6:24 PM, Manehatten, Equestria, 1003 y.a.b., 42nd day of Fall.

Blood rolling down sides. Ears ringing. Beak chipped. Ganissaries down. Screaming.

“Doesn’t matter, protect!” his old drill sergeant's voice echoed through the young griffon guard’s head.

Owen forced himself up onto his claws and paws, and rushed over to the table. One of Fancy Pant’s hind leg was torn off in the blast, with only a small movement of his chest indicating any kind of life. Richard had a piece of metal sticking through his skull. Shame coursed through Owen’s veins. They had failed their duty and let him die.

Norah was on her back. Both of her wings were gone. Most of her feathers and fur were burned. Commander Bey was already pressing her claws into Norah chest to keep the ambassador alive, ignoring the shrapnel through her armor and into her stomach.

“It was that mare!” A recovering Ganissary yelled, “She threw the bomb! STOP!”

Three Ganissaries literally flew into the crowd. Owen barely registered their movement, or the shrill scream of a stallion that immediately followed, or the orders Bey yelled after the trio. All he could do was just look at the broken body of kind woman he was suppose to give his life to protect.

“OWEN! OWEN!”

Owen looked into Bey’s eyes.

“We need to get Norah to the hospital NOW,” Bey grabbed Norah’s shoulders. Owen instinctively grabbed her legs. They took flight and were out the front door in seconds. In the streets below ponies were rushing towards the restaurant. Neither of them cared and turned to the east. Bey tried to keep Norah’s neck still as possible, but sacrificed a smooth flight for speed. They navigated based on the city maps they had memorized, and soon found the hospital, “An heir to a Kingdom is about to die!”

The medical staff got her onto a stretcher, and raced Norah to the emergency room. The head nurse protested against their presence, but Owen and Bey refused to leave Norah’s side.

The head doctor put his head against Norah’s chest. The doctor frowned. She magically opened an eyelid and fired a small beam a light into Norah’s eye. The frown deeped. Finally, the doctor rested his horn against Norah’s scalp.

The doctor sighed, “She is gone, there is nothing I can do.”

“BULLSHIT!” Owen’s claws went around the doctor’s neck, “Use your horn, use a spell, you can do something!”

“Owen, let him go.”

The pressure on the doctor’s windpipe was released. The two griffons turned to Norah’s body. Bey moved over and closed her eyes. Owen placed a claw against the body. They both began to pray in unison, “Hear our words, oh holy Sky, for Norah has drawn her last breath. She has mastered her art. She has earned her rest. As her body becomes one with the soil, let her soul take flight up in your eternal winds.”

The two of them stood their staring at the body. Owen cried, “...How could I let this happen? I gave my soul for this...”

“No,” Bey said quietly, “You did everything I ordered you to. I should’ve stopped that fucking dance, I should’ve searched every inch of that damn place. I shouldn’t of been a fool and thought that Equestria was safe. This is a failure of my honor and-”

“COMMANDER!”

A bruised Ganissary, bleeding heavily above his left eye, breathed heavily in the doorway. Bey responded “Devlin, where is the assassin? Where are your comrades?”

Devlin raised his bloody claw, “I had her in our claws, but the pony guards ran in. They betrayed us, they attacked us. The assassin got away. I was the only one to escap. Is Norah...”

“On the eternal winds,” Bey answered quick, “What did the assassin look like?”

“Chestnut fur with greenish, no… uhh... olive mane, with an emerald cutie mark that had some kind of line through it. Her left flank has three claw marks on it…”

The sound of echoing hooves grew behind Devlin. He turned around and backed up into the room as four Pegasus guards walked down the hall. The pony in front spoke, “Listen, I don’t know what is going on, but I have my orders. Please, surrender your swords, come quietly, and I am sure we can all work this out…”

In one swift move, Bey wrapped around the bed sheets around Norah’s body, picked her up, and jumped out the window. Owen and Devlin followed a second after.

The pegasus guards pursued.

Every wing beat pushed the shrapnel further into Bey’s side. Her breathing became labored. She wouldn’t even make it out of the city. Devlin was slowly following behind to his own injuries.

“Owen,” Bey said as she held out the corpse, “Take Norah and fly home. Everyone needs to know of my failure and this betrayal. GO.”

Owen bowed his head, knowing what was about to happen. As soon as Norah was out of Bey’s grasp, she turned tailed and charged their pursuers. Owen veered towards the ocean and flew towards the coming blanket of night.

Meanwhile in Canterlot…

Celestia stood in her study, a magically paper floating in front of her face. The Princess had called upon her more covert means of intelligence, but she had been a fool. She had been searching for straight forward bribes, promises for future votes, blackmail, all the usual ways the nobility bargained for supporter. One of her agents had managed to crack the plot.
Dear Celestia,
In the Noble Bank business registry, we have discovered this document submitted by Avidity Prix.

