Nightmarish Diplomacy

by Dragonborne Fox

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Alternate Universe, Main 6, Drama, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Adventure
Length: 35780

A long-isolated kingdom sits and stews, waiting for its chance to shine. After carefully gauging the situation, King Cauchemar decides to enact his plan. The catch? Equestria must be conquered, after being scouted out thoroughly.

**A commission for Starlight Nova, who requested a fic featuring his Nightmare Pony OCs. Takes place Post-Tirek, but before Starlight Glimmer's Timey-Wimey Rampage™. Tagged teen and dark for an oddball: the Nightmares being named after phobias and bad things, barring some exceptions. Also implications of said bad things.**

A long-isolated kingdom sits and stews, waiting for its chance to shine as the shadows of the past threaten to consume it. After carefully gauging the situation and his options, King Cauchemar decides to enact his plan, one brought on a whim with seeds long ago planted in the grim reality of the Kingdom of Nightmaria. The catch? Equestria must be conquered, after being scouted out thoroughly for any and all weakpoints.

The equine citizens must pay their toll, in full. Nightmaria will sit idly by no longer, as other kingdoms bask in the wonderful light of the sun. Thus, he sends the Champions of Nightmaria out to probe and poke for weaknesses in the Equestrian line of defense. What little his scouts have relayed to him don't bode particularly well for the Equestrians—over-reliance on Elements of Harmony, useless guards, and so on don't exactly do international wonders.

Though unbeknownst to him and his Champions, there might just be a reason why Equestria has stood the test of time.

Published 2020-05-16 04:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2023-10-27 01:58:07 UTC

Prologue— Order of Gathering

Contemplation was tricky business; thoughts could come in at random, always unwelcome and unexpected and, oftentimes, unhelpful. This held true for any bout of thinking, however short- or long-term it might have lasted; especially so, when a matter requiring utmost seriousness and care presented itself in all its grandeur. The more pressing the matter was, the more unhelpful thoughts tended to filter in with their whimsical notions of fancy and their carelessness for the delicacy that the issue required.

Few matters were as persistent and demanding as this, a black-coated stallion dressed in regal robes reflected as he trotted down a vast hallway. Passing many moonlit and furnace-lit windows, and just as many shuttered doors, he did nothing else but brood. A few doors were not so silent, as from behind them he could hear faint chattering and the crackling of yet more furnaces, as well as a faint electrical hum if he bothered to listen closely.

Not that he cared to listen closely for that hum anyway; where he marched, it was constant white noise that he learned to appreciate but tune out all the same.

But white noise hardly helped; the whole chorus of it added another wild card to the already-present pandemonium of stray musings, all trying to thread themselves together into something cohesive. The longer the distraction drummed at his head, the longer his musings kept tripping over each other. The longer his thoughts kept tripping over each other, the longer he was distracted.

Such was the nature of a vicious cycle. Birth… life… death, and the end of all things… he wondered where dreams came from, and where they went before shaking his head to rid himself of the pointless musing. While he could appreciate philosophy's place in a society, now was not the time to muse its place in his.

The solution was obvious, the regally-dressed stallion decided with a soft snort that went unheard in the background hum. Onwards he went, steps delicate and light but hurried all the same. Time was of the essence, and dally was not a luxury he could not afford to do.

Besides, waiting around for things to happen to oneself never tended to end well, did they? He snorted to himself, mind briefly skipping to all the examples of the past regarding the history of the area he strode in.

The biggest one of them all was but a distant dream, so long ago, so unreachable then and still unreachable now. Fool's folly, his inner cynic called it—a belief held by his forefathers before him. And a belief that would be held by his descendants if things didn't go according to his exact specifications.

He uttered four words within his mind that filled him with resolution—something that steeled his resolve and tempered his patience. A thought that dispelled the doubt clouding his mind, had any been present prior. A soothing lull that nonetheless honed its edge against the whetstone.

Simplicity was its name. Nothing short of what a self-made, determined pony would utter in the most perilous of times before the next big battle. It sparked a fire in both heart and hooves, clouding his echoing steps in a trail of ash and embers that faded behind him.

"What will happen, shall."

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The throne room was a rather simple affair, compared to what most would expect of the stereotyped imagery. Just twin thrones standing atop a small flight of stairs, a polished patio before them leading to double doors wrought of obsidian and partially hewn of steel. The thrones had plush cushions in them, but besides the duo of guards standing on either side of the doors, and the regally-dressed mare sitting in one of them, the place was barren.

But then again, the guards had more than spears at their posts; indeed, they seemed more robot than pony. Both wore clothes as black as night, though given the minimal lighting of the room, the cloth was hard to distinguish from their dark grey coats. Swords rested on their backs, and halberds in their fetlocks. Visors encased their eyes, keeping the emotion from being betrayed by their oculars.

Just as well. Guards showing emotions was a sign of weakness. And any soldier of any post showing emotion was simply asking for trouble, or so one of the guards thought. They were as stiff as those posing for nude paintings, perhaps even more so given the weapons that didn't seem to weigh them down, with not a silvern thread of mane or tail out of place. The only true difference was in their gender and manestyles; the mare sported a low bob cut, and the stallion a bowl cut that barely reached the start of his neck.

The guards, though, paled in comparison to the queen who idled on the throne; a golden beauty in both coat and mane, with eyes shining like emeralds and a silver-shoed hoof glowing with purple flames as she toyed about with a floating blade wreathed in the same aura. "Tell me, my lovelies…" She turned to the mare of the pair, who stiffened the tiniest bit at the queen's rather melodious voice. "What does respect entail?"

"Following orders to the letter, no deviation, and with as much care as the matter requires, my liege?" the mare asked, careful to keep her voice neutral.

"Close," the queen said, smiling the tiniest bit. She threw the blade at the mare, who lifted a hoof bearing a steel horseshoe awash in a golden pyre and deflected the blade using the halberd's shaft. For a moment, the weapon parted from her fetlock, but stood upright in shimmering gold as though she still clutched it firmly. "It means to hold something in admiration, whilst caring for it as much as is required. You'd do well to remember that, Trypo."

Trypo reclaimed her halberd and her stoic pose, though not before bowing until her chin grazed the floor. "Yes, my liege," she answered.

The queen giggled. "It's good that you keep your senses as sharp as your armory," she praised. "That shows you respect your position as my entrusted guard." She turned to the stallion, who was less careful in letting his emotions remain bottled up—he stiffened as though he made eye contact with his liege with rigid legs on full display. "Now then… Nocti, let's see if you hold that same level of admiration…"

The blade floated back to her before she threw her hoof outward, and thus, the weapon at Nocti. Nocti reacted a hare slower, just a split-second later—and the sword nearly grazed his visor as he brought up a horseshoe to block instead of the larger halberd. Nonetheless, he pushed it back out of harm's way and sent it skidding to the floor on its side, and it was a miracle the action hadn't left a scratch on the polished surface after. He slumped a little, relieved that he had barely managed to avoid grievous harm to his face before stiffening again as Trypo snapped her head to him and proceeded to scold him.

"Nocti! Show a little more respect for Queen Phant whenever she deigns fit to test you!" Trypo snapped, voice neutral but raised slightly in a way that normally meant 'I will punch you in the face for this slight later, if the Queen doesn't do so first.'

Dejected, but trying to keep himself in check, Nocti only nodded like a battered husband with a serious case of henpecking as he managed a mumbled, "Yes, Trypo…"

"Don't you 'yes, Trypo' me! As soon as we—"

"Now, now, my lovelies," Queen Phant interjected, causing the pair to turn to her once more. "You can continue your little spat when you go on your next excursions with me and King Cauchemar. Until then, keep it strictly between yourselves, alright? Such personal matters only deserve the utmost respect of those involved."

Trypo frowned slightly, but bowed again nonetheless. Nocti followed her motions, and both uttered a resigned, "Yes, my liege" in response.

Queen Phant's smile widened. "Excellent. Now then…" She trailed off as the doors parted, not in a booming echo like one would expect, but rather a gentle but drawn-out creaking as the guards turned to face one another and the hall beyond by extension. Before both could lower their halberds to prevent the door opener from crossing, they halted as King Cauchemar strode in with a firm look on his face. Queen Phant's smile vanished at his rather grim expression. "Cauchemar?"

Cauchemar nodded, and strode up to Queen Phant with his hoofsteps still burning after him. The doors closed with a crimson wave of flame, and as the King sat in his seat next to his wife, Nocti gulped a little as he saw the burning hoofprints fading away. "Trypo… that means what I think it does, doesn't it?" he asked.

Trypo could only nod sourly, her frown deepening somewhat as she wordlessly turned back to the King and Queen on the thrones. Nocti braced himself with a sigh, and turned to his lieges as well.

Before either guard could speak further, King Cauchemar waved a hoof. "Bring me the Champions of Nightmaria," he ordered firmly.

The pair stiffened. "Y-Your Highness?" Nocti ventured, shuddering slightly.

King Cauchemar nodded. "Yes. Bring me the Champions," he repeated firmly. "It cannot wait."

Queen Phant slowly nodded to the pair in a manner that was almost sympathetic. "Don't dally now, lovelies. You know he doesn't like being kept waiting," she said. With that command, Trypo lifted a hoof and channelled her golden embers upon the doors, opening them again so she and Nocti could take their leave.

When the door shut behind them, Queen Phant turned to King Cauchemar and waited until silence had settled before addressing him. "Darling, what seems to be troubling you?"

King Cauchemar huffed. "I have grown tired of it," he said simply.

Queen Phant raised a brow. "Tired of what?" she pressed.

He turned to make eye contact with his bride. "For as long as we could remember… as long as Nightmaria remembers…" His expression hardened as he paused for a moment. "We've been isolated in the world… while we know next to nothing of our ancestors' former homeland." The last two words had been spat with venom, and ire that burned Phant's blood as her expression darkened.

"Equestria…" she muttered, eyes glinting. "Whatever do you need the Champions for?"

King Cauchemar's expression didn't budge. "And what little our scouts have learned these past few weeks has not helped in the least." He lifted a blazing hoof, cleared his throat, and proceeded to relay to Queen Phant what the scouts had relayed to him. "'Ruled by a pair of alicorns who move sun and moon, along with a…'" Here he sucked in a breath with a visible shudder that rattled even the inferno around his hoof, "'Princess of Friendship and Princess of Love,' who do nothing more than sit on their softened plots and let the Elements of Harmony bear the brunt of most international work.'"

Queen Phant's expression soured. "Most international work?" she prodded, eyes narrowing the tiniest bit.

King Cauchemar nodded. "Regarding escaped beasts of Tartarus, the likes of which could give even our own Champions pause. Scarce information about a changeling invasion. Disaster aversion." He waved his raised hoof dismissively. "That sort of international." He huffed. "Has Equestria forgotten what guards are for?"

Queen Phant's expression turned thoughtful even as her head shook. "And you've heard the Princesses do… nothing?"

King Cauchemar's nod solidified her temper. "We will have to send the Champions themselves to scout Equestria out… note specific weaknesses in both locales and populace… and invade ourselves. If they are as soft as the scouts made them out to be…" King Cauchemar donned a tiny smirk. "Then we shall set them right. That way, the wrongs of so long ago can be atoned for."

Queen Phant assumed a diabolical smirk. "That sounds delightful, darling," she cooed.

Chapter I— The Summons

Throughout the entirety of the palace of Nightmaria, one thing was constant as Trypo and Nocti trotted with weapons slung on their backs—the sheer frequency at which Nocti's mouth had moved.

"All of the Champions? Are they going to get along just once? How are they going to react to King Cauchemar's summons? Is this going to cause a massive cultural shift which Nightmaria might not recover from? How about economically? What in Tartarus is the summons about this time? And—"

And it went on.

And on.

And on.

Telling him to put a sock in it was pointless, Trypo knew with no small amount of annoyance and resignation, even though she had done exactly that… five minutes ago, when the cavalcade of questions had already begun. At this point, citizens and guards alike were giving them both the gimlet eye as they passed, though many faces twisted in sympathy as the more forgiving of the lot caught on to what had gotten Nocti so worked up.

"Then again," she mused in the back of her head, looking at Nocti with something akin to pity sparkling in her hidden eyes, "the Champions are most certainly not the easiest of the Nightmarians to work with…" Though remembering she had been entrusted with the delicate task as well, she had little doubt that things would go so swimmingly when they inevitably delivered the news of the summons.

She sighed silently through her nostrils, a soft huff that went unnoticed as the pair came onto an empty balcony. Winds smelling of ash and smoke whistled through the air, stirring their manes and—temporarily, at least—bringing Nocti's rambling to a halt. The pair wordlessly gazed out to behold the whole of Nightmaria in all her grim glory; thunderclouds rumbling above, all manner of electrical lights and machines whirring below interspersed with the humming of distant furnaces…

Though, gradually, Trypo's seemingly-blinded eyes gravitated to towers in the distance; a sextet of spears that dared reach for the heavens, all attached to veritable fortresses within certain alcoves of the civilization, enclosed by lesser houses sprinkling their parameters. The closest one, however, was not surrounded by houses but fetid waters instead, burning brightly like a beacon and illuminating its spikes in a manner reminiscent of the spears of Tartarus.

And, perhaps, the architect of that building wanted it to look that way, she noted as an aside.

She took a moment to compose herself, swallowing a shallow lump in her throat to make sure it wouldn't cause any undue issues later. Emotions had to be waylaid in the line of duty, especially for something this delicate.

And yet… her thoughts drifted to how the Champions themselves would react to the summons. In a way, she reluctantly came to realize, Nocti had been correct in the assessment that things might turn pear-shaped. For a brief moment, every single swear in the book filtered through her thoughts before returning to the cage in which they were restrained.

"So… who gets who?" Nocti asked, frowning slightly. His question went without answer for minutes on end, and he turned to his companion to see what had her tongue. Her lips were pressed tight in thought, though otherwise her face had not shifted in the slightest.

Great. Now they were drawing straws, so to speak. Even better. That question almost made Trypo's mental processes cartwheel sideways before she rerouted her thoughts back on track. "Well… Broken Mirror is the closest one…" she trailed off, brow furrowing slightly as she calculated the chances of getting her face punched in before she even opened that particular door.

"And Arachno is the most difficult to approach…" Nocti added, looking about ready to sweat bullets any second. "She'd probably make us grovel before we even tried telling her about the summons…" He sucked in a breath before adding, "In despair and desecration… without assuming Anopheli will be present for that…"

"And with Agora…" Trypo shuddered, and could not suppress it in time; Nocti had seen it, and began sweating accordingly. "I can only imagine her disappointment when one of us inevitably tells her that, no, we're not there to be her guinea pigs."

"For the umpteenth time," Nocti added, a slight wry note in his words that nonetheless betrayed some tiny measure of fear at that prospect.

"Nycto would probably have to have one of us grovel at her hooves… and kissing her plot…" another guard said, passing the balcony on which Trypo and Nocti weighed their grim prospects. "Honestly, I'd feel sorry for you two if you didn't suck it up already."

By the time the pair turned to look at that Nightmarian, however, they found him to be already gone. Turning to the side of the balcony, they found a stallion flying away with nothing more than the aid of his blazing hooves and a graceful gallop propelling him along, and with distance he almost vanished completely into the smog. Sharing a groan between them, they turned back out towards the whole of Nightmaria and frowned.

"And Redsky Morning would probably try manipulating us into her bed, despite our 'no lovers' oath…" Trypo muttered, grounding out 'no lovers' between tightly clenched teeth sporting meticulously-white fangs.

"And then punch us in the face when told about the summons," Nocti added, sucking in a breath.

"Then there's Rainy Parade…" For a moment, just a moment, Trypo felt a twang of pity from even uttering the name. With that pity, though, came a sense of despair that she tried her hardest to keep from showing on her face, and the level of success was something only Nocti could judge. But however successful she was, though, kept him silent on the matter. "Only the King and Queen know how she would react…"

"So… who gets who?" Nocti asked, frowning.

Trypo took a moment to work out the logistics in her head, before coming to a decision that would hopefully get this over with before the King and Queen grew impatient. "I'll approach Broken Mirror, Redsky Morning, and Rainy Parade," she said in finality, turning back inwards to reenter the castle. She trotted off, her hooves swift and her tune a professional sort of frantic that didn't let any other noise betray whatever else was swimming in her head at that moment.

Nocti waited until she was out of earshot before lifting a hoof and hitting himself on his scrunched bridge. "Great, she leaves me with the more difficult, and eccentric of the six…" he hissed, before dropping his hoof and collecting himself.

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As she expected, the moment Trypo had opened an ornate door bearing warped gold and shattered fragments of reflective glass, she found herself having to block a blazing hoof that emerged from the shadows with one of her own. The deadlock established, and the opposing hoof inches from her snout, she wrinkled her brow the tiniest bit as she gazed at a shadowed pony in front of her, her orange flames clashing with her golden ones as, Trypo could only assume, the other pony's face twisted in a scowl. "Damnit, Trypo! What in Nightmaria do you want now?!" the shadow-concealed mare demanded, leaning as close to Trypo as the locked hooves would allow.

Trypo didn't let any other emotion show on her face as she responded with the bluntness of a sledgehammer, "King Cauchemar has sent me to inform you of a summons, Broken Mirror. Go to him now, and he won't flay your hide off and add it to his collection later."

Broken Mirror paused, hesitated for a moment, and then wrenched her hoof free of Trypo's before backing off with an audible snort. "Did he say why?"

Trypo's expression didn't change, though her raised hoof had lowered after a moment longer. "Negative," she answered.

"Did he say where?" Broken Mirror pressed, scowl deepening the tiniest bit.

"No. I would assume he would like to see you in the throne room, however," Trypo answered. "I would advise you to prepare."

Broken Mirror turned away and batted her hoof at Trypo as though she were swatting away a fly. "Yeah, yeah, I'll trot over his way and see what he wants. You go on and do—"

"He wants the other Champions of Nightmaria present, too," Trypo added, cutting off Broken Mirror. She took a few seconds to gauge Broken Mirror's most likely reaction, which probably went from wide-eyed surprise to scowling annoyance within that time frame. The darkness-wreathed Nightmarian turned to the hapless guard who had to deliver the news, and barred glinting white fangs at her—fangs that were chipped in places.

The resulting shout had caused most of the room to shudder as Broken Mirror raised her voice to almost ear-splitting levels, "Wait, so you're saying I have to put up with those piles of rotten coal too?!"

All Trypo could do to answer was slowly nod once. "All. Six. Of you," she clarified. She dared not turn around, lest Broken Mirror knock her to the ground with a firm horseshoe to the back of the head.

Broken Mirror continued scowling, looking ready to charge down the poor guardsmare any second now. "What, is this some sort of 'order-on-high' manure that we have to follow to the letter?" she growled.

Trypo inwardly sighed. "It would seem so," she replied coolly. "And we both know King Cauchemar gets impatient very easily."

"Fine! Be that way!" Broken Mirror barked, galloping out of the room and shouldering Trypo aside in her stride.

Trypo regained her balance, looked to where Broken Mirror had darted off to, and tried very hard to not wrinkle her snout in that direction. Alas, she was already inwardly grounding her teeth together into dust, but halted when she remembered she had to fetch two more Champions for the King.

She allowed herself a tired sigh and started to trot away from the doors of broken glass. The sooner she got this over with, the better things would be for all of Nightmaria.

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Nocti sighed as he flew over Nightmaria, scanning her surface for large congregations of Nightmarians to see if one of his targets was within the writhing masses of busy folk. Few dared even glance up at him as he galloped overhead with practiced grace and ease, passing by many of them who in turn went around him in much the same manner. As he scouted out for his first target, his inner cynic began to rant and rave about how he'd be rather doing something else—anything else—than fetching all six Champions of Nightmaria in the same day.

Like, say, marching around the borders of Nightmaria to keep the nastier things out, for instance. At least then, he'd have put up with Trypo and no other Nightmarians besides maybe the King and Queen on those excursions. But nooooooo, something just had to get King Cauchemar's goat and just had to pester him to make summoning the Champions a necessity, apparently.

He was grateful for the grueling training he undertook to become Cauchemar's personal guard. Otherwise, it would have been impossible for him to keep his mouth shut and those particularly sordid, scandalous thoughts within his head. He continued looking over the crowds, doing their crowded Nightmarian things, when a distant shout reached his ears.

"What do you mean, she's better than me?!" some Nightmarian mare roared a few streets away. Nocti stopped and jerked his head up, glancing about to see where the commotion was the most likely to be coming from.

Nocti groaned and shook his head, preparing for the worst of the worst as more shouting answered to the first, albeit barely intelligible. He zeroed in on the noise; it came a few roads down from the east past some larger houses, and his hooves carried him over the houses and smaller businesses to find a market square. A rather stiff crowd had gathered, formed into a circle with the center cleared out as two Nightmarians stared the other down. Nocti shuddered as one lashed her tail irritably.

