The Chains of Rule

Chapters

My first and second day
The Third Day
The King Cyrus Gates

My first and second day

A coup is a dangerous time to be King. Not just for the one being couped, who more than likely will see themselves murdered at the whims of the nobles, crowd, army, whatever was doing the coup.

But also the one they were placing in power. One wrong move, and the powers that be would be more than ready to do it again.

In this case, the previous King was King Eustace Rousselle, a second-generation man who had made the terrible mistake of hinting that he might slacken our nation's response to their slavery far too much. So the powers that be, in this case the army and the populist faction of the Senate, had marched into the high mountain-top palace, far above the underground First City, grabbed him, and thrown him into the nearest cell.

I am Arthur Williams, formerly Corporal Williams of the Duke of Cambridge's Own Middlesex Regiment, currently the soon to be sworn in King of Elefthería, our home in this world. A first-generation man, the scars and missing arm can attest to that fact.

Perhaps you, dear reader, are reading my journal long after I am dead. Perhaps Elefthería is nought more than ash and history; perhaps you are confused by my meaning of "First and Second generation man". Perhaps, if I truly screwed up, you have no idea what Elefthería is.

Our home, Elefthería, is the one place in this world where mankind is free. We all know this to be true, for it was the fundamental reason our nation was made. When the Great King Cyrus crossed the northern Mountains with his 300 followers and found the Valley of the King, and drove out the slavers, he forged a compact with the many gods of mankind that no man shall be placed in chains within this new home without due reason, and certainly not for another's gain. Or that's how the legend goes. That was just under 200 years ago, apparently.

In truth, Elefthería is a nation about the size of Belgium in the northern reaches of the continent of Equestria, just north of the Kingdom of Equestria, south of Yakistan, and to the west of the icy plains that apparently had an empire once or something. It is the only nation in this world ruled by men and women and the only one where we are free.

Well, that's not entirely true. The Minotaurs of Labyrinthia do not restrict their slavery to humans, and the Zebras of Zeborica do not practise the abominable sin. Still, it is the only one where it is strictly outlawed. So, all humans that find themselves in this world, if they are able to break free, will usually make their way to Elefthería and break their shackles legally.

Perhaps, dear reader, by the time you have your hands upon this journal of mine, you still lack understanding. Perhaps you live in better times, and the idea of human enslavement is as bizarre and horrifically outdated as it was in my time back home.

The story goes that about 300 years ago, this world started to receive visitors from other worlds. Us humans. From all across history, from all across the globe, people would wake up and find themselves here. Usually alone, though not always. Originally, we were seen as confused people who needed to be sent back with all the effort the magicians of this world could offer. When that proved impossible to their greatest mages, the inhabitants of this world, mainly the ponies of Equestria, saw fit to try and integrate us into their society. More and more of us came through, but that didn't seem to worry them.

That is, until one man ruined everything.
His real name isn't known to us anymore. The Americans will refuse even to speak a false name; such is the shame they feel for this name. The rest of us will curse him out in whatever tongues we can. I'll call him "Alexander Uriah Adams", which is the best historical guess at his name.

Uriah was, by all accounts, a Plantation owner from Louisianna. And unlike seemingly everyone else who found their way into this world, he did not find himself alone in a strange land, with at best one other with them, but arrived with his entire plantation staff, chained and all.

As I said, men and women throughout all of human history find themselves in this place. I have talked with men and women from Abyssinia and the first Kingdom of Judea, and I have talked with those from the future, from the myriad of colonies that apparently broke free after the terrifyingly named "Second World War".

One was more than enough for me.

Anyway, Uriah arrived with his entire plantation staff, and this confused the local ponies. Why oh why were these men and women in chains, forced to serve at his will? And so, the story goes, he spoke of the "wonders" of free labour, and of the "Uplifting Burden" he was placed with to educate these lesser beings, and how he was supplying them with food and board, but a little harshness was necessary "to conduct their education as a race into good Christians".

What a terrible man.

Doubtlessly, he wasn't the first slave owner to find themselves in Equestria. By the last census of just Elefthería alone, our nation... My nation had 500,000 odd First Generation (that is, those who are of the first generation of a family line to arrive in this land) people in it, all across human history. Outside our mountain redoubt, there were likely 1 million further first-generation humans, most in chains. Some of them would be enslavers from everything from ancient kingdoms to the barren wastelands of whatever remained of humanity after 2141.

But he was the first to bring that concept to Equestria. To plant that seed, that "Meme", as some of the future people refer to it, into the ponies' minds. After an abortive coup to try and wrestle control of Equestria from the ponies and use the resources to try and find a way back home by a few radicals, some pony suggested they could work for their criminal sentences. This one suggestion by a count of some pony village that probably no longer exists would decide mankind's fate in this world for the rest of history. More and more humans would be enslaved. First, our criminals, of which there were a few. Hard to find jobs in Equestria when you don't have your primary talent writ upon your flesh. They'd do that later.

Then, the poor. Those that couldn't make ends meet could work for a wealthy, usually noble, family for room and board. Then, their children would find themselves forced into the same work once their parents got too old for it.

And like a rock rolling down a hill, everything accelerated. A failed revolution here, an economic crisis there, and mankind found itself enchained. Ironically, by an animal we ourselves used for labour without paying. However, our horses couldn't talk or really think.

So, humans were enslaved. But some broke out and founded the nation of Elefthería, here in the mountains. They made a Kingdom based on the ideas of freedom for all men and women and to bring about the destruction of slavery as an institution.

And after 200 years, we're no closer to that goal.

Today, the 15th March 197AF by our calendars, or 998 after banishment on the Equestrian one, I was led into the palace by my army unit at the behest of the Populist Party of the Senate and General Kelebekof the First Guard army.

Perhaps there was a reason they selected a twenty eight year old Lieutenant in the army to become King. If there is, I certainly don't know what the fuck it... What it is.

The palace was a flurry of activity. The coup had been remarkably bloodless. Eustace Rousselle hadn't put up any sort of a fight, content to be led into the palace's dungeons, but soldiers and guards and police officers lined every hallway. Occasional snaps of gunfire signalled the sound of the firing squads having to put down those few that didn't accept their King's resignation as gracefully as the King himself had. And, of course, a horde of media people, makeup artists, soldiers, generals and populists politicians crowded around me, getting ready for me to address the people.

King Rouselle had not been popular. Far from Elefthería's worse King, that would either be King Gupta the Chainmaker or King Huang the Damned. But he had ruled over a period of decline in the military and in the worsening domestic situation within Elefthería. But the call for the coup had only come when he had made it clear that he would allow Princess Celestia to come into this country with her slaves, and would break the most sacred tradition of this Kingdom. By allowing her to return with her slaves, it would mean that no longer would all men and women who entered into the lands of Elefthería be free, regardless of who they were or whoever thought they owned them. It was probably a move the man had agreed to in order to try and normalise relations with the nation that surrounded Elefthería on all sides, but it was a slap in the face to the core principles of the Kingdom and a direct threat to the freedom of all men and women still in chains outside the mountains.

Forced down into a leather chair, an army of people got to work on my clothes, my hair, my face. A sharp, severe middle-aged tawny woman who I knew by sight marched into the foyer of the palace where my makeover was taking place.
"Twelve minutes," General Kelebek ordered. "I want him ready in twelve minutes."

The general, chief of the army of Elefthería, was an Ottoman from 17th century Turkey. Apparently, she had arrived in Equestria as a girl no older than eleven, yet had murdered her captors and fought slavers across the breadth of the continent to make it to this land.

"There's not much makeup can do about..." I said, raising my missing left arm to point out my obvious lack of photogenic qualities.

"It's what the nation needs. After years of a corpulent, greedy tyrant, the people need a war hero."

War Hero. Hardly. That had not been how I lost the arm, despite what the people who knew what the Great War was assumed.

To their credit, the various people in charge of the King's image had turned my scruffy, camouflaged cloth Lieutenants uniform into a resplendent, kingly military uniform of Green and Silver, complete with a sabre. I was told that I would have to grow my hair out. Having a military buzzcut was apparently "Unkingly", despite my attempts to point out that the King of England had served in the navy.

A script was forced into my hand, and I was thrown in front of a camera and told to read it as convincingly as I could.

"People of Elefthería. One hour ago, King Rouselle was removed from power by a peaceful, non-violent coup d'etat designed to save the core fundamental principles that maintain our Kingdom and our freedom. He would allow Princess Celestia to bring slaves into our Kingdom and take them back with her. This would not only leave these people to remain in chains despite our obligation to support them but would threaten the freedom of not only every person who flees to our land for safety and freedom but the rights of all humans on this planet. As such, the armed forces and the ruling workers' party of the Eleftherían Senate invoked the power of Abdication and removed him from Kingly office. I, Arthur Williams, 1st Lieutenant of the Mountain Guard, have been chosen by the ruling party to take over as King. As of this moment, I am King Arthur the First. Long live Elefthería, Long Live Humanity."

