The Gray Dames

“Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.”

A throne room.

When the vault was first idealized, Celestia was sure it would be nothing more than a waste of resources. An unneeded luxury. Especially in a tomb filled with sleeping ponies never to be awakened. A waste of wealth which, even in her worst feverish dreams of conquest, seemed superfluous. Even in the nigh impossibility of the vault being opened, the Strategium should more than suffice as a command center and meeting room.

Even then, it was a testament to the shifting times. Even before the Battlehorns were no longer necessary. During the time of the republic, ponies took a dislike for throne rooms and the consuls would use pedestrian seats on the floor of the senate’s assembly hall. Decorated with purple linen and silk, but only wooden seats, nonetheless, surrounded by the marble grandstands of the senate hall.

In a graceful description of their jobs, the Consuls assisted the noble senators in reaching agreements. They would validate laws as the wielders of the executive power. Even if what drew them was their power of veto over parts of the text and each other. In the end, their job was to bring order to the cacophony of angry shouts and, sometimes, insults hurled from one side to the other.

Ultimately, it worked. The will of the majority prevailed. Such was the point of the system. As the Republic grew, its different peoples chose their leaders under the stewarding of the Senate itself. Leaders and representatives were no longer supposed to be chosen by any means other than the will of the people. And then, eventually, came the time when more than ponies sat in that venerable hall.

The Senate, as a unified body, spoke with the voice of all creatures, of all regions of the Republic. It could be no other way as, with the end of the conflict between the Three Tribes, ponies had learned to cooperate. And that was what brought the other races. Creatures, tired of tyrants, flocked together and became powerful in numbers. They grew mighty because they watched over each other. Both to assist in their needs and to beware of excesses.

Until the sin of the Old Unicorn Kings reared its head. They needed to own the Republic. The creatures of the time should have known better. They became too rich. They became too powerful. And no creature is so vulnerable to the corruption of entitlement as unicorns whose sole existence was dedicated to magic and statecraft. Generosity became a joke.

Like retribution from the hurt they unleashed upon Creation, Discord almost brought the world to an end. It appears the world was always on the precipice of annihilation. Forever a slip away from oblivion. The sun refused to move, and the Black Sun once again loomed just beyond the sight of the mortals. Panic and distress became fodder for machinations. And the Bluebloods were as good at scheming as the Brightmanes were at paying for intrigue.

Democracy died. They took its corpse and fleeced it. Made a throne for the Alicorn Sisters with its bones and showed it to the populace like their golden calf. They barfed hubris, and the plebeians drowned in it.

They ignored the warnings of the Griffon Scourge, eager to peck at the corpse of their precious Republic. They ignored the meaning of it all, hidden behind the veil of mortality. The War Older Than Time leered from the unimaginable past. Yet they never saw the Predator looming over them. With a savage smile on her beak and glee on her stormy eyes.

They almost had it all. But never expected the Sisters would sit on the throne they had made. Shocked at how well it fit them. Horrified at the ruthless efficiency with which they cleansed their evil from the magic of Harmony. And they wept at how beautiful it became without them.

When they passed away, Celestia told them to relish the fact that all that they had done had been remade anew. She told them all their malice and pride amounted to nothing. And that all that they were would be undone in the Pool of Souls. That the magic which animated their bodies would be scoured, and a new creature would be born. A pure being, without knowledge of their evil, born into a world which had forgotten them. Harmony would keep immortality to those who deserved it.

The last Brightmane died swallowing a bowl of shattered glass, and his Blueblood friend perished soon after. His heart failed as news reached him, with a missive that he should expect the High Queen’s visit soon. The last Unicorn King died later, though. He was unfortunate enough his newly fledged kingdom sat upon the thaumatonite mines of Shatteredhoof Valley. The reformed Battlehorn Legions needed it. In the end, he begged for mercy. If not for him, for his four sons. But Celestia had none to spare during that time.

