The Pawn Who Would Be Queen

Spike's life following the Rose Crash had become... Strange, if nothing else. He'd indeed placed that call to Piercing Gaze, and had been told in no uncertain terms that what he was about to hear could never be unheard. That once he was in, much as was the case with the mafia or a gym membership, he was in for life. What followed was nothing short of amazing, terrifying, bewildering, astounding, and a whole myriad of other wondrous adjectives that Orzel had supplied, but Spike couldn't rightly remember.

Cults, monsters, monster cults, fairies, vampires, werewolves, rogue wizards, and so much more... Things he'd thought the for longest time to be confined to the pages of his adventure novels, or the dice rolls of his O&O game, were unmistakably, unquestionably, inescapably real. What was more, Piercing wanted Spike to help in monitoring and even containing these 'anomalies'. Ponyville was what was commonly referred to as a 'Hot Spot', a place where an inordinate amount of strange happenings took place, with no real obvious reason as to why.

So just like that, with a simple phone call, Spike got himself a second job. He was now a 'Provisional Field Agent' of the Nocturne Agency, tasked with monitoring the town for any strange goings-on. Mundane crimes and acts of magic weren't within his purview, and he was expressly forbidden from 'spying' on Equestrian citizens without receiving some form of authorization, not that he would... More importantly, he had to keep his status a secret from basically everyone in his life... Everyone except for Orzel, of course...

Honestly, Spike learned more about how to deal with the weirdness from her than he did from Piercing, seeing as she had a far more analytical way of looking at things. Today, however, their meeting was going just a little more differently than had been the case in the past. It was, much to Spike's surprise, the Princess's seventeenth birthday... Or at least the closest equivalent that could reasonably be guessed, given the differences in how the Szafirian calender worked versus the Equestrian. Technically it wasn't even her birthday yet, not in whatever timezone she resided in. For Orzel, it was was still yesterday...

Complicated calendars aside, she hadn't told him ahead of times because she didn't him to make a big deal of things, and she didn't want him to feel bad about not being able to get her anything... Spike knew she'd been right to be concerned, she was his girlfriend after all, and it would've left him feeling quite bummed out knowing ahead of time that anything he bought her wouldn't be delivered in person. Of course, Orzel had gone out of her way to inform him as best she could about all the dangers of artifact handling, as a means of making up for keeping the news from him...

At present, the two of them were 'seated' beneath a tree at the edge of the Everfree forest, one of the many rural locations the two came to talk. Free from the prying eyes of persons in town, Spike found it far easier to speak to Orzel's astral form. She was radiant as always, especially now that she'd managed to get over some of her insecurities. Where once she went out of her way to cover every conceivable inch of skin, now she more regularly wore casual attire... Or, at the very least, what was 'casual' to her.

The Princess had leaned against Spike, content to let him drape his arm around her... It would've made for an odd sight, had Orzel actually been there, as he was now just under seven and a half feet tall, further eclipsing the young woman. Purple scales stretched up and down his arms, much as they did with Orzel, and his recently emerged horns were a vibrant green. Like the Princess, he too was dressed casually for the day, having simply donned jeans and a t-shirt. He was just in the process of recounting the events at Rose in all their gory details... Having her presence there, ethereal as it might've been, was proving quite therapeutic. Fitting, seeing as he'd recently started seeing a therapist at Orzel's continued insistence.

"I still don't understand how I can eat or sleep after that, y'know...?" Spike muttered quietly in draconic, looking at the ground while Orzel shifted out from under his arm. Quietly she moved around behind him, moving to gently rub at his shoulders, something he didn't even know he'd needed. "Does that ever occur to you? I know you eat your meat raw, it's got to occur to you too, right?" The young woman hummed softly in reply, continuing her ministrations to his stress hampered shoulder muscles.

"From time to time, yes..." Orzel explained simply, leaning her head against his back. "In those moments, I must force myself to eat regardless... It helps to remember that the animal you are just as much an animal as that which you consume, and that what you are doing is part of your inherent nature." Spike nodded simply at that, sighing once more to himself.

"I'll try to remember that, I think... It's just been bothering me, y'know?" Spike asked, and again he received a simple hum in reply. "You're not mad at me, are you? I didn't mean to bring up something so heavy on your birthday." Orzel responded with a good-natured chuckle, wrapping her ethereal arms around his torso and hugging him tightly from behind.

"'Birthdays' were not nearly as positively celebrated in Szafiria as they are in Equestria." Orzel explained, continuing to hug him for several moments longer. "Among the warrior caste, they were modest affairs... Typically spent with close family or loved ones. I can only project my consciousness to one person, and I chose you... I would not have done so, had I not intended to listen to your feelings, whatever they might be." Spike smiled weakly at that, feeling the young woman's arms slip away from him. She moved back beside him, once more resuming her earlier place with his arm around her.

"In that case, I've been thinking, actually..." Spike offered tentatively. "Twilight mentioned that next year you'll probably be back here in Equestria for your coronation, even if its only temporary... Is that true?" Orzel nodded simply, so Spike leaned back against the base of the tree. "Would you mind if maybe I came back with you to, well, wherever it is you've been?" The young woman sighed softly through her nose, gazing up at him with questioning eyes.

"Would I mind? Of course not, I would be overjoyed to have you return with me." Orzel began positively, Spike sensed a 'but' was coming, or something to that effect. "The real question is would you actually want to go? Of this I am not so certain." She put her spectral hand on his chest, directly over his heart. "Do not mistake me as thinking your offer insincere, but... Were you to return with me, you would not be able to return to Equestria at your leisure. Much of my safety rests on the enemy not knowing my whereabouts, so visits between here and there are on a strictly 'as needed' basis... So far there is only one other date on which I am scheduled to return, and that is the commissioning of ESS Sokol." She leaned her head against his chest. "Were you to depart with me on my coronation, it might be years before you could return again..."

Spike wanted to tell her that it would make no difference to him where he was, so long as they were together, but... They were both old enough, or at least knowledgeable enough, to know that sort of thinking was best left in the pages of a fantasy book. The truth was that Spike had a burgeoning career, both as a firefighter and as a Nocturne Agent. For his work at the Rose Crash he'd received several commendations, there were even rumors that Big Macintosh had put him in for several medals following his carrying two multi-ton rail cars away to make the scene safer, all while wading through waist deep pools of flaming radioactive industrial waste.

The thing was, for as hard as Spike worked for that career, as much as he'd struggled and trained, he still would've given it all up for his Princess... Part of him believed that it was just his youthful inexperience egging him on, that he was too enamored with Orzel to think clearly about his future. Orzel had suggested as much in her answer to his question... In that moment he was taken back to the seconds before the flaming tanker came crashing down, how he'd thought of Orzel... Then he pondered all the horror he'd seen in his short stint with the FDPV. It might not have been a long career, but Spike had certainly seen enough of that for several life times.

"I have a year to think on it, don't I?" Spike asked in a theoretical tone, to which Orzel nodded. "I don't have to make a decision right away, so let me think on it. By then, we'll both be old enough to decide what we really want to do with our lives." He grinned. "Besides, like you said, you'll be here for the commissioning ceremony. Just make sure you send me an invitation."

"I am sure you will find it quite boring, but I shall endeavor to get your name on the list." The young woman smiled warmly. "I know you would have preferred to get be something, but this...?" Orzel closed her eyes, sighing contently as she cuddled up beside him. "This time with you is really all I wanted..."

Spike took a page out of her book, letting his eyelids fall, enjoying the phantom sensation of being so close to someone so far away. In a sense, he supposed this was perhaps the closest two people could ever really be. The ethereal image that rested at his side, was more than a projection of her physical body... It was Orzel's consciousness, her mind, it was... Her. Even if their relationship failed, he doubted he would ever again come so close to seeing someone's actual inner beauty in all the many epochs that awaited him in the future. Maybe he was just over romanticizing things...

The young man opened his eyes, looking off towards the town, and Canterlot up on the mountain in the distance. He'd spent the majority of his life in the latter, and as much as he'd come to embrace Ponyville as home, more and more he found himself questioning of that was where he wanted to spend his adult years. He'd already put down roots, once again reminding himself of with his career... At the same time, it wasn't as if he wanted to move back to Canterlot either...

There were a lot of things he still didn't understand about himself, just as he was sure Orzel had the same questions, and where he belonged remained at the top of the list. More than ever it proved difficult to operate under the belief that he was just like everybody else... His mind harkened back to his aspirations to join the Equestrian military, how Twilight had explained that his being far away from home was a bad thing, but the more he thought about it, the more he disagreed...

Maybe getting away from home was exactly what he needed to answer those questions about himself that hadn't been answered in the crucible that was Rose Township. Twilight might disagree, but in less than a year's time, for him at least, it wouldn't really matter what she thought. Obviously he'd still respect her opinion, but when it came down to it she'd cease to have any control over him. He would be an adult. His future would, for the first time, rest solely in his hands...

Supreme Regent-General Pharynx quietly observed the sprawling sands of the Badlands as he, Thorax, and a small contingent of Changeling troops trudged through an oppressively dry heat. The journey from the Hive's main entrance to the Equestrian border generally took the better part of a day or more, not including detours taken to avoid Dragon raiding parties. Needless to say, the lengthy departure from the relative cool depths of the underground was gradually taking its toll.

Rather than the typical uniform he might've worn below ground, Pharynx and his fellows were attired in bright white robes and hoods, better suited to deflecting the punishing heat of Celestia's sun. Pharynx had to wonder if she'd made it a particularly nasty day simply on account of the knowledge that he and his delegation were set to arrive... Then again, it just as well could've been to keep the dragons from catching wise. Lately they preferred to strike at dusk, or at night, where they might have a better advantage against the now heavily armed Lone Star populace...

The meeting that lay ahead was the culmination of several months of careful negotiation, a conference that the Regent-General hoped never have to face. Pharynx was a soldier, not a politician, and he didn't know the first thing about proper decorum when meeting with the Sovereign of another country. Even so, it was the only means he could think of to preserve the fragile peace between the Badlands Hive and Equestria, so recently disturbed by the events in Canterlot and elsewhere.

The Equestrians would offer all their knowledge on the creatures responsible for throwing the Hives into disarray, and return several captured Badlands agents, in exchange for the Changeling's cooperation in tracking down and detaining agents of other hives. Especially what they termed the 'Violets', which had all but been confirmed to belong to the 'First Hive' in the rapidly destabilizing Griffon Empire.

They would also need to return several Equestrian citizens, which up until recently had been less-than-willing contributors of the nourishing love that all Changelings required to survive. Better to starve than to face the might of the Equestrian Army, and that was precisely what would happen should even one of the agreed upon persons fail to make the rendezvous. It was for their captives' benefit that the Changelings were walking as opposed to flying, as the captured people were hardly in any shape to fly on their own. As such, they were currently seated atop two dilapidated old horses, the only ones that could be spared for the journey.

Pharynx coughed heavily, immediately going for the water skin at his belt, which was nearly empty in its entirety. Squeezing the last desperate gulps of liquid into his mouth, he could only hope that the meeting place would soon come into sight. There wasn't much to see otherwise, just roaming crests and valleys of sand, with the occasional exception of large boulders or the sun bleached skeletal remains of some poor unfortunate animal. Why their forefathers had ever decided to settle in a desert of all places, somewhere literally called the 'Badlands', was entirely beyond him. Gradually, one of the hooded figures ahead of him slowed down, at least until Pharynx managed to come up alongside them.

"It shouldn't be long now." Thorax said in a painfully cheerful tone, and Pharynx could hardly keep from rolling his eyes. "Come now, Brother! Show some spirit! You're the Supreme Regent-General!" His brother was, of course, absolutely right. It wouldn't do for the Supreme Regent-General to allow himself to be afflicted by something so trivial as blindingly searing heat. For better or worse, Thorax had gradually grown into a more confident and capable aide-de-camp... It had widely been much of his work that was responsible for their current journey in the first place. "Do you suppose they'll have water waiting?" He asked in a quieter, more serious tone.

