Procurator Courser had a regal look about him, anypony could tell that. His ornate attire aside, he walked with a confident canter. There was an undeniable aura of superiority about him. His entire persona looked as if it had been rehearsed from a young age, because it had. The Upper House of Equestrian nobility were required to display their position in the nation, to constantly appear professional, courteous, and most importantly worthy of the honour of attending the Royal Court. Every unicorn in court had followed the myriad traditions of Equestrian royalty since before Princess Platinum’s Unity Accord had built the nation. Their grace and composure was a point of honour. Which was exactly why the Procurator resented answering to Princess Celestia.

Princess! What a joke, it was an insult to the title that she carried it. Her policies had weakened the nation for two thousand years, what pony could even fathom such a time? Every day that she ruled, the pegasi became more militant and the earth ponies more conscious of the nation’s political affairs. Every day she ruled more sacred institutions of the nobility were discarded. Her recent spate of ‘practical jokes’ at the court’s expense had earned her immense popularity from the lower orders, and they were getting bolder.

Arguments in favour of democracy had been whispered among some of the earth ponies. Even some unicorns were beginning to show contempt for the court. And the pegasi had long been outspoken in their distrust of the aristocracy, which had attributed to their growing pegasian ‘nationalism’. Courser nearly scoffed aloud at the thought. The pegasi believed that their ‘movement’ had gone unnoticed. They thought they were so clever, speaking their heinous tongue when no unicorns were in earshot, venerating their military ‘history’ in schools when they thought they went unmonitored. And most insulting of all, clinging to their pagan religion. Though he was no supporter of Celestia’s politics, Courser acknowledged, as everypony did, that Celestia was the one and the only supreme Goddess. That she allowed blasphemy against her own religion was unthinkable.

Perhaps the most irksome of all had been the Guards. In recent years the power of the Royal Guards had been increasing, and so had Celestia’s willingness to deploy them. The Return of Luna was an excellent example, one which had nearly ripped the Equestrian political system asunder. When the Nightmare Crisis had abated, and the Elements of Harmony had been returned to their rightful place, the court was ready for a joyous celebration. The ancient enemy of Equestria had finally been defeated, finally the nation was secure! But then Luna’s trial had happened. She had been brought before the court, who overwhelmingly desired her sent back to the moon. Some among the court passionately argued that she ought to be put to death. And to the surprise of everypony Celestia spoke in her traitorous sister’s defence! It had made little difference though, the majority was still prepared to sentence Luna once again. But when she called the court to vote, Celestia opened the chamber doors, and the Guards, in full armour, bearing weapons marched in. Two ordered columns entered the room and took up positions around the head of the chamber.

Had he not been there, Courser wouldn’t have believed it. Armed ponies marching into the court! With that show of force, the court could only vote with Celestia. What choice did they have? No one even spoke; they merely stood in silence when asked to. Luna was cleared of all charges, and her former position was reinstated. Since that day the guards had acted differently, they rarely (if ever) came to attention when a noble entered their presence, and it was clear that some among them saw the existence of the court as some kind of archaic joke.

Courser knew this meeting today would be yet another similar offense. The timing of it was irksome enough, and the lack of warning as well. Only a day before the court voted on who would take the vacancy on the Security Council (a formality really, the court always voted with the Council recommendation and Courser and his associates had already selected a suitable candidate) she must have known he would be meeting with the rest of the council. He could hardly believe that anything constructive would come of this summons.

*****

Storm sat at the new telegraph machine that had been hastily installed last month, debating how to word his warning as quickly as he could. Regulations dictated that first and foremost a situation such as this should be immediately communicated up the chain of command. Standing orders were to, in the face of an imminent attack, get a message to superiors before taking any kind of action and await a response.

Of course, the regulations were so ass-backwards that Gale had chosen to ignore them and defer to his own judgement of the situation. Gale wasn’t a pampered noble playing with toy soldiers, and he wouldn’t subject soldiers to the ‘leadership’ of the Equestrian army if any other option could be found. If his superiors received the communique and were under the impression that the forces at the station were already engaged with the enemy, then Gale could simply act as he chose. After all, he could do without a wine sipping unicorn on the other side of the planet trying to second guess his every move. The inevitable court martial could be dealt with when it came.