A discreet smile formed on white lips under the dim light. How would the Mother of Storms die? Would the proud Lady Gwendolen of Griffindell beg? Would the Harpy’s pride allow for her to implore the white alicorn not to end her existence? Celestia was almost happy she could vanquish that vile creature a second time. She would erase that vile blood smear off Creation, and only the chosen of Harmony would remain.

The doors before her groaned. Far from her throne, down the red carpet, like the doors in a haunted house immersed in silence. They let light creep in from the hall and the shade of a fully armored Battlehorn mare pushed the door open. The magical lights in the throne room came alive with their white glow and the dark room unshrouded itself.

An audience hall as a statement of wealth and power. Unlike the seats of the Consuls, Celestia’s thrones were always golden as the light of the sun. White as herself and red as the luxurious carpets on the floor. It reached high as to show the power she wielded and ostentatious to recall her wealth. Behind, the wall showed the immaculate cerulean of Equestria’s sky, ruled by the source of light that bathed all in equal measure.

Marble, white as her coat, covered the cave walls and pillars, broke the milky panorama, themselves ornate with gold. They held purple curtains up to the ceiling, as well as the crystals lighting the central walkway. Everything in that room was a testament to Celestia’s power and presence.

All her majesty broke with a wide smile when the purple and green dragon walked through the door. His mouth hung open and his eyes scanned the room, looking to one side and the other and the ceiling. His small body seemed insignificant within the surrounding immenseness. They had even dressed him in a toga praetexta, with its purple finish and pristine white.

Spike wouldn’t like to know that infants wore it as a symbol of their innocence. Next to him, one of the many foals of the Fellbanes wore a similar toga and carried a bowl filled with a rainbow of shiny gems. Celestia used every ounce of restraint learned through the millennia to undo her smile and don a respectable, neutral expression.

The armored mare by the door gave a respectful nod to her matriarch and returned to her position next to the door. The elegant mare that was Radiance Fellbane walked just behind Spike and the excited filly.

“Have another one, Spike!” The small, cheery pony piped.

Celestia’s lips twisted, and her brow knotted. “Where in the world did you find all these gems?”

Radiance gasped at her words while Spike grabbed a green, round crystal from the bowl. About the size of his fist, he bit it in half like it was a crunchy candy, finally looking at Celestia as the mare replied.

“Domina Ferraria Hammer has provided them. They are spares for repairing magical devices. She decided we need not hoard them so much, as they are more easily found nowadays. According to Farseer’s report, anyway. Although I believe Hammer has become infatuated with the young dragon.”

Spike coughed and grinned upon hearing a reference to him and gave Celestia a pursed smile. “Ah. Hi. You look… Uh, shiny.”

Celestia blinked at his words and looked down at herself. “I suppose I do.”

“I guess they didn’t bring me here because you were feeling lonely and wanted to talk, huh?” Spike crossed his arms and frowned before Celestia at the top of the stairs.

She shook her head and stepped down from her throne, step by step, to stand next to him. “I’m afraid not, Spike.”

Her expression became less soft. “Do you understand what happened at the Break of Dawn?”

He let his arms hang from his shoulders. “Yeah. I mean, I know there was a fight. A bad one. And we lost the airship.”

He winced and hesitated. “Your airship. I’ll bet you are not happy Twilight and Cadance got away either. Much less that the griffons got away. I suppose that is why I am here, huh?”

“I am not angry at Twilight or Cadance, Spike. Much less the others, or you.” Her expression returned to the patient softness it always held for an instant before becoming a pained mask of worry. “They are walking into a trap and have been dragged into a situation that may already be irreversible.”

The little dragon blinked at her. “Oh… Uh… Are you sure? Because that’s pretty bad.”

“I still don’t know how many creatures died because of the mutiny aboard the Break of Dawn, but they share the blame with Grigory.” Celestia shook her head with a sad frown. “I understand they believe the risks of their every action is worth finding the truth. I admit, I have lied. I used my power to obscure the truth about the Griffon Empire. And more. But I did it to save Equestria.”

