The Siege Of Canterlot

The news had come like a thunderbolt from the blue, out of nowhere as far as most citizens of Canterlot were concerned.

War!

Invasion!

Messenger Pegasi had arrived, one after the other, from the eastern border posts. They had seen something. Lighting the braziers and firing signal rockets, they had alerted each post in turn, farther and farther up the line to the nearest city, Saltsburg. Something was coming from the east. A day later, more messengers arrived, from Saltsburg this time. The fortified city was under attack, a mass of Changelings. More messengers from army garrisons and provincial towns came streaming in with more news. This was no mere border raid. This was a full-scale invasion, and they were making straight for Saltsburg.

The city of Saltsburg was the lynchpin of the eastern defensive line. An ancient site dating from before the unification of the three warring pony tribes, it had evolved, through necessity, from a trading post and agricultural site into a fortress, for countless Changeling raids over the centuries had hardened it from a soft target to a great granite boulder of the frontier. Just like how tempering steel in the blacksmith's forge made it stronger, so the continuous raids had strengthened the resolve of the cityfolk, as well as their defences. Saltsburg guarded the approaches from the east, and so it had lain directly in the path of the Zebra invasion centuries earlier. The Zebras had laid siege to it, cutting its supply lines with their fast moving cavalry. But Saltsburg had held, as the Zebras lacked any siege engines, and gunpowder had not yet entered the armoury of most military forces, rendering its walls impenetrable. The same could not be said today, and the messages from the city grew steadily more dire. The Changelings had artillery, they had surrounded the city, and it was under siege once more.

Hearing the disturbing news, Princess Celestia had faced a conundrum. The Changelings had not attacked Equestria en masse for several generations. While relations had not been particularly good of late, they had been worse in the past, and yet the Changelings had chosen now, this one moment, to strike. Why? She could not answer that question, and nor could her advisers. There seemed to be no particular logic to it, other than that a major attack could overwhelm the eastern defences which had been untested beyond border raids and bandit attacks for over a hundred years. The Changelings were certainly known to be opportunists, and maybe they had seen some vulnerability in the border defences, sensed some hole in the line they could exploit. Or perhaps it was just the right time, that their new Queen, Chrysalis, had decided they could gain something by attacking; territory, perhaps, or slaves. Changelings fed on love as their most nutritious food source, and the love from a fresh slave was far more useful than any staple crop that the Equestrians might grow for their own sustenance. Rice, wheat, barley and oats all paled in comparison as far as Changelings were concerned. They could sustain the Changelings, but not allow them to flourish in quite the same way.

It had taken a day or more for the Pegasi messengers to arrive from the frontier, exhausted by their flight, as fast as their wings could take them. It was fasted than sending a rider over the roads, but it was still not instant communication. No such thing existed in Equestria, or anywhere else, other than through some very esoteric forms of magic that were simply not available to a frontier outpost. They had sent their warnings as fast as they could, alerting the provincial capital in Saltsburg, and the national capital, Canterlot. By the time the messengers arrived, no doubt, the frontier posts had been overrun. They were not designed to withstand a full-scale attack, merely to repel bandits and raiders. It was the fortified cities and military fortresses that were meant to serve as the main obstacles to an invader.

The news the next day from Saltsburg, however, was not good. It was under siege by the Changelings, but worse than that, the bulk of the invasion force had pushed onward, leaving a relatively small contingent behind to invest the city while the main thrust continued onward, further into Equestrian territory. They were following the same route as the Zebricans had several hundred years before, and they had made it to the mountains. If the Changelings kept driving forward as they were doing, they could threaten the capital itself, for Canterlot lay on the western flank of the Foal Mountains. A couple of ancient castles, horribly outmoded by modern artillery warfare, lay in their path, as well as a string of more modern fortresses, but unless Equestria put an army in the field, then the Changelings would control everything else. The countryside would become a no-pony's land, stripped of all raw materials. Food, cattle, timber, and stone, all the abundance of the eastern plains, would fall to the Changelings, and deprive the fortresses of their much-needed supply lines. Once that happened, all the enemy needed to do was wait. A siege could only last as long as the food and fresh water of the besieged could hold out, for nopony could hope to resist if they were starving and mad from thirst.

