” I glanced at the stallion, trying to puzzle out what he could mean by that comment. He was quick enough to offer clarification. “The crux of the matter, Shadow, is that it will not be a fair contest at all. Surely thou art aware of such.”

Once more, I found myself unable to deny his point. The larger a contest and the greater the rewards to be gained from it, the more likely ‘twas that the competitors would resort to underhoofed tactics. With the fate of all the earth ponies, and by extension quite possibly all of Equestria, as the stakes of the contest, how likely was it that the election would truly be a fair one? The Ephorate had already sought to influence the outcome through legitimate means, and I should be quite surprised if the unicorns were not doing so as well.

However, to date the pegasi had done nothing illegal to influence the election. I could only imagine that if the unicorns had, I would have heard them loudly denounced for it all ‘cross Pegasopolis. Though I could not imagine that Celestia herself would resort to duplicity, the existence of ponies like Sunbeam Sparkle in her government was ample proof that not all unicorns were as scrupulous as her. ‘Twas all too possible that some would act in her name without first seeking her knowledge or consent. Not to mention that the earth ponies likely had a stake in the election as well; e’en without outside interference, it might prove to be a less than righteous battle. With it included...

“Troubling,” Steel concluded for me. Apparently the recent spate of almost carrying on a conversation like a normal pony had exhausted his capacity for speech. ‘Twas perhaps telling of the depths of his concern that he would speak at such length.

“Aye,” I agreed.

“Plans?”

“I have none,” I confessed. I fell heavily ‘gainst the clouds, my ears pressed ‘gainst my skull. “I see no course that can end well in this matter. All I think to do is endure, and hope some opportunity to obtain a favorable outcome presents itself in the fullness of time.”

“Could work.” The skepticism in Steel’s voice was quite plain to anypony with functioning ears. He was silent for several seconds before he spoke once more. “Have a suggestion. Archmagus conclave. Get out of Cloudsdale for a bit. Clear your head.”

The suggestion was an unexpected one, but one I quickly saw the appeal of. While attending the unicorn conference to select the new Archmagus of Canterlot would hardly provide a proper respite from politics, ‘twould be far less troubling when I was not personally engaged in the maneuvering. Perhaps a day away from the troubles of Pegasopolis would do much to bring clarity to this difficult situation.

I briefly wondered if my absence would be remarked upon or viewed in a negative light, but there was nothing terribly unusual about an ephor attending an archmagus conclave. ‘Twas normal policy for both tribes to send a delegate to the conclave, much like the recently revived practice of sending delegates to all candidates in an earth pony election. All three tribes would be impacted by the selection of an Archmagus, so ‘twas only natural that all take the measure of those who stood for the position.

Perhaps moreso than any other element of Unicornia, the magi had a direct impact on Pegasopolan affairs. ‘Twas the magi who provided us with enchanted wargear, so the maintenance of good relations ‘tween Pegasopolis and the magi was hardly an unusual thing. In many ways, Sunbeam Sparkle’s reign as Archmagus of Canterlot had been an unusual one for the discord it caused ‘tween mage and pegasus. Relations ‘tween us were normally closer on account of regular cooperation in certain matters and the simple fact that, compared to the rest of Unicornia, the magi placed far more importance on ability than on bloodlines.

In times such as this, the selection of a new Archmagus of Canterlot would prove even more important than would normally be the case. The new Archmagus could well play a vital role in resolving the current tensions before they reached the point of open warfare. By the very same token, a poor choice could easily escalate matters beyond all hope of salvation.

“Are you so certain the others would support me as our delegate?” My eyes fell once more ‘pon my fellow ephors. “Though it pains me to say it, ‘tis no secret that my own opinion differs greatly from that of the Ephorate as a whole. Would the others not prefer one who stands in closer accord to their own beliefs?”

Steel offered an uncaring shrug as an answer. “Thou wouldst not misrepresent the interests of Pegasopolis in this matter?”