The light on the camera immediately turned red, and I fell to the floor in shock. I had known since at least this morning I was to be King, but actually saying it aloud had made it all the more real and all the more terrifying.

Day 2 of my doubtlessly short reign as King of Elefthería.

I learnt today why I had been chosen as King. Apparently, I was a compromise candidate between the various factions not just within the Workers Party and the Army, but between the Merchant and trade Guilds, the University of Neu-Alexandria, the Optimates party, the Changbai clique and the myriad of other factions that all needed to sign off on the coup. The army obviously wanted one of their own, and the Workers Party wanted someone of a lower class. The Optimates wanted, if not one of their own, someone with limited political will, the Changbai Clique wanted someone who'd probably leave the White Mountain complex alone, the Merchant and trade guilds barely signed off on the coup at all, and the university had insisted on someone either a second-generation Eleftherían or from no earlier than 1870, with a preference for post-WW2. Quite why, I couldn't tell you.

That still left a massive pool of candidates, thousands of men and women. It wasn't as if Elefthería hadn't had at least two queens before. But apparently, since a lot of the first Generation people were from a time before the suffragette movement, and because of Equestria's female rulers, male Kings tended to soothe nerves in times of hardship. I wasn't exactly the best at... That sort of thing, I was born in the 19th century, after all, but even I thought that sounded like bullshit.

So, I fit the requirements: A young, career soldier, lower middle class with no apparent interest in politics before yesterday. I would've preferred to have been asked, but I doubted I'd sit on the throne long anyway. Rouselle himself had only been King for six years. King Hiawatha had died only two years into his reign, and I had no idea who was King before him.

I got coronated in a rather rushed ceremony. TV cameras and news crews were almost the only people allowed to actually be inside the palace during the ceremony and left shortly after. Obviously, for at least today, they'd sing my praises to the heavens and taut me as the second coming of King Cyrus the Great. That would last only a day at best, but it allowed me to get ready for the day after.

Already, my itinerary was terrifying. Opening the Senate for the first time since the coup tomorrow, meetings with the home office, the foreign office, the office of intelligence, the nucler... The nuclear research facility, a dozen other government branches.

But the moment the regal robes were removed from my shoulders, I ordered that the most pressing matter of the day be settled first. It was the one that had seen me placed on the throne in the first place and the one that would need to be dealt with quickly.

The Equestrian ambassador to Elefthería was generally seen as a bad posting for the poor pony it was foisted upon. We were, with good reason, not exactly well disposed to Equestria. The Griffons, Yaks and Minotaurs or dragons might have spates and disagreements with them, but we were the only nation all but openly hostile to the Equestrian government. It was a posting that seemed to age ponies twice as fast as any other, and Winter Gloom was no different.

I met with her in my new office, or "solar", as it was apparently called. The place still had paintings of King Rouselle up, but Winter Gloom diplomatically ignored them.
"Welcome, King Arthur," She said with a polite nod and a sip of tea. "Equestria wishes to extend warm wishes to the new King of Elefthería."

I took a swig of my own. It was far too... Fruity. It seemed the previous King preferred an Equestrian blend. I liked the Yakistani stuff. Harsh, bitter, almost more coffee than tea. I hoped the diplomat didn't take my wince as an indication against them. My ability to speak Equestrian was rather good; like a lot of First Generation men, I had to learn it when I arrived in this land- I had to be able to understand orders, after all.

"Perhaps I should cut to the heart of the matter," I opened with, but the diplomat ever so slightly hissed through her horsey teeth.

"There's no need to ruin a nice cup of tea with talk of..."

"Celestia cannot enter Elefthería," I interrupted, glaring right at the ambassador. "Certainly not with a cadre of enslaved people. I and all citizens of this nation would be honour bound to do all within our power to free them, and that would probably mean war between our two nations."

Winter Gloom sighed, seeming to age a decade in a moment, her previously blonde hair already closer to white.
"Celestia has not entered these lands since the reign of King Cyrus. We were close to rapprochement with your people. Real progress. To throw it all aside for... What, a silly trick of procedure? A cultural tradition?"

I nearly spat out my tea.
"Our greatest calling," I said, glowering. "The freedom and prosperity of all mankind."

"Young King, if I may make a suggestion- In the future, you will have to understand that emotions have little place in international politics. King Rouselle understood this better than any other King of Elefthería I have ever had the pleasure to meet," Winter Gloom explained. "Change at home cannot happen if your nation continues to act in such an antagonistic manner to our own."

I scoffed.
"Antagonistic manner? I apologise; I did not consider the feelings of the poor slavers. When they whip my brothers and sisters, surely they must truly gasp in horror that we are a little annoyed about this state of affairs. How undignified of me to see my people imprisoned and worked to death for the crime of existing."

She shook her head.
"I apologise, King Arthur. That was... Ill-mannered of me. Nonetheless, I will not be doing my job if I do not ask you to reconsider. Getting the Equestrian parliament to even agree to such a formal visit took a lot of the Princess' energies for the past few years. To throw it aside might jeopardise the strength of the abolitionist movement in my own country," Winter Gloom explained. "Which Celestia is, of course, a great supporter of."

"Yes, which is why she personally owns seventeen slaves, and wanted to bring them here," I said drolly, taking another gulp of the nasty tea.

She sighed.
"I can... You have to understand; there are far, far, far worse people to work for than Princess Celestia. Her slaves are basically mere servants, some too old to work who instead have a safe retirement in Canterlot Castle. Acts of charity."

"That's all very well, but a chain of silk is still a chain. Tell your Princess that the visit is off, but I will be willing to arrange a formal visit to Equestria in the new year," I offered.
"Assuming I'm still on the throne by then," I mumbled under my breath.

Winter Bloom nodded.
"Very well. If that is the wish of the Eleftherían government, then Celestia and Equestria will respect its wishes. We do not wish for any further quarrel between our two nations."

"Then, when you get the chance to, inform her that countless citizens of my country are chained in her borders illegally and by all rights should be free to return here."

"They are not citizens of Elefthería, King Arthur. Not until they cross the mountains." She reminded me. I glanced down at my missing arm.

"I am all too aware of that, Ambassador."

She followed my gaze and at least had the good manners to wince upon understanding my meaning. "My sympathies, King Arthur. Will this be all for our meeting today, or is there more the Eleftherían government wishes to inform my Princess?"

I noticed the way she phrased that. "The Eleftherían government" rather than "you". She knew, as well as I did, that I was a puppet to those who had set me upon the throne and was only saying what they agreed to, rather than what I thought and desired.

"No, Ambassador, I believe that will be all. Good day."

Much the rest of the day was taken with meetings and at least one other televised speech, but at one in the morning, under guard, I made my way into the dungeons beneath the royal palace. The last of the winter's snows covered the cobblestones between the main part of the palace and the dungeon, the high, harsh mountain winds ripping through the fur coat, but eventually, I made it inside.

The dungeons were not commonly used. Elefthería had actual prisons and such for normal criminals, so they were abandoned most of the time. But inside the dark, cramp and wet stone building sat a single decent cell, with a warm fire, mahogany furniture, a separate bathroom and bedroom, even a decent library. And inside this gilded cage, lying upon a reclining seat of dragon leather, lay the previous King.

He was the picture of hedonism, despite the black eye and bandaged hand, which stood as the only hint he had been deposed. He wore a burgundy dressing gown whose straps almost didn't meet over his wide waist, which he patted with his fat hand and its sausage-like fingers.
"No more steak, I beg you. I've been vegetarian for months, and the smell will only..." The King began to say, only to sit up and notice who it was that came to visit him. "Ah. My replacement. So, come to swing the axe yourself?"

"I believe we use lethal injections nowadays," I replied, tapping the cell door. One of my guards rushed forth and unlocked the cage door, and I stepped inside. As if sensing my move or perhaps foreshadowing my future fate, my guards remained outside, leaving me alone with the previous king.

"Ah, oui. So, what might I do for my replacement?" Eustace Rouselle asked. "I serve at the King's pleasure."

"You seem to be taking being deposed rather well?" I said.

"Oui, well, perhaps not being able to order the kitchen staff around will sort out my waistline, and once you are gone, I'll likely be allowed to become a private citizen, and you will be here," The King said jovially.

"Hmm. That does seem to be an occupational hazard, doesn't it?" I admitted. "When was the last time a King lasted more than a decade?"

"That would be five Kings ago, young man. King Kwamena. Managed eleven years before being poisoned. Before that? I will have no idea," Eustace admitted with a soft shrug. "Though I'm sure you're not here to talk royal history. Neither you or I descend from Kwamena or any other king. We were placed upon the throne by the powers that be to try and right the wrongs they perceived our predecessor committed. And once you offend enough people trying to do what is right, you too will be deposed."

I huffed.
"Your 'wrong' could be seen coming a mile away. You broke our most sacred tradition, nearly allowed slaves to enter our country, and leave it again still enslaved," I pointed out. "What were you thinking?"

"To save our country? What good is it to save a few men and leave a million to rot?" He asked.

"You risked all our enslavement by..."

