9:40 PM, Twistspire, North Griffonia, 1003 y.a.b., 39th day of Fall.

Forgive me Darius.

The royal court of the Muhtesem. The largest and most vicious room in the entire castle, it was the heart of North Griffonia’s government. In the pews sit the Pride of Griffonia, the legislators of the nation. The 37 provinces of the nation each have two representatives sitting in the Pride, a secular Elder, and a faithful sister. From the sprawling cities to the tribal lands of the east, all who fall under the royal wings gets some voice. Even the five reclusive orders of griffon magic guilds had wizards present in the pews. However, the representatives only made up a third of the Pride. The rest of the seats are taken up by members of the Great Clans. Formally, this was exclusively griffon noble families who had in theory proven their worth but in practice got powerful enough so the others could no longer deny them.

However, bankers, industrialists, airship manufacturers, even the United Equestria-Griffonia Railroad company, have a seat in the pews. Some proved their products vital nature for the country to the crown and were granted seats. Others proved that money can buy better loyalty than oaths of blood.

In front of the Pride were the royal Ironclaws. King Rhosus sat in his throne while, Princess Norah, Prince-consort Richard, and Prince Darius sat in their seats next to his. Alexander was standing next to Rhosus, holding the king’s hand for comfort, while Cassandra stood by, with an arm and a ring around Alex’s shoulder.

The Crown and the Pride were always at each other's throats in often disturbingly literal ways, but if they had common ground, they were capable of great horror and great honor.

Between the claws of the Crown and the jaws of the Pride sat the Equestrian Ambassador, Astera Nocturna.

King Rhosus patted Alexander’s hand then stood. He held the scroll in his hand, and began to read, “Rhosus II of clan Ironclaw, lord of the open expanse, Maria IV, Mother to the faithful, and all the gathered great clans, I, governor Louis of clan Bronzebark, give you news of treachery on this day of Mercy. As the feast began, a time of jubilance and joy, the townsfolk noticed a cloud from the horizon. It was no smoke or steam, but our fellow griffons, fleeing from the west, exhausted, hungry, and distraught. As my city welcomed them in, finding them food and logging, I expected to hear many things. A raid by the Yaks, a foolish attack by Griffonstone, I even considered the return of the perpetual snow, but I never considered what all of them told me, they were invaded by Equestria. House Prix and a small force drove into the town, and demanded our people leave on the basis of false claims. On any other day, this tiny force would’ve been slaughtered to the last for such an action, but on our happiest of days, they couldn’t fight. So, with heavy hearts, each and every one of our people left their new homes and new lives. My King and my Pride, I beg of you to act.”

King Rhosus looked up from the scroll. The Pride was in an uproar of confusion and anger. No voice was louder than that of the Sisters, who were calling for a Day of Reckoning for this injustice.

Rhosus silently looked down at Astera. It was a cold look, a hard, frozen look, threatened to boil over into unrelenting rage. Cassandra shared that burning expression, Alex stood their in confusion, even Norah clearly was peeved. Darius looked sad and disappointed.

“Forgive me Darius,” Astera thought as he readied to walk the razor’s edge, “It has not, nor has it ever been Equestria’s goal to conquer any land, particularly in such manner. However, Avidity of House Prix, who had once willing surrendered that land to keep the peace, commands the highest position in the Noble’s legislative body, who holds veto rights over any treaty.”

“So they vetoed a treaty over a decade after it was signed and enforced?” Rhosus yelled, “Princess Celestia gave me her oath, and I held it.”

The Pride went up in a new frenzy of noise.

“Oath filth!”

“Blood for lies!”

“Let the Sky be their judge!”

Rhosus allowed the Pride’s screeching to continue, while he stood in quiet, glaring down at the ambassador. Finally, the King raised a claw, and the Pride was silent.

“They nobles have a lot of authority over Princess Celestia,” Astera clarified, “She wouldn’t break the oath. However, the Seats of Nobility could force Celestia’s hoof. I assure you, Celestia had nothing to do with this.”

Rhosus’ frown deeped. “If Celestia truly was innocent, then why didn’t she contact me? Why did I have to hear of this invasion from my fleeing civilians?”

“... I don’t know.”

Rhosus sat back down, crossing his claws.

A Sister of the faith stood up from her seat in the Pride. “My liege, with the gift of the Sky, you must make the choice, and make Equestria pay this treachery by Iron, Claw, and Gore!”

