The Siege Of Canterlot

"Praise be to the Princess, Holy of Holies, Bringer of Light. Praise be to Her name."

"Praise the Sun..."

"Deliver your subjects from the taint of evil, o Celestia, Bride and Princess of all, the cause of our rejoicing. In thy name do we pray, in thy name do we fight, in thy name do we pass from this world. For we know, every one of us, your majesty reigns in the next life as it does in this. O Celestia, mother to all our foals, beloved in all our hearts, light in all our darkness, heed our cries. Praise the Sun."

"Praise the Sun..."

High Ecclesiarch Amber Frost looked out at the assembled throng. Unlike his recent weekly sermons, he was no longer in the Chapel of the Elms. He was back in the Golden Cathedral, for this was no ordinary service. The pews of the cathedral were packed, with ponies of all ages, backgrounds and professions crammed into the great edifice to hear him speak. The audience was greater than any such service he could remember, other than those that were celebrating a royal wedding. Why?

Ponies were afraid.

Canterlot was threatened directly for the first time in living memory. Only Celestia and Starswirl could remember another such instance, far in the past. Even Frost, as wizened as he was, had no memory of such a day, for it had been generations. Yet now, almost out of nowhere, it seemed, there was grave danger, and ponies naturally feared the worst for the city and for themselves. Frost was here to help allay their fears as best he could. That was his duty as Ecclesiarch, for though the Princess was not physically in the city with them, she was there in spirit, in each of their hearts as their moral compass, their divine guide, the lighthouse that would guide them through life's turbulent shoals and treacherous tides.

Frost's sermons were full of fine words, grand sentiments and sweeping gestures, but they were not enough to quell the fear. It was palpable, hanging in the air like a fine mist. There were nervous glances even among the congregation, looking at the grand doors to the cathedral, either for reassurance there was still a way out, or in fear in case the enemy suddenly burst in. Even in his many long years, Frost had not known a mood like this. Not since the Zebrican invasion centuries earlier had the city been in the grip of a terror, a deep funk of despair. Frost was not ancient enough to remember that personally, but he imagined this may well be worse; the Zebricans had the Princess and her army between them and the city, but this enemy, sweeping up from the south, had no such impedient, and ponies knew that. They had seen the Princess ride out with their own eyes, and they knew she was going east.

Frost had held two sermons each day since the news of the breakthrough came from the Henbane Line, for a total of ten. Five days, which begged the question, where were the enemy? The scouts knew, the military leadership knew, and Frost knew. They were a little over ten miles south, just beyond the southern edge of the plateau. Their banners had been sighted early that morning, just as the dawn began to break. The news was hastily rushed to Starswirl and Hawkeye, and Frost, being responsible for the spiritual wellbeing of the citizens and soldiery, had been in attendance at their briefing just after breakfast. A civilised affair, that breakfast; haycakes, tea, fresh lemon curd on toasted bread. How many more of those would there be?

Among the throng of perturbed faces, Frost knew, were many ponies not just from the city, but from the villages of the plateau and the towns of the valley. Some, such as the young filly Meadow and her family, he recognised from their attendance at other sermons. Others, he had not seen before, and he knew they were seeking solace, for they were refugees, forced to flee their homes, or else die pointlessly trying to defend them. The Shadow Army was not renowned for its compassion, and nopony wanted to live under their yoke if they could possibly help it. Nor did they relish the prospect of being Changeling slaves, to be drained of their very essence until their bodies could take no more and succumbed. That was darkness; the words offered by Frost were the light.

"Go in peace, carry the word of the Princess," he concluded his sermon. "Stay safe and stay inside the walls. Faith is our shield against the demons and devils that assail us."

The ponies filed out of the cathedral, the vast marble and stone celebration of Celestia's reign that dominated the centre of the Old Town, not far in front of the palace itself. It had long been an attraction for pilgrims and tourists, and now it was being used for its true intended purpose again; providing the comfort and solace that so many ponies were seeking. Meadow once more remained behind, and Frost approached her with a reassuring smile.

"Hello again, young lady. You have returned to hear the word of the Princess once more?"

Meadow nodded. "Yes, Eccwwesiarch...we had to weave our village...Newgwange..."

"Ah, Newgrange, yes." Frost nodded. Newgrange was but a mile or so from the outer walls, more of a suburb than a truly independent village like some of those on the plateau. Folk who lived there were mostly staff in some of the noble estates that lounged in the sun just beyond the defensive lines, vineyards and luxurious gardens quite a contrast to the bare earth and stone that characterised the approach to Canterlot itself. "Well fear not. You'll be able to return there soon enough, but for now, the walls of Canterlot will protect you, and the word of the Princess will be your shield."

Meadow smiled, but it looked rather hollow. Perhaps her parents, standing by waiting for her, had inadvertently terrified her with bedtime stories of the Shadow Army and the Changelings, or perhaps she just feared the unknown that lay ahead, as they all did. "Thank you Eccwesiarch...I know the Pwincess will look after us."

"She most certainly will, child." Frost nodded. "As I said in my sermon, though she may not be with us here in the city, she is with us in spirit. Now, where are you and your family staying?"