"You're a soldier and an old slave beside, so your understanding of the Royalty of Equestria is skewed by hatred and propaganda. Elefthería is a nation poised to become a world power. We are the most technologically advanced nation in the world. But, to leverage that power, we must trade with the rest of the world. The old Diamond Dogs mines we built the first city inside might supply us with iron, chromium, copper and lead but heavy metals for industry? Merde, even just food? We can grow wheat in these lands, but what of spices? What of fruit? The air is far too cold for anything but the hardiest vegetables, and every winter, we risk famine."

"So, you sold out the rest of humanity for strawberries?" I wryly asked.

"No. You don't get it. Elefthería will continue to grow, far beyond our ability to feed and house them. Already, houses aboveground are at a premium. Why do you think the Clique have that cult beneath White Mountain? Their ideology is nuts, but because they can sell affordable housing, people flock to them anyway," Eustace shook his head. "We sit upon a time bomb, because if Elefthería collapses without normalising relations with the rest of the world, there will be no second chance for humanity. Our future will be only chains. So, as I was all but mandated to when I was placed on the throne by the guilds, the Optimates and the Clique, I was to see Elefthería become a friend of Equestria, trading partners, even allies. We are surrounded on it from all sides. If we want to access foreign markets, we must do so through them."

"I'd rather suffer famine and pain than let those outside these mountains suffer through enslavement," I shot back. I held up my missing left arm. "Nothing is worse than chains."

"And I respect that. A very First Generation view to have, no? But when I was a boy, I lived through King Huang's reign. I saw my younger sister waste away during the morning famine," The King's previously jolly green eyes failed to reflect the lamp lights around his gilded cell, and bore into my own. "I'd rather never see that happen again, whatever it took- Even if it meant looking the other way when the most important monarch on the planet brought her slaves with her on her first visit to our nation since its creation. Even if it meant not treating the nation that surrounds us as an ideological enemy, and try to work with it to phase out slavery."

"Did Lincoln "Phase out slavery"?" I asked, knowing but a little of American history.

"Ah, yes. The American president. I learnt about him in history class when I was a boy here in Elefthería. He also had to go to war to do so, and I'm rather certain even you know we'd lose in a war against Equestria," Eustace said drolly.

"On the defensive, in these mountains? Hardly. Unlike you, I was in the army. I know we'll be able to destroy any army those ponies send."

"And unlike you, boy, I was a king for six years. I know our logistical capabilities. And I know what the Princess can do, even if ponies make for poor soldiers, that matters little against the mare that controls the sun and moon," Eustace warned. "Even when you're in charge, you'll still have to buy food and goods from Equestria, unless you want to end up like Huang. Elefthería will tear itself apart from famine and unemployment before the army breaks, but it will tear itself apart."

The words sobered me. I was never exactly a warhawk, but I had considered that, in all honesty, all the world would be better off if the Ponies and Humans just ignored the other existed. We stood steadfast behind our mountain ranges, and they continued without us.

"Is it impossible? Full autarky?" I asked.

Eustace haughtily laughed.
"I had someone do a study on the possibility five years ago. The Diamond Dogs that ruled this place before us took most of the precious gems and such, but there's still great mineral wealth in those mountains. Our fertilisers are nearly as good as Earth Pony magic, and we might be able to advance those drones to automate farming and mining. The thing is, we don't just need minerals and food. We need oil. We need Uranium, which some of the Diamond Dogs before us clearly thought made cool jewellery. We need cloth, we even need immigration, especially from intellectuals from after the 19th century. We make do with people escaping slavery, but there just aren't enough people ending up in this world to keep growth going. And in the end, autarky not only weakens us but reduces our ability to act on the global stage. Slavery will never end unless we wield our political power to help end it. And that means we have to have something the rest of the world wants. And that means trading with it."

"But it is possible?" I asked.

"What year did you disappear from?" Eustace asked.

"1917," I replied.

Eustace breathed in through his teeth.
"Ah. World War 1. My condolences. My father came from 1703 France. My mother is from 2034 Argentina. She told me of this nation called "North Korea". A nation cut off from the rest of the world almost entirely. It's a miserable place, even by 2030 standards. The people are starving, the army is an enormous tumour, and it uses nuclear weapons to beg for food from the rest of the world. Its people are oppressed to all but ignore the rest of the world exists. There is no great North Korean culture, arts, or sciences. It exists as merely a fief of its great leader. That miserable state of affairs will be our nation's future under autarky. And that's the best-case scenario."

"And the worse case?"

"Our nation destroys itself in a real civil war, and we are scattered across the world and enslaved again."

I flinched.
"I see..." I mumbled. "So, that's why you did it."

"That's why I did it. And you'll have to make a similar choice too. Our status quo will not last forever. One day, you'll be placed in the same position all Kings and Queens of Elefthería are placed in: Our ideals, or our people? Freedom from chains or freedom from poverty? War, or peace? And our entire specie's future rests upon that decision. And, like me, you may not even be allowed to make it."

The cell door opened behind me, finally letting me out.
"Your majesty, we've got a formal dinner with the guild to go to," One of my guards said.

"Good luck, Arthur Williams. I hope you last at least one year," Eustace said honestly. "When your time comes, do as I did. Surrender without a fight. In a fight against the times, you'll always lose."

I didn't respond, instead turning on my feet and marching out of the cell, buttoning up my emerald green coat. A year was pretty hopeful, but I'd have to try.

I think I'll have to end things there. The dinner was utterly unimportant, only congratulations from the one major pillar of Eleftherían society that hadn't at all supported the coup. They didn't even ask for any favours in some serpentlike way. Perhaps they mean to depose me so quickly it won't matter.

I'm going to sleep in my new four poster bed, yet I feel only utter discomfort. All I can do is stare at the map of Elefthería, and hold back a scream at the nightmare ruling it will be.

Next time, in another life, if someone asks me to sit on the throne, I'm going to refuse. I'll certainly live a lot longer that time.

Author's Note

Boy, that's probably an awful first chapter, so much exposition. But hey, hopefully this concept interests people! Slavery is a difficult thing to write about, and I'm probably going to do an absolutely terrible job, but I couldn't shake this brainworm out of my head, not without at least giving it a try.

The Third Day

The third day of my reign.

A prosthetic arm. After years without one, I finally had enough money to get one. And, well, the incentive. The vultures that flew around my head that consisted of my "Media team" thought that while the missing arm gave off a certain "rugged, masculine, war-ready image", that actually having nothing there on my left arm polled badly with women between 30-50 and the unemployed, while only being accepted, but still not liked, by other key demographics. Therefore, I'd have to get one, whether I wished to or not.

I don't know how things are for you guys in the future, but back here, despite having people from at least two centuries ahead of the year I left Earth, Elefthería did not have advanced limb replacements. So, it was merely a lifeless prosthesis useful only to hold something if I moved the fingers with my other hand. It did look beautiful, though, far too beautiful to have been made in only three days, which worried me a little. Silver and green enamelled steel, those apparently being my "royal colours" from now on, plates hid the simple construction beneath. It was strapped around my entire left arm and over my right shoulder to lock it in place. Getting used to having that weight on the side again was going to take time.

Time I would not have. Apparently, the Eleftherían Defence Council demanded my immediate presence. Given that the army had put me on the throne, I couldn't possibly deny them this.

It was a long cable car ride down the mountain from the Palace of the Kings atop the peak of the Nemzetünk Szíve Mountain that dominated central Elefthería and back towards the city to the entrance of "The First City".

The First City, just in case my entire nation has been destroyed by the time you read my words, is the name for the first city created by Man in this world. Carved out of an abandoned Diamond Dog mine, the original was underground. Apparently, so that those companions of King Cyrus the Great could hide from slavers on the topside, well before the nascent Kingdom had enough forces to guard the mountain valley. It was a huge network of subterranean tunnels that weaved throughout the mountain, picked clean of precious gems and stones before we humans arrived, but still once held metals and coal. That too, after two hundred years, was nearly also picked clean, but mining was still a huge part of the First City's industry.

Also, "Abandonded" probably wasn't the case, and it was likely King Cyrus killed the original inhabitants. Well, that's my guess.

The main entrance to the First City was an enormous door of granite standing nearly 20 metres tall and 20 metres, large enough for two lanes of motor traffic to drive through. Cars were still a luxury in Elefthería, even after 170 years after they started being produced. They still cost the average man on the street a year's wages, and manufacturers had focused on developing better, or at least acceptable, cars rather than mass production. This might seem bizarre, but oil was a premium in Elefthería since no local sources existed, and electric cars were still a way off, with Lithium being even harder to source.

This was the first time since I arrived in Elefthería that I had a private car. And someone else to drive it for me. A cheery Kazhakistani man named Rakhat Alieva.

"So, 1917, eh?" He asked in well-spoken but accented English.

"Indeed. And you?" I asked.

"Oh, 2017. Hey, one hundred years later!" He shouted excitedly. "Got lucky I did, ended up only a couple dozen miles from Elefthería. So, moment I heard about the place and got the opportunity, I ran for it and ended up here. That must've been four years ago now. Since I already knew how to drive, unlike those from the distant past, poor fuckers, got a job as a driver. Good work."