Equestria had been ill-prepared for the attack. Normally there was some direct evidence of an impending invasion from one or another of their enemies. Sometimes diplomatic ties would be severed in a great symbolic gesture, with the recall of their ambassador from Canterlot. Sometimes the bulk harvesting of grain and timber in the fertile lands would be noted by Equestrian traders or envoys, and reported back to their leadership as possibly evidence that the Zebras, or the Griffons, or the Yaks were preparing to mobilise an army. Sometimes they could detect the buildup of military forces, scouts and watchtowers being able to see dust clouds from columns of marching troops or detect large numbers of cart tracks or horse hooves upon a particular road during their reconnaissance.

But the Changelings were slippery customers and skilled at staying hidden until they wanted to be seen. Nopony had expected an attack, which was why the border posts had not been reinforced, the fortified cities had not been ordered to arm the city militia, gather the crops and evacuate the civilians. The Changelings had taken them all by surprise, including the Princess and her advisors. They had to act, and the Princess did act. She took the only course of action that was realistically available to her, for she could not simply leave the eastern plains to be overrun. The garrisons of each town and fortress, along with the provincial army, a force of some ten thousand, would not be enough to hold fast against the Changelings; not without reinforcements.

And so, just after noon on this, the 155th day of the 704th year of Celestia's reign, the Princess rode out.

"There, there, can you see?"

"It's her, it's her!"

"It's really her! Praise the Sun!"

The crowds had gathered, for they knew they were to witness something that had not happened for many years. There had been relative peace, no need for such a spectacle for some time. None knew when it might happen again, and none wished to miss it.

Princess Celestia herself, atop a jet-black horse, her personal mount, led the procession, trotting out from the palace gates, that grand wooden portal that led to the hallowed home of the Sun. Clad in her battle armour, gold, white and purple, head held proudly high, her ethereal mane and tail flowing and undulating in a breeze that no other could feel, she made a magnificent sight, drawing gasps from the crowds, most of whom had never seen their Princess ready for war.

Behind her came the golden host, the Knights of the Order of Celestia, the ancient and august body of mares and stallions who had dedicated their lives to praising and serving their Princess in scripture and on the battlefield, some three hundred of them atop their horses, their gilded plate and helmets glittering brilliantly in the blazing sunlight, lances held at the vertical. They were the elite shock cavalry of Equestria, and even if they were becoming increasingly outdated thanks to modern firearms, they had such an illustrious history behind them that they could not help but draw another cheer from the crowds. Many tossed flowers at the hooves of their mounts, a symbolic blessing. When performed at a wedding, it was a prayer for a long and bountiful marriage. When performed for the departure of an army, it was a prayer for their swords to become slick with the blood of their enemy.

Behind them came the household cavalry, the Royal Guard's finest, another five hundred ponies riding out to follow their Princess to war. Then came the regiments of foot, the infantry, who had been drawn up in their units inside the expansive palace grounds just so they could march out through the city and receive the same accolades as the cavalry had. Celestia had even permitted them to form up on the palace lawns, trampling them to bits in the process, in order to be able to parade for the citizenry. And they did, some five thousand of them, musketponies and pikeponies and grenadiers and archers. They made up a substantial portion of the city's military strength, but only a relatively small part of the army that Celestia would be leading out to the east. More troops would be drawn from the rest of the province for that, both from the standing military force and the garrisons of each town, as well as from the militias, which would bring large numbers of eager, though less well-trained, ponies to march with their Princess.

As they marched through the streets to the cheers and blown kisses of the crowds, regimental banners and Equestrian flags waving and fluttering, the bands of the army and the Royal Guard struck up a tune, playing the national anthem, The Sun Shall Guide Us, as well as various well-beloved patriotic songs and military marches.

See The White In Their Eyes, Equestrians Are Marching On!

To Arms, Citizens! Form Your Battalions!

To The Sky, See Celestia Rise!

Through the city they marched, out to the Unicorn Gate, one of the three massive main entrances to the city from the Great Plateau beyond. Even there at the gate, ponies were cheering them on. Out they went, through the open gate, marching between the twin redoubts, the Timberwolf Bastion and the Phoenix Bastion, two huge defensive structures protruding like arrowheads from the massive curtain wall that ringed the city. More ponies were gathered there, residents both of the walled capital itself, and also of the smaller villages that dotted the Great Plateau, the ten-mile long bluff upon which Canterlot had been constructed.