New Way Mining co.

Stated purpose: To take advantage of new opportunities to bring wealth into the realm.

Stockholders(s): The Noble and Ancient House of Prix.

Registered: 27th day of Fall.

Assets: None

Employees: None

Capital: 0 b.

Investmentors: None

Current Company evaluation: 0 b.

Signed: Record Clerk

It is a worthless company, yet Avidity had signed out and issued exactly 118 stocks with dividends attached, each stock worth 0.635% of the company, promising the same percentage of the company's gross profits. The Prix house only retains 25% of the ownership of the company. None of these stocks have entered the open market. The stocks were valued to be currently worth zero bits and have not appeared in any stock market. RG "conversed" with a noble and has confirmed Avidity given out the stocks to the rest of the nobility through the bank, but has made sure the bank itself actually holds the physical stock papers.
-SD

Celestia levitated her copy of the book of Noble Law to a bookmarked page.

Bribery Act of 743: Noble bribery is hence forth defined of the exchange of bits, objects, and titles with real monetary worth, or spells, incantations, and substances with demonstrable magical potential in attempts to gain votes in the seats...

Magically shut, the book dropped to the ground at the Princess' feet, "Why was I foolish enough to believe the nobles would turn to me to pull them out of the hole they dug themselves into?"

This was all legal wrangling that no reasonable judiciary would accept. However by not so ancient right, the nobles could only be judged by their fellow nobles. When such massive amounts of bits were on the line, the Seats would allow even the most absurd twisting of the law. Many parts of Avidity’s plans remained elusive. It didn’t matter, Celestia had her evidence. All she needed to do was prove the conspiracy.

“Tomorrow,” Celestia smiled to herself, “I will walk in the Seats with Norah, and I will reclaim the proper destiny for-”

All thoughts were cut out as Celestia collapsed. Her legs felt brittle, her body was freezing, her vision was going dark.

And in an instant, it was over. Celestia got to her hooves and looked out a window to the East. A grim expression plastered on her face.

She shook her head and continued to read.

11:58 PM, Over the Celestial Sea, 1003 y.a.b., 42nd day of Fall.

Strained muscles, sore claws, aching back, growling stomach, heavy eyes.

“Doesn’t matter keep flying… doesn’t matter keep flying…” Owen body was in a desperate state. Flying for far too long in plate mail with a corpse in hand. Didn’t dare even remove one claw from the body to remove armor to lighten the load. Even with the moon to guide him, Owen found himself drifting off course. He looked below.

The light of a grand vessel shown through the night. It was a tempting roosting spot, but it was headed west to Equestria. He needed something heading east.

Near the northern horizon was the shadow of a boat. It was a small boat, yet they had a large amount of gas lamps pointing at the sea.

“Lights like that means squid fishers,” Owen’s realized, “Fishers would almost certainly be griffons… almost.”

Without options, Owen took the gamble and descended. He circled the boat to kill his speed, and landed with a thump.

“Mate, are you alright?”

Owen looked up into the cragily old face of feathers and a beak. He sighed in relief, “By the authority of the crown and for the good of the realm, I beg of you, set course for Twistspire.”

The captain nodded.

8:40 AM, Outside of Twistspire, North Griffonia, 1003 y.a.b., 42th day of Fall.

Lines stretched for a mile. It had been awhile since a full moblization had been called, and the population was enthusiastic for war. Griffons, many too young or too old, crowded in inspection lines such as this, to prove the sharpness of both their weapons and their skills. Almost everyone was excited to be there.

“Next!”

Wallace stood, hands tight on his two bows, pulling at the collar of his gambeson and the belt to his saddle bag. Thankfully, the worst he had been given was some stink eyes and the occasional slur. Thankfully, it wouldn’t last much longer, Wallace was able to see the front of the line.

“Next!”

This particularly line was moving far faster than it had any sane right to be. A grey gruff griffon stood at the inspection table at the front of the line. She was suppose to be curtailing the recruits, making sure the weapons were in a decent shape before the martial tests, no equipment was stolen, and making sure no one outside of the legal age range was attempting to join. Yet, all she was doing was taking a signature (or claw print from the illiterate) and yelling “Next” even as a griffon too young for the Youth Brigade came forward holding a rusty arquebus almost as long as he was tall.

“Next.”