I smiled, leaning back in the plush leather seats.
"So, only a few weeks a slave?" I asked.

"Yes. Was supposed to sow crops, but I did that for a day before, Alhamdulillah, I broke out," He explained as we passed beneath the enormous stone doors of the first city and into the electric streetlamp lit subterranean streets.

"Very nice. It took me a bit longer," I said, waving my new prosthetic arm around for Rakhat to see in the rearview mirror. "Took a lot out of me."

Rakhat winced, only to quickly look back to the road. Driving in the First City was a nightmare. Since the whole place was underground, once you were off the large road that served as the main artery for the city, the roads were incredibly cramped. Everywhere was a one-way system, with some incredibly tight bends. I was very glad I wasn't the one having to drive, not just because I couldn't operate a manual clutch with only one arm.

"I 'eard rumours that you lost the arm killing your master, that you ripped off everything below the elbow to escape your chains."

I chuckled.
"Nothing that legendary, I'm afraid. Are there already rumours about me?" I asked.

"Of course. How many rumours were spread by the government itself and how many are proper, I don't know," Rakhat admitted. "Apologies, your majesty, but I ain't never heard about you before the day before yesterday."

I shrugged, which was uncomfortable with my new lower left arm and the straps across my chest.
"Nothing to apologise for. I'm sure it was the same for my predecessor when he took the throne six years ago."

"Wasn't around them, sir."

"Me neither. Well, I was in Equestria but hadn't managed to make it here yet."

I opened my mouth to explain, but the car pulled into a garage, the doors closing shut behind us. Rakhat quickly parked up next to two other sleek black saloon cars with dark tinted windows, then he leapt out of the driver's seat and opened the door for me. I twitched at the unnecessary help but wasn't going to say anything about it, not when Rakhat had been so nice.

When I climbed out of the back of the car, three people came up to meet me. One I knew quite well, General Kelebek, the woman in charge of the Mountain guard. Next to the swarthy, severe woman was a man who I knew by reputation alone, having never personally met him; Field Marshall Akachukwu Umeh, an aged man with dark skin and dark eyes but closely cropped white hair. He looked to be about seventy or so, nearing retirement, but his eyes shone with a certain kind of light that seemed to pierce straight through me. The last I didn't know at all. Unlike Kelebek or Umeh, he wore a simple, dark suit and was only in his forties or so. He had pale skin, carefully styled dark brown hair and thin lips that hardly seemed there at all. Unlike all three of us and even Rakhat, he lacked any sort of scars or markings that suggested he'd either seen combat or beatings. A second Generation man, if I had to guess.

"Your Majesty," Akachukwu said in a deep, sonorous voice. "Welcome to EDCHQ. I assume this is your first time?"

"It is Sir," I stated.

Umeh smiled while Kelebek rolled her eyes.
"You're not in the military anymore, son. You don't have to salute me. If anything, I must salute you," The Field Marshall said cheerfully. "Come, we better get you to your seat."

While Rakhat remained with the car, the rest of us entered the building. Buildings within the First City were hewn into the walls of the various tunnels, but the Eleftherían Defence Council Headquarters, or EDCHQ for short, was unique. A great cavern had been carved out, then the building and its room built, then the cavern was filled with steel-reinforced concrete. It was said to be able to survive the entire mountain being collapsed on top of it, and the concrete had magical crystal reinforcements to give it some protection from spells too. If the First City was one of the more defensible parts of Elefthería, the EDCHQ was the most defensible part of the most defensible city. Only the White Mountain Complex might beat it, and that place was designed by a nutjob cult to survive "the metaphysical destruction of the entire world", whatever that really constituted.

We walked through the dark corridors of the building, lit by blue, harsh fluorescent lighting. After having spent years in a Mountain Fort at the edge of Elefthería, where even electricity was scarce, and the last few days in the opulence of the Palace of the King, it was quite the nasty change.

I followed them through a heavy metal door, which sealed shut behind me. Within the room, about ten men and women stood up from their seats, most in uniform, the rest wearing dark suits. In my emerald green and silver coat and riding pants, I felt rather ridiculous but hid that as best I could while sitting at the head of the table. As I sat down, they followed suit, with Umeh and Kelebek following behind me, but that one thin-lipped man stood by the door instead.

"Your Majesty, first of all, allow us here at the EDCHQ to welcome you to your first, and hopefully fruitful, meeting of the Defence Council. We hope to secure your reign and the defence of our beloved homeland," One of the uniformed men said. Another General, by the bars on this chest, but I didn't know their name and couldn't read their label from all the way across the mahogany/glass table.

"Thank you. But let's cut the pleasantries. I know you ten are the reason I'm currently sitting here, and King Rouselle is not. And surely there is of more import to this meeting than pleasantries?" I asked. Those in the suits didn't seem to like this response if I was reading their briefest aside glances correctly, but the actual uniformed officers seemed to be either better at hiding themselves or didn't care.

"Very well, let us get right to business," Field Marshall Umeh said. "After Princess Celestia received word from her ambassador about the coup and your refusal to have her enter the country, she alerted her forces nearest to us and the Yakistani border. Our spies in the north say that they are to, quote [Prepare for immediate aggression from Elefthería, and for possible slave uprisings]."

I gently tapped my fingers on the table.
"Have any happened?" I asked, perhaps too hopefully.

Umeh shook his head.
"Nothing major. Still, I'm requesting we place our own guards on high alert and possibly begin to mobilise. With Rouselle still alive, it's not out of the question that she will attempt to formant a counter-coup within Elefthería to resit Rouselle on the throne. Not all of Elefthería supported your ascension," Umeh explained.

Kelebek nodded.
"Immediately call in the national guard. A few days to suppress the riots in Neu-Alexandria, then demobilise them. It'll be a show of force against the Rousellites and against Equestria that we will not be perturbed from our most important tradition."

Rousellites? Riots in Neu-Alexandria. I swear to you, I had no idea these were happening. I had all but been shuttered away from the outside world, except from what my handlers had wanted me to see, for the last three days. I wasn't even aware that there were many pro-Rouselle people left. Everyone I knew had disliked him even before the coup. But then again, everyone I knew was in the army.

I hid my confusion and shock.
"No. Let them protest. Rouselle stood down without a fight, and from my conversation with him, I didn't exactly get the feeling that he wanted the crown again," I said.

Kelebek breathed through the corner of her mouth.
"With all due respect, your Majesty, what the King wants doesn't always matter. If enough people want him to sit on the throne, he will sit on the throne."

Just like me.

I nodded.
"I know that, General. But I spoke with the merchant and trade guild representatives yesterday. I know they're pissed, but they aren't in an immediate mood to do anything. The Optimates signed off on the coup. And I don't think Celestia will invade over an aborted invitation. Whatever else ponies are, they don't start wars."

Umeh conceded the point without much fuss, as did Kelebek. The men and women in suits seemed happy, at least. I had to work out who on earth they were.

"Still, we narrowly averted a civil war with the coup. Perhaps we should prepare for..." Umeh began.

"What people will want is normalcy. I'm certain the Optimates didn't support my ascension because they wanted radical change; they just saw me as the best chance at maintaining the status quo. Rouselle moved too boldly, so, much as it pains me, I must do the opposite. No, the police will do to contain the riots, then people will return to normalcy."

"And if that isn't an option? Your Majesty, your ascension marks a regression in relations between Elefthería and Equestria. There is no status quo," Umeh said.

"I am aware, Field Marshall. Believe me, Rouselle and I discussed precisely that. Celestia can go fuck herself for all I care, but we must appear to be the same Elefthería we were a week ago, just one that doesn't want her to visit," I explained.

"Very well. I can see the logic, and I'm sure the senate agrees," Umeh said, looking across the table at some of the people in suits.

A man with blonde hair, deep blue eyes and a Scandinavian accent spoke up.
"The senate does. With elections coming up in nine months, the last thing we want is military action within the country. A bloodless coup is one thing, but the Optimates and Workers both don't want further violence," One of them explained. He turned to look at me and placed a hand on his chest. "Senator Harkon, Senator for the city of Onondaga."

"King Arthur Williams," I replied with a smile. He tittered at the small joke.

"Yes, of course," He pointed to the woman on his left and the man on his right. "This is Senator..."

... I'll be honest, dear diary, I've forgotten their names, only twelve hours later. That may be a problem, assuming I live long enough to write a memoir; what hope have I to remember them any later?

"Nice to meet you," I said blandly, remembering my manner from Grammar School that had been literally beaten into me. "But let's move on. What are the chances of further escalation with Equestria?"

Umeh spoke up.
"That depends. Celestia has yet to release an open statement on the coup, but the general response in the noble courts of Equestria has been, in a word, vitriolic. As we knew it would be."

"How bad?" I asked.