The popular mythos and much contemporary artwork had it that the city was built upon the very edge of a mountain, hanging over open space, right on the precipice. While it was certainly true that the western edge of the city skirted the craggy drop, where the plateau reached its end and plunged away to the valley floor below, the bulk of the city was firmly on safe ground, for the Grand Plateau was more of a large foothill with a flattened top, upon which the city rested. The high peaks of the Foal Mountains towered over it, an undulating string of snow-covered pyramids of rock interspersed with scree-strewn clefts and escarpments. Several small streams flowed down, providing fresh glacial water for the villages of the plateau, while a larger river, the Coltava, split the city itself in half, tumbling down the mountainside a mile to the east of the city wall and exiting Canterlot on its western side where it spilled over in another cascade down to the valley. The city overlooked the whole of the valley below, a perfect vantage point for controlling movement to and fro and watching over the supply lines and small, unfortified towns such as Ponyville that lay on the valley floor. Canterlot had always occupied a strategic spot, its position lording over the valley reminding those who lived within sight of it exactly what the city symbolised and who lived there.

"Mommy mommy, look! It's the Pwincess! Can you see?"

Meadow bounced excitedly, her eggshell blue dress swaying in time with her movements as she rested upon her father's shoulders. The crowds had swelled in the last half hour, once word had arrived that the palace gates had been opened, but Meadow and her family had a good spot, just outside the Unicorn Gate. Like many of those outside the gate, they had come from the villages of the plateau, Newgrange in their case. Members of the Royal Guard were trying their best to keep order and keep the road clear for the column, but it was not easy when everypony wanted a good look not just at their fighting stallions going off to war, but also of their Princess. Riding at the head of the Holy Army, Celestia drew a great cheer as she emerged from the Unicorn Gate. Ponies fell to their knees, heads bowed in obeisance to their ruler, no mere leader, but a goddess given physical form so far as they were concerned.

For some, it was the first time they had seen her all year, but for Meadow, it was the second time in just a few days, though, true to her word to the Princess, she had kept her secret and not told her family who the hooded figure she had been speaking with in the chapel truly was. She waved furiously, as hard as she could, hard enough that her hand felt like it would snap off, in the hopes of attracting Celestia's attention. But everypony else was waving too, and throwing flowers, and cheering and praying.

Celestia held up one clenched fist, and the honour guard following her came to a halt just outside of the gates. With the same hand, she then reached for the scabbard at her side, made from fine leather, encrusted with jewels from the royal treasury, and drew her sword, holding it aloft, a great and deadly weapon, burnished steel perfection. Her booming Royal Canterlot Voice, the traditional way of addressing the masses, echoed across the Plateau.

"We ride to battle. We ride to protect you all. We ride to glory, and to victory!"

Another great roar rose from both the crowd and the army that followed in her wake. She spread her mighty wings wide, their delicate white feathers catching the rays of light from the heavens and glowing gold around their edges, as her mane blazed out a kaleidoscope of colour into the eyes of the assembled throng. She lowered her sword and spurred her horse, which took off at a gallop. The Knights followed her to triumphant cheers from the adoring citizens. The Household Cavalry followed, the mounted portion of the Holy Army charging ahead after their leader.

"Should the Pwincess really be going to fight? What if she gets huwt?" Meadow asked curiously.

"Don't worry. Underneath that armour, she's built like a brick shithouse," her father replied with a grunt, getting a painful nudge in the ribs from his wife.

"Copper, language!"

"Mommy, what does bwick...bwick sh..." her mother cut her off.

"It means she's a lot stronger than she looks..." Eucalpytus replied with a death glare for her husband. "Though how your father thinks he knows what the Princess looks like under her armour is anypony's guess."

"Don't you read history books, dear?" Copper replied. 'Everypony knows the Princess is strong. Not just with her magic, either. I'm not sure I could have even picked up that sword, let alone held it up like that."

Meadow nodded sagely, as if some great new piece of information had been imparted to her, though she knew from some of the songs they sang in the schoolhouse that the Princess was strong, but she still couldn't help but feel worried for her. After all, war was dangerous, and that was where the Princess had said she was going. Meadow didn't understand too much about war, but that was certainly one fact she did know. War was dangerous. War was definitely dangerous.