Viva la Vida

Chapters

Seas Would Rise When I Gave the Word
Now in the Morning I Sleep Alone
Sweep the Streets I Used to Own
I Used to Roll the Dice
I Used to Rule the World

Seas Would Rise When I Gave the Word

Age of Rebirth

The King growled under his breath as he rooted through the berry bush. “Reduced to foraging for my own food,” he grumbled. “King Juras Bastillion, second of his name, scrounging berries in a forest,” he continued to mutter, “living off vegetable broth and stream water. At least it is clean.” He winced as a vicious thorn sliced into his foreleg. “Knew I should have at least brought my gauntlets.” He sighed as he inspected the wound. It wasn’t deep, but it still bled, meaning there was a chance of infection. Grumbling once more, he tore a strip of fabric from the hem of his cloak and tied it around the cut. “For the days that I still held my power…”

Age of Benevolence

“My lord! The enemy are coming!” A pegasus messenger called from the front of King Juras' tent. The king nodded once, turning to face the pegasus.

“Give this order to the Captain of Artillery; tell him to load all weapons and hold fire until I give the signal.” King Juras ordered, levitating his sword and scabbard to his side as his armourer passed him his helmet, which he swiftly donned. He strode out of the tent as the messenger pegasus flew off to the artillery camp, flying low to avoid being spotted by enemy archers. “Hold fast soldiers!” He bellowed, cantering towards the front barricades. “We will show these dogs what real ponies are made of!” The camp cheered as he ran, a group of eight knights joining him. The Granite Shields, a brotherhood of the best knights the kingdom had to offer, sworn to dedicate their lives to defending the monarch of the Kingdom of Whitecliff.

“Make way for the king!” Bellowed the front most of the eight, soldiers parting to allow the king and his guard through.

“Hail Juras!”

“Long live the king!”

“For Whitefall!” The soldiers chanted and cheered as they got to their positions, the king himself mounting the step behind the defensive line, gazing out over the flat, open ground between them and the encroaching enemy horde.

“Stand your ground soldiers!” He bellowed. “Give your thoughts to your families. Your friends. Those unable to defend themselves. Those that may yet sleep soundly if we, nay, when we win this day! The enemy approaches, and the kingdom looks to us to halt them. Shall we abandon our people? No, we shall not! For every single one of you is the equal of five of them! They are saplings in the wake of our storm!” He gestured to the hostile army. “They fight to claim an unfamiliar land, in a war they were forced to fight! But you, every one of you is here because you chose to be! We fight for our homes, our families, and our very lives! And we shall not sit idle in the face of those that wish to take these things from us! For Whitefall!” He levitated his ancestral sword into the air, the sun gleaming off it.

“For Whitefall!” The thunderous reply of his soldiers brought a smile to Juras’ lips. He looked to the side as the pegasus messenger returned. The haggard mare cleared her throat.

“My liege, the Captain of Artillery is awaiting your command,” she reported. Juras nodded.

“You have done well messenger. Rest now, we will need the pegasi before this day is done.” He ordered with a kind smile, turning his attention back to the approaching enemy. The pegasus mare trotted off, resting her wings for the battle to come.

“They are nearly within range my king.” Reported an earth pony archer. Peering out across the battlefield, Juras snorted as he saw the shield wall approaching his lines, the formation all but impervious to archers.

“Let me know exactly when.” Juras responded, golden aura surrounding his horn as he charged a spell.

“In range!” Shouted an archer from further down the line.

“Archers hold!” Ordered Juras, before releasing the spell. The gold light fired into the air before detonating in a burst of light, almost matching the morning sun. A distant ‘Fire!’ Came from the artillery camp, before the air was filled with the deafening boom of cannon fire and the creaking of wood. Seconds later, ground and ponies were thrown into the air as steel balls and boulders found their mark in the enemy ranks, reaping a deadly toll. The ballistae were no less dangerous, each bolt felling at least two ponies, the few enchanted bolts either detonating in blazes of fire or freezing the surrounding air, leaving many ponies rolling on the ground or frozen in place.

“Archers fire!” The artillery had done their duty; the enemy shield wall was shattered, leaving them open and vulnerable. The first volley of arrows fell upon the scattered enemy line, felling dozens in the bitter barrage. “Archers reload and hold fire.” The enemy line swiftly rallied from the punishing onslaught, the shield wall reforming, patchy in places but still enough to weather arrows.