"Let's see. Prince Blueblood called it an open declaration of hostile intent on the part of the humans and that any attempt by the new King to meet with the Princess will simply be an attempt at assassination or that now the army would be unchained to declare war on Equestria, as we have always wanted to do. His words, not mine," Umeh explained.

Kelebek smiled.
"Well, that last part isn't precisely a lie," She said.

While the senators scowled, I hid my agreement. It was quite something to sit in these mountains with our technologically advanced army of trucks, machine guns and aircraft and do nothing while our people suffered in slavery, but I knew that I couldn't just declare war on them. Millions of our own people would suffer and die for a cause we'd likely lose.
"Regardless, the rest of the nobles seemed to march in lockstep agreement with the Prince. Outrage, sure that this is a path to war."

"And the average pony?" I asked.

"Slave owners are likely sleeping with an eye open. In absolute truth, I have no idea, your Majesty," Umeh admitted.

Behind me, the thin-lipped man stepped forwards, standing right behind my chair.
"Your Majesty. The MCI reports a clean geographical divide between the centre, north and south, matching up precisely with the general popularity of the limited, homegrown, Equestrian Abolitionist movement. In the North and South, where the movement is weakest, they are more worried about a possible war, or local slave revolts. In Central Equestria, your ascension is seen as a huge step back from a possible diplomatic solution to the "Human problem"," he explained in a voice almost too quiet to hear.

I swallowed.
"Thank you. I assume you're working for the MCI?" I asked.

"Deputy Director of the MCI, Augustus Weihun, at your service," He said. His tone was cheerful, but looking into his eyes, I saw absolutely no light inside of them. Even the dim blue light of the conference room didn't seem to reflect within them.

The MCI is, or maybe was by your time, the intelligence service of the Kingdom of Elefthería. The Ministry of Covert Intelligence; rumoured to have its fingers in everything, from the Equestrian Abolitionist movement to the anti-abolitionist movement, the power behind General Bovus in the Labyrinthian civil war and a number of assassinations of both humans and ponies. Popular knowledge had them behind the assassination of King Kwamena and that they were secretly in charge of the White Mountain Complex and its Changbai clique.

"Thank you," I said, shaking my head. "Well, as I see it, while we should step up on the border, we're not really going to see a war anytime soon. The nobles of Equestria seemed to believe we'll be the agitators, and we'll notice if they start to mobilise beyond a few Northern Militia. No need for a war footing yet."

I wondered if I was being too bold, too firm. I didn't really care; they sat me on the throne rather than took it for themselves; they could deal with me not quite bending to their will. Worse comes to worst, and I share a cell with Rouselle. I may not have liked the man's politics, but he seemed alright as a person. I'm sure we'll get along.

"Very well. Oh, there is one further thing," The Field Marshall said. "I'm sure you're aware of the rumours of an Eleftherían nuclear program."

I was, a little.
"I was born and disappeared from Earth before those two nuclear bombs people talk about, but yes, I've heard the odd rumour," I replied.

"Well, as King, we should inform you of the truth. We have 22 nuclear warheads ready and armed and delivery systems for about half of them," Umeh explained.

I paused, stock still.
"What?" I asked, horrified.

"We've had nuclear weapons for 150 years. We simply have never had cause to use them, nor will to announce it. Equestria and the Princess only have the roughest idea of what a nuclear warhead even is, and while revealing them might escalate things between us, having them in the back pocket ready to fire will be useful should another war ever come between us."

I nervously tapped my left arm with the fingers on my right.
"How... Someone once explained to me that one bomb could destroy a city. How explosive are these devices?" I asked.

"Our smallest is our tactical nuclear weapons, of which we have about fourteen. They range from 10 to 50 kilotons of TNT. You may not be aware; a Kiloton is a thousand tonnes," Umeh explained.

I gulped.
"And the rest?" I dared to ask.

"Our strategic arms range from 1 to 8 megatons of TNT. A Megaton is a million tonnes," Umeh explained.

I felt a terrible itching in the fingers in my left hand, the one missing. "That kind of power could..."

"If we had delivery methods for all of them, we could destroy most of Equestria's largest cities. Canterlot, Manehatten, Las Pegasus," Augustus explained. "You'll be pleased to know we've had megaton yields for the last 100 years, without any incident and without Equestria finding out."

"That's... Pleasing is certainly a word," I mumbled. I shook my head. "So, how come they have never been used? King Huang loathed Equestria more than anyone else..."

"Your Majesty, the office of the King may have the right to declare war, but the use of nuclear weapons, knowledge of their location and delivery systems remains with the EDCHQ. No other authority can commence a nuclear strike," Kelebek explained. "After the line of Cyrus was deposed, we saw a need to extract the office of the King from the worst Elefthería could unleash upon the world. It is much the same with our biological and chemical weapons."

In a moment, I was back in the Somme—rain, mud and rot all around me. The stench of death was strong in the air, met only by the terrible, awful smell of mustard.
"Destroy them," I said firmly.

The table fell into silence, all eyes upon me.
"Excuse me, Your Majesty?" Umeh asked.

"You heard me. I understand the need for nuclear weapons; I've talked to enough people who lived through the "cold war" to understand that. But chemical weapons are an abomination, one I will not suffer to have in my country," I ordered. Perhaps I was unwise, but in the moment, all I could see were those boys I saw clawing out their own throats in Flanders. "Get rid of them. I don't care if you do it quietly, but destroy them."

Umeh shook his head.
"Arthur, you don't understand. Chemical weapons serve as a deterrent to..."

"Isn't what the nuclear weapons are for? Those are bad enough, I've heard about their side effects, but chemical weapons are weapons of pure cruelty. No, this is non-negotiable. You may depose me if you care that much, but I will see to it that those weapons are destroyed. I'll go to the senate if I have to."

The three senators looked rather uncomfortable with that. It was likely the senate also knew about their existence, or at least the "right people" did. And given that nothing had happened with them, it was likely these "right people" tolerated their existence. I would not. Unlike these men, I know what they are.

Umeh glanced up at Augustus, so I slammed my prosthetic arm onto the table. "You look at me, Field Marshall. I am not doing this as some petty power play, and I'm not doing this because I dislike you. But those weapons are a risk to our national security."

"How so, your majesty?" Umeh asked.

I could feel myself signing my own death warrant with my next few words, but some things were intolerable.
"Because if you do not, I will announce their existence. The EDCHQ might think they deserve to exist, but I will reckon the people will not."

Umeh stood up.
"Our foreign enemies will..."

I stood up in return, placing both my hands on the table.
"Our foreign enemies will know we have weapons of unspeakable power and cruelty and will know we wish to disarm them. If we are to deter them, this is how. It's them or the nukes, Field Marshall. I know which I'd choose."

Umeh glared at me for a few seconds, then laughed to himself.
"It seems we did indeed choose a soldier for our King. I'll draft up a resolution to begin downsizing our..."

I slammed my left hand into the table, cracking the wood.
"No, Field Marshall. I will visit the facility making them at the next opportunity, and I will personally command their destruction. For however long I am King, I will see to their removal. Now, you can work with me on this, or you can take your well-deserved retirement, and I will find someone who will."

Umeh narrowed his eyes.
"You're a new King, your Majesty. With limited political capital. Such big moves are ill-advised for a new king."

I rolled my eyes at the threat.
"Then kill me now. I'm sure that's what the creepy fucker behind me is for. I respect you, Field Marshall. Generals. But have any of you seen the effects of Mustard gas on people?" I asked. None spoke up. "I have. Bleeding from the eyes, their skin rots. Men drown in their own blood. When they were first deployed, we had no counter for them. Thousands died in excruciating pain, and they did nothing to deter us from eventually winning the war. All it did was make our side deploy them as well."

Umeh opened his mouth, then closed it.

"By Allah, Umeh, we don't even have a decent delivery method for them," Kelebek said.

"And they do cost a lot... Something I'm sure his Majesty was... Ahem, also aware of," Harkon added.

Umeh paused, then sat down.
"By your word, Your Majesty."

The meeting pretty much ended there. I couldn't speak to Rakhat on the way back to the ski lift back to the palace, only thinking on how fucked I was. As important as having principles was, they did tend to get you killed. Better to stand for nothing and live.

I couldn't do that, but I'm sure I'd live a lot longer if I could.
Once back in the palace, I sat by a fireplace and read a history book. I thought back to when I first entered Equestria. I worked for a railroad company in the south of Equestria, a company that had hundreds of slaves. I didn't like to think much about that time beneath the boiling badland sun, on the whips and chains that still scared me. But I'd never forget the moment when we sat around a campfire after dark, and we were done working for the day. We talked about our lives back home. And I said I had been fighting in the Great War.

And someone asked me "which one?"

I heard about how we won. And how hollow a victory that was. We were dooming the world only to repeat the war in 30 years' time. Had I survived the war and not gone to Equestria, I may have lived long enough to see the world tear itself apart again.

I am a soldier. It's all I've been since I was a man. But while I read this book on the First Eleftherían/Equestrian war nearly two hundred years ago, I knew it was my duty to prevent another.