“However, griffons will not care. They will see Grigory’s actions as instrumental in their faux liberation. He will be lauded a hero.” Celestia cocked her head as she too realized. “Even that may be part of the Harpy’s plan.”

“I can bear the consequences, but…” She took a deep breath and sighed, her head canted to the side, her majesty crumbled before the same worry as before. “The full weight of what happened will fall on Twilight and Cadance. The Hall of Friendship and a multitude of civil institutions and associations will demand that I hold them responsible. Especially Griffonian institutions looking to shift the blame away from their future King for no other reason than earning a favor or two.”

Ironically, she had thought Lord Gilad above such things. But after the events in Griffonstone, all the faith she had in the griffon had evaporated. Curious how politicians always tended to disappoint her. But that was a matter for another time.

“They will demand that Twilight and Cadance abdicate their position. They will try to force me to punish them. Given the chance, some creatures would demand capital punishment. Although, that cannot be… We are not normal creatures. The situation will create a further derangement of the Federation and of the natural order of the world. As things stand, I may have to rely on tyrannical measures to keep the Federation from fracturing, and that will also further the issue. We will take the span of entire generations before this wound is healed, if it can be healed.”

Spike’s mouth gaped, and he shook at the weight of her words. Fingers strumming together, his eyes shifted from one side to the other. “But! But surely you can do something about that! Can’t you?! You can do anything!”

She let out a loud and tired sigh, finding the gold-lined gypsum squares in the ceiling. “Creatures must trust me to do my job. If I fail to uphold the law, as per the will of the peoples of the Federation, that trust will crumble. More than that, creatures must trust ponies with their privileged position. Else, the system upon which our world sustains itself will crumble. Alicorns, most of all, are held to a higher standard. And rightfully so. It is the reason I have hidden so much about our past. So much of the evil of the Unicorn Kings. You are fortunate you had never heard of them, Spike. And so are the rest of the world. That knowledge is dangerous.”

“This situation violates the virtues of the Elements of Harmony. You may not understand this, but you feel the weight of such words. They are the pillars upon which the magic of Creation sustains itself. I cannot put Twilight and Cadance, even with all my love for those ponies, above the survival of Creation. There is an Ancient Pact which must be upheld, or we flirt with annihilation.”

The gray mare and the filly remained silent while Spike frowned. His eyes aimed at the red carpet, and he bit his lip. One could hear the gears spinning inside his little head.

Celestia’s voice came soft, and her words slow. “The further this goes on, the worse it will become. And that is one reason the Harpy beckons them to her domain. She means to sap the trust the population has on me and drive us apart. To manipulate Twilight and Cadance. Make them into disposable pawns in a war so old only I and She remember it.”

“She will use the broken unity to advance her plans of reigniting Her cult among the griffons. Then the Harpy will set them loose on the tall ponies of Saddle Arabia with the excuse that those lands belonged to the Empire. Next will be the hippogriffs, under dark pretenses of purification. Our federation, once fragmented, will fail to respond in kind. Creatures will lose their faith in me. She will lie, dissimulate, and obscure. She has already disguised hatred and xenophobia for honor. All so She will weaken and eventually destroy me. Then she will be unstoppable.”

The irony that Celestia herself has lied, dissimulated, and obscured did not escape her, but the fleeting thought made way for more important matters. After all, if one must prevail, all the better she be the victor in that insane war of theirs.

“As the situation stands, we are either moving towards a future where a new griffon empire rises again, or one where the world ends. We face bondage as livestock for the most vicious of mistresses and her spawn, or the Black Sun and yet another cycle. A new cycle of Creation where we will be forced to go through it all again, but one where the Harpy may be too powerful to be contained.”

“We cannot bear this burden. I must reign Twilight and Cadance in. Without them, the others will resign from this misguided quest and deny the Harpy her victory. And, with the unity of Equestria secured, I will destroy Her.” Celestia scowled. “This time without a cosmic fail-safe to spare that monster oblivion. We can fix everything else later.”