In the sea of brown, tan, white, and grey, a few bright, primary colors caught Wallace’s eye. Two pegasus mares stood several in adjacent lines. The first had light blue coat with a dark red mane with a thin streak of a much lighter red running down the middle, the same color as her eyes. She carried a halberd in her left fletlock. The pegasus was adorned immaculate curiass, with a beautiful helmet. All fitted to her form, yet in the Griffonian styles. She wasn’t wearing her full set of armor, as her cutie mark, two crossed dueling spears, was visible to all. The pony caught Wallace’s eye and gave a friendly wave. Wallace gingerly returned it.

“Next.”

The other pegasus was no in the same joyful mood. The green haired, orange pony trudged forward. Her armor wasn’t as fancy, a simple morion helmet was strapped to her head, her body armor looked like a worn out steel version of the Equestrian guard’s armour. She appeared to be wearing the entire set, with chain mail covering her limbs, and additional leather padding underneath the chain. Wallace couldn’t see her cutie mark, and the scowl the pegasus gave him made him shift his gaze back forward.

“Next.”

Wallace was just one spot away from being the front of the line, “Alright, she will just stamp that I haven’t dodged the draft, get my signature, and yell next.”

“Next.”

The gruff griffon looked straight into Wallace’s eyes. Hey eyes narrowed, “What are you doing here?”

“I-I am here to answer the call,” Wallace stated.

“Drafted?” The gruff griffon said with a huff, “Of course, not like your kind would fight willingly... Name?”

“Wallace.”

“No clan?” The griffon asked, before chuckling, “Should’ve known. Halfbreeds don’t deserve it anyway...”

At agonizingly slow speed, the gruff griffon looked down the draft list. Impatient whispers grew louder behind Wallace. His heart was pounding, the sides of his head were aching

“Ah, the house of Ayla of clan Rusttip and Wallace,” the gruff griffon laughed, “You’re one of them lucky ones who found another freak that actually has a clan.”

Wallace’s claws cut into the dirt as they tried to ball up into fists.

“Now show me your wooden sword or pointy stick so we can move on…” The inspector started before she laid eyes on the pair of unstrung warbows in Wallace’s bow quiver, “Where under the Sky did you get those?”

“I am a bower,” Wallace stated, trying to ignore the impatient whispers that had ceased being whispers some time ago, “My wife and I crafted them.”

The inspector’s eyes narrowed, “Hand them over.”

Wallace very reluctantly pulled the twin bows out of the quiver, and handed his craftsmanship over to the inspector. It was a beautiful composite bow, a mix of horn and yew, with a few designs around the riser, including small imprints of Alya’s favorite flower. The inspector tried to string the bow, unable to overcome it’s 90 pound draw weight. She called over a guard, who struggled but managed to hook the string.

The line behind Wallace had started shouting.

“Come on already!”

“Let the halfbreed through!”

“The sun has moved 5 degrees across the sky since this line has ceased to function!”

“I wanna shoot shit!”

The inspector pulled the string back on one bow has far as she could, and dry fired it. Wallace flinched. The inspector dry fired the other bow, hurting her hand in the process, “...Guards! I think the half breed has stole these. Please, escort Wallace away for some further...”

“That will not be necessary.”

Everyone turned to a heavily decorated female griffon walking behind the inspection table.

“General Isabelle!” The inspector said nervously, “I assure you we have this situation under control…”

“I found a twelve year old child on the firing range,” Isabelle stated in explosive voice, “Said child said you signed him through.”

“They’re getting so tall these days,” the inspector mumbled, “They looked of age to-”

“They?”

The feathers of the inspector were stained with sweat, “Well, what I meant was...”

“What is happening with him?” Isabelle asked, pointing at Wallace.

“I was in the process of detaining him. Nothing about his story added up! I was just following the correct procedure-”

“Kathrine,” Isabelle stated through a clenched beak, “If your resignation is not in my tent in one hour, I will personally pull you into a court martial before the King himself for you’re blindness and insolence.”

Inspector Kathrine stared at the general as if she was just stabbed through the chest. Fear gave way to rage, “Listen here, I was fighting for this country when your litter still stank of your mother's blood. I don’t care what your rank is, I did my due and I will not be thrown out by a child who managed to suck her way-”

Isabelle’s buckler slammed into Kathrine’s stomach. The old griffon fell to the ground, “Kathrine, you have disgraced my person and disobeyed my commands. You will be charged before a court of my peers, and will never serve directly under me again if by whatever slim chance you are allowed to remain in arms in defense of North Griffonia.”

Guards dragged the coughing Kathrine away. Isabelle sat in the inspectors chair.

“I am sorry about that,” Isabelle stated flatly, “Wallace was it?”

Wallace nodded in near shock.

Isabelle picked up the discard quill, filled out the paper work herself, “Just sign here.”

The quill flew across the paper as Wallace signed, “...Thank you.”