"I do... Whether we're able to partake is another matter entirely." Pharynx grunted, adjusting his belt as the group started up another tall sand dune. "You would be better qualified to answer in that respect." Thorax nodded, clasping his hands behind his back as they carried on. "Tell me once more of their Princess Celestia, if anything it shall keep my mind from wandering." His Brother nodded sagely, taking his own water skin from his belt and offering it to Pharynx, though the latter silently declined.

"By the accounts of our agents still embedded in Canterlot, she is a very reasonable person..." Thorax began, taking a swig of water for himself. "Though she was less than pleased when our agents became involved in the incident, for obvious reasons." The man returned the water skin to his belt, then rubbed at his chin, which had gradually taken on a small crop of stubble. "I believe she'd be amenable to offering us food in trade for iron, copper, and chromium. Our latest intelligence suggests that there's been a steady decline in available reserves." Pharynx nodded again, watching several of the guards as they crested the top of the dune... Rather than continue on, however, he was surprised to see them stop... There eyes focused on something in the distance.

After a few moments, he and Thorax likewise reached the top of the dune, followed shortly thereafter by the horses and their precious cargo. Perhaps half a mile or so away, on an area of desert that appeared to be comprised more of dry dirt than sand, Pharynx saw the distinct shape of a large white tent. It was flanked by several smaller such structures, and protected by a new form of fortification Pharynx hadn't seen before. Rather than a series of multiple sandbags, it was a single large cube of fabric and chicken wire, with the letters 'BDT' stenciled in blue.

A cluster of large tan Equestrian supply trucks were parked behind them, as well as several odd looking vehicles Pharynx was also unfamiliar with. They were fully enclosed, with a flatly angled front and an odd angled rear section. Several had bright orange patches of fabric affixed on the hoods, near a series of ventilation slits, while another had a pair of steer horns mounted above its windshield. Each had a man standing posted on a heavy machine gun, mounted to an unarmored turret at the center of the vehicle's roof.

The men and women that likewise stood guard behind the barriers wore strange uniforms, that made them rather difficult to fully spot at a distance. A large Equestrian flag was raised above it all, swaying gently in the unseen breeze. The arrival of the Changeling delegation didn't go unnoticed for long, as Pharynx noticed several lens glints from what had to be half a dozen sets of binoculars. Several more troops moved to take up positions outside the largest tent... Likely where the Princesses would be waiting.

"No sense keeping them waiting." Pharynx declared simply, adjusting the hood of his robe and signaling the others to advance. The approach of the Equestrian conference site was tense, as he wasn't sure whether or not the soldiers standing guard had orders to fire.

Would they realize this was the delegation to begin with, or might they think it sort of some dragon raiding ploy... Pharynx wouldn't have put it past the dragons to try such a trick, especially against such an otherwise well entrenched enemy force. Once again the disparity between Equestrian and Changeling technological advancement was on full display, what Pharynx wouldn't give for just half the trucks he saw among the tents.

"Remember, hands off your weapons." Thorax added firmly, speaking Pharynx's mind before he even knew that was the order he wanted to give. The Regent-General paused a moment, looking to a few of the more hardline members of the escort. They kept their swords sheathed at their belts, and none made a move for the matchlock rifled muskets slung over their shoulders.

Pharynx licked at his chapped lips, striding to the front of the delegation with Thorax at his side. The Equestrians stiffened at the approach, but thankfully they seemed content not to level their weapons at him. It was an arduous trek across that half-mile expanse, and there were several moments where Pharynx feared his legs might give out. He told himself it was simply from the difficult journey, but there was also a part of him that was nervous at the prospect of meeting in the open. It was an utterly alien concept for most Changelings, to face one's enemy without a disguise or some other plan to deceive them.

The front of the large tent opened as the delegation came to within twenty yards, prompting Pharynx to signal the others to come to a halt. From within the temple of canvas came an impressively tall matronly figure, adorned in similar white robes to Pharynx's own. She was easily six or seven feet tall, at least, with great expansive wings the color of fresh fallen snow. A glimmering golden crown rested atop her head, which was itself wreathed in a flowing ethereal field of magically colored hair. There was no doubt in any of their minds that this woman was Princess Celestia, and to Pharynx it seemed a horrible shame to call her such... Whether she went by the title of Princess or not was irrelevant, as for all outward appearances she was, in fact, a Queen.

A slightly shorter woman of equal beauty emerged behind Celestia, adorned in a gown of blue that seemed pulled directly from the night sky, with wings that matched remarkably well. The pitch black crown atop her head, coupled with her pallid complexion and flowing mane of starry hair, identified her quickly as Princess Luna. Were she a Changeling, she too would be worthy of the title of Queen. The two royals started towards Pharynx and Thorax, walking with absolute poise and grace. Two more figures meanwhile emerged from the tent, one of whom wore a distinct black respirator. This, and the eye-patch he sported, easily identified him as 'Director Orcus'. The other, more bookish fellow, was conversely unknown... It didn't really matter, Pharynx wasn't there to meet with him.

Pharynx and Thorax walked forward, reaching the Princesses at around the half-way point between the two contingents. In silence the quartet of representatives came to a stop, each surveying the other, obviously attempting to get a read on just what sort of people they were dealing with. Now that they were closer, the Regent-General could see the Equestrian's weapons more clearly. He'd expected bolt action rifles and bulky SMG-45s. Instead he found strange rifles with under-folding stocks and curved magazines, coupled with highly compact, all metal SMGs. Just from looking at them, it was clear these were the 'Rivet Guns' that'd become so feared by the dragons of this region.

He and his delegation wouldn't stand a chance, and it was immediately clear that if the Equestrians really wanted to fight, there wasn't much stopping them from wiping the group out in the first few seconds... He didn't blame them for being so heavily armed... Were Pharynx in a position to make demands of his own, he likely would've taken the same position. Without any further stalling, Pharynx dropped into a respectful bow, then rose and pushed the hood of his robe back from his head. It was an act that Thorax likewise carried out, at the conclusion of which Pharynx cleared his throat.

"I am General Pharynx, Supreme Commander of my Hive's armed forces, and chosen Regent of our Queen." Pharynx offered respectfully, before gesturing to his brother. "This is my brother, Ambassador Thorax." The man inwardly chuckled at the surprised look Thorax gained at his new title. In truth, having a General and his aide-de-camp carry out the proceedings would likely send the wrong message. Better to give the illusion that this wasn't purely a military delegation. "We thank you for your favorable interpretation of the unfortunate incident between our two peoples, and hope that this meeting will serve to ensure such unpleasantness never happens again."

Both Princesses nodded respectfully, though neither of them bowed, just as Pharynx had expected would be the case. From the looks of things, Princess Luna was obviously less than pleased with his greeting... Given the rather personal nature of the offense, however, that too was to be expected.

"It would seem we are not the only siblings to share in rule." Celestia offered with a gentle smile, clasping her hands behind her back. "I am Princess Celestia, this is my Sister, Luna." Luna nodded her head almost imperceptibly, looking at Pharynx with great intensity. "Have you brought the individuals as requested?" Pharynx nodded simply, then turned to the guards standing beside the horses. He signaled with a simple hand gesture, and the guards went about aiding the captive Equestrians in dismounting the creatures. The newly freed prisoners quickly rushed towards a group of waiting Equestrian soldiers. "First we will assess their physical condition, at which time your agents will be returned to you." Celestia gestured towards the large tent. "Your men are free to rest and recover using our facilities while we hold our discussion."

"Of course..." Pharynx nodded, and together the group made their way towards the tent. Director Orcus and the unidentified fellow stood off to the side, allowing both pairs of delegates to enter first, though they were quick to follow closely thereafter.

The tent itself had a freshly laid wooden floor, upon which sat a large conference table and six chairs. One side was marked by tiny receptacles for Equestrian flags, while the other bore the flag of his Hive. Resting at the center of this table, covered in a thin layer of condensed water, was a glass pitcher filled to the brim with ice water. Needless to say, Pharynx and Thorax wasted little time in taking their seats and helping themselves to a glass. The Princesses and their two male compatriots likewise took their seats, though Orcus took a moment to examine the matchlock residing on Pharynx's back with obvious fascination.

"Let's begin with the basics, shall we?" Celestia asked simply, Pharynx only nodded as he was to pre-occupied with quenching his mighty thirst. "We've initiated the prisoner exchange, I trust you've brought the necessary information regarding other agents your people have contacted within our borders?" Thorax reached into his robes and withdrew a rather sizable bundle of papers, tied together by a sturdy leather strap, which he proceeded to slide across the table to Director Orcus. "Excellent." The Director picked up the bundle, undoing the strap and glancing over the first few pages. "I suppose my primary question is, aside from our previous agreement, what is there that we can do to foster friendship between your Hive and Equestria?" Thorax was about to speak, but stopped himself, at least until he received a look of acceptance from his brother.

"Equestria has an extensive number of fruit orchards, correct?" The Ambassador inquired, to which Celestia gave a simple nod. "In addition to the crisis within the Hive-mind, our people are experiencing a considerable food shortage. As you know, Changelings require an intake of positive emotion to survive. Without going too far into details as to the how, we have a stockpile from which we've been drawing from." The man cast another look at Pharynx, but there was little the General could do to stop him...

"What you may not be aware of is that the amount required for a Changeling to remain healthy is comparatively small." Thorax further explained. "As we have no means of producing other sources of food, we've been forced to subsist on emotion entirely. This has played havoc on our stockpile." The man cast a brief look at the pitcher of water, then somewhat hesitantly poured himself another glass. "We propose a trade of iron ore and other metals found within our Hive in exchange for nectar."

Celestia hummed quietly, leaning back in her seat with a look of honest contemplation. Orcus, meanwhile, seemed more focused on the various papers he'd been handed, while Luna and the odd fourth man seemed content to simply stare at the two Changeling delegates. Pharynx did his best not to meet their glares, while Thorax seemed to visibly wilt beneath the intense scrutiny. Odds were they were each determining whether the offer of trade was some sort of trick, and Pharynx didn't really blame them for that. Even so, just looking at the soldiers outside was enough evidence to show that the Equestrians would have little trouble steamrolling his Hive if they so chose.

They could afford to equip their troops with automatic weapons and strange new rifles, not to mention their now obviously camouflaged uniforms and strange new vehicles. Given the uncertainty posed by dealing with other Changeling hives, hives that might very well one day attempt in invade the Badlands, Pharynx would much rather make the Equestrian's allies as opposed to enemies. Queen Chrysalis, though still in no shape to resume her rule, had agreed with that assessment.

"That may not be enough, especially with shipments resuming from the Empire." Celestia began, leaning back in her seat. "We plan on fully informing our people of the threat posed by these 'Violets' and other hives upon the conclusion of this meeting. You have to understand that there are many in Equestria that may come to view you as an enemy to be destroyed..." The woman glanced pointedly at Luna in particular.

"Most aren't yet aware of the disarray caused by the otherworldly creatures in our custody, or that your agents in Canterlot apparently were acting with the benefit of peace in mind." Celestia added tentatively. "It certainly isn't helped that several agents of other hives were discovered lurking among the National Council." Pharynx nodded reluctantly, a dismal sense of unease rising in his chest. "We will take steps to ensure they know the Badlands Hive is not our enemy, of course, but it could take time to convince some of the more... Defensive parties involved."

"I'm told that your network of tunnels is quite extensive. That you can dig a mile of tunnel in under two days, and that you seldom have troubles with collapses." Orcus suddenly spoke up, the harsh baritone of his voice modulating respirator catching the Regent-General slightly off guard. Pharynx took a moment to contemplate just what it was the man was angling towards. "We'd like to know more about the excavation of these tunnels. What methods do you employ to dig them so quickly, and with such stability."