But perhaps I'd never get a choice. I was the most powerful man in Elefthería, debatably, but like Rouselle said, in a fight against the times, the times always win.

The King Cyrus Gates

I had the dream again.

In my dreams, the burning hot sun of the south has fallen behind the dusty mesas, yet still, I cling to his arm. A mountain sits atop my left arm, crushing it slowly. Even in my dream, I can no longer feel his hand or my own. But in the dream, I am alone.

In the dream, I let go.

It is the end of my second week as the King of Elefthería. Yet to be deposed or assassinated.
The riots in Neu-Alexandria ended a few days ago after King Rous... Eustace Rouselle gave an interview on the radio to some reporters. It seems that Elefthería is beginning to settle into its new status quo. In truth, I doubt much has changed for the average man, at least not yet.

Today, I visited the border forts in the south. A few dozen miles south of the Palace of the King and the First City, the King Cyrus Gates were two mountains separated by less than a mile of flat grasslands, now tarmac and train tracks. This place served as the main border crossing between Elefthería and Equestria. Therefore The King Cyrus Gates or "Runaway centre" was the first port of call for most human immigrants entering the country.

"Immigrants", meaning mostly runaway slaves.
Freemen and women did exist in Equestria, perhaps freed on an enslaver's deathbed or born into a freeman family, but they rarely entered Elefthería. So, an enormous complex had been built into the side of one of the mountains to house the runaways while the government tried to find housing and work for them and get them registered as citizens.

"Once, I too passed through the King's gates. All men and women of our nation pass through, regardless of birth or circumstance, to take part in that most sacred right of our nation. To free all men who pass beyond our mountain walls. As we walk through, our crimes forgotten, our sins forgiven. Whatever we were outside of Elefthería, whether that be back on Earth or out there..." I reached over the podium and pointed in front of me, over the crowd and through the pass in the mountains, towards Equestria.

"This has been the core of our nation since its beginning and a vow that shall never be broken. You, whether you are fleeing the horrors of Equestrian slavery or immigrating for a new life, are welcomed and accepted by Elefthería. King Cyrus constructed these grand gates not to hold the world back from his country but to allow it to come, to make it their own, to share in that fundamental right from which our nation takes its name. Elefthería, greek for Freedom," I shouted.

The crowd, mostly those same waiting immigrants wearing hand-me-down clothes and worn shoes, clapped politely. The staff lining the plaza also clapped and cheered, perhaps more excitedly than the tired immigrants just waiting to come through. When I arrived just six years ago, it had taken me three months to get processed, and that had been sped up by my previous military career. Some, usually those from earlier points in history whose skills were no longer needed, could spend years, even decades, in the King Cyrus gates.

After the speech, I met with a few men and women: some staff, some of the immigrants. I remembered one firmly.

He wore a ragged t-shirt, dulled faded red which may have once had a face of some kind upon it. He had shoulder-length, dirty blonde hair that framed his square head. He wasn't exactly handsome, with deep sunken eyes, a bloody lip and a black eye. He seemed to meet my gaze entirely unafraid, however. "Your imperial majesty!" He said, getting my title wrong. "Thank you! God Bless you!"

He seemed so utterly enthralled to meet me that even as alarm bells started to ring inside my head, I couldn't help but turn to and talk to him.
"Happy to help. Who are you?" I asked cheerfully.

"I would be a prisoner in Equestria! But I heard of the promise of Elefthería! God Bless you!" He explained, not answering my question.

I smiled and stood next to him, placing a hand over his shoulder while a journalist took our photo.

After the handshaking, the photo-ops and managing to shake off the security detail, I made my way over to the border itself.

While the train tracks continued on towards the far horizon, the tarmac immediately gave way to grass right at the line of the border. I closed my eyes, clenched my right fist, and walked over the border. The wind seemed to immediately pick up and play with my hair, no longer shielded by the mountains that surrounded Elefthería. I had not stepped across the border since I had arrived in the country six years ago.

Like many who arrived in Elefthería, I had broken the law while escaping. Even ignoring that I was, in their eyes, stolen property, I had stolen food, assaulted an officer of the law and travelled under false papers and identification. By the laws of the land, some pony could've walked up and immediately arrested the king of another country.

None would, but they could.

I opened my eyes. At the border, there wasn't much difference between the two countries. Of course, the nearest pony settlement wasn't for a dozen miles to the south, and the military forts that clung to the mountain faces deterred most ponies from approaching the country, but the grass was the same, the sky the same, the sun and clouds the same.

I looked up and frowned. High in the sky, what I thought was a bird flew in lazy circles. But birds did not have six limbs and were not that large.

No doubt that, from up there, there was no difference between nations. The mountains might surround my country, but no one had carved the name of the mountains or country into the stone. But I knew. I glared at the nameless pegasus, my fist clenching. Looking back over my shoulder, back towards the Cyrus Gates, I saw two shoulders preparing to shoulder their rifles. If the pony passed over the border, it would be shot down.

Once, it was said, Cloudsdale had rested over Elefthería, believing it was its right to move the clouds and command the weather. It had been the start of the second and last Eleftherían war. Ever since, the clouds, winds, and rain had been purely the purview not of any living thing but of random chance. We humans could not access the same magics that allowed the pegasi to move the clouds, to split them open. So, we had droughts, and we had torrential, horrible rains. We had famines. But they were our own.

The pegasus wisely decided to turn and fly away from the ring of mountains, heading south once more. I watched its flight, stared until it got too far for me to see, then turned and walked back into Elefthería. While I did so, I wondered about that war. Had the intent of Cloudsdale been to starve us out or to control our crops and lives, as our history books said? Or did they genuinely think they were helping us? Did they not think how it would be seen, or did that one great quality of the ponies, their naivety and trust, truly not mix with our innate skill at mistrust and paranoia. Did it matter? Was it wrong to start a war on an innocent mistake, or was there no other way they might learn?

I turned to the right just before I passed into the shadow of the great mountains and looked over towards the sun. She, Celestia, had apparently not involved herself in that war, only signing the peace accord afterwards- War is an exaggeration, more of a brief skirmish and conflict. But maybe she too understood our need to defend ourselves. Or, maybe, she wanted her own people to know we were best left alone.

Better to let us be behind our walls, gates and mountains. Let us fade away from memory and never try to help, or "help", again.

I clambered into my private train carriage, waving to the crowds, but could not tear my eyes away from those gates. There were three paths into Elefthería, one in the north, one in the east, and one in the south. One towards the arctic wastes of the reindeers and snowbears, one towards Yakistan, and one towards Equestria. Our enemies, as it had always been. The fortress mentality had been engrained into the very national psyche, into the human psyche- Us, against the world. No other species could be trusted, could be accepted. We were alone in a strange world, and we could only trust each other.

Except we could not even do that. My guards in my carriage each had the chance of being an MCI plant; someone meant to kill me if I stepped out of line. The Clique wished to hide away not just from the rest of the world but even from us. There had been many attempts to make another human nation. All had collapsed. It was us against the world, but I knew it was also us against us.

The 32nd day of my rule

A mere two weeks after my last entry, dear diary, and only a month and change after becoming the king, I have received my first assassination attempt.

Most of the last fortnight has been concerned with the decommissioning of the Santiago fertiliser plant, a cover for a chemical weapons factory in a small town outside of Onondaga, Elefthería's third largest above-ground city. I had met resistance not only from the plant owner and its parent company, Ea-Nasir Minerals but from the local senator for the small town of Santiago.

"Your Majesty, the fertiliser plant is the largest employee in the town. I cannot allow you to destroy thousands of jobs overnight!" The senator had all but shouted at me, only just remembering that I was still the king. I didn't budge. A definite vote loser or not, I wouldn't cave. Each man and woman who worked at the plant knew that it was a front, and they were working on chemical weapons. Whether it was in storage, packaging, manufacturing or even administration and HR, all were working for an industry of death, cruelty, of horror.

"Are you any different, your majesty? Were you not a soldier once?" The factory's owner had asked me after I made my position known.

And that was true. I had served on the Somme, in Ypres and Arras. I had charged over the top, through barbed wire and into the enemy's trench. I had shot surrendering machine gunners, butchered men with trowels and bayonets. I had robbed the dead of their watches.

But whatever I, or any of my men, my brothers, my comrades, had done paled in comparison to the clinical, merciless and careless cruelty of chemical weapons. A bullet could kill slowly, but it was at least designed to be quick. Mustard Gas had not been.

After a royal visit to the town, promising 4 million Cyrends in funding for local businesses, I had been walking back to the car. Rakhat had been waiting for me, a thermos of tea and a pack of biscuits in hand, smiling. Absentmindedly, he had leaned back and kicked the front passenger-side tire.

It had not been the first time I had been thrown to the floor by the force of an explosion. I knew all the signs: Looking up at the sky, your ears ringing, vision fading, your back stinging and your front burning. A piece of burning rubber fell onto my chest while I sat up, looking at the flaming remnants of my car. Noticeably missing was Rakhat, who was almost certainly dead. I raised my left arm, the prosthesis, above my head and stood up, stumbling towards the car in a daze. I should not have done so; the chance of there being a second bomb was high. But even as sound started to return to the world and I could hear the screaming and panic all around me, I limped towards where Rakhat had been standing not a few seconds ago. All that might've remained of the poor man was a blood-red stain on the ground.

