Courser entered the Princess’ study. The room was rather quaint for his tastes. It had several cushions, a nice lectern, and some bookshelves, none of them really all that special. Celestia was often quite austere which suited Courser just fine. Affluence, in his experience had a tendency to breed.... Blueblood types, as opposed to useful administrators. He saw the Princess reading a book, which he recognized to be An Inquiry into the Causes and Nature of the Riches of Nations, by the fire.

“Your Majesty. I am truly sorry I’m late. I was... delayed.”

Celestia smiled at him. “It’s no trouble at all Procurator. Please, have a seat. Would you care for some tea?”

Courser smiled in return. “That would be lovely, thank you.” As curious as he was, Courser knew protocol. Pleasantries first, then business.

Or at least that’s how things happened normally. Celestia was a special case.

Courser levitated the tea over to himself and took a sip. He recognized that it was Earl Grey, his favourite. For a moment he allowed himself to wonder if Celestia had somehow known this, and chosen the tea deliberately. He quickly dismissed the notion, it was mere coincidence.

“This is a very interesting read,” The Alicorn said, indicating to the book.

So it would be niceties then. Very well. “I would tend to agree, I read it myself when I was quite young, no less than fifteen if I recall.”

Celestia looked impressed. “Fifteen? Awfully young for such a calibre of work.”

“My 10th Grade Economics teacher mentioned it, called it the foundation of modern economics. Since so much in the course seemed to be derived from it I thought that it would be a worthwhile read. I was correct.”

Celestia gave a short chuckle. “Very studious of you Procurator, you remind me of a pupil of mine. There are times I feel I can hardly keep her away from her books.”

Courser knew of course that Celestia was referring to the Element of Magic, Twilight Sparkle. Her tenure as the Princess’s student had become somewhat legendary. Not to mention her numerous services to the Equestrian State and her contributions to the field of magical study. While not a student of the arcane arts himself, Courser had read her bachelors thesis, and could tell that she possessed a significant degree of intellect. “Well, I’m sure your student could find fewer pastimes more rewarding for herself than academia.”

“She has recently broadened her horizons somewhat, but if I know her well, the studying will never truly end, the subject will simply shift with whatever interests her.”

Courser smiled and nodded. “I found myself in a similar position during my studies. I must have switched majors four times.”

“It was five, if I remember correctly. From Philosophy, to Sociology, to Economics, to History, and finally to Political Studies. Few can call themselves more versed in the equinities than you. Your marks were also quite impressive.”

Courser was taken off guard. “You... have my transcripts?”

“All of them, from the very first kindergarten report card, the one which called you shy and unwilling to interact with other foals, to your master’s thesis on the Cloudsdale Crisis. I couldn’t in good conscience allow you to serve on the body responsible for Equestria’s security without knowing as much as I could about you.” Celestia said with a smile.

Courser tried to hide his concern. There was more here than Celestia had told him. The master’s dissertation made sense, but all of his transcripts back to kindergarten? It seemed to him highly unlikely that Celestia would peruse the academic history of his life over his appointment to a minor administrative position.

The young politician searched for a reply but none was forthcoming, the smile and formality faded from his expression. The moment was all that Celestia needed to begin their true meeting.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here, Procurator.” Celestia said.

“The question had... come to mind, Your Eminence.” Courser said, regaining his composure.

Celestia let out a short laugh. “Your Eminence? That’s a particularly cliché honorific, one I hardly expect from you.” Celestia closed her book and levitated it onto the lectern. “Courser, let us be frank for a moment, I am well aware that I have garnered little support from the nobility in recent months. Your own Royalists have found themselves quite at odds with me on several occasions.”

Ah, it was that kind of meeting then. Courser closed his eyes and breathed in, bracing himself and conjuring a response. “Princess Celestia, surely you know that the Royalists are devoted to you and to Equestria. We only want to see that the ponies of this nation are served as best as possible by-”

“Courser, I didn’t bring you here so that I could listen to a prepared speech about your party policy. I’m not going to send you to the moon for being open with me.”

Courser was annoyed. This put him in an awkward situation. He was a relatively new member of the party. At only 25, that he had managed to attain even the minor position he held was something of a miracle. To tell Celestia what the popular opinion regarding her policies really was could put the party in jeopardy: If Celestia were angry enough, she could dissolve the current House of Lords and Cabinet, and install another of her choosing. Probably one filled with the bloody liberals. And it would be Courser’s fault. Bringing down a government was a sure-fire way to bring a promising political career to a grinding halt.