"I can assure you, we have no intention of tunneling into Equestria." Thorax spoke up, but Orcus shook his head and set the papers on the table. The reports indicated that he was an intimidating presence, but they failed to describe just how disconcertingly eerie he was compared to the Princesses. Add to this the respirator and leather eye-patch, and it was difficult not to let even his smallest movement seem unsettling.

"You aren't the only hive we have to worry about, Ambassador." Orcus stated evenly, adjusting the tie of his uniform before starting to reach into his jacket. "Beyond the security concerns, such technology would be of vital interest to our own mining industry."

As a General, Pharynx suspected there was more to the request than security and mining concerns. His natural assumption was likely that the Equestrian military would covet such a technology for its ability to construct large scale underground complexes in reasonably short order. While most of his intelligence sources inevitably wound up devoted to finding the source of the corruption of the hive-mind, there were still occasional reports coming in regarding the difficulty of repairs and maintenance in a facility known only as 'Darkstar'. So odds were they wanted to replace it, and they'd want the help of his people in the process... Pharynx could work with that.

"I suppose we could supply you with the information regarding how we develop our tunnels." Pharynx conceded, leaning back in his own seat and taking another sip of that ever satisfying ice water. "I'm afraid that's all we could provide, the devices themselves are difficult for us to procure." Celestia nodded at the explanation, though Orcus and Luna appeared to remain unconvinced. "In exchange for that additional information, and the continuing peaceful normalization of relations between Equestria and my government, we would request something a bit more tangible." The General glanced about the room, then leaned upon the table. "Your assistance in the development of Changeling infrastructure. Roads, electricity, all the wonders of the industrial age." All eyes in the room went wide, even those of his brother Thorax, who looked at him in astonishment.

"That's a fairly large request, General. Equestria isn't looking to get in the business of 'uplifting' other nations." Celestia's tone was cautious, not an out and out refusal, but obviously she wasn't going to jump right in and agree. That she'd not overtly discounted his request was a victory in and of itself. Luna looked just as surprised at Celestia's tacit consideration as she was by the initial request, and though Pharynx sensed she very much wanted to tell him to leave, she nonetheless bit her tongue. "We shall need to take some time to discuss your proposal, if you would not mind a brief recess?" Pharynx smiled half-heartedly, then shrugged.

"Take as much time as you require, Princess." The General agreed, reclining in his seat as the Equestrian delegation stood from theirs. Without another word the four of them made their way out of the tent, leaving Pharynx and Thorax alone in the canvas shelter, shielded from the sun above. Thorax for his part turned in his seat, face screwing up into a mixture of disbelief and concern, his jaw hanging just a little bit slack.

"Has the Queen's madness spread to you as well, Brother?" The younger man asked, but Pharynx very simply shook his head and took another sip of his water. "We have already worked out a reasonable agreement with the Equestrians, one that will ensure we are not immediately blamed should another attack take place, why would you jeopardize that with such an extreme request?" Pharynx understood the concern in his brother's voice, and with a gentle hand he patted the man on the shoulder, though this did little to assuage the latter's startled aspect.

"Is it that extreme?" Pharynx responded philosophically, rising from his seat and beginning to pace. "You've endured the trek from the hive to this place, do you believe that journey would be any easier for a group of wooden wagons? Wagons likely drawn by anemic horses, or our own people?" Thorax inhaled deeply, as if searching for some means of responding, though all he could do was shake his head. "Logistics, dear Brother... That was the underpinning fault in every plan I ever conceived of for the invasion of Equestria. We have no roads, no factories, none of the modern amenities these Equestrians take for granted..."

"Our people live in caves, Thorax. Caves!" Declared the General as he unslung the rifled musket from his back, examining it distastefully. "We arm ourselves with matchlocks, while they wield repeating fire arms of all shapes and sizes." The man leaned the weapon against the table, hooking his thumbs into his belt. "Yes, our people will survive if we abide by the treaty in its current state, but is that all we want for our people? Survival? It will be a return to the status quo, to mere subsistence. We will be forever at the mercy of our neighbors to maintain their treaty." He himself leaned against the table, once more glancing about the table.

"You've discussed this matter with the Queen?" Thorax's tone was pointed, to which Pharynx responded with a dismissive wave of his hand, whether he'd spoken with the Queen or not was irrelevant. He was the Regent, he could rule in her stead without her approval. "Brother..." Pharynx sighed deeply, rubbing at his temples whilst Thorax took on another thoughtful expression. "I agree with you, truly I do, but we have now the chance to secure food for our people, and clemency from the Equestrian's wrath should another hive act against them." Pharynx returned to his seat with an audible huff. "It doesn't all need to be done at once, Pharynx. First we secure food, then with patience, they might see fit to grant us further boons, they may even build the roads for us." The General shook his head.

"What you describe is vassalization." Pharynx stated flatly, drumming his fingers upon the table. "If we are to be an independent civilization, if we are truly to rise above the other Hives and stand as equals with the rest of the world, we'll need to build that civilization ourselves." The General looked somberly at the table. "I am not averse to the help of the Equestrians, mind you, but it will be our hands that lay our roads and build our cities." The man glanced at the matchlock leaning against the table, a grim chuckle escaping his lips. "Besides, what I am asking of them is no more than what the Queen wanted when she first selected me as Supreme General." Thorax looked as if he was about to respond, but no response came.

Time passed with the two of them sitting in quiet contemplation, listening to the sound of the tent's fabric fluttering in the wind. Pharynx knew he was gambling with his people's safety, and while he wouldn't be surprised if his request was rejected, he suspected that he would ultimately come out victorious. Luna might not have trusted them, but Celestia tended to be the one that made decisions regarding policy. She was sympathetic to those less fortunate than her own subjects, and while perhaps he wouldn't get everything he wanted, the Hive would likely still get something out of it... Something that could make life for his people just a little bit better. Perhaps whatever small concession he received would be enough kick start the Hive into bettering itself on its own.

Celestia stepped away from the tent flap, feeling slightly uneasy with her decision to eavesdrop on the two delegates. Given their stunning ability to blend in or disguise themselves, however, she'd felt it necessary to ensure the current summit wasn't being used as a ploy to insert more of their agents. For all she knew, they might've known she was listening and their discussion was yet another ruse atop a ploy, but Celestia doubted that was the case. Adjusting the crown atop her head, she quickly moved to join her Sister and the others, whom had gone beneath an awning erected beside one of the smaller tents. From there they had a decent view of the Changeling guards, who were all jockeying to get water from a distinctly tan Army water truck.

Luna, as expected, appeared patently unhappy at what just transpired within the conference tent. Orcus and Piercing Gaze, on the other hand, were discussing something amongst themselves. The latter two had been most busy in the wake of the incident in Canterlot, and the less that was said about the ill fated ITC Drongo the better. There was no choice now but to go public with the news of the Changeling menace, especially as several highly ranked staff members of various Councilors were discovered to be infiltrators. It could only be kept quiet for so long before rumors took root...

The grand majority of the infiltrators in the National Council hailed from other hives, agents representing half a dozen of the believed dozen or more hives known to exist. It was impossible to tell just how many infiltrators managed to evade capture, or what secrets they might've pass along to their respective masters. More troubling was the continuing investigation into members of the Nocturne Agency and other branches of the Equestrian military.

The number of known accomplices was relatively low, thankfully, and it would prove far more difficult for those that ran off to remain hidden for long. The Mole, however, continued to evade capture. Just when they thought they had him, or her, it would turn out he'd led them on a goose chase.

Of those suspected or otherwise implicated in the various schemes of the differing hives, none would come forward as to their involvement in the disappearance of the stolen artifacts. All were at one point or another interrogated by Orcus himself, and yet despite offers of leniency or even immunity, not a single perpetrator would admit to their role. The Director of course made numerous requests of the Crown to make use of 'unconventional' methods to extract the information, all of which were rejected.

The search for the artifacts themselves was at least partially over, with half of the less dangerous items being recovered by a Special Task Force headed by Piercing Gaze. The outstanding artifacts, however, were lacking in the way of clues or leads. The apparent presence of a Griffon submarine at the sinking of Drongo, which was reported as officially having gone down on account of the storm, turned many eyes to the Griffon Empire. Whether the Empire itself was involved, or merely the 'Violet Hive' operating in their territory, remained to be seen. The former seemed more likely, given the involvement of the submarine, but Celestia wasn't discounting anything just yet.

What was abundantly clear to Celestia was the simple fact that at least one major Hive shared a land border with Equestria, and while on its own she had no doubt Equestria would emerge victorious in a conflict, she had to take into account the other hives. It was indeed only that reasoning that brought her to the desert in the first place. If Equestria could count on its southern border being secure, it could focus its efforts wherever else they might be needed... Not just in regards to the Changelings, but the various other crises unfolding around the world. Constant vigilance was the price of maintaining global peace, but Equestria could only be in so many places at once.

For her part, and the part of her chosen compatriots, the last thing she wanted to think about was different places. All of them had places they would rather be, or more accurately a single place in mind, that being a far away island... Preferably with cake and balloons as well. Despite their best efforts, today was the only day that was acceptable for the Changelings.

It must've been exceptionally frustrating to Celestia's sister, given the nature of the date as it pertained to her daughter. The fact that her duties required she spend it parlaying with people at least partly responsible for forcing her daughter into protective exile, all while in the middle of a desert during one of the hottest summers on record, had seen Luna's dander rise. Celestia would do her best not to allow that last part to alter her judgment when it came to whatever decision they reached...

"Well? What did they say?" Luna asked as Celestia arrived at the group, a bit too impatiently for latter's liking, not that she let that show. The Princess licked her lips, casting an uncertain glance at the large tent, then back to the trio that awaited her response. "You cannot honestly be thinking we grant there request, can you?" Celestia took a moment, trying to think of how she could delicately word her response, but she never got that chance... Merely by pausing she'd given Luna her answer, which resulted in the younger woman's face turning scarlet. "Of course you want to help them... Need I remind you they are our enemy!" Snarled Luna, crossing her arms.

"I didn't say that I wanted to help them." Celestia's tone was defensive but calm, her hands clasped behind her back. "Isn't it important to note that we aren't entirely sure that this particular hive is our enemy." Luna's jaw dropped, the flowing stars of her hair taking on a distinctly reddish hue while her wings tensed visibly. Orcus raised an eyebrow at Celestia's declaration, holding up the bundle of documents he'd taken with him from within the tent. "Director, you're more informed of their operations within Equestria than I am. Do the papers match up with their claims?" The man cast a brief apologetic look at Luna, which only resulted in increased agitation on her part.

"Between what we've managed to verify on our own, the information supplied by captured agents, and these documents...?" Orcus tucked the papers into his jacket, then emitted a long drawn out sigh. "Pharynx knows his people wouldn't last long on their own in a drawn out fight, especially now that the dragons are looking to push into the Badlands. He's taking steps to stay in our good graces accordingly."

"While his people aren't 'advanced' as we would define the word, they've got plenty of ore and niche technologies to offer us in exchange." The Director further explained. "I think if we help his people along and secure a non-agression pact, or more ideally a mutual-defensive pact, Pharynx could make for a vital ally." Luna rounded on the man, who once again took a slow wheezing breath. "At least one hive has access to some very powerful, very very nasty magic, Luna. Need I remind you of that? We'll need as many friends as we can get."

"What would keep them from breaking the treaty? Their word?" Luna countered, to which Orcus responded with a simple nod of his head. "These are Changelings, it is their nature to deceive." The woman scowled, glaring at the meeting tent as if it were a den of vipers.

Celestia knew there was more playing on her sister's emotions than a mistrust of the Changelings, but the fact that she was allowing so much emotion to show through her typically stoic mask was worrying. They'd all been screened ahead of the meeting, so Celestia had no reason to suspect Luna of being an imposter... The vitriolic distrust the woman displayed had to be quite potent indeed.