"My lord, the artillery camp is ready to fire!" Juras glanced over to see the fading green light over the camp and nodded, firing another gold light into the air. The second barrage was as devastating as the first, but it barely robbed the enemy forces of any momentum, and they kept coming, leaping over or simply trampling their fallen comrades.

"Archers fire!" The archers fired their second volley, reaping a heavy toll on the hasty enemy vanguard, picking off the front-runners with ease and forcing them to slow and reform their shield wall. The damage was now showing, the shield wall ragged and flimsy.

“Pegasi, to the skies!” Shouted Juras. The sky rapidly became full of armoured pegasi, equipped with foreleg-mounted crossbows and wing-blades, swooping ahead of the defensive line to rain death upon the foe. Scattered amongst the pegasi were the marksponies, pegasi warriors armed with powerful compound bows and an array of enchanted arrows instead of the usual crossbow. They coordinated the battle in the skies, guiding the other pegasi onto vulnerable targets.

Juras’ horn lit up again, this time sending a purple bolt into the skies. The moment it detonated, the forests on the sides of the enemy were filled with blasts, musket shot shredding the flanks of the foe. Seconds later, lightly armoured earth pony soldiers, led by more heavily armed knights, charged from the same forests. “Knights, to me!” Commanded Juras, galloping towards the front line. “Captain, you have command!” He shouted to the captain of the archers. The captain saluted him and began bellowing orders. Juras grinned as he looked over the ranks of knights ready to meet the enemy charge. Armoured in heavy armour and kite shields, and armed with lances and heavy swords, they were some of the best soldiers the kingdom had to offer. “Knights, now we take the fight to them! For Whitefall!” Juras commanded.

"For Whitefall!"

“Charge!” He bellowed, drawing his own sword with his magic and galloping out onto the plains, flanked by the Granite Shields. His knights roared their battle cries as they ran, heads low to the ground and shields ready, lances tipped with deadly spikes. The enemy shouted in return, picking up speed to counter Juras’ charge. Juras laughed and grinned, as the two lines drew closer and closer…

The exiled king shook himself from his memories, glancing around as if confirming his true location. “For the days I fought the good fight…” he muttered, disheartened. When will it end, this exile? Will I ever be able to show my face in Whitefall again? Is this what I am to be until my heart gives out?

Now in the Morning I Sleep Alone

Age of Rebirth

“Just give me something!” Juras shouted to the sky in desperation. “Anything! I would be happy with even a squirrel. Something to show me there is yet life out there!” He continued to shout. It had been weeks since he had seen hide or hair of any living creature. Even birds did not grace the former king with their song, nor did they fly overhead. Creatures seemed to avoid him like the plague, leaving any area within the forest he visited quiet as a tomb, the only sound being the constant rustle of leaves in the wind.

“Not even the animals give me the time of day,” muttered Juras, stomping his hoof in frustration. The lack of any sort of contact with a living creature was taking its toll on Juras. Ponies were social creatures by their very nature, thus being completely alone for any length of time took its toll. For a former king, the situation was only worse. Growing up the only time Juras had been alone was when he was in his chambers, and even then there were guards standing outside his door. Sometimes he heard them joking to one another, causing no end of embarrassment for his mother when he inquired as to the vulgar jokes he occasionally heard his guards make.

“Mother…” Juras muttered under his breath, his heart suddenly in his throat. His mother had been taken by a fever whilst carrying what should have been Juras’ younger sibling. Instead, he and his father had been left with sorrowful thoughts of what might have been. What might have been… Pah, I lost my chance to make what might have been a reality when I turned my back on my own people. What was I thinking, betraying my own country? He genuinely could not remember what had made him become such a monster.

Juras’ ear flicked and his head whipped up as he heard the snapping of wood, praying that a creature, any creature, had graced him with their presence. His heart sank in his chest when he saw it was simply a branch falling from a dead tree. I cannot go on like this… If I remain in solitude for much longer I shall lose my wit. But to return… He snorted. If I return, they shall do with me as they see fit. And as well they should. You are not a coward, you are a king. A king does not run and hide, he faces his fears with dignity. He nodded in determination, turning back to his hovel as he began to pack his few remaining effects. He paused, before wrapping his broken crown in his cloak and packing it into a saddlebag I will make for Whitefall on the morrow. It is time to face my punishment, and if needs must, meet my maker. Taking a deep breath, he turned and left the hovel that had been his dwelling, making for his former kingdom.