The old griffon general, Tran of clan Goldenbark, stood up, and yelled, “Iron! Claw! Gore!” The chant was repeated, first by those around the, then by the noble clans, then by every single member. From the oldest Speaker, to the youngest Pony, all members of the Pride chanted with a single, deafening voice that was heard far beyond the confines of the castle’s halls.

One small voice stood against the Pride.

“Father.”

Rhosus, turned away from the Pride, and looked at the source of that voice, Norah. Her lips said nothing, but her pleading but determined face said volumes. Rhosus held up a claw, to finally silence the chant.

Norah sat tall. “We cannot throw away centuries of peace with our long ally so hastily. The Seats of nobility are always fighting, always decided by the voices of a few. I will go to Equestria and change their minds before we all drown in our gore.”

Tran shouted again, “My liege, while our future Queen has mastered the art of speech, this is not the time for compromise and kind words. We have all read the Irade, those ponies are being pulled by the bounds of the Earth, Equestria have already made their mistake.”

The two pony Pride members gave Tran dirty looks, but for the rest their was a murmur of agreement.

Norah shook her head. “Walk with a great blade and a kind word. Mercy shall be offered, but Retribution shall always be your friend.”

General Tran rested his hand on his sword. “Our once and future Queen, if you are so craven to not meet force with force-”

“Enough!”

Everyone shifted their focus to the King. “I have taken your accounts into consideration, and have made my decision. Hywel, bring me paper and the dragon dust.”

Hywel nodded and left the room. After a minute of silence and subdued murmurs, he returned with two wizard adepts, carrying a vat filled with the green dragon dust. A grounded up dragon’s ignis organo, the magical source of dragon’s flame, dragon dust allows for near instant communication across nations from one magical being to another. However, due to the rarity of finding a dragon’s corpse, and the suicidal nature of trying to hunt a dragon, the dust was obscenely expensive. The dragon dust the adepts carried costed as much as the Muhtesem itself.

Rhosus took the paper, pulled off one his own feathers for the quill, and started to write. He placed a seal, an image of an claw clenched into a fist, and handed it the letter to Hywel. “I’m sorry to ask for this.”

Hywel shook his head, “ Duty and honor, Rhosus. Don't apologize.” Hywel took a pinch of the dragon dust, and put it into his mouth. One of the adapts handed Hywel a torch. Hywel threw the parchment into the air, and blew a plume of green flame, engulfing the letter and sending it off to Equestria.

Rhosus stood up from his seat. “Representatives of the provinces, sisters of the faith, nobles, merchants, I, King Rhosus, ask all of you, once this day of mercy ends when the sunrises, to begin mobilization.”

The Pride was utterly ecstatic. They would finally have a chance to crush their weak neighbor, and gain favor before their King and gain a place among their God. Astera looked down, heartbroken and distraught. The long peace he had worked so hard to maintain ruined in a day.

“However,” Rhosus yelled before the Pride went out of control, “As of right now, North Griffonia has not declared war.”

In an instant, the Pride’s jubilation was replaced with all consuming rage.

Meanwhile in Canterlot…

The Royal Equestria Library of the Diarchy hadn’t seen use by the royal sisters in years. Even when Luna returned, neither Princess had much free time to sit down and read. If the Princesses needed facts, somepony in the extensive royal staff would be sent to find it. If the Princesses wanted fiction, they would strike up a conversation with the nobility.

However, Celestia and her entire staff were sitting through the library, and tearing through every book on law the library had. After a millenia, Equestria’s three separate legal codes had become a quagmire of confusion, contradiction, and corruption. Celestia turned the page onto the last decision made by the noble judiciary, where Judge Lawstand ruled against a Duke Demare for corruption, the last time a judge ever was able to rule against the nobility. Celestia put the book down, and picked up another book, discussing the first convict made by the collective vote of the Seats of Nobility.

Celestia remembered that day, watching Baron Riverdale crying on the floor of the High Seats. She had been unlucky enough to be scapegoat for the resurgent Duke Demare, charged with conspiracy to bribe the Seat’s vote “For personal gain at the expense of the realm”, even though Riverdale had been the only one charged, and no co-conspirators had been named. Riverdale had failed at the game all the nobles played, and had let herself get caught.

Celestia started to turn to the next case, but paused. For personal gain at the expense of the realm. It would require only evidence of bribery, and the Crown would have the implied threat to the rest of the nobles to force them comply.