"What is to keep them from stabbing us in the back when they've reached a position of equal strength to our own?" Luna asked sharply, Celestia considered that for a moment, but the looks she saw on Piercing and Orcus' face told her they didn't view that as very likely.

"Luna..." Piercing said gently, placing a hand on the woman's arm. "You don't know just how precarious our position is right now... What we saw aboard Drongo is but a tithe of the evil that could be unleashed upon us without warning." The woman looked at him coldly at first, but gradually the anger in her eyes dissipated. The man then pointed to the Changeling soldiers, all of whom carried matchlocks and swords of one sort or another. That, coupled with their desert garb, reminded Celestia of some of the newsreels she'd seen of tribal North Zebrican caravaneers... Albeit in color, as opposed to black and white.

"These Badlanders are hardly in a position to oppose us militarily, and even with our help they won't be for some time." Piercing continued more forcefully, looking about at the various soldiers of Equestria's own army. "Every soldier, every rifle, every bullet we devote to keeping an eye on them is one less we'll have when the real monsters show themselves." He looked Luna in the eyes, and despite the punishing heat his voice was as frigid as the desolate Frozen North.

"I mean monsters, love... Real. Bloody. Monsters. As bad as, if not worse than, what you've described seeing in Orzel's nightmares." Piercing tucked his hands into the pockets of his suit, sighing quietly. "Guns, ammunition, armor and vehicles, they don't all just grow on trees. Scaling up production as drastically as we have still requires vast amounts of raw material, not to mention our public works and the continued clean up of the milk solutes. With everything that's going on in the the Griffon Empire, I doubt if we'll have enough resources to truly commit. The Badlanders could fill the gap."

Celestia wished she could say she disagreed with Piercing, as she hated to think of trade in such blunt terminology, but... He was right. She recalled a conversation she'd had with Orzel, not long after her arrival... When they'd discussed airships. The girl had voiced a concern that Equestria shouldn't sit idle, waiting for threats to emerge before acting against them. Celestia had honestly believed there was no reason to put so much effort or resources into things like the military, it was better to make trade deals and act cooperatively than sharpen spears... Yet her niece had been right, in a sense.

New threats were emerging, threats Celestia hadn't even considered possible a few years ago, which couldn't be handled with trade deals or cooperation. Not all Hives would be so easily appeased with Nectar, and even if they could, Equestria could hardly supply them all.

"Forgive me if I am unenthused by the idea of assisting the development of some of those responsible for my daughter's seclusion." Luna ground out, glaring at the sandy soil below. "Fine..." Celestia exhaled a sigh of relief, patting her sister on the shoulder, though Luna pulled away in obvious frustration. "I suppose I can set aside my feelings, if only because the Badlanders have so far been the only ones to come to us with intentions of peaceful coexistence." The woman pursed her lips. "I will leave the particulars of this portion of the treaty to you, dear Sister... I fear I would say something unkind, were I personally involved." Celestia started to retort, but stopped as Luna quietly departed from the group, making her way towards one of the tents... The one particularly set aside to house the mobile Arcane Beacon.

"I'll talk to her..." Piercing offered awkwardly, shrugging his shoulders before hurrying to catch up with the increasingly distant Luna. Celestia sighed heavily, looking upon Orcus as the man took yet another slow breath. Despite his apparent agreement to the proposal, the Princess had a sinking suspicion there was something he'd chosen to hold back in the presence of the others. The brow above his eye-patch quirked upwards as Piercing and Luna were finally out of earshot.

"I think it would be wise to commence an immediate project to construct two new facilities." The man stated bluntly, tucking one of his hands into the pocket of his suit jacket. "One to house exclusively our most dangerous artifacts, far more secure than Darkstar, and another for the purpose of coordinating a national defense. We already have a basic set up in the Strategic Intelligence Response Center, but we need more. In order to do so in the most timely fashion, the tunneling technology must be non-negotiable." Celestia stared at him with considerable surprise, watching as he tucked his hands into his pockets. "Something about the documents Pharynx has provided leaves me concerned."

"Concerned enough that you didn't immediately inform Luna or Piercing?" Celestia's tone was worried, and rightfully so, considering Orcus had made a promise to be upfront with them all going forward. The Director nodded sagely, gaining a look Celestia wasn't quite used to seeing at all. It was difficult to decipher, but the general impression she got was that Orcus was unsure whom else he could inform. "Well... What is it?"

"We've totally cut off the dead Exos from their hive-mind, yet it seems their influence remains, at least in the mind of Pharynx's Queen." Orcus began, eye roving slowly towards the changeling guards, who were now enjoying the sweet pleasure of cool refreshing water. "What if they weren't the root cause, but rather just the prelude to something else, something more elaborate?" Celestia didn't really comprehend what Orcus meant by that, and he obviously sensed that well enough to continue.

"A Snow-Class was submarine present at the sinking of ITC Drongo. A Snow-Class submarine has been allegedly responsible for every sinking off the Bugbear Coast, including the Aleksa..." Orcus explained with an unsettled glint in his eye. "Now, we assumed it was there to monitor our operation, but... We never found the summoner, or the missing books. Furthermore, we know the Changelings have infiltrated our government, even while we were looking for them. What about a government too caught up in its own instability to notice? Instability that has become markedly worse over the past year." Celestia's heart skipped a beat.

"If Changelings have infiltrated the Griffon Empire..." The Princess began, feeling an icy chill run down her spine. "In all the incidents with the Northern Provinces so far, it's been the Empire that seemingly instigates or otherwise escalates the conflict." Orcus nodded simply, taking another puff on his cigarette. "Either the Iron Bloods seize control and the Empire is too weak to come to our aid as a result, or the Empire stomps out the Iron Bloods and unwittingly under the direction of the Changelings, turns on us for siding against them." The Princess could see that was precisely what Orcus was thinking, simply by the glitter of his eye. "You don't want the bunker just to fight against the Changelings..." Celestia concluded, and once again the Director nodded.

"It also means that every member of the Crown, or anyone else of importance for that matter, is in far more danger than we first realized." Orcus' words renewed the frigid terror creeping down Celestia's back, in spite of the punishing solar heat. "Remember how this meeting started, the attempted assassination of your niece. The assassination of Luna's heir, either carried out by Griffon operatives or those posing as them, would lead the entire country to call for war. Luna would go absolutely out of her skull, we would have no choice but to retaliate."

The thought of someone coming after her family to replace them was bad enough, but the extra step of killing them as well? The incident in Canterlot had caught her and Luna completely off guard, even after taking steps to prepare for it. It was fine if someone wanted to come after Celestia or Luna, they were no strangers to such things, but the risk wasn't restricted to them any longer... If anything, Orzel had an even larger target painted on her back now, the lynchpin on which the entire Violet plan could rest... Not only would her assassination incite the Black Crowns, the reaction of Luna and even Celestia herself to such an unthinkable act would be difficult to temper... Perhaps even enough to bring about a reappearance of Nightmare Moon.

"I figure that's the last thing Luna needs to hear right now." Orcus finished while reaching into his jacket to withdraw a fresh cigarette, though he was quite incapable of smoking it now. Without a word, he merely offered it to Celestia. She looked at it in surprise... She really hated the damn things, but there was a considerable amount of stress weighing on her, and no cakes or other confections in close proximity. Tentatively, and with great reluctance, she accepted the cigarette, as well as the lighter that followed soon after. Celestia coughed heavily as she inhaled the smoke, her features going somewhat green.

"Just when we think we've got one problem sorted out, another crops up to take its place." Orcus declared somewhat regretfully, watching his Princess with evident interest as she became accustomed to the bitter tasting smoke. "I've been doing this almost as long as you have..." The Director shook his head. "Never gets any damn easier." He gestured towards the meeting tent. "I'd recommend we keep this smoke break to a minimum, your Highness... There's another matter that we'll need to discuss after we're done here. Piercing was a little light on the details, but there's been some activity regarding the the Arcane Beacon. Given the timing, I'm not entirely sure its coincidental."

Celestia nodded in agreement, exhaling a cloud of her own repugnant smoke. Try as she might to change her own mind, to put such horrible worries out of her consciousness, she couldn't... The harmony she'd worked so hard to preserve throughout the centuries was in great jeopardy, and this time she wasn't sure a plucky group of friends could fix it... Hopefully the day wouldn't get any worse.

As they strolled through the middle of Canterlot's Statesman Park, Cadence and Shining Armor found themselves bathed in the late afternoon sun. The park was a pristine jewel of green, among a seemingly endless sprawl of gray concrete and black asphalt. Here birds and squirrels predominated, gliding and scampering about without a care for the dangerously complex world that surrounded them. It'd served as an ideal place to take Twilight whenever Cadence thought the two needed to get a little fresh air. The park continued to play a role in her life, even after Twilight passed the age where she needed a babysitter.

It was beside its duck pond that she and Shining Armor had first admitted their feelings for one another, where Cadence finally managed to move beyond her shyness and come into her own as Princess of Love. They'd once again returned at the conclusion of their first date, and once more after, to make up with one another in the wake of a particularly nasty argument. Their visits had become rather infrequent of late, the result of their respective careers, but the park was never too far from either of their minds. The sentiment that arose between the two whenever they did manage to stroll through was no less potent.

A late summer breeze came rustling through lush verdant treetops, just cool enough to be pleasant without being uncomfortable. The air was no less rife with the typical smell of the city, but the stench of automobile exhaust was tempered by a mixture of greenery and a food truck, parked on a nearby corner. Hand in hand, side by side, this was one of those moments where Cadence and Shining could enjoy one of the rare respites afforded to both of them in recent days.

The incident at the Castle, and the arrest of several 'infiltrators' posing as Councilors, left in their wake a sense of unease in the public consciousness, especially seeing as much of the information was still being held close to the vest. There was a drastic need for decisive action on the part of the Crown, but 'decisive' didn't always mean rapid, as the Princesses agreed it was best to get all their proverbial ducks in a row beforehand.

Equestria's political landscape had shifted drastically in the time since the Guard Tower incident, with the Black Crown party now poised to dominate the now reconvened National Council. An inquest committee had been formed on the order of Senior-Councilor Fancy Pants, aimed at getting to the bottom of what in blazes had just happened. That unfortunately required the Crown to bring him into the loop about the Changeling threat, among other things, in the hopes that he would drop the matter... He didn't.

Instead he'd made clear his belief that the Equestrian people needed to know about the Changelings, but he also understood that it would likely be best to have more information before doing so. Thus, he'd given the Crown some leeway, in that he wouldn't go to the press on his own right away. He would wait for negotiations with the Badlands Hive to conclude, and allow Celestia herself to break the news to the public. Hopefully, if things went well at the summit, Celestia could come to the people with some good news to temper the bad. At the very least, it would show that not all Changelings were life-sucking monsters bent on world domination, just... Most of them.

Still, there was no escaping that the status quo had changed, and Fancy Pants had been leading the Council accordingly. Work was progressing steadily on the Trans-National Highways program, as was an expansion of the Civil Defense Agency, both of which were deemed of vital importance to Equestria's defense. Not only would a larger overland highway system facilitate greater transfer of goods, it could also be used by the military to more easily deploy troops, or as an impromptu runway for military aircraft.

A year ago, the 'Military Modernization Act' would've died in committee, before it ever reached the National Council floor. Now, with the Council firmly in Black Crown control, the Ministry of Defense would be seeing its largest budgetary increase since the Nightmare War. It would now receive two percent of the nation's GDP, a staggering twenty-two Billion Bits. Yes, billion, with a 'B'. The Crown had also pledged to match this sum, with Celestia providing the majority of the funds from her own pocket. While it only took a small chunk out of the Princess's massive fortune, steadily built upon for the past thousand years, it was the largest amount of money ever contributed to the defense budget by the Crown.