“But I will not ask you to betray your friends.” Celestia towered above him and stared squarely at the little dragon’s trembling green eyes. His hands clasping at his chest, her height and grandeur dwarfed the young dragon. “I will not force you to tell me what you know, but I will ask you to help me protect them from furthering the damage they have caused. And I will demand that you fulfill your part in protecting our way of life. It is expected of me.”

His first reaction was a gasping wince which shuddered his scales. Muscles tensed like she had hit him with a bat. His eyes found her hooves and then he shifted away from her gaze. He swallowed and held his tail in a hug, stumbling on the words, missing them entirely.

“The world has forgotten, but I have not.” Celestia’s voice grew low. “I love you as my own, Spike. But your resentment cannot compete with visions of endless lines of crying slaves, and the weeping at the stakes. Ponies used both for livestock and property. Brave zebra warriors carved open; hearts offered to Her as a delicacy. Streets turned to rivers of blood in orgiastic festivals of death and suffering in honor of Her ego. Neither that, nor the horror of a dying world. In my dreams, they go on and on and they haunt me more than any sorrow my actions could cause.”

Eventually, he looked up at her again and he squeezed his tail tighter. “The port. The griffons have… Ah, friends in Manehattan. They arranged a meeting with somecreature that has a part that Twilight’s airship needs to fly again.”

“Do they mean to fly all the way to Snow Mountains?” Celestia frowned. Would Spike lie to her?

He loosened his shoulders with a defeated sigh. “We wanted to use the teleporter and get it to Thunderpeak. Then fly it north. To Griffindell.”

Radiance shot Celestia a curious stare. “Even then, monsters will attack their flying vessel.”

“The griffons have certainly prepared to escort them.” Celestia’s voice softened, and her hoof brushed the spines at the top of the little dragon’s head. “Thank you Spike.”

“Your grace.” Radiance’s voice drew Celestia’s eyes from the dragon again. “Our scouts captured Spike while he was in the company of a pony. A unicorn they have identified as Starlight Glimmer. At a park known as the Clock Plaza, they seemed to be looking for someone. Waiting for a meeting. The name ‘Naminé’ came up during their approach. Starlight Glimmer escaped, however, when the local law enforcement responded to the commotion.”

Celestia’s stare shifted over to Spike, who barely reacted this time. “We went there to meet somepony who was supposed to take us to see Naminé. They made it difficult, but the griffons got her ponies to meet us provided no griffons would be there. They never showed up, though.”

“Thank you again, Spike.” Celestia smiled at him again. “Your help was significant. I cannot send you back to your friends, but you can rest now. I guarantee the Gray Dames will take good care of you.”

As she spoke, hooves clopped the marble at a hastened pace, echoing into the room. Another pony entered. One of the cartographi trained to operate the magic of the map in the Strategium. The white-robed mare stopped once past the door, and waited until Celestia acknowledged her presence with a nod, under the eyes of the others.

“Your Grace. Forgive me the disruption, but we have located a wreckage corresponding to the airship you have described.” Once she had Celestia’s undivided attention, the young mare continued with her head raised and a stiff posture. “On the hills south of Baltimare. Elements of the Royal Guard have secured the wreckage, but a force of nearly one hundred griffons approach.”

“If we are to intervene, we must act immediately.” Legatus Radiance whipped her head, training her stare at Celestia.

“Ensure Farseer receives all relevant information.” Celestia’s voice raised. “She is to capture any creature at the harbor. Preferably before we need to concern ourselves with the teleporter facility. I will join the Prima Centuria at the Teleportarium immediately.”

Both mares acknowledged her orders with restricted bowing salutes and then left. Celestia turned her attention back to Spike and the filly as the two adult mares rushed away in the corridor.

“Thank you again, Spike. I will not hurt Twilight nor your friends in any way unless I must. I promise you that. Young lady, kindly take Spike to the others and ensure he has access to everything he needs. Accompany him if he wishes to tour the facility, but he may not leave.”

