Canterlot Castle, Canterlot, 3 Days After ???

Another glorious day in the halls of Canterlot Castle, home to the new supreme power that now reigns dominance over the land and its inhabitants; conquered from those that reigned before.

Within the hall of the Castle’s throne room, where once adorned glass windows consisting of both the sun and moon, symbols of the nation’s previous monarchs, as well as murals dedicated to Equestria’s greatest heroes and villainous of foes, and glistening marble walls draped with royal banners, now stood a twisted and perverted reflection of the state of the nation’s new monarch.

Sat upon the sole throne of monster bone and dark furs at the far end of the hall upon a plateau of black marble with streams of white semen flowing from either side into canals that span across the whole floor, with the light of sun barely shining through the dark stained windows depicting a bloody battle waged by beings of twin antlers with all manner of weapons in hand, sat a warrior king of mighty stature in both physical and symbolic sense. Clayed in richly sworn dark furs in the form of a royal cloak, with braces of cold steel armour wrapped around both his wrists and legs, adorned with a gold crown upon his single antlered head, adorned with jewels of a wide variety, King Dainn Stonehoof, Chieftain of the Stonehoof Tribe, Conquer of Ponykind, King of Equestria, swayed the crimson liquid of red wine held within the glass cradled in his hand in a swirling motion; his cold dark eyes focused not on the dark marble and dry stained floors, the many decorative skulls and weapons decorating the walls of his domain, alongside the blood red and black banners baring his clan’s symbol, nor on the stained windows depicting the story of his clan’s arrival to these foreign lands and those telling the story of their glorious conquest and achievement, but upon the large wooden and steeled door that separated his isolated sanctuary from both his people and kingdom.

Beside him lay two of his greatest victories; trophies to solidify his legacy in the eternal confines of history: to his left lay the white furred form of the nation’s previous monarch, whose wings and horn had been severed long ago and encased in red bindings, matching the collar that laid sealed around her neck, laying face flat and tongue loose upon the floor, with a dead and distant look in her eyes, her massive and well-shaped breasts pressed against the cold floor, while her plump rear and drenched lower lips raised high and exposed to the cold open air. On his right, lay the second of Equestria’s former monarchs, the youngest and darker of the two, whose position mirrored that of her sister’s, with the exception of slightly small breasts and rear, with bindings and collar dyed in black, and her expression that of silent fury and embarrassment.

Both Princess Celestia and Luna, heralds of the sun and moon, lay upon the floor beside their master, one of submissive blissfulness and the other of furious acceptance, as eternal reminders to all those who dare face the might of the Stonehoofs: that any mare, of any breed, status, or power, could be conquered and tamed.

However, today, Dainn was not indulging himself in the usual tasks of rutting his most enjoyable slaves, nor dragging the two by the collars to his personal dungeon for further acts of depravity.
Instead, he just sat upon his throne, consuming another sip of his luxurious wine, his eyes focused solely upon the door, anticipating the arrival of another.

Creaking in response to the actions of the other side, the large doors parted inward to allow entry to the newest arrival: a Caribou warrior, standing an inch or two from his majesty, clayed in the typical warriors’ fur and metal armour, with the addition of a loincloth bearing his clan’s symbol draped over his crotch and with great scars adorned upon his chest and neck; symbols of the warrior’s durability and rank, alongside the dark fur and glistening silver shine of his armour, with a sheathed sword of great length and width tied to his side.

“My Lord.” He spoke, dropping to one knee and bowing in respect to his chief, inches away from the stairs that led up to King and his trophies.

Dainn stayed silent as he looked through his memory of the individual who now knelt before him. “Captain Iron Horn.” He finally addressed, drawing the Caribou’s gaze to meet his own. “How are preparations proceeding?”