"Well, wise cracker? Care to repeat that?" the irate mare shouted, fangs glinting with each word she spat out. Great, she looked ready to rip someone's throat out any second now.

Then Nocti took a closer look and could not help but start swearing in his mind. Well… he found his target, but now she was in a worse mood than he expected. Now he had the luxury of internally debating to himself whether or not to inform said target of the royal summons and see if he would be immediately charred to a blackened crisp for his efforts.

Before he could mentally utter his last prayers and delve into what might have been certain death, another Nightmarian stepped forward. Unlike most of her brethren, though, she had a distinctly chilled air about her that oddly matched her snow-white coat. He could not see her eyes too well, but her crimson mane split down its middle with a bald stripe more than made up for it, which only seemed to accentuate the singular violet stripes that streaked therein.

The newcomer butted in right between the enraged Nightmarian, and the unlucky sap whose head she had been two seconds from tearing off. She didn't need to shove the second Nightmarian aside; his hooves had scurried the rest of him well out of harm's way. Newcomer and enraged mare locked eyes in a staredown that would have frozen Tartarus over.

Then the newcomer spoke in a low, chilling voice that carried itself not only across the street, but all the way to Nocti's ears. "You're too soft, Arachno. And do you know what else?"

Arachno scrunched her nose, fangs shining as flames ignited around her hooves. "What is it, another 'I'm better than you' spiel? Any Nightmarian on this side of Nightmaria knows that I'm a Champion and you're not, Anopheli," she hissed, with yet more spittle flying out her mouth as she uttered the words. Anopheli didn't even flinch as some spit landed on her cheeks, nor did she lift a hoof to wipe it aside.

Nocti was both impressed but also concerned with this development. He started to wonder who was going to insert their hoof into the grave first.

"No, Arachno." Anopheli was calm, composed, and deathly cold with her tone. If she were undead, Nocti guessed that her voice would have been the type to echo in a way as to rattle one's bones within their flesh and steal all warmth from within them. "It's that you always will be too soft for your own good." That made the crowd gasp and recoil collectively, some eyes darting to Arachno as though a once-hidden smudge had just been unearthed upon her soul.

Arachno leaned in close, until she and Anopheli were snout to snout. "What was that, you low-ranking ice queen?" she spat.

"You always will be too soft for your own good," Anopheli repeated, without even a hint of smugness or aggression in her voice. That made Arachno's burning hooves blaze brighter, and it was then Nocti decided to take the risk with his life. He descended down, landing about a foot away from the pair and lifted one hoof to stomp it on the ground to get their attention.

Arachno and Anopheli turned to him in unison, and uttered a joined, "What do you want?"

Nocti turned to Arachno, his expression as stoic as he could make it. "King Cauchemar has informed me that he wants all of the Champions of Nightmaria present and accounted for within the palace. Naturally, Arachno, this means you." He turned to Anopheli and continued, "I'm dreadfully sorry to cut your chit-chat with your sister on such short notice, but—"

Anopheli waved him off with a hoof, red eyes glinting with the motion. "Don't think much of it. If it's something the King wants, even I and our parents cannot deny him that." She turned to Arachno with a slight smirk on her muzzle. "But do be a good little sister and give him my regards."

Arachno turned to Anopheli and huffed, shoving her aside with a burning hoof. "Fine, you big oaf!" she growled, jerking her front legs towards the palace before charging through the crowd. The other Nightmarians cleared a path for her, and all watched as she gained enough speed to become airborne.

Then Anopheli turned to Nocti as he turned to leave. "And one more thing," she said, causing him to crane his neck in order to look at her. "If this isn't a matter that could affect all of Nightmaria, send my sister back to me so that our parents can stop riding my saddle about it incessantly for the rest of the month."

"And if it is, send her back once she's done with that," Nocti said with a somber nod. As he galloped through a different part of the crowd to take off in another direction, Anopheli smiled.

"You got it," Anopheli muttered to herself as Nocti faded into the distance.

~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~

Trypo glanced upwards as she neared a house on the western end of Nightmaria that seemed normal on the surface, noticing that the storm clouds looked to thicken with her approach. Peering through a window earned her a glance into a standard living room; electrical lights overhead, a furnace at the far wall to keep the house nice and warm, various furnatures scattered about, and a hall leading off to some other rooms with its doors shut.

The door at the farthest end, however, had caught her eye: instead of standard black with steel, it was instead hewn of opals with a golden trim. The prismatic sheen gave itself away in the flickering lights of electricity and fire, but seemed to have settled on varying shades of a mopey blue the longer she stared at it.

She moved to the door that barred her path and knocked a few times, then lowered her hoof to wait for an answer. At first, nothing happened; the door was content to keep itself closed, and she idled, waiting for someone else to notice and open it.

A full five minutes ticked by without answer before she went 'screw it,' lifted a hoof, and wreathed it in golden flames. The embers encased both knobs of the door, and a peculiar feeling took hold as she felt a fragment of herself rooting around to unlatch the lock, if one were present. It was akin to staring at one's body from the other side of a window's glass, with her body wreathed in a white aura that shined through the door she was attempting to lockpick.

But, the search turned up negative after a half-hour was spent scrutinizing the anomaly. No electrical locks held the door shut, no latchkeys were there to be turned, not even something as simple as a padlock was there to obstruct her. She dispelled the flames and tried the knob, brow furrowing as it turned with a click and not one iota of resistance. She mentally kicked herself as the door creaked open, but she held her brief bout of self-loathing in when she poked her head in to see if any other Nightmarians were present. "Hello?" she called.

She was met with nothing more than the short-lived echo of her own voice as it traversed down the hall and back. Delicately, she stepped inside, closing the door behind her as she turned to the odd door out. Her hoofsteps echoed slightly as she strode to the opal door, pausing only once to open it and look into what lay beyond.

Trypo hesitated to trot in, doubting for just a moment if her hooves would stay true to the course. The area beyond this door… it almost looked mournful—she could hear rain and thunder pelting the area, but within lay a surprisingly modest and humble abode. The walls, floor and ceiling were bluish-grey, offset by purplish-grey furnishings and a small furnace. On one side stretched another hall sporting a boarded up window, and the other side a flight of carpeted stairs going up and down. Electrical lights were scattered just enough to allow sight, but not enough of them were in numbers that would make the room glow in any way.

The house was warm, but she could feel a chill worm its way into her hocks nonetheless. Unsure if it was just the atmosphere or a fault with the abode, she looked around again. There weren't any blemishes or rot-holes present, and the furniture itself had been arrayed in a way that would grant them some distance from any wall. Whatever the cause, she brushed it off before turning to the furnace again, noticing something that had slipped past her attention at the first and second lookaround.

The pony she looked for sat in front of the furnace, her gaze stretching a thousand yards and her eyes as dull and vacant as that of a pony still suffering from a neverending famine. Her head did not twitch, nor did her ears as the door closed behind her guest. For a while, silence held, broken up only by the crackling of fire and the rain and thunder outside.

Trypo hesitated, but made herself move and cleared her throat when she reached the sitting space of the sole pony occupant. "Rainy Parade," she started, garnering the pony's attention, "King Cauchemar wishes to see you."

Rainy Parade's face did not shift in the slightest, even as crackling fire illuminated her features. She barely seemed to acknowledge the guard before her. "Matters of state?" she guessed in a droll, almost lifeless voice.

Trypo paused, lips pursing as she considered what to say. Eventually, she settled for the truth, "He did not deign fit to specify, only that all six Champions of Nightmaria be assembled."

Rainy Parade was silent for a moment, the only movement to be had was a few strands of loose mane as a gust battered the house from outside. The boards on the one window she could see rattled inwards, but held tight. "I see…" She almost seemed to be judging Trypo with her thousand-yard gaze, without moving her eyes even an inch away from those of her visor-wearing visitor. "Is that why you thought it alright to enter my pocket dimension?"

Trypo nodded. "If he had sent any other summons, would you have answered?"

Rainy Parade sighed, and rose to stand. Her mane clung to her neck, and her tail almost seemed to be weeping, as though it had been soaked by the rain. "All of the other Champions… you know, it'd almost make me laugh if I was still capable of such an act," she said, turning to the door that led out of the house. "Go," she ordered. "I will be with the King very shortly."

Trypo could do nothing but obey, and turned to the door that she had initially entered from. She galloped back the way she came, shivering as she could feel Rainy Parade's gaze following her out. She chanced a glance to the first unboarded window she could see as the door opened to let her through, and she noticed that outside the house she found the door in, the clouds only thickened to bring forth more of their cold, wet vitriol at a later time.

She left the house with swift hooves, taking off to the air the first chance she got. With a sigh, she shook her doubts away as she made to pursue her next target.

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Nocti looked onwards at the veritably large, almost castle-like mansion down below, walled off by an ornate gate and attended to by guards and gardeners alike. He looked down as he circled over the yard to which the mansion was attached, trying to find the quickest way both in and out for his own convenience and to get this over with faster.

Of course, with its ownguards stationed here and there, some in armor and some in unassuming maid and butler uniforms that he could see passing via some windows and across the lawn, he had to remind himself that landing wasn't so easy a task. The likelihood of being metaphorically probed with peeled ginger made his skin crawl and his fur bristle, and for a moment even his flames wavered.

But dallying simply wasn't an option. Who knew how impatient King Cauchemar was already. So he settled for simply descending for the frontmost door, which had two guards stationed on either side of it. At his approach, they stepped forward to intercept, only to halt when they saw who it was.

"Oh great, the King's personal lackey," one of the pair muttered under his breath.

"Yeah, the one that's more robot than Nightmarian… wonder what he wants now," the other hissed, his lowered voice drowned out by the sound of blazing hooves hitting the pavement. He turned to Nocti and straightened his pose, looking as officialese as he could with his armor. "What matters have brought you here?"

Nocti straightened his posture as well, taking a moment to look the second guard in the eye. "King Cauchemar has sent out summons for all six Champions of Nightmaria," he said bluntly. "I'm here to inform Nycto of this directly."

The pair paled in unison. "A-all six?" the first stammered, his eyes widening.

Nocti nodded. "All six," he confirmed. "The less delay, the better."

The pair lifted their hooves and wreathed them in flames that then seized the door they guarded. The door flew open, and with twin nods, allowed Nocti to gallop inside. A lengthy hall greeted him, ornately decorated with plush carpets and a few metallic chandeliers for that posh effect that he would have expected in a standard noble's home. Without pausing to admire the scenery, though, he simply ran down the hall to a door-like opening at its end, making sure to not catch his hooves on fire as he traversed.

The hall led to a grand foyer, with stairs arcing up to a door on a platform ahead. On either side stood more doors, themselves flanked by golden statues and guards flanking said statues. More carpet spread out, and a crystal chandelier beset with onyxes and opals hung above for an absolutely dazzling effect. Nocti looked to the guards at his right, and they looked at him.

It was then another Nightmarian, in a red dress that puffed at the shoulders and ended at the gaskins came trotting down the stairs with a sickly smile on her pale face. Her eye shadow only added the appearance of black eyes, and a dark green-and-blue striped mane bounced merrily as she approached Nocti. "I'm sorry, but I have already informed Nycto of recent happenings." With that, she trotted around him and departed without another word.

Nocti sighed and gathered his wits before he called out, "Is the mistress of this mansion—"

"No need for formalities, you worthless suck-up," snapped a cold, haughty voice as the sound of muffled hoofsteps flooded the room. Nocti looked up at the stairs leading to the door again, and trotting out was none other than his target—the sight of which caused him to want to pull his mane out with his hooves. "Especially since my top spy, Flashforce Focus, has already beat you to the punch."

Oh. Well, that simplified things. "Then do I need to depart?" Nocti asked rhetorically.

"No." His target trotted down the stairs, and made a beeline right for him. "Because I want to know… why does the King want all six of us?" A venom rested in her glinting eyes, shining as she scanned Nocti up and down with the upturned snout and haughty huff that could only belong to someone who was so self-important they wondered why the world didn't revolve around them yet.

"He didn't say," Nocti said truthfully. He supposed there were some matters that not even he was fit to take care of.

His target smiled maliciously. "Oh? You didn't grovel to him enough?" she hissed.

Nocti shook his head. "I didn't see the need to."

"And why? Don't you want it all?" she asked.

Nocti once more shook his head. "No, not even as much as you, Nycto."

Nycto huffed, and her sinister smile had fallen. "Shame you're not such a goody four-shoes. You could do so much more, have so much more, if you kissed the King's horseshoes more often…" she muttered.

"I'm sure that he wouldn't appreciate that much brownnosing," Nocti said flatly. A few of the guards on either side snickered at that comment, but when Nycto turned to them, they immediately resumed their stoic facade. The Nightmarian he sought, though, didn't quiet any of her giggles however. "Besides, I've seen the last Nightmarian that tried to brownnose the King, and let's just say there's not much of him left."

Nycto turned to Nocti, rolled her eyes, and clicked her tongue. "Regardless… it will all be mine, someday," she said, turning to the hall beyond Nocti.

"Whatever you say," Nocti muttered, sighing as Nycto went shouldering past him and trotting down the hallway leading outside. As he turned, though, he could have sworn he felt another pair of eyes on him, and glanced around to see if anyone else was in the foyer.

Nope. It was just him, and the guards already present. Yet he had this strange feeling that someone else had been watching him.

Then again, Nycto had eyes everywhere—this was something he could brush off with that knowledge.

Nocti would have rolled his eyes, but that would have required that Nycto stay long enough to see it after he removed his visor. As it was, he shared glances with the present guards, who nodded to him and lifted their hooves to swat at his general direction. He turned to the hall he came in from and trotted down it, not out of a desire to slack off, but to give Nycto a bit of breathing room for her takeoff.

The door parted open with waves of fire, and Nycto halted to address the guards at the entrance. Nocti hung back just far enough to not catch her attention, but close enough to gather what she had said.

"Keep an eye on things here while I see what the King wants now. It had better be important, or I'm frying his lackey," Nycto said. With that, she galloped away, and with hooves ablazing, took to the skies to cut a clean path to the castle as her flight path carried her over the gate. But then she halted, careened back, and entered the mansion through one of its windows.

Nocti trotted out once she was gone, and looked to the guards. "She's been in that mood all day, hasn't she?"

The guard to his left sighed and nodded. "Yeah. She's been crotchety these last few days. You're lucky you came in after the worst passed," he said.

Nocti sighed and took off without another word.

Out that same window, Nycto watched as Nocti galloped off. At her side was a purple filly with a brown-and-gold mane sporting a bow. "What was that all about?" the filly asked, looking up at Nycto.

Nycto sighed. "Just some summons from the King," she answered. "Did you let him see you?"

"I didn't," the filly replied. This earned her a pat on the head from Nycto.

"Good. He would have asked too many questions otherwise, Sour Note."

"Yeah, and then Cauchemar would have asked more of them." The two shared a laugh, and Nycto sighed once her gale of laughter passed.

"Remember the usual rules. I'll have to go and see the King now." With that, Nycto opened the window, lept, and flew off towards the palace. Sour Note lifted a hoof and let flames engulf it, using them to pull the window back shut where it belonged. After that, she closed the curtains and sat.

"I still wonder what the King wants, though," Sour Note mumbled to herself.

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Trypo came upon another seemingly ordinary house, this one standing out in that it was a dark crimson as opposed to the sable the rest of Nightmaria had favored. She glanced through a window, and besides favoring reds, golds and blues for furniture, it didn't look that off or interesting. Instead of knocking on the door, she idled, ears perked as she heard some shuffling from within.

All it took was five minutes, and then a door that she couldn't see at the window's angle opened. Out strode out a Nightmarian stallion, wearing a dopey smile on his face with… well, she lifted a hoof to block her view of everything below his shoulders. After he had a chance to get decent again, and it was safe to lower her hoof, the stallion turned to the door leading out and trotted in that direction. Trypo ignored him as he made his exit, and because he was still in a state of bliss, he in turn ignored her as he dawdled off to do something else.

Then she took the chance to enter that same door, as the stallion had left it swaying wide open. Her nose wrinkled at a distinct scent wafting from further ahead; she groaned, having had the bad luck to catch her next target at the worst possible time. Now she'd have to wait for said target to get cleaned up and decent as well, and she lifted a hoof to block out most of the offending smell from her nostrils.

At least the rest of the house didn't smell like the scent glands of a dead rabbit about to be cooked. If there was one thing she couldn't fault her target for, it was just how clean she kept this particular abode. Glancing about, she noticed how spotless and orderly everything was, and with her eyes averted she didn't notice that the gamey scent was receding ever so slowly.

After a few minutes, hoofsteps hit the floor, and Trypo turned to the second open door again. And there she was, freshly cleaned and looking rather tempting for a Nightmarian. But she did not let herself be fooled, especially when the face of her target fell. "Okay, what is it? This better be as good as that stallion I just got done with, y'know."

"A matter of summons, Redsky Morning. King Cauchemar wishes to see you," Trypo answered, assessing the changing expression of the mare before her.

Redsky Morning wore a blank face at first, before assuming a slight smirk. "What, for the glory of Nightmaria?" she asked in a joking manner. "Come on, Trypo, tell me that one of these days, y'know?"

Trypo did not rise to the bait. She instead sighed through her nostrils. "While it is admirable of you to… clean up after seducing someone," she said carefully, "I don't quite think it is for the glory of Nightmaria."

Redsky's smirk faded. "Then… what is it?" She paused. "Is it a matter of state, y'know?"

"He did not see fit to inform me of his reasoning," Trypo answered patiently. "If he had, I would have mentioned it by now."

"Then what? Do we have to kick flank outside the borders, y'know?" Redsky asked, sounding a bit hopeful at that one.

"Certainly not that," Trypo replied, expression unwavering.

"Tackle and kill a ferocious monster for food?" Redsky grinned briefly. "I'd kill for a good chimera, y'know?"

"If he had said that, I would not be here."

"Have me announce a new law about what might change—something that might rearrange Nightmaria for a bit, y'know?" There was a pause, and Redsky's smirk fell again. "Hopefully it deals with those jackflanks with their snouts up their tails; I'd love that, y'know."

"Once again, no." Another pause. "Certainly not the ponies you're expecting, either."

"Then what?!" Redsky Morning huffed, irritation flashing in her narrowed eyes.

"Well… he wanted all six Champions assembled before him, simultaneously," Trypo answered with as neutral a tone as she could manage.

One could have heard a pin drop in that moment. Redsky seemed to have heard it; her ears twitched, followed by one corner of her lip and one of her eyes. "So… I have to endure heck with those other clowns again this year?" She groaned, "It's bad enough I have to deal with certain factions of Nightmaria already, y'know."

"It would seem so," Trypo replied, expecting another punch to the face and mentally preparing herself to block if need be. "For how long or why, I sincerely wish I knew before approaching you about this." She understood the second complaint, but in the end orders were orders.

Redsky Morning's eye twitched faster. "He didn't tell you?"

"Negative."

"Not one bucking peep. That's fishy, y'know."

That one was met with a grim shake of the head, and then a nod following its second half. "But regardless… you will have to put up with them. I'd suggest heading in the direction of the palace to get it over with faster."

Redsky's look of annoyance melted, though a shade of that emotion still clung to her features. "There's no getting around it, is there?"

"If there was, I'd have been sent to the nearest noose already," Trypo confirmed. "Or possibly a lethal virus from Agora. Do you want me to talk to you on the way there?"

Redsky Morning sighed and shook her head. "No. I'm good, y'know," she said, trotting around her guest, only to pause at the still-open door. "... he didn't close it, did he."

Trypo did not budge from her spot. "Not even an attempt was made. I should have closed the door, but I am a bit… pressed for time."

Redsky nodded. "I getcha," she said, trotting out but not quite taking off yet. "Just close it when you leave, y'know?"

"I understand," Trypo responded. She waited until Redsky Morning had departed before leaving herself, taking the time to close the door and making sure it was locked up nicely. She turned to the storm above, hearing its rumble in her ears and feeling the lingering vibrations in her hooves.

Then she looked ahead and saw the receding form of Redsky Morning dwindling with distance.

It was time to leave, but first… she would have to find a way to send word to her companion, even though he could have been easily on the other side of Nightmaria now. Thus, she stood on her hinds and used her front hooves to launch a ball of fire into the sky, high enough above Nightmaria that she hoped he would see it. As it exploded into a shower of golden sparks in the shape of a horseshoe, it popped and sizzled as the first raindrops started to fall.

And with the arrival of the rain came the fiery gallop that would take her skyward, to the castle. As quick as her hooves could carry her, she flew—but even this could not stop the gradual pelting of the storm as it hammered its presence across the nation.

Oh well, there'd be time to dry off back at the guard barracks later.