Gale decided upon a short, simple message. The urgency may convince high command to actually send a relief unit, but Gale held out no serious hope of that.

Gale composed his message.

Drift Station OC K/Lt. Storm 07314099 reporting emergency situation STOP

Drift Station under attack by soldiers of the Zebra Empire STOP

154 combat-ready STOP

Ammo insufficient STOP Rations insufficient STOP

Outnumbered 30-1 STOP

Hostiles may be attempting to bypass other defenses and strike at coalition base in Winberg STOP

Recommend immediate counter-action STOP

Will hold position as long as possible STOP

Gale sighed. It was out of his hooves now. The defensive preparations were in place as best they could be and the soldiers at least thought themselves prepared. A voice in the back of Gale’s head reminded him of the inevitable, however. The chances for victory were slim, and many would undoubtedly die.

All in the name of your ego. He thought in spite of himself. Did Samarkand teach you nothing?

Gale pushed the thought out of his head. It wasn’t about ego. This wasn’t a foolish question of pegasus honour, this was a question of weighing his life against his orders. If the enemy took Drift Station, the coalition forces would be in disarray. Winberg could fall within days, soon after Pretoria as well. He needed to buy time for Major General Bristle to organize the allied troops.

All it’ll cost is 150 young stallions lives. Perhaps the next time a heroic sacrifice is required, you won’t drag others along with you. But that’s your specialty, isn’t it Gale?

Gale shook his head. The internal self-flagellating needed to stop. He certainly wouldn’t do his stallions any good by second guessing orders he hadn’t yet given. Gale steeled himself as best he could and walked out to make one last inspection of the defenses.

*****

Everypony in Drift Station was silent. They had manned their positions at the outer wall. Their weapons were loaded, and their instincts (as far as Penitent could tell) were sharp. All that was missing was a target and the order to fire. Tension was the worst damn part, which was something Penitent had become familiar with. This would be his third and probably last major action and the worst part was always the waiting. He could deal with the ‘three b’s of battle’, bullets blades and blood, in all their myriad forms. He could deal with wounded and dead ponies all around him. But he couldn’t deal with imagining it, thinking about it, anticipating it. On his left was his old friend Zephyr Whisk. The two exchanged a glance, and probably just to piss him off, Zephyr gave him a reassuring smile. Penitent shook his head in annoyance and Zephyr chuckled a bit. He was about to tell Zeph that he was an idiot, but was interrupted by a bellow from along the sandbag fortifications. A pony called out words he simultaneously had been waiting to hear and hoped he wouldn’t have to. “Contact left! Twenty plus hoof-mobiles!”

Everypony snapped their heads to look, and Penitent groaned.

Twenty plus was the understatement of the century.

*****

Before the Procurator stood Iron Venture, Captain of the Royal Guard, and two junior guardscolts. Venture’s armour was even more ornate than that of his subordinates. Where the blue star normally was, a large Royal Crest, the same as the Princesses cutie mark had been crafted instead. From that crest hung a purple lanyard connecting to the captains left shoulder plate. The plume on his helmet was also purple, an homage to not only royalty, but to the ancient and (or so it had been) all powerful unicorn aristocracy.

Though he had felt disdain for them recently Courser had to admit that the guards were impressive looking. And admittedly, the newly appointed Venture and the newlywed Shining Armor had made at least more effort than their predecessor with regard to treating their duties with dignity. When Courser was close enough he noted with satisfaction that Venture saluted, and the other two came to attention. The satisfaction was dulled however when Courser noticed that the salute was not directed at him, at least not entirely.

Courser turned his head to see that another pony had entered from one of the doors on the side of the hallway. When he saw who it was, he groaned audibly.

“General Thorn sir,” Venture started. “I didn’t expect-”

“Neither did I,” Pierce Thorn stopped as he saw Courser. The enmity between Courser and the pegasus general was well known, and the two made little effort to conceal their opinions of one another. Where Courser was a conservative royalist and aristocrat, Thorn was a staunch militarist with a healthy distrust of civilians in any kind of authority. Not to mention his suspected ties to pegasus nationalist movements.

Courser spoke. “Ah, General Thorn, an honour to see you again. Rather confusing however, shouldn’t you be off firing live rounds into crowds of unarmed zebras or some such thing?”