At that moment, Celestia noticed all her staff had stopped yawning, searching for more coffee, or looking at their tomes. They were all looking past Celestia, at the source of footsteps that got louder with every passing breath. She didn’t need to hear the slightly metallic click of the hooves or feel the massive magical presence to know that Luna had arrived.

The princess of the night face was twisted into an expression of frustration, confusion, and subdued wroth.

“Luna, I know th-”

“We wish to know why you let yourself be trampled today in such a humiliating manner, sister.”

Celestia’s staff was shaken out of their daze and wisely decided to leave Luna’s blast zone.

“One thousand years ago we stood against the God of Chaos. Then you... you were even willing to face us down.”

Celestia reached out to her sister, “Luna, Nightmare Moon wasn’t you…”

“Regardless, today you let yourself be publicly been insulted and bullied. Why?”

“Luna, things have changed,” Celestia said in her motherly voice, “Everypony, myself included, is bound by the law. I will solve this dispute peacefully through the law-.”

The smell of dragon breath and a flash of green fire appeared between the sisters. A scroll floated between them. After two years of receiving friendship reports, Celestia instinctively grabbed the scroll from out of the air. She saw the seal. A claw clenched in from a fist.

“Celestia, I will skip the formalities and get to the reality of our realms. We swore an oath to bring stability to my nation in a time where it could have easily fallen into chaos. Concessions were made, land changed hands, and I took care of your little ponies that went with the deal. I had always looked up to you as mentor, a friend, even in a way, a mother.
It is a heavy heart that I have to wonder why in the Sky’s name did you allow one of your nobles to rip up my trust in you as claw a goes through a web. As a decade ago the griffons are calling for blood. If you do not forcibly resolve this power dispute, or if my Norah does not end the problem for you, I will be unable to restrain the desires of my people any further. We will know nothing but war.

Norah will be in Equestria within three days, take care of her.
-Rhosus.”

“Lu, I will resolve this crisis. Avidity will receive her proper justice, and everything will again be in it’s proper place,” Celestia turned away from Luna and returned to the book. She had lost control, her subjects had fled in fear.

Luna opened her mouth to retort book looked around at the now empty room. The Princess of the night walked out of the library onto a balcony and into the night sky. A steady beat of her wings, Luna flew out of Canterlot and onto the top of the mountain. From here Luna could see the forests of her failure.

To the south was a cursed forest, born from her arrogance and hate from a thousand years before. In her eyes, the trees melted away. It was replaced by wheat fields, peach trees, and peasants gladly sharing the common land. The light of the Drunkard Bard shown brightly. The laughter of the Jest’s festivals rang through her ears. Destroyed, ruined, covered in trees, roots, and abominations unfit to live in this kingdom.

“We cannot follow Celestia’s plans, but she was always the oldest,” Luna said to herself, crushing the doubt in her soul, “We must follow her lead.”

Luna turned to a stone tower, barely visible through the trees. While she had weakened the doubt, it was not entirely eliminated, and brought forth a new question in the Night’s mind.

Luna look down at Canterlot, “Why did Celestia make our castle here? We lived among the commons to escape the machinations of the nobility. Why...”

She shook her head. This wasn’t working. As much as it pained her to do it, Luna wrenched her neck around and looked north.

At the edge of the horizon was the other forest born out of Luna’s fall, Hollow Shades. A thousand years before, she had blessed the few pegasus guard who had appreciated her night. They had been loyal, even in rebellion against the Princess of the Sun. This blessing had made her loyal guards hated by the ponies who loved the sun, and confined them to those trees.

Drips of water rolled from Luna’s eyes. The doubts were gone. Once again Luna took flight.

8:20 AM, Fairbrittle, Equestria, 1003 y.a.b., 40th day of Fall

“Ma’am, you need to wake up.”

Maud blinked awake, shivering from a cold that no longer felt so real, from a dream that felt so real, yet already was faded. She was staring straight into the yellow eyes of a orange furred, teal maned earth pony.

“You been out for a long time, I need to ask you questions to see if there has been any cranial trauma. Can you understand what I am saying?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“What is 5 plus 7?”

“12.”

“Who are you?”

“Maud Pie.”

“Name one member of your family.”

“Pinkie Pie.”

“Do you know what town we are in?”

“Fairbrittle.”