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As he neared his destination, the rain began to hit hard. Nocti shivered as he reached a large house that had a few too many chimneys and smokestacks to look reasonably feasible, as well as a large observatory-like dome behind those chimneys and smokestacks. He wasn't the least bit surprised to see Trypo's flare before he could send one out in kind. She always had a knack for being ruthlessly on task, but he wondered what kind of Tartarus she had to endure just to track down two of her targets.

Setting his own reservations aside, he knocked on the door, and was greeted by a robot in the vague shape of a Nightmarian when the door opened a minute and a half later. The robot looked bored and disinterested, but it was hard to tell that well when its face only consisted of a black screen with a few flickering lights. "Yes?" it asked in a tinny voice that barely sounded Nightmarian.

"I wish to see Agora. It's important," Nocti answered.

The robot imitated a sigh. "Well, she's busy right now."

"She's always busy. But this matter is pressing—" Nocti began.

The robot cut him off with a wave of a mechanical hoof, "Nonsense, unless the King—"

"It is the King!" Nocti replied, starting to shake from both leaking irritation and the rain. "He has summoned her, and we'd rather him not raze this building from being kept waiting."

The robot's expression didn't shift even at Nocti's minor outburst. In fact, Nocti got the feeling it couldn't really grasp the concept expressions. "You are aware that Agora will not take this lightly?" it asked.

"Very," Nocti answered.

The robot nodded and stepped aside to let Nocti inside. "She's in her usual spot," it said, leaving the rest to the visitor. Nocti strode in, finding collections of beakers and surgical equipment and even some mechanical parts strewn rather orderly here and there, branching off into a stairwell on one side and a sidehall on the other. He trotted up the stairwell, being careful to not disturb bits of furniture no matter how oddly it was placed.

He found another hall, its end leading to a large round room with wires crisscrossing across the floor and hooked up to a myriad of devices he couldn't hope to name. Tables were strewn about with various tools cluttered atop them in something that could only be called orderly chaos. And within the center, tinkering with something was his target.

He trotted up to her, slowly to avoid tripping over the wires and to avoid disturbing her work. It was better to appear before her standing, than to trip and land in a prone position—especially if she was tinkering with tools. Coming closer, he could see what his target was working on: one of her own legs, using a screwdriver to tinker with that leg with conjured flames that didn't glow in the usual Nightmarian reds and golds. She seemed transfixed, lips pursed and eyes unmoving from her leg; the look seemed to suggest there was a smudge on it she wanted to be rid of.

He watched, and she worked. Eventually, though, the blazing, levitating screwdriver clattered onto the table and her leg retracted off of it, sending it rolling to the side where it hit a collection of loose nuts and bolts. Without making eye contact, his target asked, "What is it?"

"King Cauchemar wishes to see you, Agora. It's… a matter that even my ears aren't fit to hear, I'm afraid," Nocti said.

That made Agora turn to him, her expression still concentrated as though she was deciding what tendon to slice into. "How are your ears not fit to hear it?" she asked.

"All six Champions of Nightmaria are to be assembled before him. And when he gave the command… he looked as though someone or something had wronged him," Nocti answered.

Agora snorted. Gears span in her head. "So… sentients could die."

Nocti nodded. The thought dug pits into his stomach—several of them, crawling about, each one voicing a myriad of concerns that he forced himself to set aside for the time being. "How or why… or if they'll perish, I cannot say," he said carefully.

"And I might have a few I can dissect…" Agora continued, her brow starting to furrow the tiniest bit.

"Might," Nocti proffered.

That made Agora turn away from the workbench she had been perusing before. "But I have to put up with the other Champions…" she grumbled. "And you don't know why."

"I have not been so much as briefed; just that all six be summoned," Nocti replied, frowning slightly.

"Dealing with them… won't be the least bit fascinating…" Agora mumbled, trotting out of the room. Nocti followed her, keeping his distance as they weaved past the furniture to head outside. His ears perked at another rumble of thunder, twitching as the rain began to pelt down with even more force. On the way out, Agora turned to the robot and said, "Make sure everything is functional while I am away."

The robot nodded, and saw the two out the door. Agora took off once out the door, galloping and seemingly unconcerned about the rain as it pelted her and did its best to smother her flames. Nocti gave the house a bit of space, reared on his hinds, and sent a flare into the sky that was dimmed by the weather, but nonetheless managed to remain visible for miles around for the span of a few seconds after exploding.

Then he took off, heading to the palace. His mane clung to his neck and visor, and he idly wondered why Agora hadn't even brought up dissecting him this time. He shook the thought aside; perhaps being informed of the summons waylaid that question in her own head before she had the chance to ask it. But whatever her reasons were, he knew not and cared not to learn—that was his end of the task done, and that meant he could hear about those fireworks at a later time.

Maybe he could exchange stories with Trypo in the barracks later tonight, and see which of them was more frustrated by their chosen targets. He did decide to avoid rubbing it in her face that Agora was the easiest he had to deal with, in terms of getting her to not fight him on the matter.

… eh, that could come after he washed off for the day. The rain was getting colder, and the showers were already tempting him.

Author's Note

I know, this is a weird format for me. But Starlight wanted the first chapter done like this to sorta introduce all six Champions in one go, so...

Chapter II— Brewing Machanations

King Cauchemar lifted his head as the doors to the throne room opened, wreathed in golden flames. At the same time as the double doors opened, another one of gold and opal spontaneously appeared beside them and itself opened. First came in Rainy Parade from the spontaneous door, which vanished upon her departure from it, then Trypo and Nocti, both of whom sported glossy manes, uniforms and coats indicating a bout of trotting in the rain. They were followed by the other five Champions who kept at least a full ten feet of distance from one another with glares being exchanged between them. "Excellent. Did any of the Champions give you trouble?" he asked, turning to Nocti.

"Some, but once they learned of the summons, the trouble more or less ceased," Nocti confirmed with a nod.

King Cauchemar grinned, but he had the decency to not let his smile widen enough to show his fangs. "Very well. You and Trypo are dismissed for the evening. Head to the barracks and do as you will for the evening, you two have more than earned it."

"Thank you, King Cauchemar," Trypo and Nocti said in unison with a bow, with Nocti grinning slightly and Trypo more or less maintaining her poker face as they took their leave. The doors closed behind them, leaving the royalty alone with the Nightmarians they had summoned.

Silence held, for the barest of instants. Then Redsky Morning more or less kicked things off. "So what the hay are we gonna do, y'know?" Here, she looked at King Cauchemar directly and added, "You didn't tell your lackeys jack, and we don't know jack because of it, y'know!"

That, in turn, got Agora to huff before she regained her cool composure. "While I deign fit to disagree with my fellow Champions on most things, I am inclined to agree with Redsky Morning on this matter. Why, exactly, were we all summoned?" Murmurs of agreement rose from the other four Champions, all echoing the question.

The murmurings only hushed when King Cauchemar rose from his throne and directly approached the six, halting just in front of Broken Mirror before glancing towards the rest of them. "Something… heavy has weighed on my mind recently. It simply would not stop pestering me," he admitted.

Broken Mirror's eyes narrowed, her head cocking as flames wreathed her hooves, highlighting a myriad of old, discolored scars that decorated her sunset orange body alongside her brilliantly golden mane. "What?" she asked.

"The task is a relatively simple one," King Cauchemar began, causing the Champions to glance at each other with questions flashing through their brains and confusion smeared across their eyes.

Rainy Parade tilted her head, her bluish mane loosening its hold on her purplish neck to droop to the side slightly. "A task?" she echoed, her deadened voice stirred by somewhat mild curiosity.

King Cauchemar nodded resolutely. "Well… more like a series of small tasks that shall culminate into a far larger, delicate operation, but yes," he confessed, still maintaining his rather calculating grin.

Agora perked up a little, her visor glinting in Broken Mirror's flames alongside oddly metallic legs only slightly darker than her viridian coat and mane. "Something delicate…" she mused, pursing her lips the slightest bit. "How would this be… delicate, my liege?"

"It requires… some tact and grace, preferably without bloodshed for once…" King Cauchemar sucked in a breath through his nostrils, and closed his eyes briefly as he thought of how best to describe what he had in mind. "For you see… it involves the former homeland of our distant ancestors."

Glances were exchanged amongst the six again, bewilderment starting to take hold on each Champion. Even Broken Mirror's flames diminished as soon as the words hit her ears. Then, they turned to their King again, and Arachno piped up with an oddly quiet, "Equestria?"

At the king's nod, Nycto tossed in her two bits, "Do we get… to do diplomacy?" Her face soured into a pout as 'diplomacy' rolled off her tongue, her dark purple face twisting into narrow-eyed distaste. "Your majesty, not to speak out of turn, but that's boring stuff—boring stuff even the stuffiest of brownnosers wouldn't touch around Nightmaria."

"Hah!" Arachno laughed, grinning smugly as Nycto turned to glare at her. "As if you could do diplomacy without sucking at it, you worm!" she thought, wisely keeping the musing from applying itself on her tongue. She instead said, "Diplomacy? Towards Equestria? What have they ever done to us to earn it?" That got another few murmurs to rise, but other than that everyone was silent.

King Cauchemar's grin faded, and his head grimly shook. "No, it's not a lie, I'm afraid. You'll have to practice diplomacy… I know you would rather be scouting Equestria for weaknesses. Probing the chinks in the armor before you shatter it completely, irreparably—though that won't be as easy as it seems, should you choose to go down that route without my permission."

Before Nycto could protest, he lifted a hoof and added, "We don't want them suspecting any ulterior motives or the like. Naive though they could be, they could also be far from stupid. From there…" His face hardened into something regally befitting of him, "Our forces will handle the rest, if things should not progress smoothly."

A chorused "Ooooooh" answered him. Redsky Morning piped up again, rubbing her multicolored mane with a white hoof, "So, about that…" She awkwardly continued scratching, face twisting into somewhat of a pout, "Aren't there only, like, three tribes in Equestria, y'know?"

A nod answered her. "Unified, yes, from what little my scouts have relayed. All ruled by alicorns." He swept his raised hoof aside, sparking fire that coalesced into four images. "Only four, two in the capital, one in a vassal state, and the fourth near said capital. Barring the alicorns, who are magically strong in their own right…" The flames dispersed, and the hoof lowered. "Nopony else can compare. Incapacitate the alicorns, and the rest will be easy pickings… and yet, the alicorns have been incapacitated time and time again. The nation still stands, somehow."

"What else have your scouts gleaned about the alicorns, my liege?" Agora asked, curiosity flashing in her eyes again. This was a prime opportunity for answers, and the cruel, yet somewhat appreciative smile turned to her as she asked.

That hardened expression the King wore, however, turned into a solemn expression that seemed more disappointed than angry—it wasn't as firm as they were expecting, but still kept the relative quality just enough to maintain itself. "As I have yet to assess the situation with my own two eyes, I would caution you all to take what I have heard with several grains of salt if at all possible."

When six nods answered him, he elaborated to them what he had heard, and the longer he went on about it, the more the initial bewilderment melted to narrow-eyed expressions best summarised as 'What the Tartarus?' Even Rainy Parade seemed surprised, her deadened eyes growing perceptibly more confused as she beheld what she was listening to.

Once the extrapolation of the nitty-gritty came to an end, the six assembled Champions shared looks of concern marred with various emotions. Redsky Morning spoke for all of them as she turned back to the King with a particularly potent frown. "That's just… wow. I haven't heard of a country running like that bad and keeping itself somehow standing, y'know."

Agora crossed her forelegs, then lifted one to rub her chin with a fetlock as she contemplated the information. The mission seemed simpler than previous ones: assess Equestria, play diplomats, figure out what in the world kept that whole nation running. Yet… she couldn't help but notice that something about the whole situation reeked of something quite rotten. Whatever it was, though, she couldn't pin a name to it.

Further, there were unknown factors that could complicate the whole operation to varying degrees. This made her brow furrow, so she turned to the other Champions and said, "We might have to set rendezvous points during our little visit to Equestria. I'd suggest we gather all the intel we can first, and act last."

Broken Mirror snorted and shook her head, but even she could not fault that logic. As much as she wanted to punch Agora in her calculating face, as well as the rest of the Champions, she had to admit that the advice was sound. So she turned to King Cauchemar and asked, "Any areas of interest in Equestria?"

Fortunately for them, the King was smiling at the query. His glinting teeth reminded Broken Mirror of someone playing something very close to his vest. "There are a few notable areas, the most prominent of which is a little hamlet called Ponyville. I've heard it's a delightful magnet for many a catastrophe." He lifted a hoof wrought in flames and waved, conjuring a map that took on a globular shape. It spun around for a second, then stopped when it centered on a continent with a tall mountain in the center, showing a city built into the rockface.

At the foot of that mountain was a smallish town, roughly as big as the average neighborhood in Nightmaria, which the King gestured to. "I've heard it attracts all sorts of disasters…" he went on, the utterance causing the Champions' eyes to widen as they beheld the town in its seemingly mediocre glory. "Eternal night, chaos, escaped fiends from Tartarus… it always seems to stand out the most, because something about it just so happens to avert whatever catastrophe visits the rest of Equestria…"

The globe shifted aside so the King could look squarely at his Champions, a gleam of pride in his crimson eyes. "Find out what that something is. I want all the intel available. We will move from there." He grinned with a delight that only the damned would see just before their execution, as regal and poised as ever, yet as predatory as a hungry bugbear. "Do you have any further questions?"

Nycto nodded. "When will we depart for Equestria, and what will we do before the endgame?" she asked.

The King chuckled, but the sound held no mirth. "At the eve of next week. We will arrive by boat. From there, you will leave by airship, and seek Ponyville out from there by train. There, you'll witness what draws the disasters of Equestria to it, seeking as much information for diplomatic reasons as possible. Do not bring anything that could tip them off to our goals. I will send other scouts to the less important cities to scour them as well, on the off-chance they contain something equally important. When the time comes all of the groups, including yours, will rendezvous at the shores of the land." His grin faded into a firm and calculating expression. "I shall come along, for I have… a very different matter to settle with Equestria myself."

The Champions couldn't help but share glances again. Then they looked at their King and asked a single, unified, "What?"

King Cauchemar's eyes burned with resolve, yet his calculating expression remained. "A matter to settle with the alicorns who rule over the land, before any… final preparations," he answered cryptically.

~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~

Once the briefing was over and done with, and Nycto was certain that the other Champions would stop bugging her for the night, she returned to her manse with a snort leaving her snout as she touched down on the walkway. She galloped to it, and then through rooms and hallways she couldn't care to bother with names and categories as her mind shifted to something very dear to her.

"She's going to be angry at me," Nycto thought with a reluctant sigh leaving her lips. But when she reached a seemingly-innocuous door on the second floor of the manse, she opened it and poked her head in. "Sour Note?" she called. The filly in question poked her head around the door with a frown on her face.

"Yes?" Sour Note asked, smiling at first before noticing the rather grim look on Nycto's face. "Are you going to have to go on a mission again, mother?" she asked, her smile falling.

Nycto grimly nodded. "I'll leave next week," she said bluntly. "I can't share anything about the mission except the fact I'll be gone for at least a few weeks," she added as Sour Note's face began twisting into a pout.

"But why?" Sour Note asked. "Is it an expedition?"

Nycto shook her head. "You know that boring thing called diplomacy?" she asked, garnering a hesitant nod from Sour Note. "That's why I can't share anything; it would bore you to tears."

Sour Note made an "oh" face. "Because the stuffiest brownosers wouldn't touch it, mother," she said, earning a giggle and a pat on the head from Nycto.

"Exactly," Nycto said with a genuine smile. Her smile fell seconds later. "But I've got to suck it up and play along for once; the other five bozos are also in on it, and they're not thrilled about this either." She sighed and looked out the window at the dark and dreary Nightmarian skies. "And I'll need to start preparing before the week is up." She turned to Sour Note again. "I would ask if you'd like to train with our pet basilisks again, but I think we may have to pass that up this time."

Sour Note stomped a hoof. "But I like training with the pet basilisks with you, mother! That way, they can protect us when they need to, like the guards can!" she griped.

"I know, and as much as I enjoy training with them until something interrupts us or they need to eat, I'm afraid…" Here, Nycto sighed reluctantly and winced, "you'll have to be a good filly while I'm gone."

Sour Note blew a raspberry, and Nycto smiled before doing likewise. "I know, it's boring," Nycto continued, shaking her head even as she patted the child's mane with a hoof. "But I'd rather you not get questioned by the King's lackeys and then having your whole existence exposed to all of Nightmaria." The older mare leaned to the filly and whispered in her ear, "Besides, the other Nightmarians who aren't Flashforce Focus, Glitz, the Bloodspray Squadron, the King, and his Queen, are all blowhards."

Sour Note giggled and snickered at that, grinning broadly as she remembered the look on Nocti's dumb face when he came strolling in earlier that day. Nycto pulled away and added, "But when I get back… remind me, and we'll train with all the basilisks you want. Deal?"

"Deal!" Sour Note replied with a wide and toothy grin showing off small, but sharp and fierce Nightmarian teeth. Nycto smiled and patted her head again, when someone knocked on her door.

Nycto turned to the door without opening it. "Who dares?" she growled.

A stallion on the other side answered, "Flashforce Focus wishes to see you, Lady Nycto!"

Nycto sighed, but smiled all the same. "Tell her I'll be there in a few minutes," she ordered. Immediately, the stallion galloped off, and both waited until the sound of his hooves fully faded before turning to Sour Note again. "Any other creature you want to fight when I get back?" she asked.

Sour Note tilted her head, before grinning. "Rocs!" she replied. "The stronger the better, mother! They'd make excellent guard beasts!"

Nycto's smile widened. "A challenging one, I see… alright, I'll see if we can wrangle that into the training schedule," she said before trotting out the door. "Remember, best behavior!"

"Roger that, mother!" Sour Note replied, prancing in place as Nycto trotted out of the room.

Nycto traversed a few hallways, down some stairs, and didn't bother to take note of where she was until she reached the grand foyer of her manse. There, seemingly loitering, was Flashforce Focus, who looked up to smile at her.

Flashforce was the first to speak, "So some of my spies might have… talked to the King's lackeys," she said.

"What did those brownnoser lookalikes have to offer?" Nycto asked, trotting down the stairs to be face to face with Flashforce.

"Well, the King might have been agitated when he made the summons. From the reports, something seemed to have troubled him greatly," Flashforce reported. "In turn, troubling the lackeys. You know how they get; if the King isn't calm, they aren't, either, try as they might to say otherwise."

Nycto's brow furrowed. "Come to think of it, he did look angier than normal, even if he tried to smile it away… weird…" she noted in the back of her head. "Yeah, he tried making it go away with a few smiles, but that… that failed," she said aloud, causing some of the guards to mutter when they heard it. "He said me and the other five bozos have a week to prepare."

Flashforce nodded. "Need me to keep tabs here while you're gone?" she asked.

Nycto nodded back. "Yeah; the King's gathering forces of his own to scout another kingdom. Why, I don't know, but he did say he had something to settle with that kingdom's leaders," she said. She shrugged and added, "I don't know what the kingdom did to upset him, but trust me, he was miffed. I already figured out he has an endgame involved, I just don't know what for yet."

Flashforce sighed, taking in the disturbing news as well as a professional spy could, albeit with a hint of restrained internal screaming flashing in her eyes. "The kingdom in question?"

"Equestria," Nycto replied. A collective gasp rose from the guards, and for once, she didn't blame them for the gaffe. Even Flashforce gasped, albeit hers was more restrained and less outward shock.

"You mean… the land our ancestors were cast from?" Flashforce asked, her voice betraying a hint of disbelief.

Nycto nodded firmly. "Yep. That land. The King's planning something big, that much I can guess. Whatever it is, it might get messy…" She smiled despite the development. "For the Equestrians…"

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Agora was doing mental checklists as she worked on her forelegs back in her lab, gritting her teeth in concentration. Even among the pointless tawdry drabble and blathering of the other Nightmarians, there had been one area she excelled at, and another whose mere mention only elicited scorn from her.

The first thing was controlling her emotions. Such things were unbecoming of most, and if she could, she would have done away with the concept entirely. But alas, she could never fully shake them off, try as she might—by Tartarus, not even the King's two lookalike lackeys were capable of the feat. Which was irritating, because the thing that elicited scorn from her just had to have been brought up in the meetup with the King. Her mind raced, trying constantly to bat it away to no avail.

Equestria. Equestria. A thousand damned times, Equestria. The former homeland of the ancestors of all Nightmarians, before they were banished to this cold and dreary place. The history behind that was as wrenching and depressing as the history of any other nation that rose to prominence, and Nightmaria's was no different.

She could hear the recitals in her head, even now, and worked furiously to quell them. It did little good; the recitals continued, rising in volume as if to drown her tinkering out.