“We are still awaiting the tributes of Yaks, Appleloosa, and Griffons to arrive, while those of the Dragons and Vanhoover have been successfully received and stored this dawn, and we have just finished receiving the tributes of the Hippogriffs.” The Captain reported, his tone rough yet respectful to his superior. “We expect the tributes to arrive by dawn of the next day, if not by tomorrow, before sending out enquiries. If all goes to plan, the festivities can begin days before the appointed time. At your majesty’s behest.”

Smiling in wicked satisfaction at the news, Dainn picked himself off his throne, standing at his full height that easily towered the warrior on his knees, while drawing the attention of both his pets. He stepped forward, descending the flight of stairs with each step, while waving his hand in a motion that ordered his pets to follow close, to which they did in their own fashion: Celestia quickly and eagerly followed close behind, while Luna, though hesitant at first, reluctantly followed.
Tossing his glass with a flick of the wrist, that soared through the air and shattered upon impact with the far wall, Dainn stopped on the final foot of the stair, his eyes fixed on the warrior’s kneeling form, which showed signs of anxiety as sweat began to form and fall from his brow.

“Come with me, captain.” Dainn said, turning away from the knelt Caribou, who looked up in surprise as he watched his king began to ascend the flight of stairs to the left, his two pets at his side, before rising to follow suite.

Parting the ragged, crimson curtains, the Caribou king and his entourage appeared before the balcony that look over the castle grounds and those within the limits of the city itself, with dark clouds passing by overhead, providing patches of shade from the heat of the sun. Standing at the balcony’s edge, Dainn looked down to the world bellow, motioning the captain to come and do the same.

Brimming the streets of the capital, Caribou and Pony males of all varieties crowded the streets; some solo by themselves or herded into a group of acquaintances, laughing and gossiping about the state of the nation, upcoming social events, browsing and admiring the new slaves within the markets, while others strode around with their already acquired slaves, displaying them as a sign of prestige and status, with a few occasionally rutting them in the one of the designated ‘Dominance Zones’, which permitted open sexual intercourse and activities in public.

On any other day, this would appear to be a usual day in the new Equestria, however, amongst the usual crowds and slaves, there were soldiers and workers, with the assistance of their own slaves, who were busy at work hanging banners, flags, balloons and all other manner of festive decorations upon buildings, street laps, trees, and other overhead regions, while others were busy setting up stalls, booths and stands upon the streets, with the biggest concentration of preparation taking place with the castle grounds, just bellow the balcony occupied by the king and his entourage.

“What do you see before you, Captain?” The king asked, glancing towards the captain that now stood beside him.

Looking out over the city and the activities taking place, the captain answered. “I… see… uh… the citizens of our great kingdom doing their part to prepare for the celebration of remembrance of our great victory over the weak, female populace of Equestria.” Glancing towards his king, he noticed the raised eyebrow and decided to go further. “And… Uh… Also, how… the lowly mares have come to accept their place in our… new order and are happily servicing their masters, however they see fit.”

A laugh escaped the Caribou king, drawing the attention of the captain and the Caribou and ponies stationed beneath the balcony that heard him. As he laughing subsided, Diann wiped the tear from his eye as he then turned to face the captain with an amused look.

“An interesting answer.” Dainn said, turning his focus back onto the streets below. “And an acceptable one. But not one I would use.”

Fearing his answer earned his king’s disappointment, the Captain bowed his head slightly. “My apologies, my king.”

“Worry not, Captain.” He replied, waving a hand of dismissal. “As I said, it’s not an answer I would use, but it is a good and acceptable one.”

“But my answer, one which I would use to describe what lies before me now is: natural.”

Raising his head with confuse eyes, the Captain seemed puzzled by his majesty’s answer. “Natural, my lord?”

“Yes. Natural.” He didn’t turn to face the captain, he just continued to stare out across the city and the debauchery that consumed it. “Nature always intended for this: superior men reign dominance on all aspects of life: governance, labour, finance, battle, education, even the most mundane of trivial tasks. And women?” He snorted in humorous, thinking back to before the Caribou had come. “A woman’s only goal in life was to bare themselves to their male superiors’ desires, from satisfying the growing carnal lust and stress, to bearing their offspring. Men at the top, women on the bottom; as I said: natural.”