Forty-four-Billion Bits in total, a number that easily eclipsed the entire Griffon GDP, all on Defense. These funds would go towards financing the purchase of new arms and ammunition, such as the newly adopted PM-72A, or the VR-73, as well as vehicles, uniforms, body armor, support equipment, research and development, plus 'Domestic Defense Infrastructure' like the Trans-National Highway and the installation of ADATA stations along the East and West Coasts. As further incentive to draw in prospective recruits, the bill also created a grant to pay the tuition of any member of the military seeking a college education, either during or after completion of their service.

Lastly, efforts were being made to see to it that the remnants of Discord's chocolate milk rain were finally cleared away. Equestria would need as much food stockpiled as possible if it was to survive what many in S-COM feared to be the greatest threat to its survival since the Nightmare War. This had all resulted in a great deal of work for Cadence and Shining Armor... Mostly Cadence. She was the only Princess in a position to really do much of anything at present, with Orzel acting as Designated Survivor, Blueblood serving in the Council, and both of her Aunts meeting with the Badlands Hive delegation... This didn't even include the problems faced by S-COM itself.

With knowledge of the Changeling threat set to be released in the coming weeks, S-COM would soon find itself without purpose, as it'd originally been formed as a means of minimizing those 'in the know'. The plan was to disband the committee and turn whatever duties persisted afterwards over to another agency. The first choice was the naturally Nocturne Agency, but that particular institution hadn't exactly had the best track record over the past year or so.

This was further amplified by the fact that, on paper, its purpose was to protect the Princesses and handle national intelligence. It was therefore decided that the Agency would need to be reorganized, split into two separate branches, all still reporting to the Director and Princess Luna. One half would handle intelligence gathering and espionage of a conventional nature, and the other would be dedicated solely to combating the paranormal, and protecting the Princesses from such paranormal threats...

The Agency had existed for over a thousand years without a major change, and while its forces were formidable, it too suffered from that age old malady that afflicted virtually every government entity in Equestria. It's basic structure was virtually an antique. It'd become too bloated, with too many working parts, too much bureaucracy, to a point where one proverbial hand didn't know what the other was doing. It was widely believed that this was what'd allowed enemy agents and traitors to insulate themselves so well within...

S-COM, the Nocturne Agency, and all its other subordinate groups would therefore likely be consolidated into two separate organizations. The 'Strategic Intelligence Directorate', which would handle diplomatic and military intelligence gathering operations, and the 'Office of Paranormal Threat Interdiction and Containment', whose name was fairly self explanatory, though it also merged the various Sub-Agencies under the umbrella of the CRDD, or 'Covert Research and Development Division'. OPTIC and SID would work in tandem with each other, but each would specialize in their particular field, only overlapping when necessary.

One offshoot that wouldn't remain under Nocturne control, the 'Strategic Intelligence Response Center', would be expanded into the 'National Aerospace Defense Command', which would be shunted off to a facility operated by the Army Air Corps at a location that had yet to be determined. That period of AAC operation would only be temporary, as in accordance with the newly passed MMA, the AAC wasn't going to exist for much longer.

It would instead become the Equestrian Sovereign Air Force, a separate branch from the Army proper, which would assume control over the majority of military aviation in Equestria... At least, as far as land based aviation was concerned, as Naval and Lunar Marine Aviation still fell under the purview of their respective military branches. The ESAF would be given its own budget, of a far more considerable size than the AAC was allotted, and inherit all the 'AABs' and their respective squadrons currently in operation, which would in turn be dubbed 'AFBs' from then on.

The AAC-ESAF branch migration was an entirely separate issue from the OPTIC-SID reorganization, which had more to do with determining which of the two intelligence agencies, if any, would be subordinate to the other. Separate from each other or not, the creation of the ESAF was just as confusing, just as frustrating, and just as much Cadence's responsibility until the other Princesses returned.

As Cadence knew next to nothing about military organization or pruning bureaucratic overgrowth, she'd called upon Shining Armor's much more considerable understanding for the former, and sent along some of the more confusing bureaucratic tangles to her cousin Orzel for the latter. Orzel had in turn promised to send a reply with potential solutions as soon as she'd worked her way through the literal mountain of paperwork. Even with her ability to speed read, it'd likely take a couple days. That meant that, for the moment, it'd been Cadence and Shining Armor running the country during this crucial phase on their own. Together they'd been working to find a means to make all the necessary changes with as little upheaval and chaos as possible.

That was why after having spent the past eight hours alternating between various meetings and a conference held in a windowless room, stewing with the smell of tobacco smoke, burnt coffee, and sweat, the Princess found herself so eager to enjoy her walk in the park. Looking over at Shining Armor, Cadence couldn't help but be impressed... He'd certainly lived up to his namesake. There was no way she'd be able to do everything she'd done so far on her own... Honestly. It was just another reason why she refused the title of 'Crown-Princess', and why she pitied her cousin for having accepted it...

"How you're able to keep all that stuff in your head, I'll never know." Cadence commented, sidling up beside Shining as they neared a small paved area beside the park's pond, home to numerous tables and chairs. There were few people here, enjoying their lunches... A single couple, that looked vaguely familiar, sat together close to the waters edge. "OPTIC-SID, CRDD, SIRC-NADC, AAC-ESAF... It's crazy! It's actually crazy!" Shining Armor chuckled softly at that, rolling his shoulders... He almost looked nervous, though about what Cadence had no idea.

"Because you're a normal person, and all these agencies and organizations aren't run by normal people." The man declared simply, tucking his hands into the pockets of his white uniform trousers. "Just remember that in some cases, we have literally over a thousand years of statues to go through and review. In the end, it's all like a great big tangled rope. Eventually, if you follow it long enough and undo enough knots, you'll get it straightened out." The man patted his chest, causing several of the ribbons pinned to his red uniform jacket to jostle slightly. "Good thing you came to me when you did. I wouldn't have made Captain of the Canterlot Royal Guard without at least a working knowledge of the language."

Cadence hummed thoughtfully, taking a seat at one of the tables, watching the ducks swim about in their little adorable families... The way they scooted around, dipping their bills into the water every now and then, otherwise fluttering their wings. There were times when the Princess envied that sort of... Simplicity. Times where she wished she'd never accepted a crown, where she'd just stayed 'Cadence'. No titles, no fortune, no need to worry herself with matters of state...

Again her thoughts strayed to Orzel, the 'Crown-Princess'... Undoubtedly, Luna and Celestia would accept were she to voice a desire not to bear the title, but... It seemed unlikely she'd ever do such a thing. Sometimes Cadence wondered how a seventeen year old girl could hope to make such a decision for herself, a decision that might literally last an eternity... She wondered if maybe her aunts had been a little premature in announcing Orzel's ascension, if maybe they should've given the girl more time to really thing things over...

One thing was certain, whenever Cadence had children of her own, she wouldn't be so quick to rush and give them a title. Cadence was always more inclined towards more artistic pursuits, rather than the complex and often contradictory field of politics.. Music, theater, painting, fashion, all existed to be explored. It was hard not to think that everyone felt the same way. Maybe, if more people felt like that, the world might not be as crazy as it was now... She'd give her children all the love and attention in the world, and try to show them that love was more powerful than hate, that the humble olive branch could solve more problems than bullets ever could.

Unfortunately, her wishful thinking was only that. The world Orzel would inherit in the event the worse came to pass was probably more like the one she'd left behind than anyone realized... It was another reason Cadence had been working so hard of late, because as much as she wanted a world of love, a world of art and passion, she wanted a world that would be safe for her children... A world more like the park in which she relaxed, rather than the cruel city that surrounded it.

Thoughts of family and children brought her thoughts back to Shining, who as of yet had failed to take his own seat... If anything he was pacing, and his features were set in the deepest sense of nervousness. For a few moments the Princess wondered if maybe he was aware of some newly developing emergency, but at no time had either of them been apart long enough for news to arrive to him, but not to her. So her mind strayed to other theories...

She'd spotted an odd blemish on his skin that she hadn't noticed before, then again it might've been entirely normal, she wasn't usually in a position to see that particular section of skin with the lights on. Nonetheless she'd insisted he go have it checked, and had yet to hear any word one way or the other as to if it was something to be concerned about. No... He would've told her already were that the case.

Then she pondered where they stood now. The park, the site of so many important events in their relationship thus far... Lately he'd been acting a little secretive, but not in an entirely alarming way. Now Cadence wondered if Shining might've brought her here because he didn't want to make a scene. Was he going to break up with her? That thought withered almost immediately as it emerged, because Cadence knew with a great deal of certainty that their relationship was about as solid as a relationship could be. She was the Princess of Love, after all. Still, it didn't explain his nervousness, or the reason he'd suggested they come here. Either way, Cadence got the feeling that one way or another she'd receive her answer soon enough.

"I... Uh..." Shining began, clearing his throat and quickly moving to stand in front of Cadence. "Look, you know I'm not really good at this emotional stuff, but I've got something I've been meaning to say." He explained bluntly, before chuckling in an all too nervous fashion. Glancing to his left and right, ensuring they were out of earshot of the other park attendees, he cleared his throat again.

"I've just been thinking a lot, between the Changelings, the Griffons, the Dragons, and whatever the Tartarus else is out there..." Shining began a little more seriously, though that quickly faded into an almost haggered nervousness. "The world could blow up at any second, and I don't want to put this off anymore, so I guess what I'm trying to say is I love you?" Cadence leaned back in her seat, smiling sweetly at his flustered, and somewhat rapid, statement of affection.

"It's more than that... So much more!" Shining resumed pacing, though this time confined to a smaller area. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met in my entire life, inside and out. You're sexy, you're funny, you just light up every room you walk into! I come home lately and you're there, I wake up in the morning and you're there, and on the days where you aren't? Everything sucks! At least, y'know, until I see you again." The man sighed heavily. "The point is. I love you, you love me. We love each other, and we have for a really long time, so why don't we just get married?" He stated bluntly. "Seriously, like... For real. I want to marry you, do you want to marry me?"

Cadence stared at him, her jaw hanging slightly agape, beyond words... In the distant reaches of her mind, still lingering on her cousin, she recalled a theoretical concept for a certain type of explosive... Not meant to kill or destroy, but to stun and disorient... A 'flash-bang'... While no such explosive device had gone off, Cadence nonetheless felt as if she was on the receiving end, with Shining's request serving just as effectively as a form of 'verbal' flash-bang. It honestly took Cadence a moment or two to recover. Shining meanwhile took note of her silence, then looked at himself.

"Shit! I forgot!" He cried, fumbling around in his pockets and hastily dropping to a knee. "I mean, shoot... Sorry... I didn't want to swear, and I totally forgot the kneeling thing, but not the ring. I have a ring, see? It's right he-" Cadence cut him off, grabbing him by his chin...

She pulled him in close, closing her eyes and bestowing upon him the deepest most passionate kiss the two had likely ever shared. Unsurprisingly, he was more than happy to reciprocate. In spite of all that muscle, all that strength and military discipline, Shining Armor was and continued to be the biggest, softest, most loveable marshmallow Cadence had encountered. She had no doubt that when the chips were down, he could lean an entire army into battle without so much as a hint of uncertainty.

In matters of the heart, as he'd so eloquently understated, he was as awkward and as dorky as a schoolboy, and the Cadence loved him all the more for it. He was the person she wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of her days with, were such a thing possible, the person with whom she'd honestly hoped to start a family with. His evasiveness in recent days made far more sense... He was working up the nerve, and now he'd finally done it. Whatever happened next, no matter how complex or crazy the world became, Cadence had no doubt now that they'd make it through all the stronger for it.

"So..." Shining began as the kiss ended, a great big dopy grin spreading across his features. "I'll take that as a maybe then?" Cadence smacked him playfully, then kissed him again...

The dawn of Orzel's date of birth had arrived at last, not that she could see the sun through the dense dark clouds and driving tropical rain currently pounding Pulauapi. It was official now. As of midnight that morning, she'd turned seventeen years of age. One year closer to adulthood, one year closer to her formal coronation as a fully fledged Princess, and all the perils that would bring. That was, assuming of course, that the Changeling threat didn't escalate to a point where she was forced to ascend to the throne ahead of time.