"Long ago, before the first King ascended to the Sable Throne that stands today, before Nightmaria drew her first breath, the ponies who became our ancestors lived in a very different land. Lush, verdant, and full of life as far as the eye could see, the first Nightmarians lived in harmony with the world. For a time, uncounted as the first breath of history was expelled into the echoes of time, we laughed, we harmonized, and we grew to expand in a continent on the edge of the world."

Agora opened a hatch on the bottom of her left forehoof, extending various mechanical devices from within it that shapeshifted to different things thanks to green flames. Knives, a magical blaster, casting nets, clubs, spears… some with barrels and some without. She checked thoroughly that everything was in order, then closed the hatch on her left forehoof to move to her right. Even then, she could hear that distant voice she couldn't place, reciting the tale passed down from previous generations of Nightmarians who came before her.

"But then, as all seemed right in the world, everything came. First the pegasi, then the unicorns, and then the earth ponies, all with the Dread Winter on their heels. At first, they fought with the first Nightmarians as much as each other, only worsening the cold and the storms of Tartarus. A fourth tribe, the Thraceans, fought just as much, though none could say whose side they were on. After a decade of fighting, the Thraceans moved on, their whereabouts unknown. The pegasi, earth ponies, and unicorns, however, unified—a strange occurrence that drove the Dread Winter away."

The hatch on the bottom of her right forehoof opened. A barrel slunk out, round and thin and hollow in its center. Agora huffed upon seeing tiny scratches in its metallic surface, but shook her head. Such things were only cosmetic, and the scratches weren't anything special. The barrel shapeshifted with the aid of green flames, turning into a knife, and then a spear. Everything seemed to be working here too, so the entity retracted and the hatch closed.

"Once the three remaining tribes unified, they set to work casting out the first Nightmarians. Villages were burned, warriors slain, mares and foals forced to flee the carnage as the enemy forces swept through the budding empire. Despite reports that the unified tribes refused to partake in the plundering and ravaging that other empires were wont to commit, the first Nightmarians didn't let themselves be fooled. They rallied their best forces, their strongest magics, and mightiest weaponry to fight the coming tide of the first Equestrians."

Agora scoffed. Such a report was obviously made to fool naive children into thinking that war was easy, quick, and without all the bloodshed and brutality. Whoever was reciting the tale seemed to have forgotten that, long ago, the Nightmarians lost their innocence, and turned into what they were today through pain and hardship. Such was the way of life—suffering was as universal and immutable as time itself. The tale kept the recital going in her head, though, and didn't seem to account for her musings.

"But even that failed, and the budding empire was cut down where it stood. The survivors were forced to flee to the other edge of the world, to where the Equestrians could not follow. Across tumultuous waters, and under dreary skies that cut down most seafaring vessels, the Nightmarians sailed, though at a great and terrible cost. As they shored, they grieved for those who could not make it with them, their innocence fully sundered, scattered and lost to the winds. They lingered on the shoreline just long enough to build the first graveyard of their dead in the new land, using the vessels that remained, which now stands today as the Forlorn Sanctuary."

A pang of pity rose in Agora as she recalled the Forlorn Sanctuary. She recalled having visited it long ago, as a little filly, on a school field trip for history class. Such despair, anguish, and rage, all compacted into one place, intermingling with grief and confusion. Even now, she could swear she heard those lost to the ocean ages ago, calling for retribution upon those that had forced them to make their deadly, and decidedly last sojourn. She smothered the pity within her, and continued working.

"Then, when construction of the Forlorn Sanctuary was completed, and their remaining supplies retrieved in preparation to make a new home, they scouted the new unventured territory around them. There, they found a land of snow, sleet and clouds, as dreary and cold as the fabled Shadowlands. But here, there were mighty and terrifying creatures that dwarfed most armies in sheer scale and inhospitable land, two things that stood between the survival of the Nightmarians. Through carnage, mining, and agony, the first empire was reborn anew, a shadow of her former self."

Agora idly nodded even as she checked one of her hind legs, opening a hatch on the bottom of its hoof to see its gadgets in functioning form. A different array came out of the hiding hole: axes, halberds, swords, all detachable and reattachable. She removed and replaced each one as they shapeshifted, checking them over to see if they needed to be retired. Alas, though, she found the results satisfactory, and moved to check her last hoof.

"As the new empire grew, and the hostile land slowly transformed into what it is today, the world began to forget that the Nightmarians ever existed. None dared set foot into the land, none dared cross the turbulent waters surrounding it. No attempt was made to clear the skies of snow and thunder, or to traverse them, for such follies were beneath the Nightmarians. Rather, the weather gave them an advantage we share to this day: those who attempt to cross the skies will be ravaged where they hover, cast into the Ocean of Souls or to the frozen wastes on the outskirts of the nation. And as we stand now, someday we will make the world reflect on its forgotten history, and weep for what will be lost to regain our former glory."

Perhaps, Agora mused as she finished the final checkups of her legs, the tale might have been bugging the King as it had been bugging her. Perhaps he sought to regain the lost glory from so long ago? That would have been the best explanation for his recent antics, yet she wondered about a lot of things there and then. Where did the alicorns come from? From what, and how, did they rule Equestria? A part of her began wondering what Equestria was like now under their leadership, hoping that they were as brutal now as they probably were in the days of yore.

A spike of excitement rose in her, and she was able to contain it. Such emotions were beneath her, but even she could not fully mute them.

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Broken Mirror huffed, frowning as she punched and kicked at a training dummy with as much strength as she could put into the motions. Of all the things she could have heard from the King and his stupid lackeys, it had to involve one of the parts of the world she liked the least. But some thoughts proved immutable, and she wondered if she could fight those probably prissy and frou-frou alicorns in a proper battle. Maybe they were strong opponents, and hopefully would be challenging in that regard.

But what if they weren't, and instead nothing more than paper tigers trying to pretend to rule while the real strong ponies did everything behind the scenes? Government was tricky business after all, and whoever had those battlements under their hooves were probably pretty top-notch. Then again, that was her Nightmarian perspective coming into play; the hamlet she was being sent to check out seemed to have been backwoods in comparison.

And if that town was backwoods, then what did that say about the rest of Equestria?

Even as she made the training dummy regret everything it ever did, she couldn't help but wonder. The questions circled in her mind again and again, threatening to bore her to death with their mundane, unquenchable natures. She kept going, slowly grinding the dummy to dust with her powerful strikes. It was all the dummy could do to keep itself together as it bounced back and forth with her thrashing it, and the splitting seams told the dummy it was fighting a losing battle.

Maybe the hamlet had a reason for looking like it came out of the backwater, Broken Mirror mused as she halted her beating of the dummy to scan the rest of the room she was in. All around, training dummies stood, accompanied by spears, halberds, shields and even armor on the appropriate racks, all the best and highest tech Nightmaria could have asked for. Why, if she recalled correctly, the King's lackeys practically paraded that stuff around when they were out and about.

Her thoughts turned back to the hamlet. Equestria still looked lush and green and… oversaturated on the map the King had conjured, if memory of Nightmaria's origins served her correctly. By all that was unholy, were the maps updated recently, and if so, was she being sent to a farmer's community? And what on the planet justified the oversaturation in that one land? The rest of the world had more muted colors; Equestria practically glowed in comparison and threatened to burn her eyes out.

Then again, the King had said the community was a disaster magnet, so maybe there was something about it that piqued even his interest. Which was strange; such small towns never did tickle the King's fancy for any reason, unless they were of Nightmarian origin and something happened to them that necessitated his interest.

Broken Mirror moved to another training dummy and started whaling on it, still trying to make sense of it all. She heard the door to the room open, and some other schmuck's hoofsteps, but didn't take note of who they were until they came over to start beating on the dummy that was next to hers. She looked over and scowled; it seemed the King's female lackey had decided to waltz in uninvited, her own face furrowed in as much concentration as her visor could allow. Behind her, eyeballing a spear's rack was her male companion, whose face was turned away from the mares and thus unreadable. Both had freshly-groomed manes and coats, and their garments seemed to have dried, but that didn't distract either in the least.

For a moment, neither said anything to each other. Finally, Broken Mirror spoke up. "Aren't you two supposed to be in the barracks?"

Trypo nodded, mouth pressed into a thin line. "The King never said we couldn't continue our training," she pointed out.

Broken Mirror growled, but nodded reluctantly and went back to her second training dummy. Try as she might, she couldn't fault Trypo for wanting and needing to stay sharp just in case something happened—for her, it was practically duty after all. Though she might have needed to bring Nocti up to speed in that regard, as he was still checking out the weapons' racks.

Finally, Nocti came and claimed a dummy next to Trypo, and started to bash it. He struck up a conversation with Trypo that Broken Mirror simply tuned out as she furiously worked on splitting the dummy at the seams as fast as possible. They seemed to ignore Broken Mirror, and she preferred that as she saw the splitting seams and trotted away to bash another unfortunate dummy all the way on the other side of the room.

Sure, the pair were asking questions they probably had no business asking, but that simply wasn't Broken Mirror's business; her business wasn't theirs, either. Although, she reluctantly noted, they seemed to have been jabbering about the recent summons, even after Trypo told Nocti to put several socks in it. Then again, the summons for all six Champions of Nightmaria had heavy implications for the country as a whole; Broken Mirror shook her head and kept trying to grind the third dummy to dust.

"Are we going to have any new laws implemented?" Nocti asked.

Broken Mirror shouted from across the room, "I'd have told you by now if that were happening, you darn bone-white knucklehead!"

Nocti shook his head and went back to his training dummy. Even then, he couldn't help but feel a bit disturbed by that confession.

Trypo spoke up for the both of them, "If we had new laws, we'd have been the first to hear about and relay the news thereof to the rest of Nightmaria." She paused her training to thwack Nocti upside the head, then went right back to her training like nothing happened as he grumbled and rubbed the spot where he'd been hit. "You've asked enough questions today; cease at once."

"Yes, Trypo…" Nocti grumbled as he resumed his training. Broken Mirror smirked and resumed her training as well, glad that for once he was shut up.

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Rainy Parade stewed in her pocket dimension, the peal of thunder echoing and rattling the walls of her modest abode. Long and hard she thought of the summons, what everything meant for both Nightmaria and Equestria. For a time, hours uncounted, she stewed. If she had been capable of laughter now, she would have done so in that moment. As it was, laughter was unbecoming of her, an unreachable goal she could never hope to attain.

The sudden turn of events, of scouting a foreign town to find out what made it special, in a land where the ancestors of the modern Nightmarian had been given the firm boot would have surprised most. Indeed, it surprised even her, and it would have been a folly to admit otherwise. Word must have spread throughout Nightmaria by now of the summons, and surely others were now talking about it and its ramifications.

She turned to the door leading into her pocket dimension, and got up to trot to it, the thunder rattling its frame as she opened it to find an alleyway. She shut the door behind her, lit her hooves with fire, and galloped off to the sky to check on something. She noted that the rain before had turned into sleet and snow, chilling her coat but not without dampening her flames.

She looked around the vast Nightmarian landscape, idly hovering there as the first snowflakes fell. Her breath began to cloud the air, more so than usual. She glanced down, seeing the Nightmarians who hadn't opted to fly galloping below, seemingly rushing into any building that would accept them. She knew the sign and descended down to a street, and looked around for a building that would suit her current needs.

She galloped down that street, watching as the other Nightmarians galloped past her. Many heeded her presence, and gave her a wide berth. One in peculiar armor stopped in front of her, and she skid to a halt to keep from crashing into him. "Report," Rainy Parade ordered.

"Massive blizzard incoming. It seems another Dread Storm's brewing," the armored Nightmarian replied, face firm but with a flash of genuine fear and respect in his eyes as he beheld Rainy Parade. "The Rainy Corps are getting every citizen inside their homes. We'll head home ourselves once all the other Nightmarians are safe." He managed to not let the fear in his eyes show anymore than he already had, and he added, "That being said, we'll also take measures to make sure every Nightmarian is warm for the night."

Rainy Parade nodded, a teeny bit satisfied with that even if her face didn't show it. "Keep up the good work," she said in her deadened monotone. The armored Nightmarian saluted her and galloped off to herd more Nightmarians towards their homes and to make sure they were warm and cozy as he promised. She could appreciate that in him, his resolve and diligence, but that meant she would have to head home as well. She turned down a street, conjured an opal-gold door to her pocket realm attached to an innocuous side-building, and entered it again to move in front of the furnace.

The door rattled as it shut behind her, as did the boards of the windows. Strange, she could hear a light tinkle-tonkle sound hitting the abode every two seconds. She was tempted to see if the weather outside the windows had changed, before shaking her head and taking a moment to warm back up. Even if physical heat rejuvenated her body, it could never quite do the same for her deadened soul, but she appreciated it all the same despite that and her expression seemingly saying otherwise.

Then, when she was certain the cold had left her body, she turned to the stairs of her pocket realm and trotted to them before going up them. It lead to a second hallway, stretching on to reveal a hoofful of more rooms, all shut with doors of mahogany. At the end of the hall rested a ladder leading to a hatch in the ceiling, and that is where Rainy Parade went to as she saw it. Finding herself in an attic whose windows were boarded shut and some seemingly innocuous wooden crates nestled neatly into whatever corners they could fit into, she trotted to the window to peek past what little gaps there were in the planks.

The rain had changed to snow and hail. Or was it sleet? It was hard to tell through those tiny gaps, but that would have explained things. She pulled away from the window and turned to the crates, conjuring flames and using them to drag one crate away from its brethren to pry it open and see what it had inside.

Huh, a rusted dire flail. Tenderly, she removed it from the crate and looked inside to see what else was inside it, but nothing of the sort popped out at her—just dust, cobwebs, and emptiness. She closed the crate and put it back with the others, trotting across the attic and down the ladder with the dire flail in her magically-burning grip, idly recalling that she had found it in the snowlands just outside of Nightmaria. She turned to one of the doors on her left and opened it, finding a seemingly innocuous washroom with a fully furnished tub, sink, toilet with amenities, mirror, and a boarded window.

She closed the door, and opened the one directly opposite of it. Aha, a room with weapons, racks, another furnace big enough to house said weapons, a large wash basin as high as her knees that was blackened with age and use, bottles of vinegar, and wire brushes. She trotted inside and put the flail in the basin, grabbed the wire brush, some vinegar, and set to work on removing the rust. While the vinegar wasn't her first choice due to its smell, it was more tolerable than what she would have used otherwise to clean the flail.

As she soaked and scrubbed the flail to remove its rust, she thought long and hard about the summons. It was difficult not to, but all the same she had to brace herself for whatever Equestria would throw at her—the ponies of now would likely be very different from the ponies of yore, as dictated by the laws of time, society and change, that much she was certain of.

It was only a matter of finding out how stark that difference was. Oh well, that could wait until she visited that little innocuous hamlet proper—right now, she had a weapon to clean.

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Redsky Morning trotted around the house that she had been summoned from, sprucing up the rooms therein. The sheets from the bedroom she got done using were washed, the blankets ironed, and that gamey smell no longer lingered between doors. She had been working furiously to clean it up, grumbling about how she needed to keep a better eye for the lackeys in the future, remembering one incident when both walked in on her with a stallion in… a compromising position and having to make herself presentable for them.

At least those knuckleheads had the decency to knock first. And to be fair, that was the first time Redsky Morning had seen them blushing furiously—and in her opinion, that stupefied look suited them just fine, even if she couldn't see their eyes through those visors. She imagined the full treatment: wide, shrunken pupils, trembling as they beheld the spectacle that they knew they shouldn't have intruded on. And hey, they learned their lesson, so at least she got something out of that potentially hairy situation. The blissful tryst with the stallion she had already wooed at the time was just a big bonus to it all.

But her mind couldn't help but flit back to the summons. Her fur bristled when she recalled Arachno scoffing at the mere notion of being diplomatic to Equestria. Granted, the legends of yore on how Nightmaria came to be might have had something to do with that, but it was still so… out of the left blue fields that there was no way that it wasn't unnerving to think about.

The only thought she could voice on the matter left her mouth before she could regain control of it, "Arachno's acting… weirder than normal, 'yknow… that's just not like her…"

As the thought expelled itself on her tongue, her blood began to simmer at it. Sure, Arachno had behaved rather strangely when the King informed them all of what they were doing, but that didn't mean she hadn't wanted to personally see to it that Arachno wouldn't have foals of her own, ever. Besides, in Redsky's opinion, none of the other Champions were particularly worthy of foals either.

Or of most things they had in life for that matter, the petulant blowhards. Redsky's brow furrowed, and her cleaning turned more furious as she thought of the other Champions and what she hated most about them, her own voice echoing in her head as she complained to a previous lover of hers.

"Arachno's completely nuts, did I ever tell you that?" she had asked.

"No, you didn't," her lover replied. "How is she completely nuts?"

"Well, she has this constant… need for attention, y'know. Can't go for one second without making herself the most important Nightmarian in the room, even with the King around, y'know? She just can't tell who the actual most important Nightmarians are except for the King, and even then she thinks she's smarter than him! I've seen it in her bucking eyes, too, and that's just wrong, y'know!"

She recalled her lover going wide-eyed and blinking as he shifted in bed to look at her more evenly. "Whoa… and I thought my cousin was bad," he said.

"You don't know the half of it. What's even worse, she'll just treat you like rotten horseapples if you don't think that she's the so-called 'Smartest Being in the Universe,' y'know."

"... wow…"

"Yeah, and I wish I could punch her in the face for that. It would be so satisfying, y'know? Just to wipe that smug smile right off her stupid bucking face."

Redsky Morning smirked at the thought. Oh how she would have loved to do that, to be the Nightmarian to show Arachno her place in the order of things, to show her that no, she wasn't truly the 'Smartest Being in the Universe.' But no, Arachno had to have decided to become a Champion of Nightmaria, making that musing nothing more than a wishful flight of fancy.

"And Broken Mirror is just as bad, in a completely different way. She just… she seems to drink in, bathe in hate, y'know? Like… like she can't stand anyone else."

"How so?" Redsky's lover asked as the memory continued to replay in her head.

"I hear that every time the King summons her through one of his lackeys, she keeps trying and failing to punch them in their bucking faces. I swear, if I didn't know any better, I'd have thought they were eqdroids, y'know?"

"Yeah, I heard those two can be real sticks in the mud. How they became the King's personal guards, I'll never know."

"Me neither."

Redsky laughed as she straightened out a pair of backup sheets and slung them onto the bed, making sure there were no creases in the fabric and that they were as straight and crisp as the day they were sewn. She fluffed up the pillows and aligned them against the headboard, making sure they were nice and snug for when she would next lay her head on them. She looked out the window when she was done sprucing up the bed, and saw a thick blanket of snow already forming in the streets outside, the howling winds fueling it beating against the glass slightly and letting their song echo through the house.

Redsky Morning finished sprucing up the rest of the room, and trotted to the window to better observe the snow. It was a stark reminder of what Nightmaria still was, and all it could be against the rest of the world. It filled the street outside with its cold and cruel beauty, a constant acknowledgement to the country's present reality.

She doubted that Equestria remembered its past with the Nightmarians.

A part of her vowed to make Equestria like this, no matter what it took, so that the Equestrians could be reminded of what Nightmaria had lost when their ancestors had been unceremoniously kicked out so long ago.

They would be reminded alright, and she would see to it. For those who could not remember the past… were destined to repeat it.

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Arachno stewed in the top of a spiked tower attached to a hellish castle, surrounded by fire and lightning on top and the moat of frozen water on the bottom, isolated from most of Nightmaria but still attached to it out of necessity. The snow and winds howled around the tower, their chorus filling in for the silence as she stood outside watching the white fluff pile itself onto the streets with as much hate for the country as she held for the other five Champions of Nightmaria.

Confusion had taken firm hold of her, and refused to let go. Diplomacy? With Equestria? She heard the sordid stories of Nightmaria's founding, as well as the fouler rumors regarding some… of the early Equestrians' activities during that time period that left many sour-bitter tastes in her mouth over even remembering them. And who in Nightmaria hadn't, besides those not yet old enough for those particular wrongs to become common knowledge yet?

By Tartarus, even the King's dumb lackeys were familiar with them, though both neglected to comment about it. Anopheli knew as well. That random Nightmarian who had the gall to talk bad about her knew. The King was the most familiar with those sordid stories of every Nightmarian in the land, as he had access to practically all the libraries and other such knowledge-centers with authority alone.

A part of her was wondering if there were any Nightmarians in Equestria, descended from the… unluckier ones of the masses of yore. Another part of her doubted it; if there were, then that part of the family trees of Equestria would have been effectively swept under every single rug imaginable, lost to the annals of time, space, and even memory. The blood would have been extremely diluted by that point anyway, so there truly was no telling even with any testing involved.

She watched as the snow fell, its winds chilling her to her bones as she entertained some very dark ideas of possible payback upon Equestria for the sins of long, long ago. The grim thoughts of bloodshed, warfare, agony all swirled about in her head just like the storm outside, laying contingency after contingency after contingency. She even accounted for the fact that the Equestrians of present would probably be soft and squishy and delicate helpless things that couldn't harm flies, much less defend themselves against any world-wide threats.