The General’s reply was terse. “If I’m firing on zebra protesters Courser, it’s because they’re calling for your head. But as much as I enjoy our little ‘talks’ I need to see the Princess.” He turned his head back towards Venture. “Now.”

Courser replied indignantly. “As painful as I’m sure it will be for you Thorn, you shall have to wait your turn. I’ve been summoned by the Princess herself.”

Before Thorn could respond Venture spoke up. Ever the peacekeeper, the Captain recognized a volatile situation in need of defusing.

“I’m afraid he’s correct General. He does have an audience, at least an hour.” Venture noticed an annoyed frown forming on Thorn’s face and continued before the agitated soldier could speak. “However, I’m certain the Princess won’t mind taking a little extra time for you, if you’ll come back in an hour or so.”

Thorns patience was beginning to wear, and it showed. He spoke authoritatively with a calmness that belied the anger in his eyes. “Venture, this is serious. The real kind of serious. The kind that affects both of our jobs. Courser and his bureaucratic nonsense can wait!”

Venture opened his mouth to speak, but to his chagrin Courser’s tongue was quicker.

“If you had been listening, as I know you never do Thorn, you would have heard me say that the Princess summoned me. So clearly my, what did you call it, ah yes, ‘bureaucratic nonsense’ is a matter of some import to her. Now, if you’ll stand aside-”

“It was you wasn’t it? You’re the one who made this affront of a recommendation? Where will the bonus on your salary come from now I wonder?” Thorn abandoned calm and decided upon a more accusing tone.

Courser rolled his eyes. Every moment he wasted with this overgrown foal in uniform was another he would have to waste with the Princess. Letting the irritation that he felt seep into his voice, Courser spoke once again. “As usual, General, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talk-”

“Don’t play coy with me, Courser! Do you really have this much disdain for my ponies to taunt us like this?”

Courser stopped, shocked to hear the words that had come from Thorn’s mouth. Thorn’s statement was not outright sedition, but it was certainly implied. Courser looked to Captain Venture who nervously returned his gaze. His expression was practically begging Courser to let the comment slide, to walk into his meeting and act like he hadn’t heard. Courser understood the Captains concerns to some degree. His opinion of General Thorn aside, the stallion was... passionate. A verbal confrontation could rapidly devolve into another thing entirely. Venture had no desire for government officials to engage in a shouting match or worse on his watch.

Courser knew this, but he also knew that he couldn’t back down anymore. For months the military had been making a fool of him, and he wouldn’t allow it any longer. This arrogant wingnut needed to learn his place.

He took a moment to choose his words carefully. Despite the anger that he felt, it would hardly do to scream and swear at the General. The stallion had seen all manner of drill sergeants in his life and Courser had no illusions that he could be as intimidating as any of them. The General was stronger than him but Courser was his superior, both in rank and likely in intellect. The General was a civil servant before a pegasus and he needed to be reminded of this.

Keeping true to his instruction he maintained composure in the face of indignation. His posture changed very little, though he came closer to the General than he normally would when talking to somepony. Courser looked Thorn straight in the eyes (rare when the two were together) and began speaking in a stern tone.

“General Thorn, you forget yourself. You call yourself a soldier, but your conduct is not at all becoming of such.” Thorn attempted to respond, but Courser didn’t allow it. “Do NOT speak! Come to attention until I dismiss you!” The General did as he was told, and as he did so, Courser could see his anger building. “Every day since you received your appointment to the Security Council, you have disrespected me. You have disrespected my colleagues. And you have disrespected yourself. Regardless of your opinion of the aristocracy, you signed on to the Equestrian Armed Forces to serve the Princess and her representatives. You signed on to defend our ponies’ traditions from any threat. Now you threaten them yourself. General, you have made your political views no secret, and you have the right to hold them in private. But to publicly denounce the aristocracy in your position undermines the authority of Equestria and threatens the stability of our state. Your affiliation with known rebel organizations will no longer be tolerated!” The General looked legitimately surprised for a minute, as if he actually thought that his nationalist group had gone undetected. “Oh yes, I know. I’ve known for a good deal of time. You speak of ‘your ponies’ the pegasi, but I will remind you of this only once: ‘Your ponies’ are the same as mine. Your nation is the same as mine. The pegasi are not your ponies. They are Equestrians, as you too are Equestrian. That is what you serve, that is what you are, and you would do well to remember that. This council may not hold as much sway as we ought to, but make no mistake General, at the first hint of further sedition or disloyalty from you; I will ensure that you never wear a uniform again as long as you live. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

The general wasted no time in responding, and using his best drill voice he shouted the only reply his training allowed him.