Then, I felt something drip down my cheeks. I reached up towards the right side of my face and felt a strange, sharp object poking through. Someone, a soldier or a guard, rushed up towards me and dragged me away from the burning wreckage of the car, but all I could do in my state was tap this thing poking through my cheek.

I was told, after I had all but thrown into an ambulance, that it was a shard of bone that had embedded itself in my cheek and was one of many bone fragments to do so all across my body.

I leaned against the wall of the ambulance, blood running down my cheeks, and watched the world go by while we sped towards a hospital. An assassination attempt was to be expected in this line of work, and perhaps I had already made enemies, but one so soon? And to take the life of an innocent man? I was a soldier. I had made my peace with death in 1914. But to watch it, always from the outside...

Rakhat had joined the long line of people I had watched die. Most, in the great war, some here.

I was conscious the whole time as the surgeons picked out shards of bone and metal from my body—nothing life-threatening, nothing that had pierced a vital organ. Soldiers and guards patrolled the halls outside, denying entry to any man but the doctors and nurses. Other patients, men and women actually suffering, had been thrown out to give me a wing all to myself.

This was the first time I truly hated being made king. An innocent man had died for being near me, and I couldn't even be sure as to why. I could speculate and guess. The EDCHQ might've taken action against me, shutting down chemical weapons production. Some lingering Rousellites might've tried to reinstall their king. It may have been the Clique, whose motives and reasons were inscrutable even to many of their own. It could've even been Equestria. Doubtless, they were the ones I would have to public blame when it became time to find a reason.

I would never know; I know that even as I write these words. The MCI will not deign to tell me, especially if they were the ones behind it. Security would be stepped up around me, a few more bodyguards, and my cars would be searched. But there would be no justice, recourse or truth behind Rakhat's death. He was simply a casualty of... Not even war. The times? That thing that Eustace had mentioned, the nebulous force that drove politics, war and prosperity.

After only three hours, I am bundled into an armoured car and driven back to the Palace of the King, giving only a quick telephone interview to Eleftherían Radio that I am alive and well. Perhaps that was the play. I wasn't supposed to die, only be kept out of the way. Deposing a King so soon after installing them might've been bad optics, and perhaps they thought I could yet be taught to stay in line, by hook or by crook.

General Kelebek was waiting for me in my solar the moment I made it up the ski-lift back to the mountain's peak. A report in hand.

"So, who are we blaming?" I asked wearily, reaching under my tattered, burnt shirt to remove the straps over my right shoulder for my prosthesis.

"Preliminary reports suggest it was the Equestrian Anti-Abolitionist movement, paying off local agents-"

In pain and frustration, I cackled aloud, letting my prosthetic arm fall to the marbled floor with a heavy clunk. I left it there on the ground.

"Of course it was," I mumbled.

Kelebek at least had the dignity to look apologetic while she delivered this obviously bogus report.
"If it is any small consolation, my king, I had nothing to do with it. You were my man before you were theirs," She said.

I turned, closing the door to the solar. With my hand lingering on the door, I didn't bother to turn around before asking.
"Who was it, really?" I asked.

"... I don't know, in all honesty. What I do know, what you also know, is that neither of us will be allowed to know," Kelebek explained. "That means the MCI has something to do with it, but to what extent, and why, we could only speculate."

"If they wanted me dead, they would simply poison me," I said, turning around. "So, either this was simply a message, or they okayed someone else's hit without caring as to its results. The difference is minimal, the result the same," I said wearily. I walked over behind my desk and fell into the chair. "I hope, once I am gone, they make you Queen. You'll do well, General."

She grimaced.
"You lived. Lessons will be learnt," She said.

I sighed, running a hand through my slowly regrowing hair.
"Yes. Don't try and change anything without their approval," I said wearily. I waved my one arm. "Leave me, General. That'll be all for today."

She saluted, then left the solar, letting me sump further down the chair, wincing as I pulled a small shard of metal out of the back of my arm, placing the bloody steel gently on the desk in front of me.

So, yeah, that had been a fun day. And things were probably only going to get better for me. I can't even drink myself to sleep tonight, the alcohol will burn the cuts on the inside of my mouth and mess with the pain meds, so I'll get to try and go to sleep with the image of the bloodstain that had once been my driver and the fact some of his skeleton had pierced through me in my mind.

It may take me a while to do so.

The 39th day of my rule

When it rains, it pours.

I met with the Equestrian Ambassador today. At their rather urgent request. This is fairly unusual; usually, if there was an actual complaint or diplomatic issue, they'd discuss it with one of our own diplomats, but apparently, this was something that needed to go straight to the top.

Well, nominal top.

The moment I entered her embassy's wing of the Palace of the Kings, I was led by what few Royal Equestrian Guards we allowed in the country to Winter Bloom's study. Within, each chair was so designed that despite the difference in height, a human and a pony would sit face to face at roughly the same eye level while being equally uncomfortable for both species. A lot of effort to try and prevent basic power plays, but I suppose that's what 60% of diplomacy is about.
"I'm sorry, your majesty, for asking to speak with you, but there's little time to wait," Winter Bloom said apologetically. "But the Royal Government of Equestria has a request of the Kingdom of Elefthería."

I sat down opposite her in the study, shooting her a quizzical look.
"Oh?"

"Yes. And this is not a polite request," Winter Bloom said. "One month ago, Elefthería gave refugee to an escaped slave from Equestria. We..."

"The answer is no," I interrupted. "200 years of precedence, Elefthería never returns escaped slaves to their masters, no matter who they were."

"This isn't to return them to their master, King Arthur. The person in question is wanted for the murder of 6 ponies, including a... What's your word... A child," Winter Bloom explained.

I swallowed something, then forced myself to shrug nonchalantly, regardless of the bile in my throat.
"Makes no difference. Many crimes are committed during an escape attempt by a slave. Elefthería accepts them all regardless. You may place them on a wanted list and arrest them should they cross the border into Equestria, but we will never send a person back to Equestria for whatever reason," I said.

"This is not merely someone who burned down a plantation in the boonies-" She gestured over towards one of the guards. My own openly reached for the pistol at his waist, but the ambassador's guard instead trotted over and placed a folder on the table between the ambassador and me. She opened it with her magic onto a picture of a blonde-haired man wearing a butler's outfit. "This was a noble. A Prince."

A prince, I thought. There was but one Prince of any importance in Equestria, I had learnt as king.

"Prince Blueblood. He, four of his household and a little filly, no older than six years old, were killed during this bast... This wanted man's escape attempt. Equestria has looked the other way concerning some escapes by slaves in our own nation, at least once they arrive in Elefthería. We even removed the warrant out for your own arrest, King Arthur," Winter Bloom explained. "But we cannot allow this to go unpunished. These deaths were barbaric, utterly unnecessary, and indefensible."

I tapped my prosthetic hand with the index finger of my right hand.
"I am saddened to hear of this, ambassador. But it makes no difference. You know I was placed on this throne because I would not bend on such traditions, and I will certainly not hand over a person to be reenslaved."

"We do not intend to return Rudolf Heisman to servitude, your majesty. Mr Heisman will stand trial and will likely face life imprisonment, if not execution."

I saw a chance for compromise and tried my best to leap upon it.
"If the trial can take place in Elefthería, with an impartial jury and a judge which both Celestia and I can agree upon, perhaps there will be no need for..."

"No. King Arthur, that will not be acceptable. We have acquiesced to every demand of Elefthería. We agreed to look the other way when escaped property enters your realm. We agreed to the borders of your nation with only limited bloodshed. We have kowtowed to your capricious demands. We have looked the other way whenever you depose one of your kings for the merest hint of trying to form decent relations with my country," Winter Bloom snapped. "We have even ignored your nation's blatant provocations and interferences in local Equestrian elections. But the murder of a Prince and his household and a filly? We cannot look past that."

The words gave me pause.
"Wait, do you believe we had something to do with this?"

The pony ambassador scoffed, her horn lighting up and magic moving through her greying blonde hair to fix it.
"Why else would you defend this man? Prince Blueblood was a known anti-abolitionist. How convenient that Mr Heisman was in his employ for six years, until suddenly, upon your ascension as King, he snapped and murdered these people. I knew King Rouselle well; he never would've given such an order. But you, Mr Arthur? What I know of you is that you are an old soldier, a man who was previously a servant in Equestria. That gives you motive. And the MCI are all too willing to interfere in Equestrian politics while you childly demand we leave yours well enough alone."

"I've never even heard of Rudolf Heisman," I said simply.

The ambassador waved a hoof, and that same royal guard of hers placed another piece of paper on the table between us. She glanced at it, then pushed it towards me with her hoof.
"Really, Arthur Williams? Then what is this?"