Given that, then… how was that whole nation of possibly soft, squishy, delicate helpless things still up and running? That boggled her mind immensely, nagging her like a microscopic thorn in her hoof that she would need an expert farrier's help simply to remove.

But those questions could be answered later, for now she had time to prepare the red rug for the Nightmarians' re-welcoming ceremony into Equestria. Arachno smirked diabolically, teeth glinting in fire and snow and lightning as she turned away from the tower window through which she had observed the rest of the country. She trotted down, down, down the tower, for flight wasn't necessary now.

Her mind went into overdrive as she emerged into a hallway attached to the tower, and trotted down its dark and dreary corridor with her hoofsteps brisk and purposeful. All the stops needed to be pulled for this one, and by all that was unholy, she was going to do it, and do it so amazingly well nothing could hope to compare. As much as she loved pulling jabs at the King's less-than-bright lackeys over the fact that they couldn't confront her even inside of a wet paper bag, this showed more promise than them being flustered over Nightmaria's glory.

She veered down another hall, the peal of thunder rattling the castle with a pleasant rumble that had her diabolical smirk widening. She was going to do herself extremely proud, and then the rest of Nightmaria proud with her machinations, she knew. Her soul sang dark praises, mind racing in invisible applause only she could hear that further fueled her twisted genius.

As far as she was concerned, reality could go choke on her sharp wit and superior intellect. In fact, it could choke on all of her sharp wit and superior intellect. She would make it do so even if the universe had to burn just to make it possible. The invisible applause roared again, rising to a crescendo as they chanted and cheered for her unabashed cruelty.

Another peal of thunder echoed through the building, hushing the invisible applause, bringing in a soothing echo of silence in anticipation for what was to come. She could hear the tortured screams of Equestrians, pleading for mercy that would never come due to what their ancestors had done in the dark, immutable past. Oh how those imagined sounds made her ears curl in delight, how it made her heart drum harder in her chest, how it warmed the blood in her veins.

And best of all, they would sound even better in the real, immutable, physical flesh. Evils best left unmentioned raced through her mind as she trotted down another hall, although a particular one almost derailed her train of thought as she thought of smiting the power-seeking perpetrators responsible for that atrocity. Oh how such types of creatures deserved nothing less than being completely, irreparably broken beyond all functional repair, unable to breathe so much as live to perpetrate that particular heinous crime again.

A fitting fate, for those who decided to do the same to the victims of that particularly heinous crime that made her blood boil even thinking about it. Arachno was several things, but she would never stoop that low no matter what opportunities presented themselves to her.

Then her mind rerailed its thoughts and went right back to sadistic glee as though nothing had happened, making a mental note to pulverise any… of those sorts that managed to earn her ire while she was in Equestria.

And speaking of… it had a little too much vibrant sappy green on its map. Oh well, she thought with her smirk widening, she could always fix that.

And she knew just the thing to do. All she had to do was prepare.

Chapter III—Conversational Charades

A week had passed, and very few in Nightmaria felt subtle changes in the air. There was more cold in the wind and frost in the skies than usual, but because they never took issue with the weather, they didn't know why. The few who could were already anticipating as much, but even then, they still felt that weather manipulation was beneath them. It was a pity most of Nightmaria didn't know what was going on, and yet it was also fortunate that they remained ignorant—otherwise, all hell would have probably broken loose.

Preparations had been completed without delay, which satisfied King Cauchemar as he looked towards a sea vessel that had been built for the task of crossing the Ocean of Souls whenever it was needed. Behind him, Queen Phant and the six Champions had assembled along with the two personal guards, and behind them, some larger squadrons of Nightmarians—not enough to invade Equestria per se, but enough to keep tabs on things and guard him should things go pear-shaped.

The sea vessel wasn't bright or fanciful or frou-frou or… well, it wasn't gaudy, but instead, she was every bit as grim as the rest of Nightmaria. She favored mostly blacks and whites, and some reds for effect, with engines that emitted smoke and crackled with electricity, humming with warmth and power. She did not emit so much smoke as to be on fire, but enough to fill the funnels that released the exhaust skyward. On her side, in deepest scarlet, were painted the words Grim Glory. Hidden very well along both of her sides thanks to the coloration rested several armaments and cannons, more as a just-in-case than anything. Currently, the hatches for those armaments and cannons were closed, concealing them from the world.

King Cauchemar grinned slightly as he beheld the Grim Glory. She wasn't the tallest, strongest, or toughest sea vessel his forces could muster, but for the job he had in mind she would do just fine. It helped that her gangplank had been lowered, and that Nightmarians were loading her with the heavier things that couldn't be carried magically. He realized that the Equestrians might consider her a warship, and while they wouldn't be further from the truth on that front, he did prepare himself to explain it away as a diplomatic vessel should they prove to be paranoid—this ship had served such a purpose in the past after all, to other nations. How else would Nightmaria have grown as big as she did now?

Once the necessities were stowed away, he turned to Queen Phant and trotted over to exchange some tender nuzzles with her. "I'll expect to be away for at least a number of weeks, if not more, my beautiful Queen," he said, still smiling softly. The Champions, save for Rainy Parade and Redsky Morning, politely turned away from the sight. The personal guards did so as well. "Hopefully they won't make me tour Equestria for useless intel."

"And hopefully this shouldn't be any different from other nations you've visited… at first," Queen Phant said in return with her nuzzles, wearing a seemingly sweet smile that belied a cruel edge. "I shall watch over Nightmaria with our most trusted guards while you and the Champions are away."

"I pity those who would think to attack while I am in foreign lands," King Cauchemar said, his smile widening. Queen Phant giggled, and the two pulled away from one another. She trotted away with Trypo and Nocti falling in step behind her, and with that the King and his force turned to board the sea vessel.

It was at that moment that Anopheli chose to make herself known once again, trundling up the port and making a beeline for Arachno. "So… you're headed for another nation again," she said, smirking the teensiest bit. Arachno scoffed, but said nothing. "Oh come now, open up and tell me what—"

"I can't, Anopheli," Arachno said through grit teeth. She gestured to Cauchemar. "He's right there and he'd kill me if I told you."

Anopheli sighed. "Normally, you're not this tight-lipped," she said bluntly. "Are you mad you'll have to be a diplomat again? Is that it?"

Arachno shook her head. "This time, to blowhards who don't deserve it," she said, once more through clenched teeth. "Truly, genuinely, one-hundred-and-ten-percent do not deserve it."

Anopheli nodded, seeing that she wasn't going to get much out of her sister. "Be sure to give them their dues, whatever they did to earn it," she said with a smirk. Arachno snorted, and trotted off when she saw the other Champions and the King were trotting onto the gangplank. She didn't even wave Anopheli goodbye, but she knew her sister was waving back to her anyway. As the gangplank retracted and all were assembled, King Cauchemar looked out towards his Queen, who waved a hoof as the ship bellowed to announce her departure from the dock. He waved back with a smile.

He could sense some of his force's eyes watching as Nightmaria vanished into the distance, almost as though the nation faded into fog. And in a way, it had—for mist rose up from the Ocean of Souls, and coupled with the ceaseless storms, proved to be a daunting prospect for any other seafaring vessel. But the Grim Glory was prepared to take this onslaught head-on, just as she had done so in the past—she was fitted with the finest technology that Nightmaria could have asked for, which would prove just as invaluable for this trip as it had for countless others.

Even now, all those aboard could hear the ghastly wailing, faint though it was, that rose from the splashing waves—the wailing of those who could not finish their journey so long ago. Hearing it made most of the crew shudder, even though they were intimately familiar with the echoing noise by now.

The ship shook as lightning struck one of the funnels, wrapping around it briefly before dissipating. Fortunately, all the strike did was scorch the outside a little and nothing more. The crew ignored the tremors as they went away, as they ignored the rocking and tilting of the vessel, because out here such was simply sea life.

In fact, the crew was going to and fro, doing various tasks. Guiding the vessel, keeping watch over the stern and deck, making sure the supplies wouldn't fall over and cause a mess, and so forth. Some pondered over what Equestria would be like compared to other nations, especially in comparison to the days of old, when bloodshed and brutality briefly had its stint in the ancestral land. Others formed contingencies and backup plans, more to keep their minds from growing bored than any actual necessities. Others still kept to themselves, hoping to minimize interactions that they found unnecessary and useless.

For the first three days at sea, all was relatively quiet aboard the Grim Glory, save for those relaying orders to the other Nightmarians in different parts of the vessel to steer the ship and so forth. The Champions didn't see fit to issue any orders to anyone, seemingly stricken with boredom as everyone else. Instead, they lounged in their quarters, save for the brief instances where they crossed paths in their boredom. As much as the Champions wanted to chew each other out for any slights real and perceived, even they would have rather kept the boat intact—they were pretty certain the Ocean of Souls was a one-way trip downward if their usual antics flared up.

That, and they didn't want to face the wrath of their King should said antics cause the boat to capsize. There would be no way he would let them live it down otherwise. Thus, whatever fights had managed to occur on board were kept only to dark oaths and sworn promises to inflict suffering, however minimal it was. But the other Nightmarians did pause and listen, with the closer ones turning their heads wherever spats broke out, if only to postpone the monotony for a moment or so.

The only two Champions who kept to themselves to the point that they didn't run into their fellows were Agora, and Rainy Parade. Agora saw no need; there was no changing the course of fate now, so she simply stayed in her room and had food brought to it. Rainy Parade did likewise, though for entirely different reasons—for within the confines of her own mind, a sort of debate raged on.

Well, to call it a debate was being overly generous. It was more idle bickering than anything else. Multiple facets of her, each with a distortion of her own voice that she had tried to heed, bubbled up to the forefront of her thoughts and just began jabbering among themselves. Long ago, she couldn't hear them at all, but that was before everything turned on its head and birthed the mare she was now.

These days, aboard the vessel, they were particularly chatty. In her mind's eye, she could see herself three times, but each pseudo-clone had a different hue and a different expression that was perpetually glued to their faces. The yellow one, wearing a big and cheery grin with eyes that still sparkled with some lingering shred of innocence, was the most chatty of all. "Do you think we could make friends in Equestria?" she asked, her tone far more animate and alive than she would ever be caught dead with.

"Don't be ridiculous, Happy Parade," the light blue pseudo-clone said, her voice even drearier and mournful than her living counterpart. "They… they could just as easily reject us, when they learn what we're really like." Her already sad expression twisted into something that seemed hurt by something which hadn't happened yet, and had a chance to not occur at all.

"All the better to show them what we're really like, so they leave us alone!" the red pseudo-clone said, hellfire in her eyes that seemed to brighten her red sheen considerably. "Our ancestors deserve justice for what happened so long ago!"

Despite her grin, Happy Parade was not oblivious to the travesties and tragedies of Nightmarian history. And despite that lingering shred of innocence to which she clung, she was well aware—almost painfully so—of the current state of affairs. Even then, the smile never faded or dulled, a trait most Nightmarians would have found annoying and scoffed at. "But what if they atone, and don't reject us?" she posed, looking at the other two intently. "Angry Parade, Sad Parade, I understand where you're coming from—I mean, we all had those history classes way back in school. But just for once, ask yourselves what you would do if the Equestrians made an effort to right the wrongs of the past?"

For a while, a long and uncomfortable while, Angry Parade and Sad Parade sat in silence, stewing over Happy Parade's legitimate query. "It would depend on what efforts they went to, and how successful those efforts are," Rainy said to all three, causing them to stew some more in contemplation. "But we have to bear in mind that we're not the only ones who'd judge those efforts."

Angry Parade crossed her front hooves, ears twitching and alert as she processed this. "The other blowhards, right?" she snapped.

"And not just them, but the King," Happy Parade chimed in, putting a hoof to her chin. "And maybe the Queen, now that I think about it."

"And the Equestrians themselves, depending on how sorry they feel over it," Sad Parade pointed out, shaking her head. Her perpetually-drooped ears fell further still, almost completely pinned against the back of her head.

"If they feel sorry at all," Angry Parade scoffed, nostrils flaring briefly. "Call it a hunch, but I don't think they're going to, not even once."

"And why would they? For all they know, we were most likely left out of their history books altogether. And besides, given that they wield the so-called 'Elements of Harmony,' I'm fairly certain they wouldn't see their ancestors' actions as their own," Rainy added, sighing through her nostrils as she contemplated her own point. It was reality, a cruel and bitter reality of all societies—no matter who did the wrongs to begin with, their descendants wouldn't want anything to do with those wrongs, much less with actively righting them somehow. She could argue the logistics of the sins of forefathers, but she had long ago realized that it was an exercise in futility.

"That makes it even more important, if we were left out of Equestrian history altogether," Angry Parade argued, the fire in her eyes burning more brightly as she spoke. "Someone has to remind them, and if the King won't do it, then we will."

Rainy Parade sighed. Sometimes, there was just no point in arguing with Angry Parade. While she was ready to admit that her point was sound, it was also currently unfounded and with no leg to stand on. She would have to see the Equestrian history books herself before making any final judgements, which would probably be a fair amount to ask for. "So have we decided on a course of action?" she asked, to which the trio looked at each other and then nodded when they turned back to her.

"Simple: we head to Equestria, ask if they know their sins, and go from there…" Angry Parade glowered a little, teeth grinding as she muttered, "And not let the King find out."

Rainy Parade nodded. "Precisely. But we must also account for any atonement, and the efforts thereof." And with that, silence returned to her quarters, as all four had a clear destination in mind.

Pity that the other Nightmarians would never be privy to such a discussion. They would have potentially compromised things if they had.

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It was also a pity that the other four Champions ended up crossing paths at the same time, in the same hall no less. Almost immediately, animosity broke out, and the snark went flying a mile a minute. The few other crewhooves of the vessel who were in proximity stopped once again, eyes watching the fireworks with rapt attention.

Broken Mirror kicked things off, snorting, scraping a hoof, eyes narrowed and burning. "Darn it all! Why do you jackholes have to be out the same time I do?!" she roared, shifting her glare about as though she wasn't certain who she should charge down first. The gesture was returned by the other three, and the snort was echoed with military accuracy.

Nycto scoffed, but instead of frowning, she wore a sickly smile that dripped in poisoned sweetness. "Gee, I don't know," she began in derisive mocking, "but maybe it's because I have better things to be doing than paying attention to all of you miserable piles of horse manure."

"Oh, that's rich, coming from the mare with more bits than sense," Arachno hissed, wearing a positively diabolical smile as she regarded Nycto with all the hate she could muster from her being. And being a Champion of Nightmaria meant she had a lot of it to go around. "What's the matter, gonna blow those bits on stupid stuff—oh, I know, another mansion because you don't have enough of those to go around already!"

"For your information, I would love to have your head above one of my fireplaces, and besides, everything will be mine anyway. So you'd better hope you go out swinging," Nycto hissed, her smile becoming a mite strained as she said that.

Redsky Morning fired off at Arachno, "Oh, so the craziest of all of us wants a go at the snobbiest Nightmarian that nobody likes? Let me get a piece of this and I'll spare you, y'know!"

"You spare nothing from your machinations, Redsky! If I had my way, you'd all be dead right now, and I'd be stuffing your bodies for the newest training dummies to pummel on!" Broken Mirror snapped, eyes narrowing dangerously low.

"The same could be said for you, y'know!" Redsky fired back, ears twitching as her hooves scraped the floor once again. "If I had my way, you'd be a bright red—"

"Oh please, you couldn't turn me into paste if you tried," Broken Mirror hissed, tail lashing as fire crackled around her hooves.

Agora trotted past them in silence, and for a brief moment, the other four turned to glare at her. She glared back, but did not entertain them with any response; she just kept on going as though the petty spat wasn't worth her time. The other Nightmarians who were watching let her come and go as she pleased, and soon enough she was out of sight. Once she had departed, the spat promptly resumed where it had left off.

"A smear? Decapitation? Please, I could just obliterate you all and come up with a perfect name for your disappearances," Arachno hissed, her cruel smile widening.

"Now there's a fine idea… in fact, the only fine idea you've ever posed, Arachno," Nycto said, her own smile widening. "I could make you vanish into thin air… take over your positions… become the de facto Champion of everything…" Her eyes twinkled with delightfully woeful mirth as ideas span in her head. "And from there…"

"Oh put a plug in it, you're nothing but all bark and no bite," Broken Mirror scoffed. "So why haven't you offed us yet? What's holding you back? Guilt? Compassion?" She leaned in until she was almost snout to snout with Nycto and muttered in a low voice, "Enlighten us, priss."

Nycto shoved her back with a firm hoof, her smile becoming fixed again. "Guilt, compassion… those, and other emotions, are meaningless. You should focus more of your efforts on growing your wealth, accruing possessions, building influence… because how can you have it all otherwise?"

Broken Mirror shook her head. "Unlike your stuck-up flank, I'm not greedy," she spat.

"But at least I admit it," Nycto replied, smirking insufferably. "Unlike you."

Broken Mirror rose a hoof, intending to strike when someone decided to intervene. "Enough!" roared a voice that caused the bickering to screech to a halt. The four Champions turned to find King Cauchemar glaring at them, and at once they shuffled into a line and shut up. "If you cannot tolerate one another, then return to your quarters at once," he said, far less loudly once he was sure he had their attention. "Do I make myself clear?"

The four bowed and uttered a reluctant, "Yes, Your Highness," in tandem.

"Good. Dismissed," King Cauchemar said. With that, the four shot one more glare at each other and broke up to return to their quarters. When they were out of sight, the King shook his head and turned to the other Nightmarians. "Back to your duties, all of you. We have a nation to visit," he ordered. At once, Nightmarians nodded and filtered out of the hall to do as they were bid, lest they anger the King.

Once he was alone in the hallway, he too turned away to return to his quarters. He did have things to plan after all, and they weren't going to write themselves out. It was a meticulous thing, the endgame was, and every step had to count for something. He knew his Champions were eventually going to ask questions about it, but they would not be privy to the details just yet—better keep it to his vest for now, so he could account for outside factors and lap around them accordingly.

Besides, with the constant squabbling, the Champions' antics could very well threaten what he had in mind. As effective as they were individually, he was no fool to their spats—it was the stuff of legends back home. He really did not want them to jeopardize his machinations.

There would be a time to tell them, of course. It wasn't now, but what will happen shall, he swore. It was only a matter of time.

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The hustle and bustle of Manehattan was alive and well. Ponies trotted through the roads, hauling carriages, tending ships, trading stocks and the works. For a while, nothing remotely interesting happened. It wasn't until somepony sighted something from the skies did the hustle and bustle pick up, albeit now heading for the docks where the ships were kept.

From afar, they could see the Grim Glory closing in, a dark harbinger of things to come, and as out of place as a fire salamander in a land of cotton candy and gigantic sweets. Important ponies clamored about, chatting about the potential significance of such a vessel. As the ship drew closer and closer, they started to make out her details. The chatter rose to a deafening din; they could tell the vessel was foreign, since she wasn't nearly as bright and pastel as their own seafaring ships—though whose foreign vessel she was, they didn't know.

Though, soon enough the questions would answer themselves. The unfamiliar ship docked, lowered the gangplank, and a troop of armed Nightmarians came out, though they only held spears and swords for the time being. Accompanied by them was the King, and flanking him were the Champions, who affected expressions of disinterest. Most ponies had to look up and up to see the King's eyes, for he practically towered over them.

King Cauchemar looked around, trying to see something in the crowd—something with intellect and a rather discerning taste. He wanted to deal with the crowd, and restrained the urge to light his hooves when he saw somepony in a blue three-piece suit shouldering through the throng and making a beeline directly towards him.

He took a look at that pony's features; he seemed as stalwart as they could come, about a head taller than most of the other Equestrians, with a bulky frame to match. And unlike most of his fellows, he had a grey coat and a dark grey mane, which served to make him more easily discernible than his pastel-colored fellows. "And who might you be?" the pony asked as soon as he finished shouldering past the throng; there was no malice or sneer in his voice, King Cauchemar noted—nothing but genuine curiosity.

He cleared his throat, and that caused the din to die down. "I am King Cauchemar of Nightmaria," he said, his voice carrying over the crowd, even though he was pretty sure he wasn't doing anything to amplify it or tamper with the wind. "And I have urgent business with the rulers of this land."

Urgent business? That made the crowd start chattering again. The grey pony in the suit nodded. "And you would not spare even a moment to meet ponies in our beloved Manehattan, who could arrange for an airship to guide you to Canterlot?" he asked.

King Cauchemar contemplated this. Well, these guys were practically rolling out the red carpet for him and his entourage. It would be rude not to take it. "As I am… unfamiliar with these lands, I believe it would be best if I could meet these important ponies," he said after a moment. "Take me to them, if you please." He lifted a hoof, sensing the Champions starting to mutter behind him—instantly, the six hushed up and watched as the hoof lowered again, slowly, almost delicately.