Sweep the Streets I Used to Own

Age of Rebirth

Juras smiled despite himself as he once again gazed upon the citadel of Whitefall. A vast city of marble, named for the steep-sided chasm to the east, the site of the marble that went into the construction of the city. The capital of Juras’ former kingdom was ringed by a massive wall, reinforced by layers of wards renewed and strengthened by generations of the kingdom’s most powerful unicorns. Along the parapet were countless weapon emplacements, shielded by magic and housing the most destructive engines the city’s engineers could create. But by far the most impressive part of the wall was the South Gate. A truly gargantuan gateway, wide enough for twenty ponies to walk through abreast and tall enough to allow the passage of even the most massive dragons, with whom the kingdom maintained a strained, but workable, trade alliance. Though these defences were formidable, the citadel’s walls were still marred by the terrible weapons and spells unleashed by both sides in the final siege that saw him stripped of his crown and forced to flee. Even two years after the end of the siege, repairs were still underway, a legion of masons cutting and fitting stone as unicorns rewove enchantments into the fortress.

Juras sighed and shook his head to dispel the thoughts as he began walking once more. Almost there, he thought, and perhaps I can atone for my crimes. It was a long shot, he knew, but what else did he have? He was shaken from his thoughts by a harsh shout.

“Halt!” Shouted one of the guards, pointing their spear at Juras. “What is your purpose here stranger?” He asked. Juras sighed under his hood, before lowering it, raising his head to look the guard in the eye. There was a collective drawing of breath before the guard narrowed his eyes. “Soldiers, arrest him. You, inform the Captain that Juras has deigned to show his flea-bitten hide.” Juras didn’t resist as the guards surrounded him, forming a ring of spear-points to dissuade any escape attempt. Whilst Juras was confident, nay, certain that he could wipe the eight guards out with a single spell, that was not why he was here. It was a minute before Juras realised he wasn’t being brought inside the walls until the Captain arrived, so he elected to sit. As soon as he moved the guards surrounding him bristled, the ring of spears closing slightly until they realised he was just sitting.

It was, by Juras’ best estimate, five minutes before the Captain arrived, and his heart sank slightly as he recognised who it was. Captain Lance of the Granite Shields, previously one of his most loyal knights. Lance’s lips curled in a grimace of disgust as he met the disgraced king's eyes. “I had hoped the guards were lying when they said you had showed your face again, but no such luck,” he spat on the ground. “Chain his legs and put a suppressor on his horn, I don’t want any tricks from him.” Lance turned and marched back through the gates, not sparing a glance back at his former king and commander. Juras’ shoulders slumped, allowing himself to be shackled and lead through the gates. He forced his head to rise and kept a steely gaze dead ahead of him as he was marched through the city. He barely glanced at the surrounding buildings; he didn’t need to look to know they were still being rebuilt after the devastation the siege had wrought on the city. The ponies walking the streets watched him with a mixture of shock and revulsion, the tyrant king returned and bound in chains.

The closer to the palace the precession drew, the larger the crowds became, word spreading like wildfire of the former king’s return, until they finally reached the palace square, the cobbled space crammed full of ponies, the city guards clearing a path. Juras kept his gaze firmly on the palace, but he could not fail to notice the hushed whispers and hateful glares directed at him. A Pegasus, the left-side of her face pockmarked with scars of some terrible infection, alighted on the fountain in the centre of the square, perched on the head of a long-dead war hero. “Don’t you see?! The Tyrant King has been captured! Mountshead will have its vengeance!” The Pegasus cried, and Juras winced internally.

That explains the scars, thought Juras, she must be a survivor of the cyst-burn plague. Of all the things Juras regretted, the artificial plague was one of the worst. He shook himself clear of the sickening memories as a cheer began in the crowd as his former subjects began celebrating the capture of the former king. Juras sighed as he was marched through the square and into the palace.