Isabelle took a moment to inspect the bows before handing them over, “If your archery is anywhere near as good as your bowery, I think you will do just fine in the tests. Dismissed.”

9:36 AM, Twistspire, North Griffonia, 1003 y.a.b., 42nd day of Fall.

Within the grand walls of the Muhtesem, Rhosus steeled himself for another fight. Alexander and Cassandra leaned against his throne, Darius sat in his own chair. While they said nothing, Rhosus couldn’t imagine holding out against the coming barrage without their silent support.

Everyday, the Pride had gathered. Everyday, the Pride had demanded his presence. Everyday, they demanded war. The Noble Warriors argued that there hadn’t been a great conflict to make them proud of their own nation. The Sisters of the Faith argued that Equestrias actions were unforgivable and required retribution. Even the new Industrialists argued that they had been preparing to expand under the assumption they would have plentiful coal to fuel the fires of industry.

Everyday Rhosus denied their greed, misguided faith, and bloodlust.

As the Pride made it’s last minute discussion on the day’s plan of attack, with Elena readying to give a speech, Rhosus eyes were drawn to a commotion at the door. The Ganissary came through the door to her commander, exchanging words. Even from the great distance, Rhosus’s eagle eyes allowed him to see look the commander gave to his underline. A look of absolute disbelief. The commander followed the Ganissary through the door. After the moment, both doors were thrown wide open.

Another Ganissary walked through holding something in a dirty white sheet. All the conversations were silenced as the guard walked on his hind legs, struggling with the load in his arms. He smelled of salt, sweat, and blood. His face was pained, but whatever physical pain he felt was overshadowed by the shame and sadness all over his face. Rhosus recongized the figure. It was Owen, a new but promising young guard, who had gone off to Equestria with...

“Norah?” Rhosus stood from his chair. Owen finally met the King’s gaze. A soldiered hardened to lay down his life, stood in the middle of the court paralyzed. Legs shook, tears rolled down his face, but Owen could not force himself to move one step forward.

He bent down, laying the sheet down onto the floor.

King Rhosus walked forward. Claws were rigid, paws were heavy. His talons touched the sheet, and pulled it aside. Norah’s face laid on the ground, eye closed, most of her feathers gone, body mutilated.

“Norah…”

In his eyes, he did not see the daughter he had watched sail off to Equestria. He saw a little fowl. A featherless baby, wrapped in a white blanket, held tight in her mother’s arms.

“My Norah…”

Tears rolled down Rhosus’ beak. He pulled the body into an embrace. Warm arms didn’t wrap around the torso his torso. No head rested on his shoulder. All there was was cold skin and limp limbs. His claw felt the stumps of her wings.

Those claws balled up. Rhosus could feel some else besides the grief. The rage he had been repressing, the rage he had been putting down since that messenger interrupted the holiest of nights with the gravest of news, the rage that had been festering every single day the Pride had beaten him with their demands for blood, boiled over.

Rhosus looked away from his daughter to Owen. With a cracking voice, Rhosus asked, “What happened? Why is my Norah… Why did you let her die?”

Owen continued to stare at the floor, “A bomb. A pony threw a bomb on a dinner plate. We were dumb enough not to catch it. I… I tried my liege. Richard died instantly... We flew her to the hospital… but it was too late. The Sky had already swept her away...”

Owen breathed in deeply, finally staring at his King, wanting to cry but had long run out of his own tears, “We were betrayed. My comrades had that murderer in their claws, but the Equestrian guards attacked us. Bey stood and fought so I could bring Norah… home.”

Rhosus sat in the middle of the court. No words spoken, the only sound were of Alexander’s sobs and the rustle of feathers as Cassandra held onto her younger brother. In an instant, Rhosus exploded with rage, “Hywel! Dragon dust! Paper! Now!”

His court wizard handed him the parchment. Rhosus pulled a knife from his belt, “In witness of the Sky, for retribution of crimes, we need to act. To ask for you to spill your blood, I will my own.”

Rhosus pulled back the knife, ready to cut the opposing claw, ready condemn his nation to war. A claw grabbed his wrist. The King turned to find Darius holding him back.

Tears stained Darius’ face, but a look of determination covered the grief.

“Rhosus,” Darius shook his head, “Father, please ask yourself, is this what Norah would want?”

Darius’s eyes turned to his adoptive sister, “She would’ve died for you, she would’ve died for any of us. I swear upon the Sky I will tear the monster who did this to Norah to shreds and bury the rat within the deepest pit. Wherever you ask me to go, I will follow. But Norah… Norah was the strongest of us. She dedicated her life to peace. I don’t want to sour her memory by just heading off to war.”