“Gee. Thanks.” Spike’s mouth bent with a sarcastic pout, but it soon shifted into a concerned, lost puppy stare.

The excited filly excused herself, much in the same way the adults had, before she turned to Spike and invited him to follow with an excited grin. Only after an instant of worried staring, Spike reacted and followed. Not before excusing himself with Celestia with a respectful bow, though.

The alicorn watched, maintaining her warm smile until both had left. Then she waited a couple of seconds, as little clops distanced themselves. Only then Celestia made her way to the door. Once outside the room, in the marble and gold hall, her hooves carried her with an urgent trot.

This time, her presence barely disturbed the normal goings and comings of the place. She preferred it like that. Mares and stallions had things to do. They wasted less time in idle adoration of her. Paradoxically, most of the activity had died down as they returned to normal and busied themselves in the more functional parts of their hideout. What ponies crossed paths with Celestia gave priority to their tasks and wasted little time. They stopped, bowed as she hurried by, and went on their way.

Wasting little time, Celestia reached the deeper parts of the facility. The architecture resembled something more practical than a mansion. It still kept the same luxurious decoration, with marble and gold, but the clanging of hammers and weapons echoed in stark contrast. Drill instructors barked reprimands and orders, taking her back to Palace Canterlot and the Royal Guard headquarters next to it. The usual noises of a military installation within the luxurious halls.

Like they had roused in the morning after a long night, the Gray Dames settled into the routine they knew. There were armor sets to refit, magical weapons to test, and recruits to train. Others had quasi-religious texts to recite, and some singing infiltrated the noises. If the main hall was the hub of the living area, the corridor Celestia trotted into was the hub of the day-to-day grind of the military operations. But heavens forbid the Gray Dames forget their heritage or allow their neophytes not to understand it.

Ponies scampered out of the way as the rhythmic trotting of a hundred ponies rumbled against the marble. Four lines of fully armored mares, each one as large as Celestia, marched at a rapid trot through the center of the corridor. Even Celestia stopped and watched the mares marching through the corridor. In near-perfect unison, they streamed through a wide door, as she watched with a sense of pride and a smile. Then she followed them into yet another grand room, albeit with a dignified, princess-like stride, carrying her golden toga like the symbol of her position it was.

Clear, functional lighting from the corridor spilled over into the shadowy room. A white haze, at hock height, poured out, evanescing a few hooves into the corridor. The marble hid beneath it and Celestia’s hooves still clopped at it as her breath came out a white puff. Their legs disturbed the mist while the mares never faltered in their gait and climbed a straight ramp up to a platform occupying most of the room.

A small army of less physically inclined unicorns wearing red and gold robes surrounded the massive platform. One poked his head out, surrounded by pink-illuminated fog, and talked about realigning gold coils with his colleague. Others minded the exposed magical machinery inside the platform’s foundation. Small groups convened or lit their horns and poured magic into the crystal and gold circuitry of the arcane machinery.

Past them, the statues of battlehorns of the past guarded the room and barely hid the polished stone. Crystals in all shapes and sizes, interconnected with thick tracks of gold, lined the domed wall and ceiling. They pulsated with multicolored light every while.

Large crystal spikes loomed over the platform like jagged teeth. But unicorns’ horns would be a better analogy than the canines of a crystal monster or threatening pillars out of a horror piece. They fulfilled the same function, after all. Although, they always reminded Celestia of crystalized and tinged sugar more than anything.

Her mouth twisted, just a smidgeon, looking at the things. Once again, Celestia shuddered at a glimpse of what the Gray Dames’ unicorns might do with modern magic and thaumatotechnology.

As she too climbed the ramp, the battlehorns quickly organized themselves into a square of ten lines at the top of the platform. Shadows filled the walls and vaulted ceiling, cutting the pink glow coming from beneath them. Hooves rapped against the solid crystal on the floor in counterpoint to the hum of the extremely powerful magical machine. The crystal just barely vibrated, filling with mana. Preparing to teleport them a couple hundred miles away.