A larger contingent of soldiers was waiting inside; a full three bodies of knights supported by a cadre of unicorns from the Bellum Arcana, each one a master in some aspect of the magicks of war. He was quickly flanked by the soldiers, boxed in by arcane barriers conjured by unicorns of the kingdom's Scuptae Order. Only when they were sure their security was absolute was he again forced to move, lead further into the palace and to the Royal Court, where presumably whatever pony had stepped in to take his throne was waiting. Juras was paraded in under the suspicious and hateful gaze of the dozen or so ponies that formed the Court, but he paid them no mind, focussing instead on the pony that sat, uncomfortably, in his former throne; a tall, well-muscled earth pony stallion with white fur and grey mane and tail. General Steel Aegis, who else? Steel Aegis had long been the ‘ponies’ champion’ since his commissioning. The ponies of the kingdom loved the youthful, energetic officer and his rise through the ranks had been nothing short of meteoric, displaying a natural talent for command and tactics, and had always inspired the soldiers under his command. Indeed, his talent-mark had singled him out from a young age for the military, a kite-shield motif surrounded by a battlement. That Aegis had replaced him was no great surprise, Juras doubted the populace would have accepted anyone else as their new ruler.

“Juras, this is a surprise.” Said Aegis from his throne, no hint of sarcasm or scorn in his voice. It was a simple, honest statement; Aegis had never been one for ‘silvered tongues’, and was genuinely surprised to see the tyrant king in chains. “To what do we owe the…” The sentence hung in the air as Aegis struggled to find an appropriate word to fill the gap. Pleasure? He couldn't bring himself to give the thought voice, even dripping with sarcasm. “Why are you here?” He finally settled on, adopting a disapproving look as he studied Juras. The tyrant king's piebald coat was less pristine than he remembered, his once finely cut mane and tail roughly shorn with a blade, his hooves dirty and cracked. The stallion still had his warrior's build, but two years in the wilderness had left him thinner.

“I have come to turn myself in and face judgement,” Juras stated with iron resolve, “I seek to atone for the sins of my past. That pony, who visited horror and pain upon his own kingdom, is no more. I do not know what turned me into that monster, but I am aware that I was, indeed, a monster. I leave it to the court to decide if I deserve the chance for redemption.” His words launched the Court into a chorus of shouts and hurled insults, calling him a beast and a liar. The noise was only silenced by a bellowed order from Aegis.

“Silence yourselves! You are honoured Court members, not hysterical colts and fillies!” The Court shuffled awkwardly at that, but the anger and hate remained. “Truth-seer. Stand forth.” A cloaked equine stepped forwards from the shadows behind the throne, their entire body shrouded by robes, a hood covering their head. The Truth-seers were a mysterious Order of ponies, who all shared the same power. Under the gaze of such an equine, no lies could be uttered, and no truths could be concealed. The robes of the Order were lined with runes, runes of warding, binding and identification. The runes protected the pony from any attack a defendant could unleash in the short time it would take for the guards to disable them, and the identification runes meant that no pony not of the Order could wear the robes without being crushed to death in their embrace. The Truth-seer stood in front of Juras, and sapphire eyes bore into his. Ice ran down his spine under that piercing gaze, and he felt every truth he knew surge forwards, just waiting for the question that would set them free.

“First question,” began Aegis, clearing his throat for attention, “what is your name?”

“Juras Bastillion, second of his name. Former ruler of the Kingdom of Whitefall.” Juras found himself forced to speak, under the compulsion of the Truth-seer as he was.

“Why have you come here?”

“To atone for my sins and give myself unto your judgement.”

“Do you regret what you are responsible for?”

“With all my heart. If I could go back and take it back, even if it required my death, I would do it in a heartbeat.” This last answer sent an angry mutter through the Court.

“Do you know what made you turn from the benevolent king you once were into the… Monster that threw his kingdom into tyranny?”

“I do not. I have no idea what made me into that beast.” Juras answered, and a wave of relief flowed through him, internally grateful he had not been lying to himself.

“The Truth-seer has clearly failed!” Came the outraged cry of one of the Court members. The Truth-seer’s gaze immediately snapped to the Court member.

“Do you truly believe that?” Asked Aegis.