Rhosus stared at Darius. The grip on the knife tightened. The blade was shaking. Finally, Rhosus dropped the knife.

The king stood up, walked back to his throne. Every eye tracked the King’s movements.

Elena broke the silence, “Rhosus! They killed my niece, they killed our future Queen, they killed your daughter. You’re just going to let Equestria get away with this travesty? Rhosus!”

The entire Pride broke their silence. Each and every one calling for blood.

Rhosus wanted to head their call, wanted to march straight through Tartarus itself if it meant he could have his revenge. Yet, Norah wouldn’t. Norah was always willing to give one more chance.

The Pride yelled, and Rhosus wrote. The Pride stood up, and Rhosus wrote. The Pride made demands bordering on treason, and Rhosus wrote.

King Rhosus handed the letter to Hywel, who sent it away in a puff of green smoke.

“Twenty four hours!” Rhosus once again stood to silence the Pride, “That is all I ask of you. In memory of Norah, I ask only for twenty four hours. If Equestria has not surrendered to each and every demand, we will be at war.”

Meanwhile in Canterlot…

On the outside, Celestia maintained her regal stance, confident stride, and motherly smile. Her staff bowed, her subjects threw themselves at the floor as she passed. The Princess was all loving, the princess is all knowing. Who wouldn’t assume when they saw that white alicorn walking around mere mortals?

On the inside, Celestia could barely hold herself together. It has been centuries since she had felt such anxiety. Even after her sister returned, and Discord broke free, in her heart Celestia knew everything was ultimately going to end up all right. For the first time in centuries, Celestia felt as clueless as anypony else.

“Maybe I should announce I am going on a flight?” Celestia wondered as she walked the street of Canterlot followed by her two pegasus guards, “I could fly out, find the train and…”

A green burst of flame dropped a letter in front of Celestia’s face.

Ultimatum

Norah and Richard, the future rulers of my nation, are dead. By a pony in your lands when they were under your protection. I demand immediate retribution. I want the murderer’s head. If you do not accept these demands and stop the horrors that have fallen under your rule, I swear by the flesh of my mother, the blood of my father, and all that are hit by the light of your sun, I hold all these sins upon you.
Fairbrittle will be immediately returned to my Kingdom. The noble who invaded my land will be handed over to be tried and face justice for their crimes against my people.Richard’s body shall be sent back to his home.All Ganissaries in Equestrian custody will be released.My investigators will be given full police rights in Equestria to investigate this travesty and bring the pony responsible to retribution. All of this is far less than you deserve, but it is what Norah would’ve wanted. You have twenty four hours.

Celestia blinked, and read the message again. Her mind refused to accept it’s absurd message. She looked for signs of forgery. There wasn’t a seal, each word was jagged with hostility, but the handwriting was Rhosus’. The only magic on the page was the lingering effects of the dragon dust. It was real.

They were dead.

“Who did this? How could one of my little ponies do this? What happened to Fancy and Fluer? Blueblood?”

Celestia spread her wings and flew back to the castle.

12:04 PM, Fairbrittle, Equestria, 1003 y.a.b., 42th day of Fall.

In the former mayor’s object, two objects floated in the air. A bottle of griffon whisky a tape measure.

“How can there only be one inch left?” Grand Prix thought, “How is this suppose to last me the entire day?”

His vacation from his wife was turning into a nightmare of stress. A part of Grand wished Avidity was here to just solve all the problems. A deep dark part of him that the rest of his mind ridiculed and was ashamed of, but it was there.

The earth ponies and pegasusi wouldn’t stop complaining. About the poor food, about being in the sun, about having their wings tied up, about not getting representation, about being kept in a giant ditch. Even the unicorns in the town, and some of his own guards had expressed concern. Grand poured a small amount into a glass, “They should’ve thought about that before I tram… before trampling over my rights.”

He had visited that pit every day. Seeing all those ponies covered in dirt. In particular, he remembered the scares on the grey mare he had blasted, the burnt mark on her neck, and the large gash on her scalp, “No, they don’t have to stay down there. I should just confine them to their homes. I should go to that mare and...”

Grand downed the drink, “No, not important, they… they deserve that.”

Grand poured some more into his glass. Avidity hadn’t sent the workers she had promised. Instead, she had been sending him letters demanding that coals needs to be packed onto trains immediately. The last letter had even said, Either pull the bottle out of your throat, and get that black gold out of the ground, or you will find your digging the mine yourself.”

“Bitch.” Grand downed the glass, only to put a hoof to his stomach.

Worst of all, somepony had found Grand’s alcohol stash and had shattered it. The only booze Grand had managed to find that hadn’t already been gourged on by his troops was this griffon whiskey. It tasted like lantern oil and his stomach felt like it was trying to digest rusted nails.

