Fluttershy touched down in Ponyville’s town square, and beheld destruction. Titanic, shallow craters dotted the town, homes and businesses crushed and destroyed beneath the mechanical hoof of the machine that was only just clearing their town.

She ran to her initial destination, Sugarcube Corner, fearing the worst, and finding...

The gingerbread bakery that was such a landmark for Ponyville was gone; where once a purveyor of baked goods and sweets stood, a home to a family of four, now rested a pile of rubble, broken beams and desolation in an area that was almost cruelly precise, affecting just Sugarcube Corner and no buildings around it.

Ponies swarmed over the wreckage, digging through it, and Fluttershy almost wept. She was saved, when she saw a small cluster of ponies gathered not far away, near a public bench. As she took to the air to see over the crowd, she relaxed and felt relieved when she saw that Mr. and Mrs. Cake were seated on the bench, their foals cradled in hoof, all of them unharmed. Pinkie Pie was nearby, doing her best to keep the foals distracted while other villagers consoled the elder Cakes.

“I just don’t believe it,” Carrot Cake said. “Gone. Just like that.”

“I’m thanking our lucky stars that Derpy and Time invited us to lunch,” Cup Cake said, looking at the family friends who were not far away. “If it wasn’t for that, we’d still have been in there during lunchtime.”

“If there’s anything we can do,” Derpy said, balancing her foal, Dinky, on her back. “Just ask.”

“That’s right,” Time Turner nodded. “Anything.”

“That goes for us as well,” Lyra Heartstrings chimed in.

“Us too!” Applejack piped up from the rear of the crowd, drawing attention. “That goes for all of y’all. Sweet Apple Acres is open to anypony who needs shelter, and the Apples are ready to help, just holler.”

There was a murmur of appreciation through the crowd.

“What was that?” somepony asked, and the murmur of appreciation turned into fearful looks at the machine in the distance. The ex-humans in the crowd were targeted for questions by the native equestrians, and had no answers to give, save for shrugs and vague hypotheses.

“Trouble, that’s what,” Applejack said, frowning. “Apples to acorns, it’s up to no good. Twilight?”

“Yes, Applejack?” the purple unicorn asked, from her place next to the wrecked bakery, sifting through the rubble.

“We got this,” Applejack said, confidently. “Y’all should get to Canterlot, tell the Princess.”

“Spike already sent a letter,” Twilight said, returning to the rubble. “She wants us to stay here and help.”

“Right,” Applejack nodded. “Ah knew that. Let’s get to it.”

The villagers turned around, and like a swarm of ants, dispersed for the other flattened buildings around the town. The Hooves family stayed with the Cakes and Pinkie Pie seemed caught up in entertaining the foals. Twilight, Applejack and Fluttershy remained where they were, looking at the four-legged behemoth stomping slowly towards Canterlot.

“Ah got a bad feeling,” Applejack admitted. “Like we should be saddlin’ up to use the Elements of Harmony against somethin’.”

“I hear that,” Twilight shook her head. “But first things first. I think Barnyard Bargains got squashed.”

“Right, lead on, Twi,” Applejack adjusted her hat, and the trio of mares galloped off to help however they could.

======

Celestia heard a clicking of clockwork, and sensed a presence not far from her.

“Clockwork,” she said. “What news?”

“Princess,” Clockwork Spring bowed. “We have more information regarding the machine.”

“Go on,” Celestia said.

“From what we can tell,” Clockwork said, consulting his notes, “It’s an extra-large version of an old prototype warbot, the 4L-GWM. If the hull is any indication,” Clockwork cleared his throat. “This machine is designated “Tyrant”. Not a good sign.”

“Continue,” Celestia said.

“It appears to be made of the strongest human alloys we’ve ever seen,” Clockwork said. “Not to mention a solid mix of advanced human alloys, and some other element we cannot identify as it resists magic. We suspect orichalcum. The result is a machine that is largely magic-proof, much like how a submarine is proof against water. It menaces with no less than sixty point-defense lasers, and twelve gun batteries that we could see. The helm had some... ah, novel decoration.”

“Novel how?” Celestia asked, uneasy.

“Depicted is a picture of a human holding what appears to be a firearm, and a pony,” Clockwork said, passing a polaroid picture to the Princess. “The pony is, ah, exploding.”

Celestia grimaced. “I just don’t get the feeling they’re here to talk peace.”

Clockwork shrugged. “The Tyrant seems to be largely impregnable. Secure airlocks, all armor plating is sealed and gaps for machinery to extend through are far too dangerous for anypony to attempt to intrude through, not to mention we suspect the designers thought of that anyway.”

“Then we’ll have to keep that in mind,” Celestia said, noticing a large shape standing in the doorway. “If that’s all, Clockwork, I’ll ask you to return to your work.”

“As you wish,” the spymaster said, bowing. With a ratcheting sound, he vanished from sight. Celestia turned to the new arrival, and put a smile on her face.

“Ambassador Sanguinello,” she greeted. “A pleasure, as always. I presume you had questions regarding our request for aid?”

The gryphon standing in the doorway nodded his head, white feathers smoothly giving way to a yellow crest before cutting to a pale yellow coat, the gryphon ending in a tail topped with a fan of yellow feathers.

“Something of the sort,” Feather Sanguinello said. The son of the prior ambassador and raised by ponies, the gryphon preferred to be called Feather; something that only his pony parents and closest friends actually did on a regular basis, precious few other ponies possessing the confidence to call him anything other than “Ambassador Sanguinello”. Celestia certainly had the confidence, but she just liked how it wound up the one-time orange farmer.

“Well, ask away,” Celestia said, warmly.

“It’s less a question, and more of a... barter,” Feather said, approaching the Princess. “The support of the Kingdoms has been guaranteed. The king didn’t so much as hesitate before making the declaration. However, he did make a point of asking me to... make it worth our while.”

“How worth your while?” Celestia asked.

“Well, there are those gem rates we’ve been arguing over for the last six months,” Feather said. “As well as the rates for salvaged human technology. Our scientists are very interested in some of the things the humans have produced in the past.”

“I see,” Celestia said. “You want them for free.”

“I couldn’t do that,” Feather raised a claw. “All I seek is the leverage to get the exchange rates I’ve been pushing for. Playing for two opposing teams at the same time is hard.”

“Done,” Celestia said. “Bring the charter to me after this business is concluded, and you’ll get the rates you wanted.”

“Fantastic,” Feather nodded. “I really couldn’t extort Equestria. After all, it’s my home.”

“Compared to the changelings, your demands are almost suspiciously reasonable,” Celestia muttered.

“Ah, I heard we’d be playing nice with the Changelings,” Feather nodded. “Temporary, or permanent?”

“The Changeling Empire is now part of Equestria,” Celestia said. “It’s quite permanent. They are now considered Equestrians. Please keep that in mind.”

“Ah,” Feather nodded. “I can see how it might be a bargain by comparison. I might have to tweak those rates, then.” Celestia shot the ambassador a look, and he grinned. “Relax, I’m kidding. If you’ll excuse me, I have my own preparations to make,” he said, bowing.

Celestia inclined her head in response. “Wind carry you, Feather.”

“Huh.” Feather paused on his way out the door. “No “Ambassador Sanguinello”? Things must really be looking bad.”

Before Celestia could comment further, Feather was gone, and one of her aides drew her attention back to the map of Canterlot.