The earth pony’s body lost all its tension as he sighed in relief. Maud turned her head and looked around. Earth ponies and pegasi with their wings bound in ropes were crammed into a pit, the beginning of the main mining pit, with guards walking around the edges. Maud looked down at the ground. An unearthed metamorphic gneiss rock sat neatly between Maud’s legs.

“I’m Clinic Care, I wish I could treat your arcane scorch wound, but I am just an earth pony, and they wouldn’t send for Doctor Omaha after… Maud, are you listening?”

Maud looked up from her rock, barely notcing the Clinic’s stethoscope cutie mark. Her mind finally registed the dull pain arching along the back of her neck. She reached out and felt her neck with a hoof.

Maud’s neutral exrpession shifted into a frown.

“I’m just an earth pony nurse, I wish I had a horn that could take away your pain and help the hair regrow.”

“It’s fine,” Maud stated flatly, “This is going to make Pinkie sad, so I am sad.”

2:30 PM, Outside of Twistspire, North Griffonia, 1003 y.a.b., 40th day of Fall.

“Sky, why did you curse me to be different?”

Beyond the city limits of the capital stood the countryside. A few plots of land immediately outside of the capital were noble owned ranches and farms, but the rest were a combination of recreational lands and military staging areas. The same playgrounds that taught young fliers how to use their wings could be converted in the blink of an eye into grueling training grounds for recruits if the need ever arrived.

Several archery fields dotted the area. The art of the bow and arrow was an ancient one in Griffonia, from the days when clans flew above the steppes. Some of the target ranges were the properties of nobles, catering only to the noblest of blood or the largest of purses. The rest were family operations, such as one owned by the griffon Ayla and her hippogriff husband, Wallace.

Hippogriffs were the rare hybrids formed by the union of a griffon and pony. It was said that, when that cursed union was made, the Sky just threw dice and set the abomination onto the world. They come in uncountable varieties, from a pony with a beak, to a griffon with cloven hooves. Wallace was heavily griffon dominate, from his neck down he looked like any other griffon. Unfortunately for Wallace, from the neck up, his head, main, and face were all of that of a pony.

Normally, Wallace would in the shop, carving board of yew and oak into new bows or forging arrowheads. However, Ayla was in the city seeing a healer about her wings. She suggest closing down for the day, but Wallace said the blunt truth, telling her they couldn’t afford to close up shop for a day with winter coming. He also lied, telling her not to worry, and that he could handle running the counter.

News spread faster than the wind. Everyone knew about the mobilization, and that any household could be chosen in the draft. Archers that hadn’t fired a bow in months were came to cram in practice, to be ready if they are targeted by the call. All day, Wallace saw the customers glancing his direction when they thought he wasn’t looking. Regulars who would normally shoot for hours left after a few minutes. When a griffon with a snow white head bought a bundle of arrows, she stood in front of Wallace for several seconds, staring dumbly at the arrowheads, before just grabbing them out of his hands without a word. A knot formed in Wallace’s chest. The sides of his head throbbed.

“Sky, why did you curse me to be different?”

He glanced at a sundial. Over two hours until closing, “Ayla needs me… I can do this. She will probably be back before then. I can do this. I can do this.”

The bell above the front door range. Wallace turned to the door. A griffon, bow in hand was standing there, bow in hand, just staring at Wallace, before closing the door and walking away. In that moment, Wallace felt many things. His heart dropping. The knot in the chest tightened into a strangling grip. The pain of two knives being jabbed into his head. Most importantly, shame.

“Last salvo! Last salvo!”

The archers exchanged looks of confusion, but fired off their remaining arrows in quick succession, and lined up to the counter, returning rented out bows and thumb rings. Most of them were quiet, handing back their rented equipment and walking out the door. Soon, there was only one large griffon male left.

“Freak!” The griffon yelled as he slammed the bow onto the counter, Wallace flinched at the obscenity, “Your fucking bow doesn’t shoot straight, you’re ripping me off! You are going to give me my fucking money back you worthless half-breed!”

Wallace felt small. A voice in the back of his head just told him to give the griffon his money and hide under the counter till this is all over. It would be so much easier.

The bow on the counter was composite of oak and horn, pull weight of fifty pounds. There was some wear on the riser, but the arms were still strong, and the string had been replaced. That bow was Wallace’s work. That bow was Ayla’s work. This range was their life.

All the skill necessary to craft that instrument is what he had mastered in praise of the Sky. A rare strength seeped through Wallace’s body. He grabbed the bow, slipped on his thumb ring, and nabbed an arrow.

