The Siege Of Canterlot

The southern realms of the continent were considered by Equestrians to be the wildlands, the badlands, the cultural and spiritual wastelands of the land, populated only by infidels and heretics, the scum of the earth. Part of that was just hyperbole, but broadly speaking, it was true. Celestia's light did not extend that far south. The Equestrian border had stabilised a hundred years earlier, on the fringe of the twin realms of the Shadowlands and the Changeling Kingdom, and no significant attempts had been made since then to push further, for that would be to enter the territory of Equestria's two most dangerous enemies.

At the junction in the southeast between the two realms lay the border post of Crater Lake, erected centuries ago to delineate the ancient frontier between the Shadowlands and the more easterly Changeling Kingdom, much of which lay to the eastern side of the southern end of the Foal Mountains, the long chain of peaks and foothills that formed the spine of continent. Nopony knew for sure what had caused the crater to form in the first place, for it was almost as ancient as time itself, but leading Saddle Arabian astronomers had theorised that debris from outer space striking the ground at an incredible speed may have been the origin. An alternative theory posited that it was a magical explosion of some kind, though there was little evidence of any such blast to be found at the site. Not that scientists and astronomers often got a chance to study it up close, lying as it did on the borders of the two kingdoms, the twin evils of the southern realms.

The border post was mostly ceremonial in nature. Relations between the Shadowlands and the Changelings had been variable over the centuries; sometimes war, sometimes peace. The previous Changeling Queen had mellowed relations somewhat, establishing a trading route between the two nations, but doing little more than that. Her replacement, however, had seen the value in cultivating an alliance with such a strong neighbour, especially when their other neighbour to the north was hardly likely to ever agree to such a thing.

The border post was a series of small watchtowers established along the frontier line, and a ceremonial palace of sorts, albeit a small one, on the lip of the crater itself. Filled with dead water, the crater was as barren as the land that surrounded it, for the entire area was more akin to the surface of the moon than to the lush, fertile regions of the continent. Bare rock, boulders scattered about like child's toys carelessly discarded after a day's play. The terrain along the border was one major reason why it was far easier for both the Shadowlands and the Changelings to turn their expansionary ideas northward, rather than against each other. It was the kind of terrain that generals feared, for it slowed infantry, rendered cavalry useless, and halted artillery and supply wagons entirely.

A half mile or so to the north of the border post, the terrain flattened out and became much more manageable, much more friendly. Patches of grass and scattered trees marked the beginnings of the fertile plains that stretched north into the valleys of the central continent, into Equestrian lands. Somewhere just over a low string of hills lay the approaches to the Equestrian border and its fortified outposts. Beyond that lay riches, treasure, and glory.

The two monarchs stood together on the viewing platform, a wooden protuberance projecting from the border post's ceremonial palace. On a clear day, which this was not, it was possible to see the Equestrian frontier from such a raised position, atop the bulging lip of the crater. With a telescope held to one's eye it was even possible to see Trottingham, the closest of the fortified cities that lay dotted hither and thither across the land. No general had placed them down with a keen strategic eye, that much was clear. They had spawned organically, down the millennia, springing up wherever settlers had found a suitable spot, usually near a river or lake for water. Despite the military advantages a river could bring, these cities often had sprawled outward across both banks, rather than concentrate their building efforts on one bank and leave the river to form a natural obstacle to a potential enemy. The changing nature of politics and the discovery of new races in ancient times had seen the value of these cities change. A new enemy appearing could render a previously safe city vulnerable, and an alliance with a former foe could render a dangerous frontier posting into one of peace and calm for Equestrian soldiers.

Trottingham was not visible thanks to bands of cloud wandering across the horizon, but the two monarchs did not care. They knew it was there. The city was not going away, and besides, it was not what they had come to see. No, that was something far more spectacular.