Typically, in Equestria at least, the anniversary of one's birth was celebrated with a departure from the normal routine, in favor of something more indulgent. To this end, Orzel had allowed herself a whole half-hour to sleep in... It was just over a year ago when she'd come to Equestria, and the circumstances under which she'd arrived cast the entire day in different, dimmer, light. Thinking about that somewhat grim anniversary did little to lift her spirits, one of the many reasons she'd hoped to minimize the number of people that knew about it.

Szafirian birthdays were already somewhat dreary affairs, especially in households like Orzel's... It marked one year closer to the age of conscription, among other things, and really that was its only purpose. A countdown, a means by which the state determined who was and wasn't old enough to join the ranks of the Imperial Legion. Those few gifts that were exchanged were purely utilitarian in nature, aimed at aiding the recipient in their future life of service to the state.

Members of the warrior caste typically received arms, or other pieces of equipment that would benefit them on the field of battle. In Orzel's case, these gifts were restricted to items that would help her to serve as a better homemaker... Brooms and dusters, flatware and cutlery, pots and pans. Prior to the fall of Cesarski, she had hoped that this year might've been a little different. Mother and Father had stated that they'd at least attempt to purchase a pair of spectacles for her. In hindsight, Orzel doubted if they would've been powerful enough to correct for her severe impairment. All their scrimping and saving would likely have amounted to nothing more than marginal improvement.

She missed her parents, just as much as she missed Luna, Celestia, and all her adoptive family members in Equestria. Missing them was nothing new, she still thought about them every day, but... This was different. Birthdays without Father weren't uncommon, he was regularly at sea, after all... Birthdays without Sokol, however...? That was all too new. Normally Orzel would awaken to the smell of Racuchy, a rare treat similar to Equestrian 'Pancakes', typically stuffed with apple slices. Considering the cost of sugar, flour and apples, they reserved only for the most special of occasions.

From there she'd make her way downstairs to join her Mother in the kitchen, and together the two of them would discuss what the coming year might bring... The discussion undoubtedly would've been aimed at getting Orzel to choose between the two prospective suitors, Bazyli or Yuri, followed by a talk about setting up a wedding ceremony a day or so after next year's birthday. The intervening year would be spent formalizing the agreement between the two houses, and allowing for Orzel and whomever she chose of the two to get to know one another better. All under the stalwart supervision of a chaperone, of course.

Though the thought of such a conversation unsettled her, it was impossible for Orzel not to want at least one more chance to talk to her Mother... To tell her how much she loved her, how much she missed her, how the sacrificed that'd been made ensured that Orzel's life would be better now than it ever would've been before. She would've given just as much to see her Father again, to show him all of the models she'd made, or to hear one of his stories from an adventure on a distant sea... Orzel could've sworn he'd told her so many stories that she'd heard them all at least once, but then he'd surprise her with something new. The young woman didn't really care whether they were all true or not.

Staring out her window at the typhoon that raged against the mountain, she could picture in her mind her Father, the steadfast Captain standing at the wheel of his mighty warship. Lashed by rain, implacable against the cold, fighting to con Piorun through the surf and spray of the ocean's fury. The waves rising as rapidly as they fell, steadfastly plowing ahead on Piorun's latest adventure. Perhaps off to face a dreaded pirate lord, or to hunt down some great and terrible sea monster. The idea was so strong in her mind, such a vivid image, that she actually thought it might be real... Those thoughts only lasted a few moments. Father was gone, Piorun lay on the bottom Cesarski Harbor, and no amount of childish wishing could ever hope to raise her from the briny depths.

Having run through her morning routine, albeit slightly delayed on account of her sleeping in, Orzel found herself with very little to do other than contemplate that which she'd lost... As it was her birthday, and she wasn't technically supposed to be working, she'd opted to dress in her comfortable blue turtleneck sweater and black slacks, topped as always by her headscarf and pendant. Despite Orzel's stated desire to keep things quiet, Alba insisted that she'd be along later to help celebrate. For now the Princess settled in at her desk and once more looked over her latest bevy of projects. The HMMV Project had finally finished development following several redesigns, and was now entering mass production through Rook Automotive.

The same could go for the VR-73, the final production version of the VRX, incorporating aspects like the under-folding stock and hooded front sight-block from the various prototypes leading up to its completion. Work on a viable helicopter was also progressing well, it was really only a matter of figuring exactly what role it would play in the field. Artillery spotting, rapid troop insertion, or perhaps even as a sort of 'Gunship'. The current prototype was fairly large, surely capable of carrying a great deal of weapons and armor, almost like a sort of 'Flying Tank'...

Orzel had made at least modest progress in the design of a missile for Project Gungnir, several prototypes for which were in varying stages of construction. They were more to test the flight characteristics and payload capabilities, and lacked any sort of guidance system. Of course, unguided rockets themselves would also prove formidable weapons in their own right as a form of artillery... Work was already underway to convert one of the island's six-wheel supply trucks to carry a rack that could support forty rockets of a smaller scale, the sub-project being known as 'Project Hailstorm'.

Odds were that Hailstorm would reach the battlefield far before Gungnir, as the guidance enchantment for the latter was still proving a tricky wicket. Orzel's experience developing her KBO had born fruit in small-scale tests and the few computer simulations she'd managed to run, and were she forced to produce a viable weapon in short order, she could ensure somewhere on the order of a twenty to thirty percent kill ratio at a range of roughly a hundred-twenty miles. It was far easier to register a kill when using the weapon in a 'Surface-to-Surface' capacity, provided the target was marked with what Alba had termed a 'Arcane Flare'.

The ratio was better than zero, certainly, but hardly worth the price tag of eleven-thousand Bits per missile, not including Research and Development costs. Granted, funding wasn't really so much an issue anymore. ARMA's Defense Research Division had been given a virtual 'blank check' as part of the new MMA budget. Still, it was the principle of the matter. These were tax payer Bits after all, or at the very least half of them were, the other half coming from Orzel's own family. She intended to see both contributing parties got their money's worth.

Projects Gungnir and Hailstorm would have to wait for tomorrow... With the storm raging outside, any tests Orzel might've run would be sure to produce faulty results. They were nowhere near ready for a flight in such conditions. A test of its 'All Weather' capabilities would come later, when Orzel had a larger base of data to consult. She had a few auto-cannon designs cooking up, as well as an ADATA assisted auto-lead matrix... The various parts were a little too heavy to be applied to towed AA artillery, but would work fine on a dedicated vehicle platform. Orzel had elected to have several 'Armored Recovery Vehicles' transferred to ARMA, essentially tanks without their turrets... They'd yet to arrive, so Orzel couldn't work on them either.

Filtering through her papers, the Princess finally settled upon her notes regarding the ritual circle left in the wake of the action aboard Warlock... By now she'd managed to translate the writing and accompanying runes entirely, and they were very very strange. Taken in conjunction with the artifact recovered at the scene, the 'Orb of Orpheus', Orzel had figured that the ritual in question was aimed at resurrecting someone, or multiple someones, into a new body... Only one, the ritualist that'd vanished, seemed to have succeeded. There were also countless papers to review on behalf of Cadence regarding the military restructuring, but... They could wait as well. Orzel really didn't feel like untangling a bureaucratic mess today.

After half an hour of just staring at her desk, Orzel once again rose from her seat and made her way out of the the bedroom. The chatter of driving rain and snapping of thunder resonated through the majority of her residence with their ceaseless rumbling, though in all honesty the Princess actually found the sound to be rather soothing. With nothing else to do but pray for guidance on what to do, Orzel sat on the floor in front of the window and entered a meditative state of prayer... The emotions dredged up by the day, plus her conversation with Spike the night before, were as difficult to process as they were to quantify in exact terms.

The young woman wasn't sure exactly how long she sat chanting hymnals to herself before she was once again overtaken by a deep sensation of calm. It could've been minutes, it could've been an hour, but for Orzel... Time was a concept whose meaning was gradually starting to change. With the closing of another year came a reminder that. among other things, the mere passage of time for her would forever be different from most of those around her. She was a dragon, an arcanely powerful dragon, an arcanely powerful dragon princess, and all of those things added up to one stark conclusion. What were years to virtually everyone else might as well be seconds to her, at least in the grand scheme of things. Yet another reason she wished to be alone today... She needed to reflect.

Orzel was coming to understand that she, like the majority of her family and Spike, was an eternal being... Not immortal, not by a long shot. She could still be killed, as all dragons could be, but... For all intents and purposes, like the very people that'd taken her in, Orzel would not grow old. The same couldn't be said for everyone else in her life, and each successive birthday would bring them all closer to bidding her a final farewell. Doctor Scratch, Alba, even Cousin Blueblood... They would pass and fade away, millenia before Orzel ever so much as gained a wrinkle, if even that was possible for an eternal being.

In her state of meditation, Orzel ruminated on all of these thoughts, and in so doing felt herself mourning those whom she'd yet to lose. The visions that filled her mind were as dark and as bleak as the raging storm outside, images of headstones, slowly becoming covered in moss. Deep down, the young woman wondered why things couldn't stay the same forever, why things always had to change, just as she was starting to get used to them. She'd finally made peace with many of the demons that haunted her, and while she'd yet to fully recover, there was no denying the progress she'd made.

Regardless of her struggles, the universe continued to conspire to reveal to her such disheartening truths, at precisely the worst times, as if determined by some cruel intelligent force to drag her back down into the depths of despair. It was only through the teachings of Lexicos that she'd managed to maintain her emotional footing this time. Where one misery ended, another sprang up to take its place. Where one crisis was averted, another arose, stronger and more deadly than the last. With all the authority she'd inherit, all the arcane power she would wield, all the countless centuries ahead of her, Orzel honestly wondered if she was truly able to withstand the weight of being a sovereign...

In what seemed a blink of the mind's eye, Orzel found herself standing on a pristine white beach, facing the West, a great towering monolith of white rising high upon the horizon... The sky was the color lead, filled with low hanging clouds. Rolling waves crashed against the sand, sending sprawling surges of foam up to within inches of Orzel's feet. Her arrival to this place in her mind didn't really surprise her... She was always drawn here, to stand at the water's edge. Perhaps it would be easier if she just... Waded out into the sea... Conceded to instinct, abandoned her life as a Princess in favor of something simpler, more visceral... A life embraced by the ocean.

"Starting anew is never so simple as one might think..." Midnight's familiar, oddly distorted, voice arose from Orzel's right. She spoke Orzel's native tongue, as she always had. This was, however, the first time she'd heard her familiar speak to her in one of her meditations. "You and I both know that you will not abandon your duty." Orzel nodded quietly, taking a deep breath and sighing through her nose.

"Duty..." Orzel repeated the word softly. "Noun. Obligatory tasks, conduct, service, or functions that arise from one's position..." The girl tucked her hands into her pockets. "People talk of 'eternal duty' or 'eternal commitment', but most of them will never endure 'eternity'. They are so fragile, so... Ephemeral..." The girl squatted down, picking up a handful of sand and letting it slip through her fingers. "I tell myself over and over again that I am different now... That I am free... If I truly am free, then why was this title foisted upon me? Why can I not choose it for myself?"

"Ah, but you already have chosen it..." Midnight responded simply while Orzel stood back up. "We both know by now that were you to go to your Mother and tell her that you no longer desired to be her heir, she would think no less of you. None of your family would... By remaining silent when you know there is an alternative, are you not making your choice?" Orzel felt a hand on her shoulder, which caused her to turn in surprise...

Rather than a Myna bird, she found a black hooded figure, the same woman who had pervaded her visions and dreams for as long as Orzel had sought them. The woman in white, Orzel's 'Dragon Self, was also present, though she stood facing west, wordlessly allowing the waves washing up to her ankles. As usual, both of their faces were shrouded by darkness, leaving naught but their eerie glowing eyes. Orzel didn't recoil at the strange new sight, nor didn't flinch in surprise... She'd gradually pieced together that the figure from her visions, from her dreams, was in fact her familiar. It still didn't answer the question... Why did the woman visit her in those places, and why had she chosen now, of all times, to break the silence she'd kept?