Straightening himself with his hands grasped firmly on the railing, the Caribou King breathed in deeply, taking in the fresh air mixed with the thick musk of sex. “And that, my dear Captain, is what we shall be celebrating in the coming day: Not of victory, not of conquest, not of dominance, but of nature.”

Turning down to look at his white furred slave, who looked up at him with dull yet lusting eyes, he reached out and scratched behind her ears, drawing a moan from the fallen princess, who pushed her head further into the caressing of his firm palm. “The day our tribe restored the natural order to this land and its inhabitants.”

Processing all he had heard, the captain merely nodded in acceptance and understanding. “As… As you say, my lord. It will be joyous day indeed.”

“Indeed, it will.” Dainn said, turning his gaze over the city and onto the horizon that stretched over his nation. “Now, if there is nothing left to report…”

Realizing what his majesty meant by those few words, the Captain snapped back to attention. “As you wish, my lord!” He then turned and made his way back to the drawn curtains to the throne room and its exit.

Though his gaze was focused still on the stretching horizon, his ears still picked up the sound of the captain’s hooves growing fainter by the second. There was a brief pause before they continued, followed by the distant sound of the large throne doors opening and closing, signifying his absence.

To be replaced by the one he was originally expecting.

“They say there is a first time for everything. I suppose today it would be the first of your absence from a scheduled timing, eh Petrus?” He joked, turning to face the direction of the curtains, which parted to reveal his newest guest.

Unlike Diann or the captain before, this Caribou was sleeker and lacking in the muscular build of most Caribou warriors, and instead of being clayed in armour, he was clad in dark furs stitched into a form of robes that covered him from his shoulders to the flat of his hooves, which was adorned with various silver and gold chains and ordainments from matching coloured symbols of suns, moons, blades, daggers, etc to small animal skulls and bones. Gripped firmly in his hand was a staff of dark oak, which split at the top and sculptured into a pair of antlers that matched those of the Caribou, which hung multiple coloured strings tied to shining crystals and additional, smaller animal’s skulls belonging to rodents and birds. His fur was a light shade of grey with a white streak covering his neck and lower jaw, while his antlers stood adorned with dark brown strings and furs hanging between both, with a silver skull resting within the centre of the vine work of fur and string.

But what drew Dainn’s attention was the individual’s eyes, which, though shone with the crystal blue of clear water, appeared weary and tired, with the addition of puff skin underneath each eye supporting this.

Stopping just a foot away from Dainn, the Caribou Priest bowed slight, bending his knees without having to drop to the floor. “My king.” He spoke with a voice that, though lacked the typical warrior’s thickness, held both wisdom and experience. “Apologies for the delay. My journey was side tracked by squabbling calves, debating in which of their slaves possessed the better technique of carnal satisfaction, who turned to me for aid.”

Snorting in amusement on the reason, as well as the many images and thoughts that played through his mind as to how the priest handled the annoyance, Dainn turned his gaze back to the horizon. “I trust the matter was settle subtly?”

“I told them to switch slaves for the day to see for themselves which was superior, and that they can then experience the satisfaction themselves, should they ever bother me again with such a matter.” He answered bluntly, drawing a hearty laugh from the king, which brought a weary yet satisfying smile to his face.

“Very subtle indeed.” Dainn spoke, his eyes drifting downwards to the festivities below, where his eye caught the sight of the Caribou Captain he had spoken to previously, making his way past the stools, avoiding some of the stationary and lusting slaves along the way, before disappearing into the crowded streets. “That… Captain Iron Horn? What do you know of him?”

Raising an eyebrow in confusion, but sighing in the king’s usual passing curiosity, he answered. “Apart from his rank, he is a young yet promising warrior, who, despite his name, prefers to do battle and duty without any form of metallic armour. Additionally, though he is loyal to the cause from what I gather, he isn’t too keen on our ways of slavery or our treatment of the female species.”