The pony in the suit nodded. "That, I can arrange, but we will have to hail for a deluxe carriage that can hold everypony," he said, smiling a little—not out of malice, the Champions noticed, but rather genuine good will that they didn't know what to do with. "Fortunately, I thought to bring one with me in advance—you never know when such a thing will be needed."

"Excellent," King Cauchemar said, flashing a small but genuine smile of his own. "Please, lead the way." With that, the pony in the three-piece suit turned to lead the entourage through the throng, which parted to let them through. The Equestrians looked at the Champions and their King and guard with some measure of reverence and wonder, discussing amongst themselves what their surprise visit might entail for all of Equestria.

Fools, the whole lot of them. They didn't know what machinations the Nightmarians had abound; that being said, King Cauchemar was willing to let them keep that blissful ignorance for a while longer—all the better to catch them off-guard with. He turned his head to glimpse the city they were in; tall skyscrapers lined with glass dotted the cityscape, with nary an actual house to be seen much of anywhere. The roads were concrete, and somewhat hot to the touch on this fine sunny day, but not so uncomfortable as to actively necessitate flight.

Within moments, they were led to a carriage that could hold everypony. Their escort turned to the drivers of the carriage and said, "To Manehattan Airway, please." The drivers nodded and waited until all were boarded, and took off at the first opportunity, galloping down the road with grace and agility. Within the carriage was an assortment of seats, and a few ice-laden buckets of wine, brandy and martini glasses.

The King and his Champions didn't indulge in the wine and brandy of course, instead taking a moment to regard the cityscape outside. It seemed blissful, almost idyllic, without even a token hint of crime to be seen anywhere. The streets were pristine, whatever trees that could be spotted were green and healthy, and everypony trotted about seemingly without care.

King Cauchemar took a closer look at the passing buildings; not one of them seemed to be fortified for much of anything. Sure, they looked sturdy, but he knew better than most that appearances could deceive. A good battering from anything strong enough to shake down whole buildings could potentially topple the skyscrapers easily. Alternatively, they could potentially withstand a lot of abuse before coming down like a house of cards.

Furthermore, there was the carefree attitude of the ponies themselves. Many were healthy, but the Nightmarians would be hard-pressed, hesitant even, to call them fighting fit. They looked like the type to run and scramble and hide and pray the second things went wrong. Perhaps it was the carefree nature with which they carried themselves, or maybe it was the lack of crime in the streets. Whatever it was that contributed to this lack of alertness, they didn't know.

Sure, it might've been better for them when the endgame was in sight, but for all they knew there could have been a few do-gooders and heroes in the mix, hiding in broad daylight. In addition, they could see a few police ponies scattered around here and there, watching for any signs of foul play.

"Care for some brandy?" their escort asked. King Cauchemar snapped out of his reverie and shook his head.

"Not now, but perhaps later," the King replied politely. The escort nodded and set a clear glass bottle sloshing with a brownish liquid down into an iced bucket.

"Are you, perhaps, enjoying the sights Manehattan has to offer?" the escort asked.

King Cauchemar turned back to the window and idly nodded. "It's… different from what I am used to," he admitted. Better that than a lie, he wagered. "Almost… peaceful."

The cityscape continued to pass them by in relative silence. Hours seemed to pass as the Nightmarians sat there, regarding the passing buildings and trees. Their escort noted they seemed to have a sense of wonder shining in their eyes, almost childlike in nature, except for the fact that they didn't ask too many questions about Manehattan. If anything, they seemed to be studying it, and he figured he'd let them have the luxury, the pitiless fool.

Eh, he could worry about those details later. Right now, he had important ponies to meet. And it seemed to be sooner than any would have expected, too—he and his entourage were being carried to an airstrip of sorts, laden with airships boasting purples and golds. The largest one had its gangplank already open, and tromping down it was another entourage that heralded a finely-dressed unicorn stallion in silken garbs.

The carriage came to a halt before the airship with the open gangplank. "Manehattan Airway!" the drivers announced.

The pony that led them on smiled, opened the door, hopped out and trotted over to the finely-dressed stallion in silken garbs. The entourage took the hint, filed through that same door, and arranged themselves neatly into a line to do it, though they let the King go first because of the pecking order that had been established long before the Champions were born. They all trotted up to the gangplank, but did not board it just yet, instead letting their escort talk to the unicorn stallion first to see if he would grant them permission to board.

"Yes, Earl Rigid Adherence… it seems we have more diplomats who wish to meet up with the Princesses," the escort said. "Came from a land called Nightmaria, in a ship unlike any I had seen before."

Rigid Adherence slowly nodded and sighed. "And let me guess, they want to discuss trade routes and the like," he said.

The escort shook his head. "Funnily enough, they mentioned nothing of the sort," he replied.

Rigid Adherence's face hardened. "Did they talk much at all?" he pressed.

The escort shook his head again. "They weren't particularly chatty, but they didn't indulge in wine and brandy, either. The way they carried themselves… it said that their business was particularly urgent, even if they didn't say much of anything," he answered. "Whatever that is, I can only guess."

King Cauchemar heard Arachno whisper behind him, "Did we really give ourselves away that easily?" He shook his head to answer, careful to keep his face neutral as the escort and Rigid Adherence talked some more. After a few minutes, the two broke apart and turned to them, with the escort trotting back with a cheery grin on his face as he reached the herd of waiting Nightmarians.

"Apologies about that; the Earl required a bit of convincing," the escort said, lifting a hoof to gesture to the gangplank. Behind him, the Earl in question turned and made to trot back into the airship with haste. "Right this way." He turned and led the Nightmarians onto the airship, where inside a fanciful lounge awaited them. It had ottomans, a ceiling painted to look like the night sky, a table and some couches also painted to match the theme.

At the table, having shed his silken robes, Earl Rigid Adherence motioned the group to sit down with him. The King and his Champions complied, while their guard retinue opted to remain standing. "So, let us get down to business," the Earl said, smiling. "Whatever brings you to Equestria?"

King Cauchemar affected a smile of his own, making sure not to show teeth. He figured he could play charades for a bit, if for nothing else than to keep the Equestrians' blissful ignorance over his true plans in effect for a while longer. "I wish to establish trade relations with Equestria." He lifted a hoof before one of his Champions could speak, wordlessly telling them to hush up for now. "Of course, it might prove a bit… difficult."

"I see… and what do you have on offer that Equestria doesn't?" the Earl asked, tilting his head a little.

"A special metal scarcely found elsewhere—lightweight, durable, magically conductive if used properly, black as the coldest of nights in its purest form and as strong as the finest platinum-steel," King Cauchemar began, leaking some measure of pride into his voice. "Orichalcum is the name for this metal; it is abundant in Nightmaria, and used for everything one could think of there."

Rigid Adherence nodded. "And what about when the orichalcum is smelted into an alloy?" he asked.

King Cauchemar kept his cool smile as he replied, "It is more of a greyish tint when smelted together with steel and platinum, but no less weaker than its base components. If anything, it seems to strengthen best when smelted with the purest platinum, at the cost of gaining a heavier weight, which could prove detrimental if used to craft armor."

"Excellent. And where in your country is the orichalcum mined?" Rigid Adherence pressed.

King Caucemar replied smoothly, "It is mined in the Last Bastion, a mountain range to the north of Nightmaria's capital city, Nightmandiavia. It is cold up there, so only the best gear is required to actively mine the metal. We hope to share this precious metal with Equestria, but do be warned—we hold it in high esteem, and only trade it with those who treat it with the utmost respect."

Rigid Adherence grinned. "I shall swear by the Princesses, that if we do establish trade routes with your kingdom, the orichalcum will be held in the highest regard," he said, with no malice or shiftiness in his tone.

King Cauchemar nodded. "Excellent," he said. "The poor fool…" he thought to himself. "He still has yet to figure out what we're really here for…"

Chapter IV— Vision

King Cauchemar didn't really have much to say about Equestria's air vessels. Sure, they did the job, and well enough that he couldn't immediately lodge anything forward, but that wasn't his main concern. Nor was his concern focused on the rather unusual fish motifs the airships were sporting; his homeland had its artistic choices, or lack thereof, regarding their airships, and Equestria had its own designs on that matter. He didn't even raise any hackles about the food served onboard the damned thing as it took him and his entourage to the capital city of the land, which for him may as well have been hor d'oeuvres if that.

No, no. It was that these vessels, for all of their outward beauty and potential garishness, were rather unarmed. He would dare say they were undefended, even. Just the barest smattering of guards ponies, a few per diplomat, and they were as obvious as they could get, with their blinding gold armor and even more blinding white pelts. A few had gray pelts, but those he could count on a single goat's cloven hoof. It would be such a simple task for him and his Champions, really, to disarm the whole lot of them before Equestria even knew what was up.

But that… that would not do. It was not subtle enough for his plans. Furthermore, the airship was undefended with or without the guards. Seizing its helm and declaring a hostage situation was, effectively, a moot point before he'd even dreamt the thought. Crashing and burning it might have been a hilarious fancy at best, and at worst would just wind up upending everything.

And was all of that really worth it for what was basically a civilian vessel dressed in finery?

He snorted to himself, knowing his Champions would wildly disagree with the assessment if he'd brought it up to them, so that was a musing he carefully kept to himself. A pittance, really, but a necessary one.

It wasn't long as he sat in his quarters within the airship, plotting, scheming, that he felt the tell-tale trembling from deep below the gondola, that he knew he had finally touched down. He glanced out the window; it was barely the late evening now, the light coming in from the sun a dimming orange that reminded him of dying embers, shining against an expanse of lush green as far as his eyes could see. At the foot of the plateau's end, just below the airship, rested a quiet, tiny hamlet.

Oh… this was perfect. Too perfect. As far as he was concerned, the nation had just served itself on a silver platter to him.

He stood up, trotting to the door, when it swung open before he could reach it with either his hoof or his magic. His brow arched, only to resettle into a neutral position upon finding the guards assigned to him on the other side. "We've landed in Canterlot," the one to his immediate right, one of the few with a gray pelt, reported. "Princess Celestia's Day Court should be ending briefly, and we will show you to your diplomatic quarters, that is unless you still wish to speak with her before moonrise."

King Cauchemar nodded slowly, and respectfully. "Excellent," he replied. "Do take me and my Champions in that direction."

The guards nodded, and waited for him to step out of the room before flanking him on either side. King Cauchemar didn't say much about that, as he figured it was a cultural courtesy that he would likely understand only after he initiated things. At least they knew their place and weren't treating him like a prisoner, and as the guards escorted him off the airship and into the most garish city he'd ever laid eyes upon, he could say much the same for those chaperoning his Champions.

Even if said Champions had some… opinions about being shown around, however waylaid they had been by the change in scenery for the moment.

Arachno was the first to speak, "This… this city feels oddly over-decorated. And under-decorated at the same time."

Nycto nodded. "It's tacky. My kind of tacky, but it could do with some more red."

Rainy Parade seemed to wince at the sheer overabundance of gold and marble. "Even if I could smile… this would not make me able to appreciate it," she said.

"Too sterile, for my liking," Agora said simply, shaking her head in pity. "A shame that the colors bleed together, too."

Broken Mirror, tacitly, chose not to say anything. King Cauchemar was certain that if he had glanced at her, however, he could easily see her opinions written all over her expression. The same, generously, could also apply to Redsky Morning, for wholly different reasons that he would, internally, agree with on some modicum.

The guards chaperoning them traded some glances amongst themselves. "Yeah… we kinda get that a lot from other nations," one of them said. "Part and parcel of diplomacy, but at least it's not a hassle to get to the guest quarters from here."

"Would you like a pegasus carriage, or head there by hoof?" another guard asked.

"Show us the way; we can follow easily enough," King Cauchemar replied, lifting a hoof to indicate his Champions to shut their traps before the horseshoe fights could start. The winged guards took flight and took point, and lead him and his group to where they needed to go. Sure, they received plenty of odd looks from whatever locals were out and about at this time of day, most of them shying away at the fierce glares Arachno and Broken Mirror had sent their way, and the few bold enough to ask their escorts were simply told the plain truth that they were diplomats who'd just dropped by unexpectedly.

For all of the garishness of the capital city of Canterlot, itself more heavily defended than a diplomatic vessel for reasons Cauchemar would probably never understand, it was a simple affair to get to the castle proper, as the city had been strategically built near the peak of a mountain. This fact, of practically no importance to the locals, served as an uncontested boon for him; that meant limited space, so the buildings had to branch partially outwards on a platform on one side, and left only few narrow, twisting streets and alleys to get lost in, barring whatever guard posts he had glimpsed on his little bout of sightseeing.

Which, in turn, meant that the city itself was stupidly easy to invade if, say, he threw half of the contents of the Nightmarian army at it. The guards had primitive weapons; only horns, spears, wings and weather from what he had glimpsed so far. Furthermore, the city was packed to the gills with civilians, and businesses, meaning if he had wanted to go the route of petty collateral damage, then it was practically free range as far as Canterlot was concerned.

Which, again, begged the question: how was Equestria still standing in spite of these obvious weaknesses? As far as he knew, the other lands of other sapients might have been more technologically advanced, better armed, more suited for prolonged games of numbers and with better, stronger magics. Sure, the gryphons might have had a decline if his scouts' reports last year were to be believed, and the dragons… well, they were dragons, but those two races were the exception rather than the rule from what he had gleaned.

Which made Equestria's continued existence all the more baffling. A nation just didn't sit around and prosper on its laurels alone, and this he knew from experience; it always innovated, always built and expanded, always shoved the weakers and the lessers aside in its bid for domination. Nightmaria didn't just emerge into existence overnight; it was built, by blood, by sweat, by tears, and by iron in those cold wastes, and he'd be damned if anyone told him anything to the contrary.

Regardless… he had an audience with the nation's rulers to attend to, and the guards were leading him right to it. He'd have some semblance of answers soon enough, and then he could send his Champions to that quiet hamlet he had spied with his little eye come the morning.

~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~

Princess Celestia had quite the busy day, though it generally wasn't any busier than her previous days on the throne. From the start of the morning, she had a lot to entertain, in the strictly governmental sense. She had to tell one petitioner from Trottingham that, no, he couldn't build a bridge from his district outwards into gryphon territory, as that might have constituted an invasion. Blueblood, she had to tacitly remind, once again this month, that he couldn't build a new spa resort without several licenses and ensuring his contractors were also licensed. Most of the suggestions of the other petitioners she had gently turned down as well, a few she entertained for the moment, making mental notes to comb through and address those ones later, and so forth. A princess's work was never done.

She was now watching the remnants of the busy day trickling off into the sunset, alongside the few remaining petitioners of her Day Court who had finally aired their grievances and generously allowed themselves to leave her castle. The remnants were of a gaggle leaving in something of an organized, huffy fashion to attend to the matters of the night. Lately, though, she'd caught rumors that had unusually started with the morning and strangely originated from Manehattan of all places—unverified ones that she sadly couldn't investigate because matters of the Equestrian state of government sadly necessitated that she keep her keister parked for the moment. But the rumors were odd, ranging from inhospitable climes in the far, far Northern reaches, filled with strange, wondrous machinery and even stranger equines, who as far as rumor went didn't have cutie marks, insofar as she could glean.

Yet… she knew what these particular rumors pertained to. She was no fool; a part of her royal duties, after all, was to comb meticulously through Equestria's own history, ensure that it remained factually correct, or else have her own follies blindside her. While history was, usually, written by the winners in most cases, she abhorred that practice, and the first thing she had ever done upon ascending the throne was to pass a mandate which codified into law that history be told in as truthful and unbiased fashion as possible. Alas, the history of the continent that Equestria existed upon was far more vast, further reaching than even the nation's history itself—a fact that infuriated her, due to the simple microcosm of her scholars only looking as far back as the Founding and no further than that.

Mainly, and this small fact threatened to give her an aneurysm whenever she so much as entertained the thought, was because the scholars of yore and present had foolishly, incompetently assumed that Equestria had no history to speak of until the Founding. As if the landmass was uninhabited, as if it was just… there.

The truth of the matter was… well, it wasn't so black and white as even the fussy nobility of the land would have liked to admit. Granted, the whole wedding fiasco was entirely unplanned by her hoof, and the perpetrators were a race who were rather notorious through slipping into all manner of cracks, and thus she could not have anticipated the sheer ruckus that would have ensued if things had skewed in a completely different direction.

She was pretty sure the documents that detailed the falls of Trot and Timbucktu had been penned and exhaustively detailed, describing the threat the changelings posed back then and in the present, but last she checked the scholars had hardly bothered to study the damned things. The scholars also knew about Tirek, because it was well known he'd been sealed in Tartarus, but generally didn't bother delving into his motivations and powerlust even when it was known he came from another nation. Similarly, they'd written Discord off as a lost cause, for pretty much the same reason. They would have written off Nightmare Moon, Princess Luna's alter ego, but once her sister caught wind of that, she stormed over to the scholars' learning spaces to promptly tear strips of their hide off for it, metaphorically speaking.

Truthfully, and she'd never admit this out loud, but that day… was fairly entertaining. For all of the wrong reasons. Hopefully, the scholars would take the hint and knock the dust off of more ancient and venerable tomes to do some more historical studying.

In short, and she had painstakingly ensured as much, the history of the continent even before the nation was founded was compounded. Cataloged. Stretching on scrolls upon exhaustive scrolls, all written in ancient Ponish, that could be now easily translated thanks to the efforts of evolving linguistics. It was right there, practically free for the taking, all there for the ponies of Equestria to learn from, some parts of it in the school curriculum for everypony to read even… and they drew some pretty heavy lines about what they were willing to learn. Granted, a few were willing to learn beyond what their peers had considered 'acceptable knowledge,' but the souls in between the years were few, far between, always drowned out by those who just wanted to plug their heads in the sand and neighsay everypony else in the immediate vicinity. Sadly, she herself was not immune to said neighsayers, as much as she would have liked to be.

And one did not simply sit on a throne for at least a thousand years, letting their brains gather dust and wool—such was the folly of immortals of the past, and such was a folly that she avoided like blazing neon signs strung up over a red light district. Such behavior was effectively tantamount to a death sentence; a state of lollygagging performed only by the then-to-be damned. Many would have liked to assume she did, but she was nothing if not meticulous in her subtle bits of knowledge gathering.

So it was, when the guards came in after the Day Court finished filtering out with concerned faces did she rise from her seat and approach them. One look at their expressions told her that something big just planted its horseshoes upon her doorstep. Yet, she still had to ask as she turned to a specific guard, "What ever is the matter, Lance-Corporal Fleetwind?"

Fleetwind gave a salute, but his worrying expression lingered. Moreover, his raised hoof briefly trembled with his motion. "We have an arrival of unforeseen diplomats," he reported. "They are an entourage consisting of a King and his most powerful subjects; they call themselves the Nightmarians, Your Highness."

Immediately, Celestia's wings ruffled, but only subtly enough to briefly shift her feathers in a soundless fashion that Fleetwind had to take a moment to notice had even occurred. "Bring Princess Luna at once, if she's not already on the way," she said. "Furthermore, bring the Nightmarians into this room."

Fleetwind's eyes went wide. "Y-your Highness?" he stammered.

"Bring the Nightmarians into this room," Celestia repeated, firmly but gently. "If they have dropped by unexpectedly, I will need to establish diplomatic relations with them at once."

"... y-yes, Your Highness," Fleetwind replied after a moment. "I-I shall send one of the guards for Princess Luna." With that, he turned and left the Court, though not before informing the other guards outside of the Court to do what Celestia had told him and them by extension. Celestia drew in a deep breath, calming herself as some part of her anticipated the fireworks launching directly in her face.

And, in hindsight, it was relatively easy for her to detect the makeshift firework fountains that then trotted into her Court. Worse was the fact that she could see the hindsight glaring at her in the face pretty much immediately, when usually that sort of thing would make secondary rounds after the fact.

If Princess Luna caught wind of this hindsight before things even concluded, Celestia mused to herself, she would have been in a riot shortly afterwards. Truthfully, were that to happen, she'd have her sister practically dead to rights about it, too.

Regardless, she only took quick-second glances at those gathered before her, and their postures, before introducing herself with a low bow, one that King Cauchemar reciprocated. "Well met," she said. "I am Princess Celestia, and my sister Luna should be here shortly."

"Likewise," King Cauchemar replied smoothly. "King Cauchemar, Your Majesty." He held out a hoof to, once more, halt the bickering that would have ensued between his Champions as soon as he rose, before shaking Celestia's hoof when she had offered it.