“Of course not!” Despite my best efforts to retain an even temper, I felt my choler rise at the very suggestion that I would do so. “Whatever our disagreements, I am sworn to act in the best interests of Pegasopolis. Our differences lie only in that we disagree ‘pon which Commander would be best suited to doing so.”

“No problems, then,” Steel concluded. “Probably best if ‘tis you. Thy reputation as Celestia’s lone supporter should make things easier. ‘Twould be awkward if any of us stepped into the heart of Unicornia so soon after.”

“A fair point,” I conceded. I felt somewhat less offense at Steel’s remark, now that he’d explained it in his own way. ‘Twas not that he doubted my loyalty so much as he wished it confirmed to make his argument. Whatever my differences with the other ephors, I would stand for the best interests of Pegasopolis at the conclave. “There is another advantage in dispatching me over another.” My mind turned to old memories of younger times. “I’ve some experience in their dealings. Father took me to one of the lesser conferences whilst he was grooming me to succeed him in the Ephorate.” (6)

6: In addition to the Archmagus of Canterlot, there were four other Archmagi at any given time: the Archmagi of the Northern, Southern, Eastern, and Western Marches. Each was charged with overlooking the geographical area suggested by their names, while the Archmagus of Canterlot saw to the capital and its immediate surroundings. Though the five Archmagi were technically equals, in practice the Archmagus of Canterlot held primacy due to the prestige of being based in the capital, overseeing the Royal Academy of Ars Magica (now more commonly known as Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns) and the advantage of being one of Celestia’s closest associates.

Steel grunted in acknowledgement. “Helped with warlock hunts, too.”

“Aye, that I have.” When faced with the prospect of battling a unicorn who’d fallen to darkness, many magi saw the value in having aid from pegasi trained to combat mages. I and the other ponies of my clan had aided the magi on occasion in such matters. “Then ‘twould seem I am the best pony for the job, both in matters both political and practical.”

“Aye,” Steel offered with his usual laconic wit.

I put the matter to my fellow ephors and, as he’d predicted, there were no objections. I only wished I could believe that was solely due to the fact that I was best suited to the task.

My arrival at Canterlot felt almost reassuring, in a way. To be sure, the city was no more welcoming than it had ever been to me—in fact, I was met with more than a few hostile stares, but there was something strangely reassuring about that. At least the unicorns were open with their fear and mistrust of a pegasus, when compared to the uncertainties I’d faced in Cloudsdale.

The conclave met at a large domed building near the Academy. From what I understood, the location was to allow the visiting magi to avail themselves of the school’s facilities, if they had need. Though I do not know if such is true ‘mongst the magi, were it a Pegasopolan event the presence of nearby training facilities would be a welcome thing indeed. I certainly intended to avail myself of the library, if an opportunity arose to do so. However, many of the magi sought finer accommodations than those offered by the school, not to mention that a great many magi normally dwelt in Canterlot. That concentration of magi was no doubt part of why the city merited its own archmagus.

After some consideration, I opted to have my daughter remain in Cloudsdale for the duration of my trip. ‘Twould be a good opportunity for her to repair the damage she’d initially done through her lack of hospitality towards Dusk Charger. Plus, I would prefer to have her eyes and ears focused ‘pon events in Cloudsdale in my absence. Now was not a time for me to blind myself to what happened in my own city.

The conclave was much like the last I’d attended, save that this one seemed larger and more active. That was unsurprising, given that the Archmagus of Canterlot held far more sway than the Archmagus of the Eastern March. The conclave was a veritable menagerie of magi, ranging from sophisticates decked in finery to one particularly odiferous magus who seemed as if he had spent several decades marinating in a bog before coming hence.

The utter lack of any order or uniformity to the magi made quite the contrast to what I was accustomed to. In Pegasopolis, every clan had its customary armor, and most kept some uniform standard of grooming and denoting rank. For the magi, the only common elements were a few badges or other marks that indicated membership in some one of the many internal factions, mystic orders, and secret societies ‘mongst the magi, and a few which served to boast of a magus’ accomplishments.