Before the griffon could even process what was happening, Wallace turned to the nearest target, fifty-six feet away. The arrow was nocked to the string, Wallace’s thumb resting under it. He raised the bow to a slight angle, pulled the string back, and released.

With a thunk, the arrow landed within the second circle of the target. Wallace turned to the griffon. The griffon huffed out in silence, slamming the door so hard that the bell fell off.

Clawed fingers picked up the tiny bell. Another screw up. The field was covered in arrows, he hadn’t made the customers clean up after themselves. Another screw up. After flying around the field, Wallace took inventory. Two of the rented bows were unaccounted for. Wallace had let someone just walk out the door with them. Another screw up.

Wallace looked into a mirror. A pony’s face, with a light red mane, a very light yellow fur, and green eyes, with a small red scarf around the neck, stared back.

“Worthless half breed… that it isn’t it?” Wallace said looking up, bell in hand, “The ones born into weakness so others may know true strength? Worthless…”

“No,” Said a stern feminine voice.

The hippogriff turned to the griffon standing in the door frame, his wife Ayla.

“Wallace,” she said, walking over to her husband, “Please, stop doing this to yourself.”

“But-”

Ayla put her claws on his, “You are not worthless. You are not a curse upon the world. You are not bringing me down.”

She pulled him into an embrace, “You are the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“I can’t even-”

“It doesn’t matter..”

He held up the bell and the missing inventory sheet, “It’s alright, we will deal with that later.”

She walked him away from the range, and to the nearby workshop. Like the range, it wasn’t a fully enclosed building, just two walls covered in their product and tools. Nearly mechanically, Wallace sat on a bench, and looked over the order. Sixty pounds of draw weight longbow. He took a limb scraper, and put the board on a bench. As he carved, the knot in his chest loosened. The pain in his melted away.

Once Wallace was done carving out the shape, he turned to Ayla. She was rubbing wax and oil onto finished bows to seal the wood, “Ayla, I’m… what happened with the healers?”

Ayla smiled. “The bone growth is reversing itself. The healer said I will be able to fly again in two years.”

Wallace put down the tool and literally flew to his wife to lift her into a hug. She had developed wing ossification, a rare disease of excessive and destructive bone growth. Only magic was capable of reversing the effects. Treatments had a seemingly random chance of slowing and eventually curing the affliction entirely.

She started to nuzzle into his neck. His smile grew wild, he knew what that meant. Their claws started to roam each other’s bodies. They could hear nothing but each other’s breathing.

And the sound of a bag filled with paper falling to the ground.

Wallace and Ayla looked at the male griffon looking around one of the walls holding up a letter, petrified with shock and disgust.

Ayla looked at Wallace, the smile gone, the mood ruined. Her white feathers grew red. Not in embarrassment, but in rage. She grabbed the scraper, and marched straight into the mailgriffon’s face.

The griffon backed away, “Umm… ma’am, I’m sorry… I… PLEASE!” He hid behind the letter like it was made of steel. On the letter there was a simple stamp, the iron fist of the monarchy.

The knife fell to the ground. The shaking mail griffon felt the letter being snatched from his claw. The letter was addressed to the residency of the Hunter’s Mark, their range and their home. On the other side of the envelope was two words.

Draft Notice.

The mail griffon quickly scribbled something on a notepad and jumped into the air. Wallace walked over, and place two stools for them to sit on. Ayla cut open the envelope, revealing the form letter that had been contained inside.

To the homestead of Ayla of clan Rusttip, and Wallace,
“Your household has been chosen to provide 1 soldier to the grand army of North Griffonia. On the 43rd Day of Fall, the designated number from your household must come to Twisted Marshal Grounds to present arms in the name of King Rhosus’ Call to Arms for medical and martial examination. If you have a martial mastery, you will be tested to prove your skills are adequate for the tasked you are assigned. If you do not have a martial mastery, or fail to prove your mastery, you will be set among the basic infantry to earn your practice on the battlefield...”

Wallace skimmed through the rest of the notice, knowing the medical exemption wouldn’t apply, and already knowing the unpayable price of desertion. Wallace rubbed a talon down Ayla’s stiff wing.

Ayla put an arm around Wallace’s shoulder, “Wall, please do not worry. Once the crown has waggled its sabers at Equestria, we won’t actually be going to war.”