Nodding in acceptance and further curiosity, Dainn turned his head to glance in the priest’s direction but avoided turning fully to face him. “So, he possesses no slaves then?”

“Actually, despite his disagreement to our ways, he does claim ownership of two slaves in Ponyville: an aristocratic Earth mare and a mute Unicorn mare, both noted to be experience and talented in the arts of music.” Petrus said.

What raised the king’s eyebrow was not the image of having not one but two slaves, despite his distaste for the tribe’s customs, but to where he heard they were from. “Ponyville?”

“Indeed.” The priest replied. “He was originally stationed there as part of the occupancy guard but was called to Canterlot due to a shortage of staff to patrol the area during the festival’s preparations. He’s scheduled to return to Ponyville in a few short days.”

“I see.” He shrugged in understanding and satisfaction to his curiosity.

Silence befell between the two Caribou, with only a small whimper emitting from Celestia as she squirmed in her spot, with a squishy sound faintly being heard from a much lower region. Sighing in annoyance at the silence that had quickly fallen upon them, Dainn turned to face the priest fully, resting his back against the railing and folding his arms for good measure.

“Very well then, Petrus.” His voice held the familiar authority as king mixed with the concern one does a friend. “What appears to be ailing you?”

His gaze drifting slight to the ground, the priest hesitated in answering.

“What happened, High Priest?” This time, Dainn’s voice forfeited the concern and focused solely on the powerful and imitating tone of a monarch will little patience.

Whether it was the command, the tone that issued it, or the reference to his status within the tribe that did the trick, Petrus sighed in accepted defeat and returned his gaze to his king.

“Dainn,” He spoke, his weary gaze steeling itself for what came next. “last night, a vision came to me in my dreams. A vision of death and ruin.”

Pulling himself from the railings with wide eyes and frozen blood, the Caribou king shifted his gaze to the festivities below, which narrowed in caution.

“Inside.” He spoke with no change in stature. “Best to talk within closed walls and lesser ears.”

Without hesitation, Dainn stormed towards his throne room, with priest and princesses in tow, before parting the curtains to allow the priest entry. As the former monarchs approached, however, he stomped his hoof directly in their path, startling them to a stop.

“Both of you,” He spoke with warning in his voice and fire in his eyes. “are to wait out here until I call for you again.”
Both mares nodded in understanding and compliance, with Celestia’s being more frantic to Luna’s slowly and disdainful motions. Narrowing his eyes in anger at the moon princess’s attitude, his eyes drifted over to her older sibling, whose posterior was still shaking slightly with enclosed legs.

A deviously sinister smile fell upon his lips as an idea came to mind, one that would put the rebellious princess in her place. “And until I call for you, both of you are to fuck each other vigorously.”

A blush and look of fear and embarrassment crossed Luna’s face at his command but was too late to prevent anything as Celestia eagerly leapt onto her sister, claiming her lips with her own and rubbing her bare body against hers, mixing her carnal moans with her sister’s panicked and shocked ones.

Smiling at the eagerness of his more compliant slave, Dainn vanished behind the curtain and made his way back to his throne, which Petrus standing at the foot of the stairs in patience for his king’s arrival.

With the pair now alone, as Dainn took his seat, the seriousness crossed his features once again as he looked down at the Caribou priest.

“What images did your dream foretell?” He asked, getting straight to the heart of the matter.

Breathing in a long yet cupful breath, Petrus steadied himself as he answered. “It began with the formation of two shapes over a body of water: upon the left formed the skull of a Caribou, whereas the right formed a Pony’s skull. The Caribou skull soon began to grow to large proportions, its bright ivory soon turning red with blood with each growth.”

“Then the clouds began to darken over the skull, the sea around it soon began to dye in the matching crimson of the skull, which then began to crack and splinter, before its two antlers fell: one fell upon the skull itself, splitting it into, and giving the sea claim of the remains, while the other fell off into the water and began to drift way, the dark clouds giving no chase.”