“I hate this shit,” Grand thought as he poured out the rest of the bottle into the glass.

Rocks cannot come out of the ground by themselves. He needed miners.

“Am I supposed to get my troops to dig out rocks?” Grand said aloud as he shifted the glass in , “That job is beneath unicorns… not that my troops listen to my commands in the first place. They have the easier job in the world guarding those pegasus and mudponies…”

Grand stopped spinning his glass, “Of course! I can’t believe I didn’t see it. I already have all the workers I need!”

The glass slammed against the desk. Elation rose from his stomach, Grand Prix finally felt good about what he was doing.

Grand then had to put his head into a garbage can, as the elation was swiftly followed by vomit.
3:45 PM, Canterlot, Equestira, 1003 y.a.b., 42nd day of Fall.

Count Prace kept fidgeting in her seat. Avidity was organizing her papers for the expected debate with the Princess and the feathered ambassador. Prace was trying to act calm, to not catch the High Horn’s attention. Last night, Prace had squealed.

Bells rang throughout the house. Somepony was at the door. Prace waited. The ringing became louder. It took a long time for Prace to remember she no longer had any attendants to open the door.
The count walked down the hall, and magically pulled the door open. A large stallion stood outside the door, dressed in a simple tie and suit. Prace couldn’t help but to stare.
The stallion smiled, “Oh, hello, you must be Count Prace. I am from the bank. I am here to talk about your debt.”
Prace shook her head, and nodded, “The debt? Oh…!”
The stallion looked at his clipboard, “You’re late on too many payments. The bank only choice will be to reprocess your property and take your house.”
“You can’t do that!” Prace said in shock, “My family lived in this place for generations… I can’t… I was promised...”
“Do you know of any large amount of income coming your way?” the stallion said with a pout, “It will be so hard for me to come back and move you out of this place.”
“Yes!,” Prace said, “Yes! If you would just please… come inside and I will tell you…”

Prace had a hard time remembering exactly what happened after she started to pour the wine, but knew she had told that handsome stallion everything. Avidity had told her that the mining stocks would be her last chance to remain a count, the last chance to save her home before being dumped onto the street as a commoner. Avidity had also stated that the deal is off if Prace told anybody else. Not Prace’s friends, not her husband, not even the old mule working in Prace’s kitchen.

Prace justified it to herself. “The stallion was from the bank, he had said so! I am sure no harm could come from that…”

Count Prace glanced up to Avidity, only to meet a glare of hatred from the High Horn. The look only lasted a second, replaced in an instant by Avidity’s neutral expression. The message had been brief but clear. Avidity Prix knew of Prace’s treachery.

Prace’s heart sank. She loved her home, she grew up in it, her children had grown up in it, her husband had died in it. The count was ruined.

Princess Celestia walked through the door. Celestia’s normal absolutely silent stride had been replaced with a much heavier gait. The royal horseshoes clanged against the marble floor. Without pause for formalities, Celestia sat opposite to Avidity.

Duchess Avidity, High Horn to steeled herself for a heavy defense, “Princess Celestia, the Seats…”

“The Griffonian ambassadors, Norah and Richard, are dead.”

Avidity blinked and stared at Celestia.

“A assassin, who appears of of been a pony, blew them up within Manehatten. Fleur de Lis and Fancy Pants were caught in the blast. Even my Nephew was hurt during the confusion.”

A breath of shock went through the room. Equestria had seen monsters, elderich threats, even a bug masquerading as a princess, but such a heartless murder? A heartless murder of nobility none the less?

Avidity leaned over her podium, confusion all over her face, “How is Fancy and Fleur?”

Celestia broke Avidity’s eye contact and looked down, “Fleur is in a stable condition. Fancy was still in the emergency room.”

Avidity leaned back. Prace saw the confusion shift into worry, but could swear she saw the ghost of a smile adorned Avidity’s face.

Celestia eyes returned to Avidity, “King Rhosus learned of these events. He has sent me an ultimatum because of this travesty. If these Seats ignore any one of Rhosus’ three demands, Equestria will be at war.”

Prace saw the ultimatium. While she was getting up in age, her eyesight was still very good. She couldn’t make out what was written, but it looked like there were five things listed, and two of them had been crossed out.

Murmurs spread throughout the Seats. Avidity ignored them, “What are the demands?”

Celestia held up the ultimatum with her magic, “North Griffonian police officers must be given authority to investigate the assassination and arrest any responsible. Fairbrittle will be returned to Rhosus. Finally… Avidity, you will have to go to North Griffonia for questioning about your occupation of their land.”