"Yes, eternity is a long time... Yes, there are many you care about who will arrive and depart while you remain stationary in the river of time..." The woman continued solemnly as Orzel stared into those wide golden eyes, who looked at her with such profound caring and sympathy, it almost reminded her of Luna. "Avoiding those you care about for fear of suffering will only waste what precious time you have, as will running away. Cherish their friendship. Cherish the knowledge that they have chosen, for their fleeting existence, to call you 'friend'." The woman's hand tightened on Orzel's shoulder. "You are free, Orzel... You have tasted freedom after enduring the bitterness of tyranny, as these Equestrians never have..."

"That is why you were chosen." Midnight said seriously, bowing her head slightly in the direction of the monolith. "You know as well as I do that they need someone at the helm that understands... Someone who will, for all eternity, never forget that bitter taste, and so strive harder to preserve their freedom. Someone who will fight against those that would seek to snuff out those already low burning candles, the forces of darkness that would rob your subjects of their brief time in this world." To Orzel's surprise, the spectral woman pulled her into a strangely warm, hauntingly familiar hug. "A matter has arisen that requires my attention... No matter what happens, know that I will always be proud of you..." She tightened the embrace. "I must depart for a time, child. Know that if you are truly in need of me, I shall come. You will never be alone..."

Orzel's eyes snapped open, instantly transporting her from the beach in her vision back to her seat on the floor of her residence. For a few moments she sat there, stunned by a sensation of having seen a ghost... Over a span of three fleeting seconds, she'd seen the face within the hood, just as she had a time before... In those seconds she'd come to some realization, something profound about the true nature of Midnight, but... In the transition from subconsciousness to consciousness, that revelation was lost once more... All that remained was a terrible sense of grief, and the stinging sensation of tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Midnight?" Orzel called quietly, wiping her eyes whilst looking around frantically. "Midnight, please return to me." The bird failed to materialize, in spite of Orzel's request. It wasn't unusual for Midnight to vanish for a time, but this...? This felt different. A true familiar could only be dismissed if its master willed it to be so, and yet Orzel was quite certain that the bird had done so of its own accord. She tried to summon the bird, tried to will it before her, to command it to reveal its presence, all to no avail. It was as if a piece of her was just... Missing. Gone to parts unknown...

The young woman didn't know when, or if, she could ever get it back. In the end, all the Princess could do was hope her familiar would keep to her word and return. With Midnight gone, the only person Orzel could regularly converse with was Alba. All of a sudden she was left with a renewed sensation of loneliness, and she wished desperately to once more cast the spell of Astral Projection... Not to speak with Spike, as she had previously, but to seek out where ever it was that Midnight had gone. Unfortunately the spell, while easier to cast now, still required certain components... Components that could prove dangerous, if taken too frequently.

While Orzel was certain there were plenty of people out there having worse days than she was, that did little to change the fact that, now, quite simply, she still felt rather crummy... Hopefully Alba would drop by sooner rather than later, as Orzel thought it wise to heed the final piece of advice of her familiar. To cherish what moments she did spend with her friends, and to safeguard those friends, so that they might live as long as possible. If nothing else, she could do with a good deal of cheering up, and Alba was surprisingly adept at that. Orzel could at least take solace in the knowledge that while it was certainly disheartening to have lost her familiar for an undisclosed amount of time, at least no one had died...

Geier Schwarzefeder, Prime Minister of the Griffon Empire and long suffering whipping boy of the Imperial press at large, had for the majority of his professional career enjoyed little in the way of reward for his work. Food lines? Blame Schwarzefeder! Potential mutiny in the Imperial military? It's Schwarzefeder's fault! Rampant inflation brought on by the wall-bitingly moronic decision to just keep printing money to pay for increasingly expensive social programs that were almost entirely unnecessary, something that only the Emperor was authorized to do? Still, somehow, Schwarzefeder's fault! The latter most issue was a particularly bitter subject, considering that his salary hadn't increased in nearly a decade, yet people assumed he made so much more than they did...

He endured all this not for any reason as foolish as 'patriotism' or 'loyalty', these were merely platitudinous notions disseminated to the commoners, to be paid lip-service only so far as was necessary to prevent revolt... No, Schwarzefeder's sole purpose for doing what he did was the hope that someday, if he played his cards right, he would be granted a title of nobility and all the land, acclaim, and real fortune that came with such an appointment. For thirty years he'd done the bidding of his Emperor, laughed at his pedestrian humor, endured his ridicule, and did all that was within his power to save the Emperor's face whenever he made one of his increasingly frequent mistakes...

Recently, for the first time since accepting the role, it appeared that Schwarzefeder's long awaited dream of nobility and riches was at hand. The Emperor had become a doddering old fool by now, prone to random fits of temper and ever narrowing margins of lucidity, but his word nonetheless remained law... Schwarzefeder need only say the right words, in just the right way, and all that he desired could finally be his. Or, alternatively, wait until the Emperor was so far gone as to not notice if Schwarzefeder decided to appoint himself to a position of nobility... After all, the Emperor was more and more predisposed to dictating his orders than writing them in his increasingly unstable hands.

Of course, that was still in the future. For now, Schwarzefeder was still Prime Minister, still subject to all the shouting and yelling of the ungrateful peasantry, still waiting for the Emperor to finally lose his last couple marbles. It was only natural that, after a long day of enduring the constant verbal lashings of the ungrateful peons, all a the man wanted to do was to go to his drafty home, lay down in a bed that was too narrow, beneath a blanket that was too short, and slumber fitfully for a period that was all too short, only to rise and repeat the same demoralizing process over on the morrow.

It was extremely late in the evening, close to midnight at the very least, when the telephone rang out from Schwarzefeder's kitchen. Sighing faintly, the balding lanky public 'servant', stretched his wings and smacked his lips together. Scratching at his stomach whilst stalking across the rough, not to mention frigid, wooden floor, he resolved to himself that whomever was calling him had likely just forfeited their job at the very least... Unless, of course, it was a matter of actual importance. Slipping into a ratty old bathrobe as he descended to the first floor, he stopped beside the phone in his kitchen and lifted the receiver. Placing it to his ear, he cleared his throat and sighed.

"Schwarzefeder..." He muttered tiredly, rubbing at his eyes and instinctively glancing at a nearby clock... Not that it did much good, the damn thing was broken, not to mention too expensive to repair or replace. Maybe he'd burn it as firewood... The voice on the other end of the line was frantic but reserved, with the message the speaker conveyed quickly rousing the Prime Minister from the lingering stupor of sleep. "Are you serious?" They were absolutely serious. "Assemble the Council of Ministers. You're not to breathe a word of this to anyone! If you do I'll have you shot, do you understand?!" They absolutely understood.

Schwarzefeder swiftly hung up the phone and raced up stairs, briefly pausing to grab a stack of Königsmarks from the dining room table. The stack was readily lit after the striking of a match, burning nice and slow. He tossed the virtually worthless paper into the small fireplace at the opposite end of his bedroom, providing him an ample source of light and a meager amount of warmth. It burned just long enough for him to change out of his threadbare bathrobe and into an equally threadbare brown three-piece suit, topped by an old brown Tyrolean hat, decorated by a single black feather of his own plumage.

Donning an old woolen overcoat, Schwarzefeder wasted little time exiting his home and making his way through the dark gritty streets of Old Griffonstone. There were few lights here, as none could spare the lamp oil, and no carriages in sight. One would have to be a fool to leave a carriage anywhere in Griffonstone overnight and not expect to find it resting on cinder blocks, stripped to all but the chassis, come morning. Continuing to grumble to himself, Schwarzefeder didn't even bother looking for another means of transportation, instead extending his wings and taking flight. He'd lost a considerable amount of weight in recent months, still he found the task of flying to be a most uncomfortable prospect.

The city from above was a grim shadow of what it'd been in the Prime Minister's youth, with few signs of life other than occasionally flickering fires, marking the various homeless encampments scattered throughout. Though the low lands were enjoying the warmth of summer, here in the mountains it was exceptionally chilly. Occasionally, over the somber mourning wind, the Schwarzefeder would hear a distant shout or a yell from the streets below, sometimes this would be followed by a scream of pain or, less commonly these days, a gunshot.

The Emperor had made the wise decision to relieve the local populace of their firearms, an action he should've taken with the Northern Provinces when they'd first started spouting such nonsense as 'secession'. There were exceptions to the law, of course. As a member of the Council of Ministers, Schwarzefeder never left home without a pistol, and that'd beat a thug with a knife any day. The people of Griffonstone would have a far harder time seizing the Imperial palace with only knives, though the Emperor was also considering taking those as well, 'for the good of the people'. Schwarzefeder frankly didn't give a rat's ass about 'the people', let them mug and stab each other to their hearts content... Better they take their economic frustrations out on one another than on the state.

Realistically though, given the phone call he'd just received, Schwarzefeder would've preferred being mugged at knife point. He arrived to the Imperial Palace within seven minutes of leaving his home, it was the only building lit up for miles, a shining beacon of civilization among a city rapidly descending into squalor. The soldiers standing guard at the gate, each of whom was heavily armed, snapped to attention at his approach. Without pausing to check his papers, they signaled a trio of tanks parked behind the gates to back out of the way. They'd been brought in recently, and were crewed by soldiers hand picked for their loyalty, just in case the military itself decided to take a crack at 'changing' things.

It took Schwarzefeder another four minutes for him to actually reach the palace, ascending the ancient granite steps to the front door, where a remarkably well dressed butler stood holding the door for him. Schwarzefeder walked past without saying a word, navigating the opulent halls with an ease that came from his decades of practice. He wasted no time in rubbing his hands together, basking in the decadent heat that pervaded throughout the well decorated home of his Emperor. Servants of all types bowed or curtsied as he passed, again he paid them little mind. Ascending to the second floor, he tread the marble floors, passing the throne room, turning two more corners, before finally arriving at an ornately decorated wooden door.

Two soldiers stood guard at either side of it, looking directly ahead, while an old hag of a housekeeper and a far younger, more comely maiden of equally insignificant rank, stood off to the side. The aged witch was evidently consoling the girl, though it was entirely understandable given the news on the phone... Still, good to see the matter was handled... Schwarzefeder hated when the help of all people whined, especially considering they were allowed to live in the nice warm palace while he and all the other Ministers resorted to burning bundles of worthless bills.

The soldiers snapped to attention at Schwarzefeder's approach, earning the merest dismissive wave on the Prime Minister's behalf.

"He's in there?" The man asked briskly, receiving a wordless nod from the more senior of the two men. "Don't move from this spot until ordered to do so. Allow no one but the Council of Ministers to enter." The soldier gave only another nod...

Good man, keeping his yap shut. Schwarzefeder also hated when people that were obviously beneath him thought themselves worthy of speaking in his presence. With his orders given and little time to lose, the Prime Minister grasped the door handle, turned it, then stepped into the room. He was quick to close the door behind him, ensuring that whatever was seen, or smelled, in the room remained in the room.

The odor that assaulted his nostrils was overall nothing new, at least to Schwarzefeder... A sort of rancorous funk of mildew, sweat, and shedding feathers. The brilliantly decorated room was intended to exude vibrancy and vitality, both of which had long since left its sole occupant. Emperor Grover XXIV, Sovereign of the Griffon Empire, had spent an increasing amount of his time 'in session' of late. Every now and then Schwarzefeder would have the Emperor cleaned up and looking presentable, just long enough to have him walk around to prove he was, in fact, alive. Then they'd come back for a glass of warm milk and a nap...