Curious and confused, I picked up the piece of paper from the table. It was a polaroid photograph, though in colour, unlike the photos of my time. But I immediately recognised the photograph, as it had been in the papers three weeks ago. It was a picture of me, with my right arm wrapped around the shoulder of a refugee at the King Cyrus Gates. The other man in the photo had dirty blonde hair down to his shoulders, sunken dark eyes, and a bruised lip.

"That is the murderer. And that-" She tapped the photo in my hand with a forehoof. "Is you smiling with him."

I swallowed.
"You realised that, if he had been a placed agent of some kind, the last thing I would do is have a very public photograph and meeting with him?"

"I don't pretend to know how you treat your spies. Equestria's intelligence service isn't nearly as integral to the running of our nation as it is to yours, nor nearly as vile and underhanded," Winter Bloom replied. "The Princess herself has requested that you hand over Rudolf Heisman by 17:00 tomorrow. A mile from the King Cyrus gates. Should you refuse, we will take all necessary action to acquire him."

All necessary action. I knew precisely what she meant by that, and she knew I knew. I sighed.
"If you have a private trial-" I swallowed the bile in my throat, forcing out the words I'd have to say. "Or if you execute him then and there, with no word getting out, I can..."

"No. The man is a murderer and will be treated as such. Elefthería gets to make no bargains or weasel its way out of justice this time. Hand him over, or we will get him ourselves." Winter Bloom warned.

"I cannot allow that. If I allow Equestria to barge in and just take anyone they want back to Equestria, it will mean the destruction of this nation," I said.

"Refusing to do so may finally convince Princess Celestia of the need to finally destroy your nation. She has been merciful and forgiving time and time again. The murder of her nephew is the last straw."

I clenched my right fist, sighed, and stared her in the eye.
"Then we have no deal. I will rather fight than send even a single person to Equestria, whether or not you believe him guilty."

Winter Bloom nodded. Doubtlessly, she had expected no less.
"So be it," She said. She stood up from the uncomfortable chair and then trotted back to her desk. "You have two days before the Equestrian Army arrives in force on the border of Elefthería. I will hope for your people's sake you change your mind, King Arthur. If you don't, we have nothing else to discuss."

And that was that. Just over a month into my reign, not only did my own government hate me, but the Equestrian one did too. To my own people, I was a weirdo pacifist who wanted to tie the hands of those that would protect them. And to the Equestrians, I was a monster who ordered the assassination of one of the royal family and refused to hand over the assassin to justice.

Somehow, I don't think I'll get to enjoy being deposed as Rouselle had done. I believe the coup that will depose me will be far less likely to leave me alive.

Whether I will live long enough to even see the coming hostilities, I do not know. Perhaps I should just hand him over. Some no-name refugee, a single person? In exchange for not only my life but that of every man and women that I am pledged to serve? To rule? What is one life against two million?

There was time left in the day for one more conversation.

"I heard," Rouselle said, stretching out on the ottoman chair like a cat upon hearing my approach.

"Good ears," I said.

"You walk with a strange gait. That false arm of yours, it makes one half of your body heavier than the other, and after years of compensating for that being the other side of your body, you are still not used to it," the previous king explained.

I unlocked the cell door with a soft smile. Rouselle was a sharp man, even as rotund as he was.
"I meant hearing about the situation with the wanted criminal. I assumed that was what you were speaking of."

"Ah, yes. I bribed one of your staff. A cook. He not only passes on finer meals than I should be getting but tells me of the going-ons of this castle. Please, do not fire him. He is a fine cook," The former king explained.

I leaned against a desk in his cell.
"Is he? Gas attacks damaged my sense of smell and taste," I explained, pointing to my nose and throat. "Everything always tastes a little of mustard."

"Dijon, I hope?" Rouselle asked with a smirk, sitting up to look up at me.

"English, I'm afraid. Didn't like the stuff even before Flanders and the Somme. Now I positively despise it," I said with a smile.

"My deepest condolences. To taste English food at all times. My father would've put you out of your misery had he heard of such a thing afflicting another person," Rouselle joked, placing a hand on his heart. He sighed. "I don't think you came here to discuss cooking with me."

"No, I did not," I replied. "Should I abdicate?"

Rouselle barked out in laughter.
"Oh, absolutely not. The powers that be will not allow that to happen," Rouselle explained.

"They want me dead."

"They sent you a single assassination attempt. That's nothing. Something to keep a monarch on their toes," Rouselle explained with a scoff. He chuckled to himself for a bit before continuing. "Do you know why we have a King, when we have an educated, politically inclined population who already elect local leaders and senators?"

The question confused me.
"I don't know. To calm down those who didn't come from democracies?" I asked.

"Oh, there is that. With people coming from all of human history, and democratic governments being a rarity across that stretch of time, most are used to Kings, strongmen and chieftains. But Elefthería, for all it is, is not the old world. The world you left behind. It is something unique," Rouselle explained. "No, we have a king because, whatever else we choose, we believe greatly in the power of a single person- That any person has the right to choose and craft, their own destiny. Elefthería has had cruel kings, like Gupta. It has had great kings, like Cyrus. It has had kings who tried to appease the Equestrians, like myself. And you were placed in that position because it was believed you will do the opposite to myself. But each person has the ability to shape their world and their future. All men in Elefterhía are free."

"Except the king," I said.

"Even the king. You are only chained if you fear death. Whatever else a king must be, they must be brave enough to make a choice. We are all installed as puppets of the powers that be, of the times. And we will lose our fight against the times in the end. But still, we must fight," Eustace explained.

"You didn't," I said. "That seemed smart."

"Yes. I am alive. I live in this opulent cell. Yet I cannot change my future or the world. I cannot see anyone but yourself, the guards, and maybe a cook. It is as if I am already dead," Eustace replied.

"You said that when the time comes that I should to surrender?"

"Your time hasn't come yet. You have been challenged. But you haven't lost your fight yet. For your own sake, wait at least till then," Rouselle pleaded. "You are a young man with no experience in rule. You already have made mistakes and enemies. But this business with Heifman, or Heisman, or whoever, that was beyond any of our control. It wasn't your fault, but it is yours to try and solve."

I nodded.
"Was he a spy? Perhaps, you might know?" I asked.

"Never heard the name in my life. I knew a few of our placed agents in Equestria. Some are indeed posing as slaves. Some are even in the royal households. Hence why I thought it was okay to allow Celestia to bring them here. But if Heisman is an agent, he's not one I've heard of," Rouselle replied.

"Do you think Equestria will seriously go to war over a single man?" I asked.

"Equestria? With Celestia at the helm? I would doubt it, but... Well, even as powerful as she is, even she battles with the times, as both you and I do. Who knows what her people want," Rouselle replied with a shrug. "It has been decades since the last Eleftherían/Equestrian war. We've been preparing for one longer than either of us have been alive. And lord knows that there are those in Equestria who would want nothing more than our little refuge from slavery to be destroyed," Rouselle replied. "But you're the soldier. What do you think, your majesty?"

I smiled a sad smile, remembering my time at the border forts. At the lone squadrons of pegasi that would sometimes fly close to the border, just to see our response. And I thought of my dreams. My memories.
"We think of them as... Not better than us, but certainly more moral. That they'd only reach for violence as a last resort. Hell, we even blame the fact they enslave us on ourselves," I said. "That we placed the idea in them. Maybe, despite the lack of opposable thumbs, the size, the tails and magic, we're really not all that different. I wanted to go to war with them back when I was in the army."

Rouselle nodded.
"I suppose you thought we should free our brothers in chains, with fire and sword? Cut through Equestria, carve it apart, and afflict upon them even but a morsel of the cruelty they have inflicted upon us, no?"

I nodded and shrugged.
"I was a slave once," I said, explaining everything with a single sentence.

"I believe they will be willing to start a fight with enough provocation. And this, Heisman? These killings? That might just be enough to convince them," Rouselle said.

"So. What would you do?"

"Have Heisman publicly executed on trumped-up charges, give Equestria his body. A fait accompli," The previous king said quickly.

I shook my head. Sometimes, I almost forgot why they bothered to depose him. Smart, charming, but just a little too ruthless.

The king saw my dismissal.
"One life is not worth a kingdom."

"I will not sacrifice the soul of the Kingdom to keep it alive," I said.

"Honourable. When the people rise against you after starving, and Princess Celestia cloaks this land in eternal darkness or uses the sun to melt away this mountain and the First City, I hope they write that upon your grave," Rouselle said darkly. "Fine. You wish to fight. Or seek peace without shattering this wonderful illusion of our nation and its freedom. I wish you all the best, King Arthur William. But you are no Cyrus. You will fail."

"Thanks for the talk, Eustace Rouselle. I'll have words with that cook."
I started to walk out of the cell, but the former king shouted some last words while I closed the door behind me.

"It will be an awful shame to outlive the man they sent to replace me!" He shouted.

I tried my best to ignore him, walking out of the dungeon and back into the palace. My left arm starting to impossibly itch, the phantom pain gnawing at missing flesh.