He looked at the ground, “I can’t even handle some simple stares, how will I…”

A claw gripped his face and forced him to look at his wife, “Wallace, you will just need to be strong one day, do you hear me? You will go for the call, outshoot every griffon there, and come home.”

Wallace opened his mouth. Ayla put a talon to his lips, “No, there will not be a war.”

Meanwhile in Canterlot…

“There is going to be a war?” Blueblood managed to blabber out.

His great (to the 124th power) aunt Celestia’s voice answered, “If we do not act, it will be inevitable. If I am going to save my subjects from this fate, I will need your help.”

A scowl crossed Blueblood face, “She wants my help after all she has done to me? Taken away most of my allowance, forced me to go on her field trips to ‘learn manners.’ All because some commoner didn’t know he place. No, I am not going to let her just push me around without something in return.”

A defiant smile crossed Blueblood’s face, and he opened his mouth to retort. However,in that moment, a fly flew between them. A bug. A dark, green eyed bug.

Memories of the attack on Canterlot filled Blueblood’s mind. His guards turning tail to run as the changelings pinned him down. The foul stench of their carapace. The taste of that horrific slime as he was entombed by those insects. The feeling of his happiness wretched away, leaving nothing but guilt and self pity.

“What can I do?”

“Have you heard anything about Duchess Avidity Prix?” Celestia stated in a far more stern voice than he was used to.

Blueblood sat and thought, “Well… no. The only thing anypony seems to be talking about is the great days they’re looking forward to.”

“Why are they looking forward to better days?” Celestia insisted, “How are things getting better?”

“I never asked,” Blueblood stated.

His aunt gave a deep sigh, “I see.”

“Is there anything else you need of me Auntie?”

“...In fact, there is my, darling nephew.”

5:30 PM, Manehatten, Equestria, 1003 y.a.b., 42nd day of Fall.
“Welcome to Equestria.”

The salty wind blew in from the sea, the taste of foul fish stinging his tongue. The only respite this gave was that it masked the soot and ash from the factories.

“I hate this city,” Blueblood thought miserably while he stood at the harbor watching as a passenger ship was slowly tugged into place.

An something hard hit Blueblood’s side. He looked to his companions for this ‘vital’ diplomatic greeting, Fancy Pants and his gorgeous wife. Fancy Pant’s wore his warm smile

Fluer was always the model noble consort in Blueblood’s eyes. A beautiful and silent piece of furniture, never fussing, never complaining, never even paying attention what goes around her, always bowing to the wisdom of the one of higher blood. He never understood why his late mother hadn’t just allowed him to go pick out some Prench actress or dancer, and made him marry someone of at least equal noble rank in patrilineal marriage.

This ship finally was tied up to the harbor. A group of heavily armored griffons walked down the causeway, followed by two ponies in the regalia of ambassadors.

Fleur and Fancy Pants bowed their heads, followed by Blueblood a full second later. Fancy lifted his head and extended his hoof. “Norah, Richard, on behalf of the Seats of Nobility, I welcome Clan Ironclaw to Equestria.”

A long pause filled the group until Blueblood remembered he had lines. “O… on behalf of the crown Princesses of Equestria, I welcome you to the realm, and apologize that neither could greet you in person.”

Norah quickly took Blueblood’s hoof into her claw, “Prince Blueblood, it is an honor to finally see the face of a pony who has committed such legendary actions.”

Blueblood smiled and held a hoof to his face, “Oh, well, I always act in accordance to my noble privilege.”

Norah smile grew, “Oh, I can see that.”

Fleur leaned over her husband and watched the exchange or formalities. Richard held out his claw, “Fleur, it is wonderful to see you again.”

Fleur’s smile grew, “Likewise. Je suis désolé pour le fou. Il sera assis à une table différente”

Richard’s statue shrank slightly at the wonderful news, “Merci le Ciel.”

Surrounded by Equestrian guards, and the griffon Ganissaries, they made their way to a fancy Prench restaurant, La Fantaisie. Fleur looked around at the crowds. A pony in the alley way moved forward towards the group, but her bravery died out, and she moved back into the alley.

She shook her head. She had expected one of Avidity’s spies to be on their tail, but wasn’t expecting them to be this obvious.

At La Fantaisie, tables had been cleared away, leaving a setting with four stools in the middle of the room. The Ganissars surrounded the table, forming a perimeter to protect the heir apparent. Blueblood confidently strolled over, and tried to plant his flank on one of the stools. A field of blue magic surrounded the stool and yanked it away.