“As the skull sank beneath the bloodied waves, the surviving antler drifted off towards the pony’s skull, then stopped just as the tip planted itself upon its surface. Suddenly, from where the two entities meet, blood begins to crawl across the surface of the skull, dying it the same as the Caribou skull, which began to rise for beneath the wave, carried by its broken antler, which becomes its only one, until it lays beside the pony’s skull, matched in the colour of crimson red.”

His voice begins to weaver and his hands begin to shake, rattling the ordainments upon his staff. “Then, just like before, the dark clouds move across the seas until they hang directly over both the Caribou and Pony skulls. The water around them begins to dye red, just like before, but the blood on both skulls begins to bubble, the Caribou’s the first to burst into fire, the flames engulfing the entirety of it, before it is once again claimed by the sea. Then the pony’s skull is too consumed by fire, yet does not sink beneath the waves, yet instead rises into the dark clouds, vanishing from sight, fire and all, until it once again appears, but its surface now ashen and possessing a mane of pitch black. It stares up at me, piercing right through before it then opens its mouth, stretching wide to unproportionable sizes, before-”

“Enough!” Dainn yelled, his voice echoing through the hall, ceasing the priest’s rant, allowing hm to catch his breath and wipe the sweat from his brow.

Diann himself looked visibly shaken and disturbed, his eyes bloodshot, his brow drenched in wet, sweaty fur, his fur standing on end as his bare skin turned white from frozen blood, and his breath shallow with every exhale. Never should a king, especially a warrior king be caught in such a petrified state.

However, to his credit, if any other heard what was just spoken, they would most likely fair far worse.

In the Caribou Tribe, none knew better the ways of magic than their Priests and Shamans, their knowledge and understanding in the mystic arts unchallenged even by Equestria’s brightest mage. And within their ranks, where those who were gifted with what they call the Sight: prophetic visions that allowed to foretell any coming event, as well as whether the visions they received were of bountifulness and victory or of death and despair. Throughout all the years, throughout the generations, there hasn’t been one vision, from any priest or shaman, that has not come to past, be it good nor bad. Which is why, no matter how much a Caribou tried, they couldn’t prevent what was to come.

And with a vision such as this, it was most certain that what was to come was beyond favourable to the Caribou.
Slumping back into his throne in exhaustion, he rested a hand upon his brow and allowed his body to fall limb in exhaustion in an attempt to calm his nerves as he collected his mind.

Silence fell once again between the two, neither saying a word or releasing a long breath as both attempted to collect themselves. After minutes of silence, Dainn finally allowed a deep sigh to pass through his lips, with his gaze turned towards the darkened ceiling.

“More time…” He droned, his tone mixed with exhaustion and annoyance. “I thought we had more time…”

“T-that is why I was hesitant when coming to you with this.” Petrus spoke, traveling up the stairs so that he stood directly in front of the throne and its monarch. “We escaped that calamity once before, but if what I foresaw holds truth, then-”
“I know!” He yelled again, ceasing the priest’s sentence, before turning his weary eyes back to the ceiling. “I know.”

“Then what do we do, my king?” Petrus asked, concern for the future and to what actions his king will take to avoid it.
Taking a deep inhale through his nostrils, his eyes narrowed into steel as he picked himself up from his throne. “We are to first relay this to no one; we have finally claimed this land for ourselves and have held it for more than a year. The last thing we need at this point is a panic.” His gaze fell to the ground as his voice fell to a whisper. “That’s how we nearly fell the last time.”

“Very well, what was spoken within these halls will stay within these halls. But what are we to do about it?” Petrus pressured.

Turning his gaze back to the priest, Dainn responded. “Send word to port towns to the North-Western regions and the Crystal Empire: they are to begin fortification of their borders by building walls, applying powerful repulsion wards to their buildings, deploying multiple patrols around the clock, I don’t care, just ensure that they’re prepare for-”

A knock from the throne room’s door drew the attention of both occupants, one held surprise by the sudden interruption, while the other held annoyance and displeasure.