On the smooth terrain just to the north of the crater, the forces of darkness were on the march. From afar they had come, from the southeast and the southwest, to march, to parade themselves before their leaders. There were thousands upon thousands of them, the serried ranks of infantry, the spears and pikes protruding from the masses like the shoots of spring sprouting from the earth. There were the archers, something of a relic but deadly accurate with their crossbows. There were ponies in their dark uniforms, black and silver with the red highlights that reflected the eyes of their leader. There were Changelings, their green and charcoal uniforms likewise honouring the one they served. The great formations, regiments of infantry formed up in huge squares, a thousand ponies or Changelings to each. To their flanks came the cavalry, fast and deadly mounted units, including some Zebrican mercenaries on their wild steeds, their ancestors blooded in the great wars of the past. To their rear came the artillery, the heavy siege guns, great bronze cannons on wheeled carriages, and lighter, more nimble weapons for engaging battlefield targets. The might of the two kingdoms was on display, banners flapping in the breeze, filling the open ground. They had not been forced to negotiate the rough terrain around the crater, for they came from the great cities of the twin kingdoms, over prepared roads, through the well-mapped mountain passes. They had come far, and they still had far to go, for they were assembled for one ultimate purpose.

War.

"What a magnificent spectacle, my Queen, don't you agree?"

King Sombra, the handsome, charismatic ruler of the Shadowlands, rested one gloved hand on the railing of the viewing platform, and the other upon the shoulder of his companion. His eyes burned with anger and passion, for no king could fail to be stirred by the sight of the Grand Army assembled before them, nor of the wife at his side. Their marriage had been secret out of necessity, known only to their closest courtiers and advisers, for it could signal to an adversary that the relationship between the two kingdoms was becoming equally close, and that would spoil the mighty surprise they had planned.

"Magnificent scarcely does it justice, my King..." Queen Chrysalis replied, a wonderfully pleasing smirk upon her face, baring her sharp fangs. Her emerald eyes met with those of her new husband, and they shared a laugh together. It was not their first as husband and wife, and it would surely not be their last. The Changeling matriarch was clad in flowing black and green robes that matched the colours both of her own body, and of her troops, assembled on parade with those of her husband's army. Unlike the military uniforms, they were not worn for practicality, but for appearance, slits in each side showing off her long, shapely legs, a low-cut front showing plenty more to her husband, who wore his own dress uniform. A deep royal crimson twinned with midnight black, the garb of the commander in chief of the Shadow Army, rows of ribbons and medals, some earned, some simply self-awarded, splashed across his barrel-chested form, a peaked cap upon his head and a mighty sword in its scabbard hanging at his side.

"We are agreed, then. It is time to move?" Sombra asked, receiving a nod in return.

"Yes...time to move," Chrysalis replied. "Let us strike while the iron is hot, and move swiftly. Destiny is on our side, my love. Together, we cannot falter, and we cannot fail."

Sombra gave his bride a tender kiss, for this was no mere marriage of convenience. "And we shall not, my Queen. We shall not. None shall stand before us. Finally, we shall take back what is rightfully ours! Equestrians have become weak and lazy...they shall be sluggish in their response. Complacency is as fatal as a musket ball to the heart, and it is time that we showed them that."

Chrysalis let her long, lizardlike tongue flick over her lips in a movement both intimidating and seductive, depending on whether one was in her good graces or standing in opposition to her. "They will learn the hard way. Their time has come, and we shall pass judgement on them."

"How I have longed for this day to arrive..." Sombra laughed. He drew his sword from its scabbard and raised it high above his head. His soldiers responded with a loud roar, their officers responding to the gesture, raising their own swords, answering their King's challenge. They were ready.

Chrysalis had no need to raise a sword. Instead, with the merest thought, she sent a similar mental signal to her army, and they responded with the chittering of thousands of pairs of wings and the sibilant hissing that characterised the lesser orders of their species. They were ready.

Everything was ready. The two monarchs knew this because of what had happened a week prior, and that was why they were here today, in the southern reaches of the continent, where their realms met, to see their armies march. They were going to war, for the first time in a generation.