“N-No." The pony struggled, trying not to answer. "I-I am simply furious over Juras’ actions during his age of tyranny and I want to see him executed.” Said the Court member, forced to speak the truth by the equine before him. Aegis nodded, and the Truth-seer released the pony from their penetrating glare.

“Truth-seer, your services are no longer required.” The Truth-seer bowed to Aegis and disappeared once more into the shadows as Aegis considered Juras. “You are clearly a changed stallion, Juras. However, your crimes cannot be forgotten. You have done far too much harm to this kingdom to simply allow you to walk away. You will be sentenced, as much as it pains me to do so to a pony I once considered a friend, and your sins will be punished." Juras nodded once, closing his eyes in anticipation of his sentence. "I propose this sentence to the Court; Juras enters into our service, performing tasks we require of him until such a time we deem him redeemed. He will do anything we require of him, no matter how menial, no matter how dangerous. He will find redemption through service, or through death. Does this please the Court?” A murmur went around, and the vote was cast. Eight members of the Court agreed to the sentence, whilst another five tried to push for immediate execution, the rest abstaining.

“It is decided." Steel Aegis stood to deliver his sentence. "Juras Bastillion, you are hereby sentenced to servitude of the Court. You will perform any task the Court requires of you, until such a time we decide you have served your punishment.” Juras nodded, thankful he was being given the chance to redeem himself. “Your first task is to report to Captain Shield to assist in repairs to the city’s defences. You are dismissed." Juras bowed to Aegis, before allowing the guards to escort him out of the palace.

So begins my path to retribution. Aegis and the Court have given me a chance, but I doubt the kingdom will. I shall let my work speak for me, my words will not convince them.

Author's Note

Viva la Vida is back, after a long hiatus! I have finally gotten the drive to write this story again, and will be putting out chapters as quickly as I can write them.

I Used to Roll the Dice

Age of Benevolence

“My liege, the Court is ready to begin the morning hearings.” Juras turned to see one of his guards, an earth pony stallion, standing in the doorway to his study. The king nodded, smiling at the guard.

“Thank you. I will be along momentarily.” He closed the book he was reading, marking his page for later as he stood from his desk, stretching.

“My liege…” The guard started, looking uncertain. “If I may speak freely?” Juras blinked and turned to the guard, frowning in confusion.

“You may. Is something on your mind?”

“I was just wondering; why do you insist on being present for every Court hearing? I know that our neighbouring kingdoms have monarchs that leave much of that to their aides and advisors.” Juras paused, taking a moment to consider the question. At his silence, the guard grew nervous. “I-I didn’t mean any offence, my liege, I was just-"

“It is quite alright.” He smiled at the guard again. “I was just considering my answer.” He turned to look out of his window, his study boasting a wide view over the marble chasm the city overlooked. “You are quite correct; I could leave it in the capable hooves of my advisors. However, I believe that the ponies of my kingdom deserve better. I am their king, and it is my duty to lead them justly and with virtue. Every time I shirk my duties, I fail the kingdom and my ponies. Thus, I make every effort to attend every Court session, for how can I expect my ponies to be more diligent to their duties than I am to mine?” He looked at the guard again and gave a faint smile. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yes, my king. I apologise for asking at all.”

“Not at all, curiosity is no crime.” He chuckled, waving a hoof at the guard. “I appreciate questions like that; they do no harm, and they make me analyse precisely why I perform certain acts.” The guard nodded; relieved he had not offended his king. “What is your name, soldier?”

“Sergeant Ironhoof, my liege.” Ironhoof bowed.

“Ironhoof… You are an insightful pony, Ironhoof. I will be watching your career with interest.” He spared the guard a grin as he donned his robes and crown, trotting into the hallway, Ironhoof close behind him. The hallway, like the rest of the palace, was made of polished marble, the floors carpeted in red with ceremonial suits of armour, framed art and other heirlooms of the crown lining the walls, enchanted chandeliers providing illumination.

“Ah, your Highness.” A pony greeted him down the hallway, a short unicorn mare with tan fur and brown mane and tail.

“Shrewd Eye, good morning.” Shrewd Eye, one of the kingdom’s scriveners, adjusted the papers held in her telekinetic grip as he approached. “What is on the docket for this morning?”