“Enter.” Dainn yelled.

Upon command, the door parts once again as a newcomer entered the throne room: a large, muscular Warrior, who bore the same armour as the Captain, but with the addition of a silver breastplate covering his chest, which possessed the tribe’s symbol imbedded on the abdomen area, and with black dyed fur.

Stopping before the throne, the warrior knelt to one knee. “My king.” He spoke in a deep voice, that, to Petrus notice, held a touch of fear. “I bring grave news from the North.”

Sharing a glance with his High Priest, Dainn looked back to the warrior with curiosity. “Go on…”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, the warrior spoke the news he carried. “King Dainn, I regret to report that the Crystal Empire has… has been… has been completely destroyed.”

Shocked and furious expressions by both the High Priest and King followed shortly after, Dainn’s teeth bared and a deep growl emanating from his throat.

“WHAT?”

Flinching under his king’s shout, the warrior remained knelt with his head lowered in fear of being reprimand for the news he carried. “W-we know not what had occurred, b-b-but the squad sent to collect the Empire’s tribute returned a short while ago, claiming that, up-upon arrival, they found nothing left standing of the Crystal Empire.”

“Nothing?” Dainn hissed, stepping down from his thrown, until his was looming over the knelt warrior with his burning eyes of fury drilling deep into him. “You’re telling me, that they went to one of the largest cities in Equestria, our very first conquest of this nation, and found NOTHING?!”

Panicking at his king’s reaction and with the feeling of his life being forfeit if he could not offer something better, the warrior replied. “W-w-well when th-they said “nothing”, I-I assumed they meant nothing of the Em-empire’s in-infrastructure, s-seeing that they brought tw-two sources of ev-evidence with them to p-prove their claims of the Empire’s d-d-destruction.”

Hearing this raised the king’s eyebrow and ignited his curiosity. “And what “evidence” did they return with, exactly?”
His nerves settled at his king’s question, though he knew he had to prove what he claimed before he could be certain he was in the clear.

He turned back to the door. “Bring them in!”

Once again, the door parted and allowed a pair of Pony guards entry, a dark coloured Pegasus and a White furred Unicorn dressed in the traditional gold amour, minus the lower garbs, dragging something of unidentifiable shape. Both their faces held features of nausea, their eyes focused on the room’s floors, until they reached to where the warrior and the king were, before dropping the limbs of whatever they dragging on the ground and standing to attention, though from their features suggested, they wanted to quickly retreat back out the door.

And the stench that assault Dainn’s nostrils, stirring an unpleasant feeling within his stomach, indicated why, as his hand flew to his nose in an attempt to block out the smell. Even the warrior and Petrus covered their noses in order to block out the repulsive odour that assaulted their senses. Taking a step forward to get a better look at the object the guards dragged in, Dainn’s eyes widened as he swore under his breath.

What lay on the ground was a Caribou. More specifically a dead Caribou. One that died a long time ago if the stench was anything to by. But what really made the sight most horrendous was the state of the body: where the antlers once were now held gaping holes that exposed parts of the dead brain, with indication that they had been ripped out instead of cut off, one of the eyes had been gouged out, it was missing it left hoof, its arms’ muscles had been torn and bore signs of rope being tied tightly around them, and, which was the most shocking and disturbing detail, was that the ribs had been severed from the spine with some sort of sharp tool and the lungs had pulled through the opening to create a pair of “wings”.

Dainn immediately new what this was: it was a practice that ancient Caribou performed to their enemies in the past, a practice that they used as an offering to their Gods: the-

“Blood Eagle….” Spoke the voice of Petrus, who had descended from the thrown to get a better look at the corpse.
“Aye.” The warrior chocked out, coughing in disgust at the new wave of stench entering his throat. “From what we could tell, which proved to be an even greater task considering the state of the body, this was Lord Horwath, the highest-ranking Caribou that was station in the Crystal Empire at the time.” Another cough, much heavier than the previous. “Dear Gods.”