Celestia tore her eyes away from the High Horn and looked upon the gathered nobles throughout the room, “My little ponies, this decision cannot be held up or debated. We have until tomorrow’s dawn to answer this call, or else you condemn all of Equestria to battle a nation which for so long has been our friend. In the name of the founders, in witness of Equestria, I call the vote. Accept all the of Rhosus’ demands, and let Equestria continue onto its proper path. All in-”

“I invoke my right to speak,” Avidity said, a smile crossing her face, “For I know what game out princess is playing.”

Celestia look back at the High Horn, every pretense of the motherly smile erased. Celestia was scowling.

“I have recently discovered your investigation. You have been looking into all of the nobles. You have even employed some,” Avidity looked straight in Count Prace’s eyes, “Underhoofed tactics to gain your information. Think I have created conspiracy at the expense of the realm.”

Celestia’s scowl deepened.

“I admit it! I used intrige. I used my business prowess. Yes, I will admit it, I made a conspiracy.”

Many of the nobles looked at each other nervously, considering their current position.

“However, that conspiracy was for the good of the realm,” Avidity slammed a hoof into the podium, “We had all made a mistake. We had all allowed our own fellow ponies to come under their rule. I rectified that injustice while you sat and did nothing.”

“That is up for your peers to decide,” Celestia stated.

Avidity raised herself so both hooves were planted on her podium so she was at the same eye level of Celestia, “You know you have no case, you know somewhere in your heart I have done nothing wrong. You can’t risk the Seats voting with me, so you are throwing me to the Griffons at the first opportunity that has presented itself to you.”

Celestia stood higher, putting her once again above Avidity, “You would have the best representation Equestria has to offer…”

“We both know that wouldn’t matter,” Avidity remained in place refusing to relent, “This wouldn’t be a questioning, it would be an execution. I would be a sacrifice to their sky god. If you hand me over, what’s stopping you from handing over *every* noble who voted with me or has given their support for the economic boom that Fairbrittle represents?”

Celestia wings twitched, itching to fly above the High Horn to show who was in power, “Avidity, I raised you to the position of High Horn, I never thought you would be so reckless as to-”

“AUNTIE!”

All heads shifted to the door. Blueblood had barged through the door. A huge bandage covered half of his face, “Auntie, look what those clawed brutes did to me! Why haven’t you taken care of them?”

Celestia closed her eyes, “Blueblood, this is a very horrible time. We can talk about this later.”

Avidity turned to the Prince, “What clawed brutes?”

“The griffon guards!” Blueblood pressed a hoof to the bandage, “One of them just jumped at me and ripped my face off! I demanded immediate justice, we had them in the jail, but all the ponies in Manehatten said I had to wait !”

Celestia eyes went wide, “Blueblood, you ordered the ganissaries locked up?”

“The ganissaries were attacking your nephew?” Avidity said with a hoof to her mouth, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Celestia did not look back at Avidity, “Blueblood, I know you’re confused, but that griffon did not mean to attack you. They were trying to catch whoever threw the bomb…”

Avidity’s smile grew, “Well, we can have that all sorted out with a neat trial. I am sure the Manehatten justice system is certain up to the task of determining guilt and innocence in this particular case.”

Celestia returned Avidity’s sight, barring down with the angriest for the Princess look Count Prace had ever seen.

“Avidity,” Celestia state slowly, “Those guards were part of a diplomatic mission. Nopony had any right to detain them, and Rhosus had requested I arranged their return.”

“So you just let the griffons who assaulted your own nephew go?” Avidity asked in earnest.

“What?” Blueblood exclaimed, “You couldn’t just let them go, could you auntie?”

Celestia remained silent.

“These are the kind of creatures you want to surrender our sovereignty to? You want legions of their police forces to have the power to arrest anypony even when their diplomatic troops cannot even restrain themselves from mutilating the family of monarch who controls the sun?

Celestia continued to be silent.

Avidity took one long, deliberate look at the half repaired hole Celestia had made in their last encounter, before addressing the Seats, “This ultimatum is a bluff. A lie. Equestria is the richest and strongest nation on the planet. The sun and moon are within our power, as are the most powerful magic in the entire world. The death of such noble blood is a tragedy. From what I understand she rejected the nature of her species and was one of the good griffons of the world. My heart goes out to Fancy and Fleur for their recovery. However, we cannot accept these demands. Only the greatest of fools would dare attack our home. If Rhosus’ grief turns to madness, and he does actually declares war, the same forces that bested Nightmare Moon, Discord, and the Changeling hordes will easily defeat some griffons with pointy swords and loud sticks.”

“All opposed to the vote?” Avidity held up a hoof.

