The Siege Of Canterlot

A pleasant late spring day, like so many others. Just enough to warm the face and with enough breeze to make the leaves flutter and dance like a host of war banners. That was something the land had not seen for many a year, not outside of ceremonial parades, at least. Equestria was a land of peace and a land of plenty.

Thus had it been for centuries under the flag of the Holy Sun, the One True Princess. Celestia's banners flew from every spire, every temple tower, every battlement across the land, for she was the guiding light for all of ponykind, even if some among them chose to turn their faces away and bathe instead in the darkness. Where such heresy could be found within Equestria, it was rooted out mercilessly, expunged, for that crime carried but one punishment, and that punishment was death.

United under Celestia's banner, Equestria had risen from a provincial force to a continent-spanning empire, with power and wealth hitherto unseen. No longer a backwater, no longer in thrall to another kingdom, Equestria had been steered by Celestia's hand to the pre-eminent nation-state, that which all other aspired to match, or failing that, to conquer. Though Equestria itself was a harmonious place, its borders were very much not. Raiders, tribes and foreign powers from all the far-flung corners of the earth waged an almost constant battle against the forces of the Sun, those proud stallions and mares who stood guard so that lesser ponies could sleep sound in their beds at night. The borders had known violence for the entirety of Celestia's reign, as well as the co-regency period when she ruled together with her sister, Luna, and even before that when Discord sat upon the throne. It seemed that the principality had always had its fair share of enemies and opportunists, even when it was just a regional power and nothing more. Now that it dominated the continent, the danger for these raiders was greater than ever- but so were the spoils. Rich towns, burghs and palaces, ripe with the kinds of treasures that such plunderers longed for; gold, silver, jewels. And ponies, too. Mares for their harems, stallions to slave away in the fields or mines. It was a war of attrition, the Sun against the Darkness, but no band of raiders or any one single nation could possibly hope to overcome the strength of Equestria alone. To beat back the muskets and cannon and magic of Equestria would take a great strength indeed, and few possessed the military might to achieve such a feat by themselves.

Many had tried in the past, and despite some great victories, they had never been able to consolidate their successes. The Griffons had tried on half a dozen occasions and been repulsed each time, albeit with sometimes grievous losses among the Equestrians, their final defeat concluding with the Treaty of Clopham and an acceptance of an uneasy peace which had evolved over the years into more of a grudging embrace of shared common interests.

The Yaks had tried, and their efforts had proven equally futile, the most recent major action against them being some 120 years earlier at the fabled Battle of The Crossroads, where the Yaks had been hurled back by the last great charge of the Knights of The Order of Celestia, that most august group of mounted, armoured warrior-priests, annointed by the Princess herself and pledged to her service. They had broken the back of the unsuspecting Yak line, arrows bouncing ineffectually off of their burnished golden plate, swords and maces swinging, cutting a bloody swathe through the Yak infantry. Times had changed, however, and the more widespread adoption of gunpowder weaponry in the last century had rendered successful deployment of the Knights difficult at best and suicidal at worst, for though their armour could stop an arrow or a spear, it could not stop a musket or cannonball.

The Zebras had tried, long ago, and they had come the closest of all, sweeping across the plains, riding wild stallions of the high deserts, distant biological cousins of the ponies they rode against, though all of the steeds used by mounted units lacked the higher functions and self-awareness of their riders. They were but dumb beasts, though those that could be tamed were still a vital asset on the modern battlefield. The Zebrican cavalry had burned and pillaged their way across the eastern provinces of Equestria until they reached the Foal Mountains, and that proved to be as far as they could advance. The mountain passes had been blocked by Equestrian forces, and the mountains themselves were too steep and rugged for any cavalry to cross. While trapped against this obstacle and seeking passage through, the Zebricans were set upon by a massed force of Equestrian infantry and cavalry, led by Celestia herself, which had been lying in wait in the foothills, ready to spring the trap. The Zebricans were massacred, their advance halted, their retreat cut off by Equestrian cavalry. The survivors who had surrendered were shown remarkable mercy, considering the lack of it they had shown to the inhabitants of the towns they raided, and were sent back to their war chiefs with an ultimatum- stay out of Equestria, or the same thing will happen again, and that time there would be no survivors.

While Equestria had established acceptable relations with all of these nations, there were others with whom no treaty could be possible. Some forces in the world had no desire for negotiation or understanding. They did not operate solely to acquire territory, or wealth, or to secure their own borders. They fought for more nefarious reasons, reasons which could not be fully comprehended by the Equestrians, nor any of the other states with whom they now shared alliances, trade or friendship, nor even by those they simply had not fought for many years. Some forces fought just for power, for their own dark ends. When one attacked, it would be repelled. But if they were to attack together? To unify? To bring their collective strength to bear against Equestria at the same time? Nopony knew the answer to that question, because it had never happened before.

But that did not mean it could not happen in the future.

The chamber was dark, at least compared to the outside world. Light filtered through some of the small windows high up in the walls, but the spectral beams, the glow from Celestia's sun, remained confined to the rafters, while the figures below were content with a few small candles dotted about.

"So, my Queen..."

"So, my King..."

There was laughter, the subtle glint of bared fangs, the gleam of eyes, the flash of malevolent smiles.

"We have an agreement?'

"We do..."

"Excellent. Then it is settled." The clink of glasses.

"A fine vintage, this one. Captured from the estate of Count Regulus, I believe. A 704, if you go by their calendar."

"You know I do not. This is not the year of Our Princess 704.' A voice dripping with scorn and disdain. "But soon, it will be the year of blood. We shall see to that."

"Indeed so, my Queen. Indeed so..."