Nodding in understanding, Dainn raised looked to the two guards. “Have his body burned and his ashes scattered across the Fields of the Fallen. And quickly, before the smell consumes the entire castle.”

“Yes, your majesty!” Both guards said, before grabbing the corpse by its legs and quickly dragging it away, out of the door and down the hall.

Diann’s gaze returned to the warrior. “What of the rest of the garrison?”

Mentally steading his heart, the warrior quietly breathed in deeply. “From what was reported, only Lord Horwath’s body was found in this state. The rest were left scattered, limbless and dead. Claimed by the northern snow.”
Diann said nothing, his eyes focused on the trail left by the corpse. As the stench finally faded from the room, Dainn looked back to the warrior. “You mentioned two sources of evidence to support the Empire’s destruction, yet I only saw one.”

Looking back behind him, the warrior noticed that the other piece of evidence had not appeared on his call. Smiling nervously at his king, he cleared his throat and called once more. “Bring her in!”

A few seconds of silence past, which began to irritated Diann, confuse Petrus and panic the warrior, until another Pony guard, this one being a light grey Earth Pony, appeared from the hall, motioning his hands to something to have it follow him, he was even encouraging it like an owner would their pet.

Very soon, something else came around the corner: A Unicorn mare. As the guard motioned the mare further into the throne room, more of her features became apparent, such as her snow white fur, sapphire blue hooves at the end of her legs, a long, sleek mane and tail of moderate sapphire blue with moderate cerulean and dark phthalo blue streaks that stopped just above her plump rear, her breasts were at least a D, maybe a DD, her eyes, though half lidded, were a moderate cerulean, while her small lithe snout wore an expression of carnal lust, tongue dangling from her mouth and heavy breathing.

As the guard and mare met with the warrior, king and priest, they noticed that the mare still retained her horn, which drew confusion and displeasure from both latter parties.

“Apparently, according to the warriors, they found this mare, along with many others prowling the area where the Empire should have been, either furiously pleasuring themselves or fucking each other.” The warrior explained, motioning to the mare, who was desperately trying to wrap her lips around the guard’s dangling cock, but was stopped by said guard. “As soon as they approached the mares, they immediately attempted to straddle and rut with them, to which they openly accepted, until they realized that they had to return with the news of what they had discovered.”

Petrus looked between the mare and the warrior with confusion. “So, a herd of carnal, unprocessed mares was found where, supposedly, the Crystal Empire, and the warriors just brought back the one?” His voice then took a turn to anger. “While confusing it may be, why did they not round, detain and process the mares, who were seeking out a strong, well bodied male to serve under?”

“W-well they figured of doing that at first, but then they noticed their cutie marks and figured it was wise to report to his majesty first before making any rash decisions.” The warrior explained motioning the pair to the grovelling female.
Dainn’s eyes traced every detail of the mare’s physique, from the tip of her horn, to the fullness of her lips, to the size of her breasts, to the well-rounded rear, where his eyes then took note of the mare’s cutie mark. A vaguely familiar cutie mark.

One of a sapphire blue shield, with three lighter stars hanging overhead, and a larger six-pointed pink star within.
Eyes widening in shock, Dainn started back at the face of the mare, whom he now understood why she was brought to him. “Shining Armour?!”

Surprised and shocked by the exclamation, the priest focused on the mare’s features, colouring and finally the cutie mark, before reaching the same conclusion as his king. “The Prince and Overseer of the Crystal Empire? Impossible!”

“And yet the resemblance is uncanny.” Dainn said, looking into the mare’s eyes for a spark of obedience and loyalty that he often saw within the young prince. He found none of that, only the dull and lifeless eyes of a mare seeking a mate.
He glanced towards the warrior. “What of the Empire’s princess?”

Wiping the sweat from his brow, the warrior answered. “They found no trace of Princess Mi Amore Cadenza nor any of the other slaves, only the mares prowling around the ruins of the Empire.”