The vast majority of the Seats raised their hooves. A few ponies like Count Prace quickly followed when the vast majority was in favor. Avidity once again caught Prace’s eye, but gave the Count a smile instead.

Celestia saw the raised hooves. A limbs few shook under her gaze, but remained high. The Princess saw the smile adorning the High Horn’s face. Celestia again walked down the steps in defeat. Half way down the stares, Celestia paused. The princess did and said nothing, and promptly continued to the door.

Count Prace blinked, unsure what she had just seen. She shook her head, her eyes must of started to fail her. For a second, she could’ve sworn she saw Celestia’s horn covered in the Princess’ golden aura. Prace shook her head, “Trick of the light…”

9:00 AM, Twistspire, North Griffonia, 1003 y.a.b., 43rd day of Fall

Rhosus sat on Norah’s bed. He wasn’t sure how long he had been in here. Alone with Norah’s sheets, her certificate of apprenticeship, even her old domino set. All he knew, the sun had risen, and it still didn’t feel real.

He wanted to live the good memories, want to come here and remember Norah at her best. Yet all he could remember were all the times he didn’t have time for his daughter, all the times his duties to the crown pulled him away.

“That’s why she apprenticed as a diplomat,” Rhosus thought miserably, “She… just wanted a chance to come be with me… I brought her along this path and she is dead...”
The door opened, Hywel stood in the door frame. A frown adorned the court wizard’s face, “No word Rhosus. No word from Celestia. No word from Equestria. It is almost time”

The chain was complete, the line was set. A chain of unlikely events, a crushing line of causality had led to this one moment. Everything had aligned itself for the fall. Only one stood against the fall.

“Sir, there has been a pony patiently waiting with me,” Hywel stated, “And wishes to speak with you.”

Hywel stepped out of the frame to allow ambassador Astera Nocturna to walk through the door.

“Ki… Rhosus, may I come in?” Astera asked in a humbled tone. Rhosus nodded. Astera walked through the door, Hywel closing it behind him.

“I’m so sorry,” Astera said, staring at the papers along the wall, “I… I wish…”

“No, I am sorry,” Rhosus stated, “I allowed this, the things I have done have led to this. I should have accepted your meetings, I should’ve had you work with Norah to solve the problem here rather than sending her away. Maybe… maybe none of this would be happening.”

“There doesn’t have to be any more deaths,” Astera Nocturna said, “Please, all off this war.”

Rhosus said, “No.”

Astera pleaded, “There will be no winner in this war! If we fight, it will be the end of everything we know, it will be the end of us both. Please, call off this madness.”

Rhosus said, “No.”

Astera drops onto his knees, “If you do this, it will be a slaughter. I beg of you, in the name of everything that is good in this world, call off this war.”

Rhosus stared down at Astera. It was not a face of blame, it was not anger, it wasn’t even pity. It was filled with pain and sadness. Still, Rhosus breathed in and said, “No.”

Astera rose to his hooves. Rhosus sat up from the bed. The King put a claw around Astera’s neck, “... You always were a good friend to Norah. There is one last service you will need to do here before you return home.”

Astera nodded, “I… I never thought I would be leaving Griffonia like this… I don’t know how I will get all of my staff packed.”

Rhosus walked to the door, “I will send for some of the castle’s staff to help pack your things.”

Astera, Hywel, and Rhosus walked into the Muhtesem’s court. A grandfather clock had been brought into the court. The entire royal family and the entire Pride had already been waiting, watching the hands of that old clock. Rhosus took one last look at Hywel, a part of him hoping for a flash of green. A flash that never came.

Twenty four hours had passed. Rhosus took out the knife. He didn’t say the words, he just cut his claw, and put the bloody print against a page. Hywel took the page and burnt it with green flame off to Equestria.

They now were at war.

Author's Note

Historical Notes:

A Gambeson was a padded piece of cloth/linen armor of the middle ages. It was worn both in conjunction with and independent of chain or plate armor. It didn't provide as much protection as metal armor, but it provided decent protection from hammer blows or stab attempts (even if the blade did puncture the gambeson, the wound would be far shallower), it was lighter and far cheaper than chain mail or plate armor.

An Arquebus was an early single shot firearm that predated the flintlock musket, but operated in a very similar manner.

Dry firing a bow (I.E. pulling back and releasing a bow string without a notched arrow in place) wears out the bow and is the common pet peeve of archers the world over.

Up until the first World War, being at war with someone did not actually imply hating the people or even the leaders of the nation you were attacking. In Europe, monarchs at war were often very closely related (often far too closely related for a healthy gene pool, particularly in the case of the Hasburgs), fighting when all diplomatic channels had failed... or they both sides had a claim to the same throne and wanted it regardless of how many farmers die in the bloodbath.