"They put most of the ponies from Newgrange in the cloisters of the Chapel of the Elms," her father, Copper, replied. "It's safe enough for her there, for now, Your Grace."

"The city is well prepared for a siege," Frost half-lied. "If we must endure, so be it. We shall not let our faith be broken, though it may be heavily tested. Go now and eat, for they shall be serving the noonday meal."

"Yes, Your Grace. Thank you." Copper bowed his head for a moment before ushering his daughter away. "Come along dear."

Amber Frost gave a farewell nod and smile to the young filly as she headed off with her family. The great cathedral bells began to toll, as they always did to signify the end of a service, but this time, they did not stop after a dozen peels to show that it was noon. They kept on ringing.

From the south they came, tracked all the way by Pegasi scouts. A vast black carpet covering the valley, advancing steadily with their banners at their head, meeting no resistance save a few scattered farmers, homesteaders and hastily formed independent militia squads, who they swept aside with contemptuous ease. None save a fully trained army could stand against them, especially when their forces were combined. Changeling and Shadow Guard advanced side by side, pony and drone, pushing on, the gleaming city on the hill their target. It came into sight slowly, first the spires of the palace, then the belltower of the Golden Cathedral, then the city walls. A magnificent spectacle to behold for a pilgrim; a worthy prize for an invading army, the capital of Equestria, the seat of power, the home of the Princess.

Up the steady incline, the Shadow Army led the way, their great artillery and supply train streaming out behind them for mile after mile, wagons and carts bringing tons of supplies. Ammunition, gunpowder, food, timber, entrenching tools, spare cartwheels and axles, tents of varying sizes, cookware, and a thousand and one other pieces of equipment that an army on campaign needed to function effectively.

Nothing stood before them. At Hawkeye's order, all militia forces from the surrounding villages and the valley itself had been withdrawn to Canterlot, along with the civilian refugees and as much useful material as they could gather, stripping the towns of anything that might aid the enemy. The great gates of the city were closed. Nopony could tell when, or if, they would ever open to admit a triumphant relief force. The bells rang out again in defiance as the plateau slowly turned black, just as the valley had before it, filling with soldiers.

The cannons of Canterlot blazed into life. One thing the city did have plenty of was powder and shot, both for the heavy guns and the muskets of the infantry. Though Celestia had taken plenty with her for the Holy Army, being the supply base for both the province and the regional centre for the professional army meant that Canterlot had huge stockpiles of such supplies, materiel enough to fight, even if it had fewer trained defenders than it may have wished. Hawkeye's twelve thousand ponies had become fourteen thousand when bolstered with the militia from every village and town in the area, but against the hundred-thousand plus arrayed before them, it was not enough for open war. Fortunately, open war was not what was required. Assaulting a fortified city was very difficult at the best of times, and Ferdinand Firetail had managed to pour enough of his expertise into improving the defences to make Canterlot an even tougher proposition. To capture the city, the invaders would have to breach the outer palisade, cross the open ground, storm the earthen wall at the lip of the old moat, cross the moat under heavy fire, overcome the ravelin, breach the gate, wall or bastion, capture the New Town, cross the river Coltava, breach the inner wall to the Old Town, capture that, breach the palace wall, and finally raise their flag from the Celestial Tower, the highest point in Canterlot.

They would have to do all this, fight their way through the entire city, because the defenders would never surrender. The city represented the authority of the Princess. Even to consider the possibility of the enemy entering it was anathema; to consider them defiling such holy places as the Golden Cathedral, where Celestia was crowned, and the royal palace, where she lived, was enough to induce feelings of physical nausea in the more devout ponies. Nopony would lay down their arms, not when the capital was on the line, even if it cost them their lives.

The advancing army halted, just outside of cannon range, the Equestrian shots harmlessly striking the earth in front of them, more a show of defiance than anything designed to inflict casualties. That would come later. For now, all they had to do was show they were ready.

Not just with guns, either. In the high towers of the palace, Hawkeye watched on as the enemy force assembled beyond the walls. Starswirl was with her.

"Well? Now is your moment, Your Excellency..." she informed the wizard. "The enemy is quite literally at the gate."

"Silence, if you please. I must have silence..." Starswirl replied, his gnarled staff of birchwood in his hand.

"That might be difficult to arrange..." Hawkeye noted dryly, for the cathedral bells were still ringing and the cannons were firing down on the outer wall. She crossed her arms and remained quiet. Starswirl closed his eyes and his horn began to glow, a shimmering haze of white magic slowly emanating from it. The gem in the end of his staff, a deep and precious amethyst, began to glow also. A few incantations were hummed before a third source of light joined the others; a lustrous yellow, coming from an orb he clutched in his other hand. All three then combined above his head, before spreading rapidly across the sky and across the city. Canterlot was, within moments, encased inside a protective shield of magic. Starswirl carefully placed the orb and staff upon a table beside them, one of innumerable such pieces of furniture within his chambers that contained magical artifacts of varying kinds. He turned to Hawkeye.

"It is done," he said simply. "The city is safe."

And it was.

For a while.