These trips out had become less and less frequent with every day the Emperor's age ticked above ninety. More because the old man's mind had started to fail him with increasing regularity than anything else. The Northern Provinces were a hairs breadth away from open revolt, they could smell the blood in the water. Were it to come out that the Emperor was operating in such a diminished capacity, they wouldn't hesitate to secede, especially given the recent sinkings...

No one knew for certain which bright-bulb made the 'brilliant' tactical decision to go out to the Bugbear Coast and instigate the already sufficiently roused rabble, mostly because the Navy had a frustrating habit of protecting their own... It was just as likely to be the work of a rogue captain, some loyalist fanatic, just a plain madman, or some variation on those three. Schwarzefeder doubted he'd ever know, but he sure as Tartarus hated them for it! It was yet another issue the Emperor had yet to rule on, and as a result one more thing the Prime Minister had to hear about every day.

Now, as Schwarzefeder approached a large carpet at the center of the room, he got the distinct feeling the Emperor's most recent trip out, some five months ago, had been his last. There before him lay the bald, frail, half-naked, unmoving form of the most powerful man in the Empire... His skin was leathery and gray, his wings were all but barren of feathers, and it was obvious by observing the carpet that he'd gone ahead and wet himself... Like the smell, that wasn't altogether new, but no less disgusting.

Schwarzefeder stared at the Emperor's prone form for what felt like an eternity, a maelstrom of emotions welling up inside him, most of which were negative. Still, he was a professional... Without missing a beat he walked over to Gover's desk, grabbed a piece of the Emperor's stationary as well as a pen, and swiftly wrote an Imperial decree. It proclaimed that he would from henceforth be known as Lord Schwarzefeder, governor of Elfenbein, a small archipelago of tropical islands in the Celestia Ocean, just off the western coast of Zebrica.

He'd written enough of these proclamations by now to word it exactly as the Emperor would've dictated, he'd also forged enough of the Emperor's signatures to make it look convincing. This was all tied together by a raised wax stamp, imparting the Imperial seal to his lie, bringing the fraudulent proclamation into law... Biographers and historians would in future record that the Emperor's last act on this planet would be to grant the wish of his long suffering, hard working, undyingly loyal Prime Minister, and bestow upon him land and a sizable fortune in a tropical paradise... The way he worded it was almost enough to bring a tear to his eye.

With his retirement plans well taken care of, Schwarzefeder returned to the carpet and rubbed his chin. It wouldn't do for him to just resign while the body was still warm... He'd hang around for appearence's sake, then after a few weeks depart, too 'overcome by grief' to carry on. After a couple more minutes of thought, he crouched beside the unmoving Emperor and placed a hand on the man's jugular. His eyes widened ever so faintly, somehow the bastard still had a pulse! Almost instantly the man briefly eyed one of the pillows on the Emperor's bed... He was alone... No one would ever know. Sighing faintly, the man shook his head, walked to a nearby chair, and sat down. There he idly drummed his fingers against the armrest, awaiting the arrival of his colleagues.

The first to arrive was Anton Silberne, Minister of Foreign Affairs. Closing the door with a great theatrical push, his reaction to the scene was about as convincing as Schwarzefeder had come to expect of the short wiry man. His grief lasted all of twenty seconds, ending as soon as he knelt beside the Emperor's body and immediately recoiled with damp knees. Next to arrive was Kamin Kriegsfalke, Minister of War, whose grief at the apparent death of the Emperor was remarkably genuine to Schwarzefeder. The next two arrived within moments of one another, Gustoff Zensieren and Otto Geldsäcke, Minister of Truth and Minister of Finance respectively.

What followed were a good ten minutes where they all expressed their grief and disbelief at the loss of their glorious leader, struck down at the 'young' age of ninety-one. He was actually dead by the time they'd all finished expressing just how truly saddened they were to one another, a fate that might've been averted had anyone thought to call a doctor, or at the very least voiced such a thought. It was really for the best, all things considered... The Empire needed a strong leader, now more than ever, and Grover XXIV simply wasn't getting the job done.

That left the weighty question of who would ascend to the throne, who would inherit an inflation crippled economy, rising rates of violent and property crime, borderline anarchy, potential mutinies, and the very likely secession of half of the country's landmass. Being a hereditary monarchy, the choice should've been obvious... Crown-Prince Stempel, the Emperor's eldest son... A sprightly young seventy-two years young. The problem was that Stempel, like his father, wasn't in the best of health. More specifically, he'd been paralyzed from the neck down in climbing accident at age thirty-two, while foolishly attempting to recover the Idol of Boreas, allegedly lost down the Abysmal Abyss.

The Council of Ministers all agreed that while technically the crown should pass to Stempel, one technically needed to be able to 'ascend' out of their own bed if they were to ascend to the throne. Zensieren would ensure that the papers made proper mention of how difficult the decision was, how despite Stempel's wish to take his father's place, he'd valiantly decided to relinquish the throne to the next in line... If Stempel actually refused to go along with the plan? Well, heart attacks were known to happen in men his age, especially those in his condition.

Who was 'next in line' was a little murky, and that suited the aims of the Council of Ministers quite well. They could pick virtually anyone in the Imperial bloodline, preferably one of the Emperor's grandsons, or great grandsons. Kriegsfalke briefly floated the notion of perhaps picking one of the Emperor's far more numerous great granddaughters, and that resulted in a much needed laugh for all those involved. Given the stress of selecting their new leader, Kriegsfalke's joke was greatly appreciated.

In the end, they decided on a relatively young and inexperienced young man... Well, barely old enough to be considered a man. The man chosen to be the next sovereign of the Griffon Empire was known simply as Guto... Guto IV, as it would happen to be. He was quiet and soft spoken by all accounts, always inclined to defer to his elders, and that suggested he'd be remarkably easy to sway in one direction or another. It was that malleability that would make Guto so useful to the Council of Ministers.

He could be molded by them, tailored into the perfect figurehead, whilst they were able to consolidate power in their hands. Schwarzefeder didn't know why he cared so much, he still intended to retire in the near future, but... He supposed he would miss this sort of thing. The plotting, the scheming, even if it meant he was lambasted in the press. Speaking of which...

With the issue of succession sorted, next came the task of setting the scene for tomorrows papers. Revealing in the papers that the Emperor had died half-naked in a puddle of his own indignity would hardly send the proper message. So, with a great deal of effort on their part, the Council of Ministers made things a bit more presentable. The Emperor would be found having died in his sleep, peacefully, quietly... A day of mourning would be declared, it would be a most moving ceremony. Such a public event would surely be of a high enough profile to prevent the enemies of the Empire from capitalizing on their leader's death.

The separatists, while claiming their eagerness for 'independence', wouldn't dare to risk causing an incident while the Empire was in mourning. To do so would turn public sentiment against them... It was, however, only a temporary delay to a much longer term problem. Schwarzefeder knew the Iron Bloods were cowards at heart, they didn't really intend to secede, they just wanted more money. That's what all Griffons wanted, especially now. While the thestrals were likely more genuine in their desire to be separate from the Empire, Schwarzefeder didn't give them much credence. In all likelihood they'd want to be re-integrated into Equestria, and there was no way Equestria would risk war with the Empire to take them in... Or was there?

The changing foreign policies of Equestria was one of the many other matters that needed attending to, matters that Emperor Guto would need to be brought up to speed on. Firstly were rumblings of a covert organization operating somewhere in the mountains, unaffiliated with the separatists... Then there were the separatists themselves, but most important of all were the Equestrians...

Once the most predictable major power in the known world, the peaceful isolationist nation-state was fast evolving past their oh so useful pacifism... This was believed to be in no small part due to their newest Princess, Crown-Princess Orzel, whom was more or less a year or two younger than the new Emperor. As she was being raised, and undoubtedly molded, by Princess Luna, she presented a considerable wildcard. Considering she would likely take the throne in less than a decade, Princess Orzel would be the primary antagonist to anything the Empire attempted to accomplish. Thus, she was a wildcard that would need to be taken out of play sooner, rather than later...

Perhaps the Ministers could neutralize her by getting Emperor Guto to propose some sort of alliance, to be sealed with a political marriage, as was currently all the rage in West Parthenia. Intelligence indicated that she was once a part of something called the 'Warrior Caste', which seemed to be a servile class that were very inclined to deferring to their betters. If Equestria could be pressured into committing to such a marriage, Guto could use his position to sway her opinions, merely by virtue of his being a nobleman.

Schwarzefeder swiftly shook his head, for all the information he had, there was still a lot that couldn't be accounted for. She was a dragon, and dragons tended to be powerfully stubborn, not to mention domineering and strong willed. More worryingly, there wasn't a dragon on the planet that didn't want to expand their territory, even a tiny bit... She vehemently supported an expansion of Equestria's military, and the arming of its populace, indicating she likely would seek to expand and defend that territory through force of arms... Most alarmingly, especially considering Luna's equally recent return, she was set to make Equestria's policy of non-intervention a thing of the past.

The Empire had quite literally been able to get away with murder in the past, but the recent expansion of their Defense Budget, coupled with rumors of Equestrian surface ships patrolling international waters outside the Bugbear Coast indicated that was no longer the case. That didn't even include the plans to build more of their novel 'Aircraft Carriers', which could theoretically allow Equestrian planes to strike the Griffon Navy by sea, with virtually nothing to counter them. Obviously the carriers were meant to serve as 'First Strike' weapon platforms, a means of further limiting the Empire's ability to domestically do business as it saw fit.

As Prime Minister Schwarzefeder stood quietly in the window of the Emperor's bedchamber, he stared out to the west... A 'New Equestria' was taking shape, even if its inhabitants didn't realize it quite yet. Normally the Empire's response to such a threat would be one of diplomatic protest, and that would certainly be attempted, but likely to little effect... Quietly the man watched a fresh flurry of snow drifting from the cloudy night sky, gradually blanketing Griffonstone in a cloak of pure white. It almost looked... Peaceful. Peace, however, hardly seemed an option at this point.

The Empire was fast running out of resources, resources it would need to recoup if it was to stand a chance in the future. Just as a New Equestria was taking shape, so too would a New Empire be needed to counter them. Not just in policy or leadership, but in physical territory. For nearly a thousand years its territory had remained stagnant, held back from their right to expand by Equestrian 'mediators' and diplomacy. This, like a great many things, would need to cease. While Equestria's military might grew ever more formidable on paper, Schwarzefeder was willing to bet the Equestrians as a people weren't quite ready to actually do anything to stop the Empire... Not overtly, at any rate.

As a result, resources of anything, in anyplace, were theoretically fair game... At least, those not outright guaranteed by Equestria, but they were few in number. More importantly, adding them to the Imperial domain would prove far too difficult. The Empire couldn't afford to maintain its existing military, let alone expand it to match that of Equestria's, but that material disadvantage would be of little concern if the enemy they were fighting was armed with literal bows and spears.

East Parthenia sprang to mind, as did Zebrica, as the Empire already held portions of its east coast. Furthermore, in the unlikely event the North actually decided to secede, the Empire would need alternate means of paying its debts, at least until the separatists could be brought to heel. There were plenty of other continents ripe for conquest, which had remained untouched and unsettled by any civilized power since the age of the Nightmare War... If no one had laid legitimate claim to these lands by now, the Empire saw no reason to show further restraint.

So, one of the first decisions they'd put forward to Emperor Guto when he took power was the formation of a special division of the Imperial Army... The Imperial Corps of Expansion, whose ostensible goal would be the exploration, and quiet annexation, of previously uncharted frontiers. There'd be much more to it than that, of course, but it was at least a start.

Hopefully, in a year's time at the earliest, the Empire wouldn't find itself in a position so dire as it stood now. Pondering the thought of expansion, Schwarzefeder soon found himself asking why he should settle for a few tiny islands when there would be so much more land for a Lord, such as himself, to lay claim to. If his horizons couldn't be expanded, it would be unfortunate, but so long as he had the Elfenbein Archipelago...? Maybe he wasn't too grief stricken to continue his duties after all.