He took an additional moment to scan the room; there were seats stretching on either side of the room, in three rows for petitioners to sit in, each with a marked placard for those who held their sessions in Day Court, and a separate, but identical one for those who used those same seats for the Night Court. The seat from which Celestia had risen earlier was at the far end of the room, a motley collection of about three chairs from which she and her fellow royalty could oversee the entire shooting match. The central chair, illuminating orange with a sun motif, glowed briefly before its colors and patterns changed to the cool navy skies and the moon they housed. The room was somewhat stuffy for his tastes, with an overuse of celestial body motifs in the walls and ceiling, but not unexpected given whom he was looking at and talking with at the moment.

"Ah… don't mind the chair," Celestia said with a warm smile. "It's been enchanted to do that since Luna's return."

King Cauchemar nodded. He had to admit, a chair with that kind of designated purpose and enchantment could have very well been useful in his homeland. Mainly, so his Champions knew when it was their turn to speak; they answered to him, after all. Eh, he could dwell on that whole ruckus later. Right now, he had to keep calm and engage with Celestia.

Heh, 'engage.' The word had wholly different connotations in Nightmaria, but even he was well aware the word itself had multiple meanings. "It is quite alright," he said, smirking subtly, without showing teeth. "I suppose we can exchange some… idle banter about our respective lands as we wait for your sister."

His Champions watched, ears all perked in unison. While they would never admit it to each other, much less themselves, they were all very interested in how this banter would go. They knew better than to speak over their King as he went back and forth with Celestia, and they were eager to see where he would steer the conversation.

"Ah, of course," Celestia said with a placid smile. "You had dropped by, with an entire entourage, rather unexpectedly. I do suppose we can have a small talk about how our lands differ from one another."

Good. Good. King Cauchemar felt his internal glee rising. Celestia was playing right into his hooves. Yet, a part of him knew, very well, that maybe she had done so intentionally—as was befitting her station of a ruler who had seemingly idled a little too long on her throne. Maybe she had made a habit of this, he rationalized to himself—make the enemy think they had won by capitulating to their demands or something, and then blindside them with something else entirely to snatch her own victory from the jaws of seeming defeat. Sooner or later that habit was going to bite her, but right now it was just a passing fancy in his eyes.

An underhoofed tactic if he'd ever noticed one. An underhoofed tactic that he could somewhat appreciate, and at least make additional plans for if push came to shove, one that he would bring to his Champions' collective attention before the next day had announced itself at the earliest. He could feel the words moving the proverbial chess pieces in his mind, at a speed few could comprehend.

"So, what is your nation like?" Celestia asked, seeming to lead the conversation. "I had heard… rumors, though I've not been able to verify anything due to unforeseen circumstances, most of which would rather see me remain within the nation as of late. Mostly, pertaining to machinery within the Frozen North, all unverified of course—and if at all possible, I would like to see those rumors, ah, put out to pasture as it were."

A fair point, Cauchemar had to admit. Such were the burdens of those with the crowns on their heads, a burden he knew all too well. Any ruler, of any capacity, who didn't admit to having this burden was either marked a fool or an incompetent in his homeland, and these days the terminology of both words was really interchangeable. And if Celestia wanted information, so be it; no amount of knowledge would prepare her for the inevitable, should the talk fall through, given what little of Equestria's technological advancements he had seen within his first few hours of the land.

For now, he was all too happy to divulge some information about his homeland. "Well… the machinery, as much as it is for war, is also an eternal engine that keeps the inhabitants of Nightmaria warm and secure every night," King Cauchemar said. "It is powered by our own unique blend of magic, the scholars and researches of which solidify it and infuse it with coal and ores dug up from beneath those same frozen climes to act as a fuel catalyst. Every facet of Nightmarian life, from the most downtrodden civilians to myself, my Queen, and our Champions—" Which he indicated with a raised hoof in short order. "—is accompanied by, somewhat empowered, but never overtaken by our technology. Well… save for my two most elite guards, Trypo and Nocti, who are likewise back home at the moment."

He then gestured to Agora specifically. "Barring the exception of my Champion of Technology, of course," he said, a wry and dry smirk on his face as Agora smiled very briefly in a measured dose of pride. "Agora furthers technological advancements within Nightmaria, for the betterment of all within our seemingly inhospitable land. With the betterment, though, comes… a few fine lines even we wouldn't dare to cross. None of us are omniscient, after all, and the burdens of such would quickly wear away our minds."

"Similarly, my other Champions fulfill important governmental functions on a scale comparable to Agora: medical research, surveillance, economics, law enforcement, military upkeep, research and maintenance, magical affairs, diplomacy…" King Cauchemar's hoof wandered to each of the other Champions, and Celestia noted that for each point rattled off, the hoof seemed to jump between them multiple times. "Truly, they are a marvel to have. Without them, not even a quarter of the work would get done within Nightmaria." Each Champion beamed from the compliments, to varying extents… not that Celestia didn't catch the whole lot of them side-glaring at each other a moment later.

Celestia knew better than to ask just why King Cauchemar brought over his best and brightest Nightmarians for this little meeting, especially since at least one of them was in charge of affairs pertaining to diplomacy. She did, however, hedge a few guesses privately… some of which set alarm bells ringing in her head as soon as those guesses announced themselves. Furthermore, she reasoned, said best and brightest would have seen to it that systems were in place to function without them whilst they were gone; any nation worth its salt would have had such security measures in place or else risk collapsing on itself. Besides, asking that question would have only brought trouble as a perceived insult, and she rarely had the time for even veiled jabs that did little else but flare tempers into outright war.

"That truly does sound wonderful," she said with a gentle smile, though not in a tone that would imply a mother talking to a child who had invented a whole make-believe kingdom. "If half of the nobility here was as bright as your Champions, and put their knowledge towards the betterment of Equestria, I would find myself in a position to say much the same about them." Her head sadly shook. "Alas… the nobility willing to do that are of a diminishing mindset and breed as of late… and these days, the ones who have their heads stuck in the sand seem to be running roughshod whenever I am away from even the capital." Her expression turned into one of pity. "Every time disaster seems to strike, they're usually nowhere to be seen… and they always mysteriously turn up again as soon as the dangers have passed."

King Cauchemar's ears perked. He affected a mournful expression of his own, even as he privately squared away that confession to use for later. "That is most unfortunate," he agreed somberly. "I do wonder whatever could have happened to cause them to behave in such a ghastly manner…" A nobility that would rather fund their lifestyles than better their country? Silver platter weakness right there, and he'd just need to find the accompanying silver spoon to jab into it for some poetic irony.

Then again, much the same could be said of any long-lived nation whose nobility would rather turn their snouts up in the air, he mused to himself. As was true of any nation, their fall often came from degradation stemming within, rather than outside forces. Any nation that fell before reaching that state of affairs, he wagered, had simply formed in the wrong place at the wrong time.

After all… that had lead to the initial fall of the Three Tribes that would migrate and form Equestria, didn't it?

So he shifted the topic a bit, to resettle for another question, "And what of… military advancements here? Surely, something could have been done—still done, I would dare say—about such matters."

An odd question to be sure, and one that had Celestia's ears perking. "Ever since Luna's return, I had been putting in some work to reform the royal guards as best as I was able. I have noticed, Equestria is lagging a fair bit behind on some other nations; the minotaurs of Asterion, for instance, have more advanced fighting styles, weapons, and techniques than my own nation does," she replied, her eyes drifting to Agora, who was idly checking out one of her hooves.

"For instance," Celestia continued, "the military of Asterion has this wondrous device called a woolgatherer; it sounds benign, but it actually dismantles spells by drawing in their magic into them to render retaliation useless—it even repurposes magic channeled by unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies all at once! I have tried to formulate counters to that device, but the nobility would not hear of it, saying that they could just throw magic at it to hopefully overload it! I can, presume, much the same is true of Nightmaria itself, by that same token."

King Cauchemar nodded. While Celestia hadn't been putting in enough effort with her guards for his liking, given what he had seen so far… maybe, he surmised, the effort was only truly starting to gather steam. A wasted effort for sure, but given the stubborn nobility… maybe she had a few more roadblocks than she was letting on. And that also caused him to make mental notes to himself to check out Asterion at a later, more opportune time, to see if these woolgatherers were as effective as Celestia said they were. If they could counter the ponies of Equestria, it stood to reason that maybe they could also counter Nightmarian magics, as unlikely as the notion was.

Either way, a delicious tidbit of information for certain, though some part of him hedged that maybe Celestia was pulling his tail with that one. He didn't even need to glance behind himself to confirm his Champions had also taken that one to heart; the only confirmation he needed was a few shuffling of hooves to reach his ears as his Champions held another brief glaring contest amidst their own fractured counsel.

At that point, the doors to the Court opened again, and Fleetwind returned with Princess Luna in tow. "Apologies, Your Highness," he said with a salute. "I had to take an additional moment or two to brief Princess Luna on recent events."

Celestia turned to Fleetwind with a smile, and watched as her younger sister trotted up to her with a confused look on her face, though Luna did pause to shake Cauchemar's hoof before she could pass him. "You are excused for the truancy, Lance-Corporal Fleetwind. You are dismissed for the evening," she said, and with that, he turned around and closed the doors behind him.

Celestia then took a moment to, quickly, brief Luna on what she had discussed with their guests, which Cauchemar allowed as a basic courtesy considering she had likely only been told that he and his gaggle were present without the why of the equation. He held out another hoof to halt any further bickering from Agora and the others, and was internally surprised when he heard that Celestia hadn't embellished anything to her sister, much less omitted the information with him in front of her.

"The Frozen North…?"

"Yes."

"And they settled there…?"

"Certainly."

"Wondrous technology… solidified magic…?"

It took a few moments for Luna to get succinctly caught up on everything, and Cauchemar had to admit, few rulers of any nation would be bold enough to do something like this with diplomats practically within horseshoe sandwich reach. Celestia wasn't being sneaky about it, either, a minute concern that briefly had alarm bells singing in his head before he forcibly quelled them. Less words for him to use to catch somepony up, and hey, that was another boon he readily took as it allowed him to gauge in the minute ways that Luna had differed from her sister.

However, he was able to verify the reports that his scouts had sent him at least, pertaining to these two. They seemed… plush, honestly, and not in any negative connotations that didn't pertain to full-on fisticuffs. Within the perambulations of said fisticuffs, however, well… their legs were lanky for starters, with just enough muscle to support their larger-than-average-pony frames and no more besides, with wings likewise big enough to support them in flight given their height.

Furthermore, they were nowhere near as armored as he was, and he made sure to armor himself pretty lightly for this whole diplomacy thing—he maintained his horseshoes, his leg-plates, his reinforced cape-saddle and barding, and of course, his two-horned crown—his obsidian pearl necklace wasn't armor, due to the brittleness of the material, and really only counted as an ornamental jewelry. He idly lifted a hoof to touch the necklace, a gift from his beloved Queen… and some part of him already longed to be with her again. Oh well; once business here concluded, he could make time for her again, he mused.

The sisters, on the other hoof, treated their armor more as jewelry than anything worthwhile to wear almost at all times—just their crowns, shoes, and rather sparse barding seemed important enough to continuously wear and no more besides. Furthermore, the metals used in their sparse armor consisted of silver and gold—weak metals that wouldn't have held a candelabra to even the slightest alloys made of bronze in the field of combat. In his homeland, gold and silver served some purposes, yes… but their ornamental value came secondary to their primary function of keeping the other nasties around Nightmaria outside of his kingdom.

Something in his mind mused that these two survived enough assassination attempts between them to forgo the armor entirely and just be passively saying 'hey, look at us, our necks are exposed!' before then taking the would-be assassin to task. No other explanation would suffice in his mind; that was his revelation, and he was sticking to it. His Queen would surely get her kicks out of that one when he reported that to her.

Some part of him internally snickered at the thought.

But the reverie was cut short once Celestia had finished catching her sister up, and turned her attention, once again, upon Cauchemar. "So, would you like me to tell you about Equestria? After all, you did share information on your homeland," she said.

King Cauchemar grinned. "After I retire my Champions to their guest quarters for the night," he said, before turning to his six. "Go take a rest, and have the guards here see you to your quarters if you need to do so. I'll reconvene with you on the morrow." The six did not fuss to him, and immediately obliged him, trotting out of the Court to do as they were bid. Some fussing occurred outside the doors, probably the Champions finding a guard to escort them as needed, and then silence and some semblance of normalcy settled.

"I presume they have had a long day," Luna noted as an aside, to which Cauchemar nodded. Even he had to admit, those six… were something of a hoofful.

"Any more time spent clustered together within the same room, and they just might have started a spat," Cauchemar said. "They… how do I say this delicately… don't get along. I brought them here to see how… the average ponies here conduct themselves on a daily basis—the Champions are fairly rich, you see, and sometimes forget the struggles of the less fortunate. A change of scenery just seemed like something the doctor had ordered, so to speak." A half-lie, he had to admit, albeit one that sadly had basis in Nightmarian reality. Thus, the omission of the more unsavory details would suit his purposes just fine here. The blowout between the six would come anyway; better let the Equestrians see that fireworks' showing for themselves.

Princess Celestia nodded. Even she, for all of the foolishness that was real and perceived by Cauchemar, could tell that the powder keg would have tipped anyway, and so did not raise any objections to it. So she entertained her guest with tales of how his homeland and hers had differed, chiefly the fact that her nation had a 'throwing hooves as an absolute last resort' policy, as they would have preferred to garner strength and allies through befriending them, than clobbering them into submission with overwhelming military might.

Eventually, though, the talk did wear Cauchemar down, and he too had to retire to his diplomatic guest quarters for the night. Celestia and Luna watched him trot out of the Court, evidently amused with the tales they had traded with one another. A pity that he hadn't revealed to them whether he wanted to forge ties with Equestria that night, but his presence gave the two an excuse to have the Day and Night Courts take a day off on the morrow so they could hash out those fine details.

As soon as Cauchemar had departed towards his bed, Celestia would turn to nuzzle her sister… and pause as her mind flashed with images not forged from even her own memories, her face and gaze going blank as she was, for lack of a better term, assaulted by something she could only call dark and foreboding. Luna's own expression shifted to match her sister's as she, too, beheld the same terrible sights that neither could really see with their eyes… but instead with their hearts.

Impossible ships, both naval and aerial, coming from the North, clad in ice and blazing magic unlike any Equestria had seen—a foreboding presence, wrought of a dark design that did not house anything remotely friendly. Flying ponies, looking like the earth ponies but with their hooves ablaze, wearing impossibly advanced armor, wielding an impossible branch of magic the nation was wholly unprepared for. Falling thunder, striking blizzards, the sky falling cataclysmically.

Impossible reparations being demanded of all of their little ponies, reparations that they had no knowledge about and could not carry out… because that fault never truly lied with them, but rather, their ancestors of yore. Blood debts upon blood debts being reclaimed, forcibly repaid… at the helm of it all, the very King with whom they had engaged in pleasant conversation not moments ago.

And the harrowing memories finished off with a tableau of the land their nation called home, now forever reduced to ash, before rewinding itself as if going back through time to the one thing that would trigger this cataclysm: six odd, but otherwise unassuming Nightmarians who loathed each other entirely, boarding a train headed for Ponyville. The sisters gasped, recoiling as their eyes refocused and they remembered where they were. They had to take a moment to catch their breaths, shake off enough uneasiness to then act.

Celestia was the first to speak, and Luna didn't raise any objections as she said, "... Twilight. I need to write a letter to Twilight. I need to warn her that danger is headed her way, and for her and her friends to be on guard." She acted immediately, summoning a scroll and quill with a flash of her horn, and an inkwell to write with as she hastily scratched out her dire warning to Twilight before enchanting it and sending it on its way once she and Luna had read it over once to make sure the message had been conveyed.

Well within the night, about to head to bed in a crystalline castle that could have only come from a fairytale dream, a princess received a letter from her peer, announced by way of dragonfire. Any questions as to why she had received a letter died in her throat as she opened the scroll, which bore only a few short words. The more she studied the harried writing, the otherwise immaculate hoofwriting that she decided was authentic… the more alarmed she grew.

The only question she could ask… was what had prompted Celestia to write this out to her? It had the royal wax seal; it mustn't have been a fluke… was it?

CATACLYSM ARRIVES IN A SIXFOLD FEUD. THEIR METHODS DARK, THEIR ENMITY ACCRUED. ONE TINY SPARK CONFLATES INTO WAR. FIND THE KEG, LET NOT THIS FLAME SOAR.

-PRINCESS CELESTIA

Chapter V—Twofold Trifecta

Princess Twilight was nothing but overly cautious; any letter that would have caused Celestia to unleash her inner poet was something very dire indeed, and the moment she got it that night was the same moment she devoted herself in trying, and failing, to make sense of it. She went so far as to forego sleep entirely, exhausting herself when the sunlight came back into the sky to shine in her eyes. She had sent a magical flare in the sky with a flash of her horn every hour for five hours, each in the shape of her friends' cutie marks as a way to tell them to come over immediately as soon as the sun came up the next morning. As she waited for them to gather, she was reviewing letters that came from Celestia in the past, as sparse as they were compared to the ones she had sent the other way over the years.

Worryingly, she reached the end of the stack of letters sent to her rather quickly, the opened scrolls dancing around her in a field of magic as she compared them to the one boasting the worrying poem. None matched, save for the hoofwriting, and even that was a near miss with how hurried it had been scratched out onto the parchment. The other letters made far more sense compared to the recent oddball. A part of her began to fixate on the poem in worry.

But before she could start fussing over this problem all over again, she felt a tap on her shoulder, and turned to Spike, who looked at her worriedly. "Um… Twilight… cutie mark," he said, pointing at said cutie mark before Twilight could get a word out. Brow furrowing, she turned to her rump, and…

What in Equestria was happening? Her cutie mark… was shining rather oddly. It was glowing as if she were obtaining it all over again, yet… surrounded by dark clouds, oddly reflective, like broken glass, each one trying to stab themselves into her flank. She flinched away, but still the dark clouds followed her, making her ruffle her wings. "What the…?" was all she got out.

"Yeah," Spike agreed with a nod. "You were so engrossed in those scrolls, I'm amazed you didn't notice this sooner." Twilight frowned, and made to say something more when some of the dark clouds changed, some looking like raindrops, some like spiders, some preferring to remain as the darkness itself, some like eerily red clouds crackling like lightning… and some, worryingly enough, shaped and shining like razor-sharp scalpels.

Twilight continued to stare, before her eyes darted back to the scroll with the worrying poem. Alas, as with her previous attempts to understand it, it had not yielded any answers. Maybe she could write back, ask Celestia what kind of cider she had indulged in as of late… before she heard doors opening behind her and somepony shouting from that door. "T-Twilight! My… my cutie mark's doing something weird!" the unexpected guest shouted. Twilight turned to find Rainbow Dash, whose wings were flared, whose front hooves were holding up the door, and whose cutie mark was, indeed, behaving strangely thanks to those same dark clouds pooling around it.

Rainbow Dash was followed, in short order, by Rarity, then Applejack, then Fluttershy, and finally by Pinkie Pie, all of whom were also looking rather flummoxed at the strange behavior their cutie marks were displaying. "I didn't know my cutie mark could do this; I would say 'wowie-zowie,' but what's happening here isn't so wowie," Pinkie said, garnering much nodding from her friends as they decided to not argue with her strange logic for once.

The dark clouds slowly, ominously lifted from the flanks of the six, coagulating overhead before veering off out of the room to hover in the hallway outside. Twilight's brow furrowed even deeper. "That… I think it wants us to follow it," Twilight said uneasily, using her magic to shelve all of the other scrolls in a nearby bookshelf, making sure to keep the alarming one close to her chest.

With a nod of unison from all six ponies, Spike clambered onto Twilight's back before she took off at a dead run, though not before Rainbow Dash vacated the door to prevent any head-on collisions from taking place. She was flanked in short order by the other five, who followed the cloud of darkness and unusual imagery as it darted down twisting and turning hallways, its incorporeal form sticking out within the crystalline castle like a sore thumb.

The group didn't waste time asking the cloud itself any questions, and it was fortunate that it kept pace with them, never straying from their sights as it took them up and down some stairs, seemingly leading them nowhere in particular. Besides, it had no mouth, it could not scream, and just seemed to be a particularly odd logical aberrance at best.

Or so went Twilight's internal attempts to rationalize this thing, anyway. Nothing about this made sense, and so no other explanation would even suffice as hedging the realms of satisfaction in her mind.

Yet, after what seemed like one hallway, one door, one staircase too many, the cloud halted in a room that had baffled Twilight ever since the castle emerged into existence within Ponyville; seven chairs, a smaller one for Spike and six larger ones for herself and her friends, arranged around a table of crystal that was strangely inert. Each chair was emblazoned with the cutie marks of her and her friends, and the cloud of darkness hung over the table. If it could snort in impatience, it would have done so in that moment, but all it could do to convey whatever irritation it was capable of was to swirl around above the chairs' collective edges with a tempestuous crackle.