Lucky for Courser, however, Celestia had underestimated him. She had assumed that his youth would make him susceptible to suggestion. That approaching him in such a frank manner would make him feel comfortable enough to open up, or perhaps that he would let his guard down and slip. Courser was disappointed. Celestia’s manipulative skill was well regarded amongst the Party, but he had spotted this tactic with ease.

“I cannot speak for my colleagues; the position of my party remains that which I have already said. I do not know what more you think I should say.”

Celestia leaned in close, almost uncomfortably so. Her smile had not faded, and Courser maintained his in spite of the tension. “I think you should say what you really think. I think you should tell your Princess the truth. Don’t you?”

“Everything I have said-”

“Is a half-truth. Is technically correct, in your line of work, the best kind. You have talent, Courser, but don’t waste it on such nonsense.”

“Princess Celestia, if the purpose of this meeting is to ask if I have confidence in your abilities as monarch, I hardly think my opinion should hold any weight. I’m not even a member of the House of Lords.”

“That’s not the purpose of this meeting at all. Forgive me for any confusion.”

Courser knew that what she had said was not a mere slip of the tongue, she was testing him.

“Would you describe yourself as a conservative, Courser? Not your party, you, personally.”

The question was unexpected, and unnerved Courser much more than the previous one had. His own political views? They had always been mostly irrelevant. All that mattered was conforming to the party lines. Endearing himself to the majority so that he could rise and do what he could for the country, where he could. What was his agenda then? Conservative may not, on reflection, have been the best description but certainly not liberal.

Courser was annoyed that he found himself falling into the idiotic left vs. right dichotomy of politics. Only the ignorant believed that it was simply a liberal vs. conservative game. He was also annoyed that he really had no answer for the Princess. After having taken so long to consider it, he knew she would see ‘conservative’ as a cop-out, and anything else, she would know he wasn’t sincere.

Naturally Courser attempted to avoid answering directly. “If you’re asking why I joined the Conservative Party-”

Celestia cut him off. “I am not. I am however wondering why you deflect the question Courser. What are your views on government? On politics? You can’t honestly tell me you’ve been an active politician for seven years and haven’t even given thought to how you would run this nation, if given the opportunity”

He really was cornered then. Courser sighed, and admitted defeat. He drew in a short breath and came up with the only answer he could. “Je ferai ce que je dois, dès que je peux.”

Celestia smiled. “Monsieur le Procureur, que va faire tout à fait bien. I have a proposition for you, and I think you will find it most interesting indeed.”

*****

“COMPANY! READY!” Gale bellowed. On his command there was no hesitation. In perfect synchronization, the soldiers at Drift Station widened their stance and lifted their firing legs. The position of ready did not require the weapon to be sighted, which contributed further to their increasing anxiety.

Come on sir, Penitent thought, just let us shoot already. Penitent could see the advancing zebra horde coming closer and closer. Part of him wanted to fly off like a coward, another part wanted to start shooting now and get it the buck over with. Neither instinct managed to take precedence over years of training. One might have expected him to search for advantages, rationalize why he shouldn’t have been afraid, but he took no comfort from his superior weapons and armor. Nor any from the 4 foot high wall behind which he stood, and even more bizarrely, no comfort from his previous combat experience. It would be inaccurate to say that he took any comfort from anything at all. The only thought on Penitent’s mind was the distance at which his enemy stood from him, the commands coming from behind, and the two stallions to his left and right.

Penitent’s thoughts were interrupted by another command from Storm.

“COMPANY WILL FIX BAYONETS, FIX-”

Shield and the rest of the soldiers reached for, and grasped their bayonets.

“BAYONETS”

At once the bayonets flew from their position on the soldiers belts to beside the barrels on their cuffs. Penitent slipped the ring of the bayonet around the barrel of his own cuff. A moment passed in that position, the silence broken quickly by Corporal Flourish.

“Steady does it lads; mark your targets as they come.” Flourish knew that the squad didn’t need to be reminded of this, but he also knew that they needed to hear something, any voice at all. The reassurance that they were not alone, that they were being watched as they prepared for battle, had been known to work miracles.

“LOAD!” Came the next command from Knight Lieutenant Storm. Penitent opened his ammo pouch with his mouth, and placed a round into the breech of his weapon.

Only a few more seconds.

The advancing zebra began stomping their hooves. Not in time and in sync like more traditional equine armies, but in a constant thundering rumble. Closer to the sound of a train than a drumbeat. The zebra started a chant, Penitent couldn’t make much of it out, and it just sounded like noise to him. There was clearly structure to it, almost as if it was their equivalent of an attitude check, and it was obviously rehearsed. Come on you shrieking devils, Penitent thought grimly. You’re only a few yards out of the real killing zone, that’s it.