There was the constant buzz of conversation in the air as every magus shared their opinions with all who cared to hear or had the misfortune of being within earshot. Everywhere ponies milled about, seeking conversation and no doubt hoping to sway others toward their particular point of view on whatever topic was under discussion. Much of the talk naturally centered ‘pon who would be the next Archmagus, but there seemed to be no shortage of other ponies discussing their latest research projects or debating their latest theorems.

As one of the few non-magi at the conference, I confess that I was at something of a loss in many of the conversations. Though I’m better acquainted than most pegasi with the principles of magic, much of the talk was beyond me. There was little solace to be had in mingling with the other outsiders either; it seemed that Apple Tree had taken the liberty of sending a small delegation alongside those representing the current earth pony government, and naturally the two sets of earth ponies had almost immediately fallen to quarreling over the impending election. Unsurprising that things would be so contentious, given that the earth ponies had already begun casting and tallying the votes. There were many unicorns representing other forces within Unicornia, such as the nobles and the crafting guilds, but I felt little more kinship with them than I did the Magi.

Just as I had resigned myself to a few lonely days, I felt a faint static charge in the air that brought a smile to my lips and fond memories to mind. I turned about, and quickly spotted an old, friendly face. The stallion slowly making his way through the crowd towards me wore robes that seemed plain of cut and material, yet far finer than many of the gaudy jewel-bedecked creations I’d seen on other magi. His distinctive dark blue mane with a single streak of bright yellow likewise rendered him easily recognizable e’en ‘mongst this large crowd of unicorns. Kind golden eyes looked up from a russet face, and his lips quirked up in a faint smile as I met his gaze.

Soon enough, we stood before each other. I offered my hoof to him readily, and unlike what had passed with other parties, when he opted to kiss it I took no offense. “Shadow. It has been far too long.”

A gay mood overtook me, and I offered a slight jest. “Art thou so certain of that, Copper? Thou must recall that most of our meetings were occasioned by the rise of some new warlock. In light of that, perhaps it was best that we not meet too often.”

“A fair point,” he conceded. “Though I would argue that there were times when the pleasure of thy company was such that I would have gladly braved the dangers of a dark magus. Especially if he was as that one we encountered ... what was the preposterous name he used?”

“Skullblight the Shadowmaster, or something to that effect,” I supplied. Most magi who fall to darkness are, in my experience, singularly uncreative when it comes to choosing new names and titles. Though I suppose such renamings are necessary at times; few would have been intimidated by a would-be conqueror named Strawberry Sunshine.

“Yes, all the names do tend to blend together after a while.” Copper gave a cavalier toss of his head. “I think I should assure thee that if I should ever go mad and fall to darkness, I will at least retain enough good sense to not name myself Deathspike the Painbringer before thou dost come to cut me down.”

“That would be much appreciated.” I set wit aside for the moments, and offered him a tired smile. “But that matter aside, I will agree that it has been too long since out paths last crossed.”

Copper Spark and I had fought alongside each other several times over the years, though mostly in younger times. We’d first met on an assignment in the early years of our careers, when he was naught but a promising young magus and I had not yet proven myself worthy to succeed my father as head of the clan and ephor. In that time we’d faced our share of warlocks, and seen them dealt with commendably and without needlessly sacrificing foals to achieve our objectives.

Over the course of said ventures, we’d grown close, and eventually done as young mares and stallions are wont to do in such circumstances. Nothing lasting came of it, but ‘twas still a fond memory. I’d not seen him since the conclave to name a new Archmagus of the Eastern March. To my pleasure, he’d emerged victorious, though I’ll not deny that I felt a very slight pang of jealousy over the fact that his new wife’s support was key to securing that victory. Still, ‘tis the nature of those passing fancies of youth to give way to the mature relations of adulthood.

“So, what news of the conclave then?” I asked, in part to keep myself from dwelling too long on things long past.