“Yes Procurator!” The General bit his tongue as soon as the words had left his mouth, he wanted to challenge Courser, but he knew that this was not the time or place, and he would gain nothing from the struggle. So Thorn did as he always did, he tried to contain his anger, and focused on the problem at hoof. Namely, how Courser had found out about the Pegasus Liberation Front.

Courser stared at him for a moment. He knew that Thorn would not take what he had said to heart, but at the very least the stallion would be more cautious, less willing to publicly denounce the court. When he was satisfied that his point had gotten across Courser ended the incident swiftly and concisely.

“You are dismissed.” Courser said, and Thorn saluted him. When finished with the General, Courser turned back the way he had been heading and shot Venture a glance. Venture said nothing and motioned to two of his subordinates to open the doors to the Throne Room for the unicorn.

Thorn held the salute as Courser entered the room, when the doors closed he dropped the salute and was silent. The silence remained until Venture was convinced that Courser was out of earshot. He turned to his subordinates dismissing them with a motion of his head, and turned back to face his colleague.

“What the HAY was that Thorn?” Venture exclaimed.

Thorn waited a moment to reply. He was still brutally angry, but he could not allow himself to lash at Venture when the blame was not his. The two had been friends for years, enlisting in the armed forces around the same time. Sharing a room at Officer Candidates School and even serving overseas in the same company on a peacekeeping operation. The two had had their disagreements, but Thorn would never think of questioning Venture’s loyalty or courage. Thorn decided to try and deflect Venture’s outrage with humour.

“That’s General Thorn to you, Captain.” Thorn said with a smirk.

“Oh, NOW you’re standing on ceremony then are you? After the only pony who gives a flying feather is already out of the room? Nicely done General. As long as we’re standing on ceremony, that’ll be Venture, Captain of the Guard of the Princess of Equestria, thank you very much.”

Thorn couldn’t help but laugh a little. Venture’s title, while prestigious, was quite the mouthful.

“Oh yes, very funny General. Let’s all have a good chuckle, all the way out to the field where the unicorns are going to drag us to be shot.”

“Ah ah ah, Captain, did you not listen to the Procurator? It won’t be unicorns; it will be Equestrians who take us to be shot.”

Venture was unamused. “A bullet to the brain is a bullet to the brain, regardless of the semantics. Stop deflecting me now. What in Celestia’s name could be so important that you almost triggered a purge over it?”

The use of Celestia as a deity was irksome to Thorn. And he allowed his disdain for the Princess’ divinity to seep into his response.

“I assume you mean, in The Lord of Light’s name?”

“Buck off with the Mithraism Thorn! Not here, not now! You’re getting cocky and it’s pissing the nobles off! How long until one of them finds concrete evidence about the PLF and brings you to trial for it?”

Thorn frowned. “That’s an excellent question isn’t it Venture? And while we’re on this train of thought, I have a much better one. How did our dear Procurator find out about the PLF?”

“You’ve not been nearly as discreet as you think you have General. In the last four months I’ve had to arrest three civilians in the group, and I’ve been shuffling soldiers around to different commands for nearly a year to keep them from getting caught. I had to give one of my best stallions to the dirt kickers because his Defender caught him reading ‘Arche’ on his downtime! If the Nobility had caught wind of it, he’d be in prison or worse. Oh, and in a week, we’re raiding your headquarters, so look forward to that shit show.”

“Which one?” The General asked casually.

Venture groaned. “Are you serious? You have more than one?”

“Which. One.”

“The warehouse in Las Pegasus that the army used to keep surplus ammunition in, near the old war museum. Neat choice by the way, incredibly subtle place for a militarist rebel organization to meet.” The Guard made no effort to conceal the sarcasm in the second half of his statement.

“Ah, no problem. You won’t find anything there save some storage compartments that I rent out occasionally. That warehouse is just a decoy.”

Venture let out a sigh of relief. “Thank the light; I was worried that the highest echelons of our army had been staffed with featherbrained idiots.”

Thorn laughed. “You should have a little more faith in my tactical abilities, old friend.”