Frowning, Twilight and her friends moved to sit at their marked chairs, and Spike moved to sit in his smaller one after disembarking from Twilight's back. Everypony tapped at the table, expecting it to do something… but it remained inert. They turned to the cloud of strangeness to see if, perhaps, it would finally yield answers.

The cloud crackled… and so did the scroll to which Twilight had clung. Twilight yelped, flinging the scroll away from her to land open-side up on the table, holding her hoof to her chest as if she had been scalded by it all of a sudden. She regarded it warily, ears pinning back as she took a few seconds to process what in Tartarus just happened.

"G-girls…" Twilight stammered, eyes widening as the reality of the situation was starting to catch up. to her "I… think that scroll is enchanted…"

"Twilight, aren't all scrolls sent by dragonfire enchanted by default?" Rarity asked, shaking her head. "While I cannot deny that this one is behaving rather abnormally, I don't think it would be enchanted to do something like this even if the Princesses had sent it. Honestly, it sounds like you're being a worrywart again." Then she turned to her cutie mark, which was decidedly behaving for the moment. "Furthermore, you had received the scroll, yes? Shouldn't it have not caused our marks to behave as they had done simply by us not being within proximity of its opening?"

"Well… yes…" Twilight admitted, flinching and shrinking as she lifted a shaky hoof to gesture to the scroll. "But how else could you explain it? Such enchanted scrolls have only been used in the past, before I was even born, in case things like war break… out…" Then she remembered the scroll, specifically, mentioning war, and her expression grew pale. "Oh… oh buck…"

"Um… sugarcube… ya mean to say we've got a biggun on our hooves?" Applejack asked slowly, trying to comprehend the situation. "Well why didn't ya jest say so sooner?"

Twilight gravely nodded. "Yeah…" She lit her horn and gently shoved the scroll towards Applejack, who picked it up and read its brief contents once it came within reach of her.

"... yeah… this don't look like nothing Celestia would write unless it was in a hurry," Applejack muttered, setting the scroll down once she read its poem of doom and gloom. Rarity lit up her horn to take the scroll to scrutinize it for herself.

"... now that I look at it, it looks as if Celestia didn't have much time to make her usual fanciful calligraphy," Rarity said, shaking her head as she passed the scroll to Rainbow Dash, then Fluttershy, and then to Pinkie Pie to have a look-see for themselves. "A 'sixfold feud' doesn't sound very promising, I'll admit… but we've had nothing of the sort lately. I don't think it could mean us, of all ponies, engaging in such horrendous behavior."

"Which means, the feud and the ponies causing it hasn't come yet!" Pinkie said sagely. "But aren't feuds usually between whole families that don't get resolved until the families set aside their differences and all the nasties that come with them?"

"I've never pegged you as one who had read the tragedy of Coroneo and Jeweliet," Rarity muttered as an aside, frowning deeply as her head shook.

"Well, to make ponies smile, I gotta find out what makes them sad first! You can't make ponies smile if you never find out what hurt them! Can't fix a pipe unless you have the right wrench, after all!" Pinkie argued.

Rainbow's growing frown turned lopsided. Synapses in her brain fired off their warning shots, and she heeded the warning shots immediately. "... I think we're bucked, if Pinkie Pie of all ponies makes sense," she grumbled gravely.

Fluttershy weakly nodded. "O-oh… my…" she muttered, processing the gravity of the situation. She couldn't find it in her to argue, and nor could the others.

Spike frowned, and would end up finding himself uttering the fateful words that caused the cloud of darkness swirling overhead to give up the ghost: "Okay… if Pinkie Pie is making sense… then what else could possibly go wrong from here?"

The cloud crackled, before it and it's dark images lanced out to gingerly touch the heads of the gathered seven. They had seen mere glimpses of things that hadn't happened yet, could not have happened in any capacity—of blood debts being repaid, of war desecrating Equestria, of markless ponies with impossible armor and magics laying waste to all they had held near and dear to their hearts. These glimpses were brief, so very fortunately brief… but the transience did nothing to hide the sheer horror and despair contained within the vision. The last thing those seven had glimpsed were six curious equines, each confronting them personally before the vision went black as if to imply death.

When the vision faded, and with it, the cloud of shadows, Twilight and her friends slumped in their chairs with mouths agape. For several long moments, none of them could speak, just staring at the ceiling wide-eyed and listlessly. The silence stretched as their brains had to take a moment to catch up to the fact that, yes, they were still alive… and if they botched whatever was headed their way, that would no longer be the case.

After remaining in that position for a good five minutes, Twilight jumped to her hooves, fanning her wings out to let the others know that they were safe. Slowly, her friends rose from their chairs, each drawing in a shaky breath before Applejack spoke for all of them.

"Alright… sugarcubes… I'mma level with y'all… but what the buck did we jest see?"

Rainbow Dash ruffled her wings uneasily, her face as pale as those of her friends. "I think the better question is: can we stop the… whatever it was we've just seen?" Her wings snapped open, primary feathers moving to gesticulate at points way beyond the castle they were standing in. "Because… that's big enough it looked like it could've given even the Princesses trouble, like Tirek except if there were hundreds of him."

Twilight slowly nodded, taking that sobering point into account. Whatever it was, it had the potential to involve countless ponies, and even she with her teleportation spell could not be everywhere at once—and at this rate, nor could the other Princesses. Something that glaringly large required all sorts of planning that, from the looks of things, she didn't have the time for. Furthermore, it required all sorts of accounting for other things that were simply too numerous to count, too numerous to even prepare accordingly, and too many ponies for her to contact all at once… half of whom would have probably written her off as a paranoid princess as soon as she brought the vision to their attention.

In brief, she was stuck at square one. At least, until she remembered that the scroll itself was still on the table. She glanced back at it… and tried to magically lift the scroll, only for it to spontaneously catch fire and burn to ash when she did. Twilight sighed, and calmly swept the ashes off of the table after summoning a broom and dustpan to make the cleanup manageable.

"So… that rules out sending letters to Celestia to ask what the hay just happened…" Spike said, shaking his head. "Because letters that start by giving us waking nightmares and then turning to ash afterwards… that's not normal."

Twilight nodded, unable to argue with that. So instead, she focused on the contents of the vision itself… drawing in a deep breath first, before dredging up the willpower to confront those contents. She shivered as she re-ran it in her head, halting at the image of the six markless equines more or less kicking her new front door down to raise some Tartarus. Something about those six piqued her interest… before another re-run of the vision in her mind yielded something that she had missed the first two times.

Namely, the fact that those six were fighting amongst themselves just as much as they were fighting her and her friends to the literal death. Her ears perked upon this little discovery, and she turned to her friends once more to address them.

"Well… girls, I think I've sussed out the 'sixfold feud' the letter warned us about," Twilight announced. Before any questions could be asked, she lit her horn and summoned the vision again, albeit this time in an encased magical bubble that allowed her to more or less skip to the important parts, and then slow them down so that the contents would be more easily glimpsed now that everything wasn't so rapid-fire. "Since the scroll contained a vision spell that hit all of us, I think I can use a vision spell of my own."

Applejack whistled. "When didja learn that?" she asked.

"When I took my courses on dragonfire scrolls and their various applications after Spike hatched," Twilight answered. "Namely, because Celestia also pointed out to me back then that scrolls containing visions take more time to write, and enchant all at once, which is why vision scrolls have fallen out of use. The last time the scrolls had been used was before the Founding."

"Nifty," Rainbow Dash chirped, garnering nodding from her friends.

Twilight lifted a hoof to point at the markless, faceless equines within the vision. "Watch those six," she instructed, before letting the vision resume as it had the first time. It didn't take long for her friends to spot the issue as it was; the infighting of a potential foe was as plain as day, though fortunately the vision didn't relay any insults those six might have thrown around.

"Hrm… as fierce as they are, the infighting might seem counterproductive…" Rarity noted, shaking her head and bringing a hoof to her chin. "Yet, if anything, it only makes them even more frightening to behold, as if the words 'collateral damage' simply don't exist within their collective vocabulary."

"Exactly," Twilight agreed with a nod. "Which means if we have any hope of stopping this, we might have to make them see eye to eye."

"I 'unno, sugarcube…" Applejack paused, shaking her head as Twilight's horn diminished and the spell bubble with the vision in it faded. "Those six don't look like they can be reasoned with. If'n they're willing to give each other black eyes at the least, what's stopping them from not outright killing each other?"

The question hung in the air, and it was left without an answer. In the distance, across the other side of Ponyville, they heard the faint shriek of a train whistling as it billowed out more steam from its smokestack.

~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~

That same morning, during that same stretch of time, the Champions boarded a train heading for a destination called Ponyville—all of them more or less confused at the rather on-the-nose names Equestria sported regarding its cities. Of course, disagreements over how on-the-nose the names were was an argument they weren't going to entertain amongst themselves, for even they saw it as an exercise in futility. It was as if the whole nation was formed from the world's greatest pun, and sadly, the world's greatest pun had been lost to time.

Whoever had taken the homeland of their ancestors, and then desecrated it with meaningless puns was going to get the short end of the stick, they had unanimously decided. Though… they were born long after those clowns had come and gone, and alas, they would need to invent time travel first just to have a crack at that unfortunate soul's snout. What a world, what a world… but if they could find the graves of the sods who had besmirched the nation with the puns, then the graves would end up paying some fair consolation.

Petty? Yes. Justified? Well, that depended on whose opinion was asked for, and in the case of the Champions, it was undoubtedly so.

But, that could wait. The Champions had far more important things on their plates, such as the decor on the train they had boarded. The wallpaper was blinding, the cloud-shaped seat dividers had no substance and barely offered any privacy, the floor was bland with one rug stretching between doors, and the ceiling was such an uninspired shade of blue that at least one of them was contemplating grabbing paint cans and dyeing the whole interior in more pleasing colors.

The only saving grace was that, at least, the seats themselves were plush, and large enough for them to lounge and sit on without having any dangers of rolling off. Nothing they would sleep on, per se, but for their purposes they would get the job done.

The loud, piercing whistle of the train as she departed from her station did not make the Champions flinch, though the whistle did remind them of home in a way. But it also told them of how advanced the train was, which was to say, trying to hold a candle to their homeland and failing to do so. At least they could even commend its effort at all, which for the nation as a whole was saying something to them.

Thus, the six focused on other matters—and once again, the talk of the train found itself foisted upon all of their shoulders as they, for the umpteenth time, started mocking each other once again. Rainy Parade and Agora kept to themselves again, but this time they were not immune to receiving insults from the others. "Look at those two goody-four-shoes over there in those tiny little corners, sitting all alone in this blinding cable car looking sad and mopey," Redsky Morning said, wearing a smug grin. "If I had my way, their ashes would be mounted on my fireplace within the gaudiest urns I could get my hooves on, all carved and decorated so they can show the world how happy they always were on the inside, y'know."

"Oh please, you couldn't force any smiles on their faces even with a knife applied to their funerary urns, you blinding priss," Broken Mirror hissed, shaking her head. "Any smile those two could make isn't even worth our time or theirs. Just cremate them, stick them in urns, and then dump them into the Ocean of Souls and be done with it. And while you're at it, melt Agora's false legs into something useful for once—I dunno, a brand new mace sounds like that would be right up my alley."

Agora rolled her eyes at the commentary, but did not rise to it. Rainy Parade had no change in her facial expression, and even she did not see the need to change it at all.

"Yeah, but the urns would break anyway!" Redsky Morning pointed out. "I'd make sure to get the cheapest ones available for their sorry hides! I'd put them in a trophy case to commemorate their defeats, y’know?!"

"Really? The cheapest urns for two of my worst enemies?" Nycto asked with a chuckle, wearing an insufferable smile. "Honestly… I'd actually put in the time and effort to commend them properly, with grand and glorious tombs detailing their faults, their prowess, and one that was self-cleaning for whenever I made the time to visit them after the fact—the same applies to you other three, as an aside. Surely, their souls would scream upon having their resting places in my grandest house, being desecrated again and again. The only mercy I could ever offer any of you is that your bodies wouldn't be desecrated—as they'd all be in tightly sealed ash urns that nopony could open, and truthfully, that's the only consolation you all will have earned in the end."

Nycto's smirk widened. "And I would gladly feast on their suffering, and toast to that anguish for every grand and glorious feast to follow afterwards."

"Please, they aren't even worth that effort," Arachno said, smirking just as wickedly. "Just put them six hooves under and be done with it. Nightmaria's cemeteries maintain the graves; they're already a built-in cleaning and restoration service. Just plunk them there, visit whenever we fancy, and be done with it."

"That's a load of horse manure!" Broken Mirror screamed, though not at a volume that would rattle the train car they were in, much less the rest of the train itself. Her shout made Agora and Rainy Parade wince at her volume. "What good is a tombstone that is routinely restored if it belongs to my enemies?! You may as well admit that destroying it permanently is less than useless if that route is taken!"

Agora looked at her left hoof, raising it to her eye level. She admitted to herself that a tomb of her foes, constantly being restored, was less than useless… and only then, because it prevented her from dissecting her hated ones. Her mind tinkered with ways to halt certain biological processes for when her foes perished, to get as much out of that experience as she could get away with—that way, before her foes would be put to proper rest, they would at least further the causes of science with their postmortem donations. However, now simply wasn't the time, so she could only dream about that eventual conquest for the time being.

Rainy Parade, meanwhile, was entertaining another private discourse between she, herself, and her, in the form of her mind's other Parades. They were engaged in a heated debate, toying with ways of talking down the other Champions before push came to shove, save for Angry Parade whose first rule of hoof was 'beat them senseless, and then kick them while they're down.' Rainy herself didn't say much if at all, because unveiling the other Parades to her foes would have then constituted as exposing a glaring weakness she couldn't help. Better to keep the lid sealed tight on that whole can of worms.

Besides, the insults were ones that Angry Parade more or less internalized, keeping as coal to use as fuel for later for her own outbursts. Rainy was no fool; she knew Agora was doing the same, despite the fact that Agora would then go on to vehemently deny it if ever asked about it. Certainly, their other four acquaintances were doing the same even amidst their own spat, and Rainy didn't need to be a rocket scientist to glean that much.

The insults continued to fly a mile a minute, and Rainy Parade was wondering if any other passengers who had also likely boarded this train had taken notice yet. Surely, even the conductor must have noticed, since the car she and her acquaintances were in was a stone's throw away from the smokestack up front by her estimates.

"Oh yeah, you overzealous brute?" Redsky Morning hissed, grinning and showing her fangs. "Well, what good is beating an enemy to pure paste when you'd just end up feeling like you're hoofing a tin of pudding after the fact, y'know? You sure talk big for somepony willing to punch Trypo and Nocti in their faces whenever they have to fetch you—" She gestured to herself. "—and even I, of all ponies, don't come swinging at them as soon as they barge in to tell me 'hey, the King wants you, and he wants you pronto!' Heck, before we came here, I had a good romp, and guess who I found at my front door after I freshened up!"

"That's besides the point! Those two weirdos who may as well be fraternal twins wouldn't know privacy if it bit them in the flanks!" Broken Mirror shrieked again, lighting her front hooves on fire as she flailed them in some measure of exasperation. Another point that Agora and Rainy Parade both agreed with, even if they kept that one to themselves as well.

"Well, duh! Those two are the King and Queen's personal guards, y’know!! If they can crack Rainy Parade's special doors, then they can crack just about anything else in Nightmaria!" Redsky Morning vehemently argued. "Not even security protocols bother those two that much! If I didn't know any better, I'd place a bet with all five of you here and now that they'd be caught nuzzling if it meant preserving the glory of Nightmaria!"

Another smirk blossomed on Arachno's face. She looked as if she had found some juicy material to blackmail Trypo and Nocti with, and among them, she didn't have the most spies within Nightmaria's trotting grounds. "None of you can convince me that those two had gotten themselves successfully sterilized; even as much as I hate those two brownnosers, I'd like to think they devote themselves to the King and Queen in their entirety," she said rather candidly. "Neither of them wouldn't've even signed up otherwise. Their own understanding of glory and fame… well, allow me to put it succinctly—" She sat down and lifted her front hooves up to her face to hold them an inch apart from one another and an inch away from her nose. "—it's sorely lacking, let me tell you."

"Oh please, even they have a less than base understanding of glory. As much as I hate the notion of agreeing with Arachno, there are some… issues those two could do with some sorting out on their end—" Nycto's smirk widened once more. Her ears twitched as if she were catching Trypo and Nocti potentially sneezing all the way back home. "—just like you, Redsky. Your attitude could use some work."

Redsky's eyes twitched, and her gaze snapped to Nycto. "Oh! Oh! You wanna throw down, you overinflated, egotistical maniac?!" she shrieked, her outburst causing Broken Mirror to look on with a narrowed gaze that anticipated bloodshed. Redsky lit her hooves, and reared on her hind legs to crack her neck and her pasterns. Her flames started cycling through the colors of the rainbow as she shouted, "We can throw down, right here and right now!"

"On a train as gaudy as this?" Nycto said, shaking her head. "Poor taste of a potential arena. As much as I'd like a high speed battle on a train, even if it brought me more glory for our fair kingdom, I don't think I can spare you the effort of even contemplating that notion right now." She lifted a hoof and gesticulated to their less than pleasant ride. "Besides, this thing simply isn't advanced enough for a high speed train battle between the two of us anyway. Even if I wanted it, which frankly I do, I'd shell out enough bits for extensive modifications for it to suit my interests anyway. Besides prettying it up according to my tastes, I could also afford to make it able to survive such battles as a precautionary measure."

She continued gesticulating. "Furthermore, I would also repurpose it so that it wouldn't be a civilian vessel in that eventuality, nor as a mobile weapons cache—seriously, I already have plenty of mobile weapons caches, and a train is as obvious as you could get with such things. Lose the train, lose the cache, and that is a notion that simply isn't conducive at all." Nycto planted her raised hoof firmly against her chest. "Greedy as I may be, and proud of it, even I recognize paltry cliches when I see them. And besides, a civilian train at that? Such senseless carnage—an affront best avoided were any of you sticks in the mud to ask for my honest input."

"Then just blow it to bits already!" Broken Mirror shouted. "And while you're at it, shut your mouth, Nycto!" She cracked her neck. "Or better yet, get rid of it!"

Nycto raised the hoof that was on her chest to cover her mouth as she yawned in boredom. "No can do," she replied. "Besides, we're all just as likely to shut up in our usual bantering anyway; for me, your outbursts and your paltry attempts to reach my stature and status are entertaining. And what good is entertainment, if you just waste your whole life throwing it away?"

Something about the comment seemed to make Broken Mirror's eyes twitch. Something about it made her teeth grind. Some part of her wanted to turn Nycto's smug, insufferable smile into her last joyous expression before her hoof came crashing down onto that Tartarus-damned face to forcibly wipe it off.

But a tiny voice in the back of her mind piped up, reminding her of the mission at hoof. And as much as Broken Mirror hated its suggestions, hated even listening to it to begin with… she had to quell her temper for now, and resign herself to dreaming of sending Nycto to the shadowlands another day. Namely, and the damned tiny voice could have never chosen a more convenient time to pipe up, but she and her fellow Champions could feel the train starting to slow down, the wheels gradually grinding to a screeching halt that preceded the sharp whistle from the smokestack up front.

"The Friendship Express has made a stop in Ponyviiiiiiille!" the train conductor announced in a voice that carried across all of the train cars as soon as the noise had died down. Good set of lungs on him, too, to be able to manage even being heard over the chaos that would inevitably follow his proclamation.

The Champions moved to stand, each running the name of the train through their heads as they disembarked to see what, exactly, Ponyville had to offer. Arachno pretty much spoke for all of them as she said, "The Friendship Express? Really? The Equestrians couldn't have picked a better name for their civilian train?" Then she frowned and mulled it over. "Now that I think about it… maybe that explains the blinding colors it had in its interior design…" A rare, sixfold nod erupted from her group as they, silently, agreed with that observation.

Agora noted that, if the civilian vessel was named such… then what could the royal guard squadrons have been named in turn? Names of locales, vehicles, buildings, and even a nation and its people tended to say quite an awful lot about what they valued, what virtues its leaders upheld. And she, and her Champions, having boarded the Friendship Express as technical diplomats was a scenario and horrifying realization that set off a thousand alarm bells in her mind that she dared not let show on her otherwise neutral face.

All she and her acquaintances could do now was step out into the train station to behold what Ponyville beheld in, her honest opinion, all its mediocre glory, and of all the surprises it could have held in its wake. For all of her smarts, even she would anticipate that maybe… just maybe, things might turn sideways. Especially if Equestria, of all nations, valued friendship above everything else, which probably went a long way to explain, she privately opined, the current sorry state of affairs.

Thus, she and her fellow Champions, each coming to that same realization on their own, took the additional time out of their itineraries to prepare their minds accordingly. This would be the longest diplomatic mission yet, she wagered… and one none of them could afford to let go to waste in that end.