“Oh, little beyond the usual.” He offered an amused shrug. “All manner of treachery and double-dealing, most of which I find dreadfully tedious. Though I suppose it is somewhat hypocritical of me to pretend I’m above the political games now, when I played them so keenly in my youth. Mayhap ‘tis only now, after I’ve reached the post of Archmagus, that I’ve grasped how pointless the whole process was to begin with. For all my supposed power, I find that I am under far more restrictions now than I ever was as just another ordinary mage.”

“That is the way of power.” My mind went back to one of the many old tales I had heard in my youth. “There is a story of a great Commander in ‘mongst the old Pegasi, who believed that his power gave him the right to do as he pleased. So one of his subjects challenged him to walk out ‘mongst his own kind, without armor or bodyguards. The Commander refused to do so, out of fear for his own life. Such was the extent of his freedom.”

Copper Spark gave a slow nod. “We’ve a similar tale regarding one of the old Unicornian Kings. I suspect everypony has some variation on it. The message is universal; the more power one gains, the less freedom one has with their actions.” He turned to me, and his gaze pierced my defenses. “I’ve heard that matters in Pegasopolis have been most troubling to thee of late. Do the chains of thy office weigh more heavily ‘pon thee now?”

“Aye, they do,” I confessed.

Copper put a hoof on my shoulder in silent comfort, and for a time the two of us stood there in silent companionship despite standing ‘mongst a sea of other ponies. After several long moments, he broke from me and offered a reassuring smile. “Now then, I must ask that thou join me and my lady wife for dinner this evening. We’ve much to discuss and no doubt many tales to exchange about all that we have done since last we met, and now is hardly the time or place to do so.”

“Aye, I would enjoy that.” I had not had many opportunities to enjoy fine dining in Canterlot since my arrival in the city. Given the current tensions ‘tween Pegasopolis and Unicornia, I was hesitant to invoke the Warrior’s Privilege o’ermuch. It could too easily lead to regrettable consequences; better to avoid the risk than to see an incident occur because some fool thought it would make a fine jest to serve me spoiled food.

“As would I, Shadow.” Copper bestowed a quick kiss ‘pon my cheek and offered me a final smile before making his departure. I confess I gazed after him for a time, a fond smile on my face. Though Rightly might hold the first claim on my heart now, I would always have a certain fondness for those from my past with whom I remained on good terms.

Once the day’s business at the conclave came to an end, I made haste to my temporary quarters at the Royal Academy so that I might prepare myself for the evening’s activities. I am by no means a vain mare who would spend hours primping before a mirror, but I am not unmindful of my appearance. In circumstances such as this, I intended to at least see to it that my armor, mane, tail, and coat were all in good order.

I was midway through such preparations when my room’s fireplace flared so brightly ‘twas as if somepony had deposited an entire jug of lamp oil within the flames. A moment later the former Archmagus of Canterlot, Sunbeam Sparkle, stepped out of my fireplace.

My first line of thought as to why she would enter my private quarters unannounced by means of magic was less than charitable, particularly in light of my recent conversation with Copper Spark. So before she could act ‘gainst me old instincts took over, and my forehoof lashed out and found her horn.

Sunbeam Sparkle fell to the floor with a startled cry, her hooves instinctively flying to her battered horn. I was quick to seize ‘pon the opening provided, standing over her and pressing a single hoof ‘gainst her throat. From there, ‘twas a simple matter to apply pressure to the proper artery to cut off the blood flow to her brain. She briefly struggled to remove me, but with her magic robbed by my blow to the horn, she could only use physical means to remove me. The angle favored me, and she had neither superior strength nor sufficient skill in a grapple to outmatch me. She was beaten.

“Mother!” Young Midnight Sparkle’s frightened cry caught me by surprise as the young filly galloped up to me. In the excitement of Sunbeam’s entrance, I must have o’erlooked her small daughter’s presence. The filly trotted up and met my eyes. “You have been depriving Mother’s brain of oxygenated blood for six seconds. If you continue doing so for three more seconds she will lose consciousness. Further symptoms would include short term memory loss, decreased muscle control, brain damage, and ultimately death.” She paused for a long moment, her eyes slowly blinking, then added. “Please desist before that point.”