Again, silence fell upon the room, neither the King nor High Priest spoke as they processed this new set of information, both out of concern and curiosity. Diann turned back to his thrown and walked up the stairs, sparing a glance to the warrior and the mare that had formerly been a respected and valued allied in these lands.

If this fate had befallen the Empire’s prince, then that would mean that the mares stalking the ruins were also…

He shook his head in both annoyance and denial. He refused to believe it. Why slaughter the Caribou yet spare their Equestrian allies? Glancing back to the panting and horny unicorn mare, who held no trace nor remnant of his, now her, former life, he figured that this fate, to be reduced to the very thing they had enslaved and defiled, had to be a sentence worse than what death could offer.

Open reaching his throne did he then break the silence. “Return to the Northern garrison and prepare your warriors. Have them travel to what remains of the Crystal Empire, gather all of these mares and any other scraps of evidence of the Empire’s decimation, and then return to Canterlot with your capture and findings in tow.”

“And the… former prince, my king?” The warrior asked, motioning to the panting mare, who was pawing at Petrus’ lower robes, who pulled away in annoyance.

Diann snorted in disappointment at the former stallion’s fallen state. “Take her to be processed: have her horn severed, her neck bound, and then have her sent to the High Priest’s chambers.”

The warrior bowed in obedient understanding. “My King.”

He then stood up, motioned to the guard holding the mare’s leash to follow, and soon both walked out of the throne room with the kneeling mare following close behind, baring her exposed backside and moist lips to the king and High Priest, before she too disappeared out the door, which closed behind them
.
With the throne room occupied by the two, Petrus turned to Diann with a look of annoyance. “And why, my I ask, would you have the mare sent to my chambers?”

“Because I feel that your isolated nature could do with some companionship in the form of a former ally turned slave?” Diann humoured, earning a more distasteful look from the High Priest, before his face shifted to one of serious nature. “If it is who we believe it to be, then we need to understand his motives in this. The Blood Eagle is understandable, but spiriting away the mares and leaving behind turned stallions in their place? We need to understand both how and why he does this.”

He then began walking back to the balcony, with Petrus following close behind. As the stepped onto the balcony, they were met with a delightful sight: Celestia was hard at work eating out her sister’s cunt, drawing moans of feral ecstasy from her throat, while said sister was forcing her solar sibling’s snout further into her snatch with her hands pressed against her sister’s head.

As Luna opened her eyes, she caught view of the Caribou, with Diann smiling perversely at the little ‘show’, while Petrus simply looked on with a dull expression. Startled by the spectators, Luna couldn’t hold back any longer and gave a final loud moan as she came all over her sister’s face. Luna fell back in exhaustion from the release, while Celestia continued to lap up her sister’s spilt nectar.

Diann finally turned away from the little spectacle and walked over to the balcony’s railings, looking out beyond the horizon. Petrus stood a foot away from the king, his eyes darting from him to the beyond he faced. Even though he could not see his face, Petrus could sense the conflict, the unease, the restlessness within his king’s soul.
Without having to face Petrus, Diann spoke his mind. “We barely escaped his wrath once before. Now we may face a similar fate yet again.”

“Last time, our people lost their nerves and the tribes fell to chaos.” Petrus stated. “In the here and now, not only have the tribes been united once more under your banner, we have the resources and strength of Equestria and its neighbours, assets we have been hoarding for the past year. This time, it shall be different.”

“Indeed, it shall.” Diann said. He then turned to the High Priest with a hardened and determined look in his eyes.

“Because this time, it will be either his life or ours. No mercy.”

Author's Note

Author’s note: Here is chapter 1. Sorry for the long delay: a combination of writer’s block, lack of interest and oversea holidays.

Now then: who is it that has the Caribou King in such a distraught?

What is the connection between him and the destruction of the Crystal Empire?

And what has befallen Shining Armour and those of the Crystal Empire?

Stay tuned for chapter 2.