“I am sorry Blueblood,” Fancy Pants stated with a voice elated in enjoyment, “But I need to personally discuss the strategy for securing a proper vote in the Seats.Please, accept my condolences, I have reserved a table personally for you.”

Before Blueblood could object, his own guards all but pushed the prince to another table. Fluer looked around. Everything was set up according to Fancy’s and Fluer’s designs. They needed to be seen in public to show to that Norah wasn’t conducting secret meetings with Fancy just to prove none of them had anything to hide. However, everyone in the room except the guards were kept out of earshot, with a few enchants designed to stop attempts to listen to their conversation.

The party took their seats with relief. It was a rare opportunity to be in public without the masks. Even if none of them expected to enjoy the conversation that was to come. Norah broke the silence, “Who were the tie breakers and how many will I have to threaten or bribe to reverse their vote to give you the majority?”

Fancy took a deep breath and looked down in shame.

“Quand allez-vous cesser de vous blâmer et de blâmer seulement la chienne?” Fluer put a hoof on her husband’s side. “You’re looking at the only noble who voted against Avidity’s insanity.”

Norah’s calm look was erased from her face, replaced with nothing but shock. Richard blinked a few times, mind processing the implications. “How? I thought the votes in your Seats were always just managed by the barest of margins. What could she possibly offer to get that kind of turnout?”

Understanding crossed Norah’s face. “It’s the black gold of Fairbanks. She offered part of the massive riches in that land. Maintaining the picture of elegance has been bankrupting the Canterlot nobility.”

“It’s the obvious explanation, but we haven’t found any proof,” Fleur stated, “Even our own vassals refuse to speak to us, and my sources have discovered nothing.”

Norah slumped on her seat. “So there is only war.”

A claw rested on her shoulder. “Norah, you can stop this. The only things that needs to happen is that you make them fear our armies more than their own finances.”

Richard turned to Fluer and Fancy. “When the changeling swarm descended upon Canterlot, how many nobles stood and fought? And no, you two don’t count.”

Fancy and Fleur shared a smile.

“It is still fresh in their nightmares,” Richard continued, “And the changelings actually needed to keep the populace alive. We must use their bigotry and fear, since we cannot appeal to the reason of those who are brain dead.”

Norah lifted her glass, “Normally I would deplore such tactics, but I swore to maintain the peace. I will not let my discomfort prevent me from stopping the coming slaughter.”

She drowned the drink, determination written all over her face.

The waiter brought out their food and handed it to the guards. The guards sniffed the dishes and the drinks, and searched for any harmful material. When they determined the food was safe, they brought it over to the table. The food was far from authentic, Fleur could taste the heaps of pepper the cook used to hide his incompetence, but the conversation steered itself to happier subjects.

A cook burst out of the kitchen and slammed his stir stick against a cooking pot, to mark the beginning of a Prench “tradition.” The unicorn staff would dance around the dining room, throwing plates into the air with their magic, and catch in their magic again. Fleur had to force herself not to roll her eye. The “tradition” was as authentic and Prench as the over salted hay fries.

The tradition was actually Romane, and it the head chef would throw around pizza dough into the air a few times by by hoof, rather than this complicated and absurd ritual. Yet, every Prench restaurant in Manehatten insisted on doing it, even though it only resulted in wasted food and broken plates. Fleur felt a pressure in her loins as the drinks finally demanded she use the privy.

“Excusez-moi,” Fleur said as she got up from her seat. As she was walking past a guard, the sound of a plate breaking came directly from behind her, causing her to stop and turn her head. The plate landed next Richard and Nancy. There was no food, only a dark round object, with a sparking wick.

As the horror dawned on Fleur’s face, the world she knew was replaced with a blinding light, a deafening bang, and a wave of pressure that caused her entire body only feel pain.

Author's Note

Historical Note: Thumb ring are used in Mongolian forms of archery. Unlike Mediterranean draw, which pulls the string with two or three fingers, the Mongolian draw has the archer grasp the bow string under arrow, and uses the other fingers to hold the thumb. Since the archers only needs to release their thumb rather than three fingers, this style has a cleaner release than trying to release three fingers at exactly the same time, which is particularly important for horse archers The release does put a lot of pressure on the thumb and this draw can quickly become painful for the archer. The thumb ring alleviates this issue.