Despite the presence of her daughter, I was almost tempted to see the matter to its conclusion. The former archmagus had already lapsed into unconsciousness, and ‘twould not be long before she passed from the world. E’en now, after all that has passed since that night, there are times when I regret my ultimate decision.

However, the one thing that was clear by young Midnight’s presence was that Sunbeam Sparkle had not come to my quarters with hostile intent. There was no conceivable reason why she would bring her daughter along for an assassination mission. Beyond that, my defeat of her had perhaps come too easily. A fully prepared magus intent on doing murder should not have been caught so badly unawares by my strike—indeed, she should have had some defense in place to prevent such an attack. There was only one conclusion to draw from the facts in evidence: Sunbeam Sparkle had come with peaceful intent, and I’d attacked her without just cause.

I removed my hoof from her neck and stood aside for the time it took her to regain her senses. Sunbeam slowly and shakily returned to her hooves, retreating to the opposite side of the room from me and watching with understandable wariness. Midnight looked to her own mother, blinking owlishly. “I did not see the light leave thy eyes, Mother. But then, thou didst not die, but merely have a near-death experience. Perhaps that is insufficient data.”

At length the deposed Archmagus fully recovered herself, though I noted that one forehoof remained ‘pon her neck, rubbing it gingerly. When she spoke, there was a somewhat understandable note of anger in her voice. “Is that how you greet all visitors, Ephor?”

“Neigh,” I answered her coolly. “That is how I greet magi who barge into my quarters unannounced and uninvited.”

One of her ears flicked in aggravation, but after glowering for a few moments she reluctantly conceded the point with a disgusted wave of her hoof. “In the future, I shall remember to knock before entering. However, my business is pressing, and of the utmost importance.” She paused for several seconds, likely to gather herself before continuing. “There is a rather severe problem with the upcoming earth pony elections. A matter of fraud.”

“I take it thy schemes were uncovered then?” I grumbled.

“Of course not! I take offense at the very suggestion!” I found her denial laughable, and would have said as much had she not continued. “My own efforts at manipulating the election have been far more competently executed than the designs of these clod-hoofed amateurs, though regrettably modest due to my diminished resources.” She let out an annoyed snort. “But therein lies the problem, Ephor: these manipulations are far too obvious to go undetected. The idiots, on both sides I’ll note, are simply stuffing ballot boxes without even trying to cover their tracks. The early voting returns from the distant earth pony centers have already made the problem plain.” (7)

7: Given the technological limitations of the era, many of the distant or isolated earth pony communities would cast early votes weeks in advance of the election proper so that the results would be available in Manehatten by election night.

Sunbeam walked to a nearby window and gestured out at the rest of the city. “There are less than a thousand earth ponies within the city of Canterlot, mostly delegates to the various guilds, magi, and Her Majesty. And yet, from the city of Canterlot there have been more than two thousand votes cast for Celestia alone, notwithstanding those that went to her opponent.”

“That does not bode well.” Though I dared to hope that such blatant misconduct would be limited to the heart of Unicornia, the dread feeling in my heart told me that such would not be the case. E’en if the rest of the election were conducted legitimately, a single blatant instance of fraud would be enough to cast the legitimacy of the outcome into doubt.

“Neigh, it does not.” Sunbeam let out an aggravated growl. “The whole of Equestria is a tinderbox, and now some damned fools have thrown a set of lighted brands into the middle of it. Surely you understand now that this won’t be seen as some subordinates acting without her approval, but rather as another sign of Her Majesty’s budding tyranny. I fear what the earth ponies might do, and that the pegasi might support that foolishness. You must return to Pegasopolis at once and hope that we can contain the disaster before all Equestria is engulfed.”

Midnight regarded the two of us until there was a loud crackle from the fireplace, which drew her attention. As she gazed into the flames, she slowly spoke. “I am reminded of one the many nursery rhymes I’ve heard chanted by the other foals. In a ring of roses, all bearing their own thorns, when one pony sneezes, they all fall down.”