“I did, back when we were on the same... never mind.” Venture fell silent

Thorn was silent a moment. “What do you mean?”

Venture stared at his friend. “Thorn, I don’t know what your plans are, but I know what the Security Council thinks when you’re not there.”

Thorn said nothing, waiting for Venture to continue. Venture waited for what must not have been longer than thirty seconds, but in the state of mind both stallions were in, it felt a good deal longer.

“Thorn, I... I know what the PLF was, I know how it started, and I remember the charter, so don’t lecture me on it. I helped write the bucking thing,”

Thorn was annoyed. Venture was not normally one to dance around a subject like this. He tended to be much more direct, which Thorn appreciated.

“Venture, whatever it is, say it.” Thorn said simply.

“Thorn, they think the PLF is more than it is. They think you’re going to target innocent ponies and government officials in an effort to achieve your goals.”

Thorn needed the ambiguity out of that statement, though he knew what answer he would get, he still asked. “Target in what way?”

“What way do you think you foal!? Guns, blades whatever. They think you’re going to kidnap ponies and bomb buildings. They think you’re a terrorist Thorn! And they’re terrified that you might have the military with you. Half of the Security Council thinks we’re on the brink of civil war!”

Thorn grimaced. That complicated things a great deal. He knew that the Security Council had been annoyed with the PLF, but he hadn’t fathomed how bad it could be. If Venture was right, an overreaction from the Security Council might not only get the whole PLF locked up, but a lot of innocent ponies could get caught in the crossfire. Not to mention Thorn himself would be offered fruit from Celestia’s fabled ‘banana bag’ in about ten seconds flat.

“Is it really that bad?” Thorn asked.

“Courser doesn’t seem to think so, he and his immediate colleagues just think the whole thing is insulting, but the CMP....”

Thorn nodded in understanding. The Celestial Monarchist Party were essentially unicorn supremacists, ultra-conservative didn't even begin to describe them. Courser may have been annoying, but as a member of the Royalist Faction, he could at least be dealt with. The Celestials were another matter entirely. They were the real problem in the Princesses’ Court.

“Thank you for the warning Captain. I’ll relay this through to the rest of the group, we’ll lay low for a while; hold off on publishing Arche until the smoke has cleared.”

“Is that... really all you do?” Venture asked with cautious curiosity.

“We aren’t terrorists, we have no weapons. All we ever do is discuss what goes into Arche next publication and try to find members of the Upper House to speak for us until we can get some kind of legitimate political representation. We’re strictly non-violent, and we’ve thrown ponies out over it before.”

Venture raised an eyebrow.“You’ve thrown ponies out because they were too violent?”

“Yes.”

“Can you give me names? Bringing them in may placate the council for a while.”

“Venture, can you give me the name of the pony you transferred for reading Arche?”

“Point taken, now back to the reason you came here.” Venture conceded.

Thorn knew it would come back to this eventually; no matter how far off on a tangent you got Venture he could find his way back to what he wanted to discuss. “Right, well, I heard a rumour-”

Venture looked outraged. “A rumour? You nearly got us arrested over a rumour?”

“That sounds bad, Let me rephrase that.”

“Damn right it sounds bad Pierce! It sounds like a Gavel hitting wood and an old unicorn finishing a sentence with ‘may Celestia have mercy on your soul’.”

“Iron, you’re overreacting. Let me finish. I received unconfirmed intelligence-”

“Somehow that sounds even worse.” Venture groaned.

Thorn dismissed the sarcasm. “I received unconfirmed intelligence that Celestia may be disbanding the Security Council.”

Venture’s eyes widened and a multitude of questions poured out of his mouth. “What? Are you sure? Why the hay would she do that? Who told you? Is she only going after the Council or will there be more?”

“Slow down! I’m not sure about any of that, I don’t even know if it’s happening, I came to ask her about it. I do have a theory about it though.”

Venture leaned back. “Don’t leave me in suspense.”

“Right, well, you know the Transvaal peacekeeping effort we have going now?”

“Yeah, the Zebra-Boerperd conflict? What about it?”

“The civilians aren’t a fan of it, but Courser insisted that we help our allies in Vrystaat and Transvaal,”

“And you know, secure the mining rights to their gold reserves.” Venture smirked.