“A few petitions to the treasury for loans for various projects, a charity petition for the victims of the Greenleaf Woods fire, one dispute between trade partners, and, unfortunately, one murder trial.” Juras winced at the last one, taking the papers in his own telekinetic field as they were passed.

“Schedule the murder trial for the end; I may need to deliberate over lunch, and I would rather not have the trial darken the rest of the session.”

“Consider it done.” Shrewd nodded, scribbling something onto a parchment as Juras looked to Ironhoof.

“Sergeant, are you familiar with Court proceedings?”

“I am, your grace.” Ironhoof frowned in confusion.

“Would you like to announce this morning?”

“I… My liege?” His confusion deepened as he blinked.

“One of the duties expected of the Crown Guard is, occasionally, announcing for Court sessions. It is something all prospective members should be capable of.” Ironhoof felt his stomach do a cartwheel as his eyes widened. The king was considering him to be part of the Crown Guard?

“I-I… Me, part of the Crown Guard, my liege?”

“Potentially, if you continue to impress.” He gave a small smirk to Ironhoof. “Well? Would you like to announce this morning?”

“I- Yes, your Highness!” His reply was ever so slightly overeager, squaring his shoulders and puffing out his chest.

“Excellent.” Juras chuckled quietly as the trio walked down the hallway to the Court, Shrewd briefly describing the individual items.

“Court is now in session!” King Juras jumped slightly Ironhoof’s shout, having lost himself in thought waiting for the ponies of the Court to assemble and settle. “The first claimant is Baron Quill, petitioning for a Royal loan to fund production of his most recent invention.” Ironhoof looked up from the list held in his hoof, looking to Juras as the king nodded.

“Send him in,” he commanded. The mighty doors to the court were opened and a dignified stallion strode forth. A naturally grey mane, a staple of the Quill line, and a beige coat formed this pony’s colours, whilst he was garbed in a simple, yet elegant, robe. He bowed before the king.

“Your grace.” He greeted the king respectfully.

“Rise, Baron Quill. You are here to petition for a Royal loan, is that correct?” Asked Juras, curious as to what the Baron’s invention was.

“Indeed your highness.” He nodded behind him and a curious device on a cart was drawn in. The metal object had an array of buttons on the front, with a roll of parchment on the top. “If I may, I present my latest invention, the type-writer. No more will non-unicorns be forced to rely on their mouth to write, one has simply to press the appropriate button on this machine, and the type-writer will write for them. Observe.” Quill turned to the machine and tapped away at the keys. Juras observed with curiosity as the machine punched letters onto the parchment, watching as Quill operated the machine. Soon he was done, and handed a guard the message to hand to the king. Juras allowed himself to smirk as he recognised a portion of the menu from the Gilded Saucer, a café that Juras frequented when on business in the city. He turned his head slightly to hear his financial advisor, Gold Coffer, whisper.

“Such a device will revolutionise the writing industry, and will open opportunities for pegasi and earth ponies.” Juras nodded as he considered his advisor’s words, thinking on his response.

“Impressive work Baron.” Juras smiled at Baron Quill. “I must say I do approve of the concept.”

“It pleases me to hear that, your grace. I am also currently designing a similar machine to this. This new machine would use similar keys to my type-writer,” his horn flared, levitating a few of the keys to demonstrate, individual letters and characters stamped into each key, “but arranged by the operator on a large press. When arranged, the press could produce identical pages, multiple times per minute.” Murmurs went around the Court as everypony considered his words.

“My liege,” whispered the advisor again. “If this concept works as he claims, this will create a massive industry. Books could be created in less than a day!”

“Well, Baron Quill, you have definitely captured the imagination of the Court. How large a loan will you require?”

“Five hundred sovereigns to establish a workshop and commission tools.” Juras frowned slightly as he considered the not insignificant sum. He turned to his advisor, watching him move parts of his abacus and check over scrolls. After a few moments of calculations, he nodded to Juras.

“The treasury can afford it comfortably.” He whispered.

“Thank you, Coffer.” Juras looked to Baron Quill. “Very well Baron, the Crown approves of your petition.” He looked to Ironhoof and nodded.

“The floor is open to the Court!” He declared. “Does the Court have any objections?” Ironhoof waited for a few seconds, but no pony broke the silence. “There are no objections, my liege.”