Gale had similar thoughts. Dwaal had warned him against fire profligacy. In the opening moments of the battle, the zebra would undoubtedly try to measure the strength of their opponent. They’d count the Equestrians guns to determine, roughly, how much firing power Gale had. While it was a necessary evil to provide this information to them (Gale had no intention of passing up an opportunity to thin the enemies ranks when he was outnumbered like this), he wanted to make sure that the information came at a price, and was as vague as possible. The plan was for two full volleys from the south wall at the advancing hostiles. Strong volleys that would put as many as possible down as quickly as possible, followed by independent fire that would mop up what the volleys missed and (Gale hoped) be difficult to count.

Of course, that wouldn’t work unless the enemy got in the damn kill box. They were well within range of the Equestrians rifles, (a pony sized target at 600 yards was completely doable) but Gale wanted maximum damage. That normally meant 200 yards, but in this case, Gale was looking for something even closer.

Finally, one of the elder zebra with a long beard amongst the formation called out, and his troops responded with a short hoot. The zebra hooves beat angrily against the dried dirt as they began to charge. Well, Gale thought. No time like the present...

“NORTH RAMPART, STAND FAST. SOUTH, VOLLEY FIRE, AT 100 YARDS....”

Gale waited as the soldiers on the rampart took aim.

Sweat dripped from Penitent Shield’s brow. They were right there, in his sights, he knew damn well that he could drop one at 120 yards. Why the hay had Storm thought that 100 was a good idea? It was madness to wait until the enemy was so close.

“FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIREE!!!”

There it came, the order that they had all been waiting for. Penitent let loose upon his mark, a tall zebra trying to race his buddies to the Equestrian position. Even the hardiest of weather pegasi would shirk before the thunderous sound of the volley that came. The crack of the rifles reverberated for miles, and the smoke from the barrels clouded Penitent’s vision momentarily, before drifting away with the wind. Once the smoke was completely gone, Penitent had mixed feelings. On the one hand, his mark was nowhere to be seen, probably indicating a good kill. On the other hand, the zebra were advancing regardless.

Gale wasted no time following up on the volley.

“RELOAD!”

Penitent popped a second round into the breech and as quickly as he could took aim at a new mark. This time he chose an older looking zebra, brandishing his spear towards the heavens as if presenting a bull’s-eye on his own chest. Gale waited only eight seconds, unusual as the convention was to allow ten, before giving his next order.

“FIRE!!!”

Again a volley burst forth from the Equestrian’s rifles, all, Gale noted with satisfaction, loaded and sighted despite being given two seconds less time than they had trained for. Yet more zebra fell; now much closer to the Equestrian line, Penitent could hear their screams of agony. Though he didn’t exactly understand what must have been zebra curse words, the cry of death on the battlefield knew no language barrier. The screams elicited no feelings of remorse. They only served to steel his determination. Those screams could very easily be his own in a few moments.

“RELOAD!”

For the third time today Penitent loaded his weapon. With ease he did something that thousands, or millions of ponies back home found appalling, he had already taken at least two lives today and thought nothing of it. No ethical considerations crossed the soldier’s mind as he prepared to trade another life for his own. Basic survival instinct met ingrained military discipline, and turned his mind onto the smallest, simplest considerations of the moment. Take the bullet from the pouch, Penitent thought, his body cranking out the actions with an almost mechanical precision. Nice and easy, careful not to drop it. Open up the breech and slide the round in, lock the breech and lift her up again. There, that one that just passed the rock, he looks promising. He’s down next volley.

For a fraction of a second it occurred to Penitent that he was identifying his enemies less by their appearance than by their position in the line. They all looked exactly the same to him, not because of their coats or faces, but simply because they were the enemy, the bad guy, the target. They didn’t need to have faces or souls, just positions in rank and file.

Funny, Penitent thought. With all this armor and discipline and uniformity, they must think the same of us.

Penitent pushed such thoughts from his mind immediately. Ponder later, right now was the time for killing. His snap back to reality came just in time for Gale’s next order.

“INDEPENDENT, FIRE AT WILL!”

As he prepared his shot, Penitent noticed yet another smile out of his friend Zephyr, but not an annoying one. This time it was almost... unnerving. Zephyr’s mouth had curled into a smirk the moment he had heard the command, and he cocked his head to face Penitent.

“Nice of him, eh?”

Author's Note

Meters have been used previously in the story, but Gale gives commands in yards. This is done deliberately to highlight how antiquated and behind the curve Equestrian military doctrine is in comparison to the country's technological progress.