Thorn chuckled. “You’re a cynic. If it was about the gold we could just annex them.”

“Ha, you think the war is unpopular as is? Throw in annexing all the Boerperds and see what happens.”

Thorn nodded “Riots in the streets, I get it. But that's not the point, one way or another; the civilians don’t see the point of this war. All they see is a coffin coming home every month or so and an editorial about the stallion inside of it. They want the war to end, but the Court doesn’t.”

“Go on.”

“Anyway, Celestia’s been consolidating her power a lot recently; she’s trying to make the Court as irrelevant as she can, case in point, the actions of your predecessor.”

Venture nodded, he and Shining Armor had inherited quite the mess.

“So," Thorn continued. "Let’s say she were to take personal command of the military and withdraw from Transvaal altogether...”

Venture started to understand. “She’d have the public with her almost entirely. The great pacifist ending the unjust war. All she’d need to do is express that she wants reform and the whole damn nation will cry for it.” Venture shook his head in appreciation. “She’ll have the court by the throat, clever filly. The old bastards will have to pass whatever she throws at them.”

“Exactly. And we’re the fall colts.”

“Hmm, so you figured that all out on your own? You’re usually not a political mastermind Pierce, I’m impressed.”

Thorn kicked the ground a bit. “Uhh, actually, General Cuirass worked that one out, I'm just the messenger.”

Venture laughed loudly. “I should have known that came from Alabaster, he was always better at this political nonsense than either of us.”

Thorn nodded in agreement. “As much as I hate the bureaucratic crap that the unicorns throw around on the Security Council, I don’t think I like the idea of the entire military being solely under Celestia’s control.”

Venture looked at the stained glass windows of the Antechamber. He had served as a member of the Royal Guard for nearly twenty years and still the beauty of the castle windows astounded him. The artisans who had worked on them had treated them as a labour of love. Meticulous detail had been poured into each window and the tradition had been continually passed down through the ages since the castle had been built. One could hardly distinguish the most recent additions from those that had existed in the pre-Celestia era.

One window in particular caught the guard captain’s eye as he pondered the words of his colleague. The window was so large that from where Venture stood he had to angle his head upwards to see it all. The window depicted a beautiful cloudless sky and coming forth from the center, Princess Celestia wings outspread, whilst the sun rose behind her. The translucent glass was positioned on the eastern side of the room, so that in the morning when the sun rose, it would shine through brilliantly.

The majesty of the portrait humbled Venture as it always did. As uncertain as he felt about what Thorn had told him about Courser and about the PLF, the image calmed him somehow. Thorn had his reservations about the Princess, but Venture did not. Though he had only been a Captain of the Guard for a little over two years, he had noticed that Celestia had something about her. Her cool confidence, her friendly demeanor. It had all been enough to inspire faith in her leadership for Venture. Something about the Princess made him feel safe, which he would never admit to his nationalist comrade.

“Captain Venture? Iron? Are you listening?”

Venture withdrew from his train of thought and looked back at the General.

“Sorry, I, look, Pierce, there’s no sense driving ourselves mad over this. We’ll ask her, and if the rumours are true, we’ll try and.... sway her opinion.”

Thorn snorted. “Are you serious? Talk Celestia out of one of her plans? I’d sooner expect Courser to invite me to his birthday party.”

Venture smiled a little. “Pierce I need to go talk to Shining Armor about some new changeling countermeasures he’s working on. I shouldn’t be long, but try not to ignite a civil war until I get back alright?”

“I’d never do it if I didn’t know you had my back old friend.”

Satisfied, Venture trotted off to meet with his co-captain and let him know what had almost happened. Shining Armor, for a Captain of the Royal Guard, had been alarmingly naive when it came to Equestria’s political world.

All the better really, Venture thought with a shake of his head. Poor kid doesn’t need to get his head stuck into crap like this.

Author's Note

PLF= Pegasus Liberation Front. A non-violent nationalist movement hoping to achieve some degree of independence from Equestria.
Arche= Greek for 'top' or 'authority'. Refers to a nationalist publication run by the Pegasi, outlawed for its often inflammatory content.
Procurator: Usually one responsible for enforcing the law, in this case refers to a position similar to a secretary, in that the Procurator takes the minutes of the meetings, but different in that this procurator submits those same minutes to various oversight councils to keep the security council 'in check'.