“The petition is passed.” Juras signed the petition scroll that Shrewd passed him, before levitating it over to Baron Quill. “I am personally very interested in the results of this venture. The Quills have always served Whitefall well, I am certain you will continue that tradition.” Baron Quill bowed his head.

“Thank you, your grace.” He took the scroll in his magic and carefully passed it to his assistant, before bowing once again and leaving the room, taking his invention with him.

The following petitions were more routine, requests for loans to expand existing businesses, and one foreign trader requesting permission to reroute his caravans through Whitefall’s territory to avoid bandit camps to the east.

“The next claimant is Sunny Tenderhoof of Greenleaf, petitioning for a Royal grant to the victims of the Greenleaf Woods fire.”

“Send them in.” Juras turned to face the doors as a pegasus mare timidly walked in. The Court gasped, muttering as they saw the burn scars marring her left side, the primaries on that wing still growing back in.

“Thank you for granting me audience, your majesty.” She bowed low, closing her eyes. She carried herself and spoke with determination, but a slight tremor in her voice betrayed her nervousness, and Juras wasn’t sure if her stiffness was due to her injuries, or another sign of her nerves.

“Rise, Tenderhoof of Greenleaf. I had heard about the fire. You are here to petition for a grant for the victims of the fire, correct?”

“Yes, your majesty.” Sunny nodded, swallowing. “We are very fortunate that few ponies lost their lives in the fire, but the fire consumed many homes and injured dozens of ponies. Our town cannot afford to rebuild all the homes that were destroyed in the blaze.”

“Point of order!” A pony in the Court, Duke Fortune, called out.

“The Court recognises Duke Fortune.” Juras looked over at the duke with a raised eyebrow.

“The Duke thanks the Court.” Fortune cleared his throat before proceeding, looking at Sunny. “Greenleaf is primarily a logging settlement, correct?”

“That is correct.”

“And Greenleaf also cuts the lumber for trade and sale?”

“Correct.”

“Then please inform the Court, why does Greenleaf require help with building homes when the town’s primary industry is a building material?”

“The fire destroyed many buildings, including our saw mills. Along with that, the fire claimed our stores of lumber. Without the saw mills, we won’t be able to get the necessary lumber to build homes before the winter.” Juras winced. The winters in the north of his kingdom were bitterly cold.

“Very well. Point rescinded.” Duke Fortune settled back down, bowing towards Juras. Juras nodded in reply, and turned back to Sunny.

“So you require a grant for the reconstruction of the sawmills?”

“And to buy lumber from other logging towns to rebuild the homes. It’s doubtful we’ll be able to rebuild the mills and the homes before the winter.”

“How many homes were destroyed in the blaze?”

“Twenty family homes and eighteen communal homes.” Communal homes were common in the north, typically occupied by three or more families. It was a lot cheaper to keep a single large building warm during the winter months.

“A substantial amount of lumber would be required.” The financial advisor whispered to the king. “Without a promise of return, it would be difficult to justify the expense to the treasury.”

“It saves lives, however. I’m willing to deal with the backlash from the treasury.”

“We may be able to provide them the necessary lumber without involving the treasury in a charity case.” Shrewd whispered on his other side.

“You have an idea?” Juras glanced to her, curious.

“I do my liege. A lumber shipment is ready to be transported to the capital for refurbishing and construction of some of our siege engines. However, we’re expecting to increase our compliment of cannons within the next two years. If we accelerated our procurement of the cannons, we could reroute the lumber to Greenleaf without weakening our compliment of artillery.”

“We’d still need to source the steel. Unless we open up a new mine, we won’t be able to produce the metal for the cannons in time.”

“We’re in luck, then. Greenleaf woods have rich iron deposits; we’ve just never had the opportunity to access them before. However, from the reports I’ve received it looks like the fire burnt down many trees on top of one of the deposits. We won’t have any complaints from the lumber guilds if we construct a mine on an already cleared area of land.”

“Good thinking, Shrewd.” Shrewd smiled and bowed her head at the compliment. “Do you think Captain Blast will approve?”

“Captain Boulder Blast has always been protective of his siege engines, but he’s also been complaining for a while now about upgrading the kingdom’s engines, so I doubt he’ll turn down the possibility.”

“Very well.” King Juras turned back to look at Sunny, who was staring back, hopeful and nervous. “Sunny Tenderhoof, I believe we will be able to supply Greenleaf with the lumber it requires, however we will need time to confirm this. We will have an answer for you in tomorrow’s morning session. Is that acceptable?”

“Y-yes of course your majesty!” She bowed low, gratitude clear on her face.

“Excellent, I will ensure you are the first claimant to be seen tomorrow. In the meantime, if you have not already arranged accommodation, my staff will arrange a room in the guest chambers.” Sunny nodded, bowing once again before departing. “Shrewd, take a memo; look into ways to prevent damage from forest fires. There must be a way to prevent these blazes from harming our people.”

“Yes my liege.” Shrewd jotted down the memo on a piece of parchment and tucked it into a ledger at her side.

“The final claimant is the trial of Berry Dasher, accused of the murder of Honey Jewel.” Juras was silent for a moment, before nodding.

“Send them in.” A precession of guards entered the room, leading a purple pegasus stallion in chains. When the prisoner was in position, his shackles were removed and a barrier created around him to prevent escape. “Berry Dasher. You stand accused of the murder of Honey Jewel.” The stallion before the king blinked once, meeting his eyes. “How do you plead?”

“Not guilty, my liege.”

This is going to be a long day. Juras nodded, and motioned for the prosecution to begin.

Shortly after noon, Juras sat in his study, massaging his temples as he slowly ate his lunch. That was a nightmare. The trial had been tedious in the extreme thanks to the efforts of the defending party. Even after the defendant’s guilt had been made clear, the defending scribe still endeavoured to, at length, draw upon a seemingly endless list of potentially extenuating circumstances, all of which were only tangentially supported by the evidence and witness statements. Ultimately, it hadn’t been enough to save the stallion from conviction, but it had saved him from the gallows.

Juras had retreated to his chambers immediately after Court adjourned, decompressing in private. We really need a more formalised process for this. Overseeing trials was not one of the primary functions of the Royal Court, however particularly heinous crimes such as murder were very often brought before the Court as local authorities could not necessarily be trusted to act impartially. Perhaps standardised rules and set penalties for specific crimes… Juras tapped his chin as he considered the idea, only to be wrested from his thoughts as somepony knocked at the door to the study. “Enter!” He stood to face his visitor. “Ah, Shrewd.” He smiled, but frowned as he saw her expression. “Is something wrong?”

“My liege… The Kingdom of Ester has just moved troops across the Velmm River, and are claiming the surrounding plains as rightful territory of King Ester.” The silence that followed was deafening as Juras’ mind stalled briefly.

Ester? Our relationship hasn’t been the best as of late but for them to do this… “Summon the war council; we meet in the War Room within the hour!”

I Used to Rule the World

Age of Rebirth

I used to be someone.

I used to be someone everyone knew, everyone loved.

I was loved by my people, respected by my allies, and feared by my enemies.

But no more.

Now I am hated by my people, distrusted by my former allies, and mocked by my enemies.

I had a life, a home, a country.

But now… All I have is a hovel, a cooking pot, and a broken crown.

The former king looked across the clearing to the broken-down shack that was his new residence. Two long years. He sighed, poking half-heartedly at the vegetable broth that was cooking, hanging over an open fire in a battered pot.

I failed my people, and lost everything for it.

“A home fitting for a king.” He muttered bitterly, full of shame for his actions.

How could I not have seen it?

How did I not see what I was becoming?

It should have been obvious. Someone should have said something.

But if they had said something, I would surely have killed them.

But maybe not. Maybe being made aware of my failings would have turned me back to the path of good.

But was the personal risk too great? Can I honestly say that I would have stepped in if our positions had been reversed? The king sighed again, his eyes wondering to the tarnished and broken crown resting atop the rock across the fire from him.

I cannot know what I would have done in that position. I cannot know, because I was raised a king, and those around me were not. Different styles of thinking, different people.

I used to be someone, but now I am nothing. Nothing but the king who turned on his own people.

Author's Note

Here is the introductory chapter to Viva la Vida. Chronologically this lies at the beginning of the final quarter of the story, so you can use this as a point of reference if you want to figure the chronological order for yourselves