The mares, the Prima Centuria, the First Cohort, were grizzled veterans even before their entombment in the facility. Some of them were probably older than Celestia. Barely distinguishable between themselves, other than a couple of old cuts or wrinkles under their green and gold helmets. Bodies covered in their mighty Leaf Plate armor, each one carried their leaf-shaped shield and a long, curved blade on their backs.

Clear magical steel, Solar Steel, tinted green and adorned with gold. Layers of protection for the body and for the many magical artifacts which made the Leaf Plate even more formidable than it seemed. Wearing the thing and allowing it to draw the magic it needed to function, was the line which separated the neophytes from the mainline warriors of the Legions.

Their weapons and helmets were a combination of skillful forging and powerful magic. Celestia’s favorite part was how their helmets turned their manes into elegant decorative crests. Their style was left to the individual battlehorn to wear as they wanted, though. One could take the pony from the pretty things but couldn’t take the pretty things out of the pony. Although there was only so much creativity one could afford with purple and green, gold and gray.

The warrior mares stood in silence, eyes forward, not a movement or clinking of metal plates. But far from the silence surrounding them, the outer rim of the platform brimmed with activity. More pink glowing crystals needed checking by the red cloaked unicorns under the panels. The magical chiming of unicorns casting spells was ubiquitous. Others walked around, also casting spells. Others still waved censers around, filling the air with the smell of myrrh and saturating it with spell components. Large unicorn mares sat in their corner and their red hoods covered solemn expressions. Peaceful closed eyes and focused minds.

At the top of the ramp, Celestia stopped close to their commanders. The Centurion spoke to the Domina Ferraria. Or rather, listened as Hammer kept admonishing her about their armor and the griffons’ ominous weaponry. The head blacksmith wore her red, gold-rimmed cloak of her subordinates. While the only thing differentiating the Centurion from her subordinates was her gray, purple hemmed cape. And perhaps an additional wrinkle or two on her face under the helmet and a slightly more glorious mane.

“Be mindful. These griffons carry modern weaponry. We have no way of knowing how will they affect the Leaf Plate armor. Expect a fight from a distance. Use overwhelming force and give them no chance to act. Our greatest strength is magic and theirs are their firearms.” Hammer spoke, and the other listened, but both turned to Celestia when she approached. The Domina Ferraria’s metal hoof clacked at the crystal floor as she turned to look at Celestia.

The alicorn felt sticking out like a sore hoof, wearing a gold and purple toga, but she didn’t have armor to wear. “Mares. I am aware you will find many things different from the world you left behind when you entered this place. I also trust you will not allow this to be a distraction. An important airship carrying vital artifacts has been downed and our Cartographi have located it.”

She stopped in front of the assembled soldiers, earning their attention and that of the red-robed ponies surrounding the crystal floor. “There is a detachment of Equestria’s modern military protecting it, but they are to be overwhelmed by five score griffon dissidents.”

“Criminals. Cultists. I am having trouble finding a word for them. They want to bring back the Holy Griffon Empire. Undo all the work your sisters from the Twelve Legions did in the past and I will die before I allow that. Ultimately, what matters today is that no griffon may escape and that we assist the ponies in protecting the wreckage. We will teleport to the vicinity and intervene, and I would like the situation resolved with all celerity possible.”

They didn’t respond, but their attentive eyes left no doubt that she had their full attention. And just as Celestia finished speaking, the Centurion took her place next to the first line of Battlehorns. Hammer stepped out of the crystal floor and gave Celestia a cautious stare. “Try to bring me some of their weapons. I’m dying of curiosity.”

While the red-robed mares of greater size placed themselves around the platform. Celestia took her place before the armored unicorns, turning to look at Hammer with a deadpan stare. “It’s nothing too exciting, really. I miss the times of apprentices blowing half the Guild’s tower while experimenting with magic.”

“I remember Star Swirl decided that no combat magicking was to be made within the palace’s halls and the Sparkles set up a little test range for the initiates. It was fortunate nopony blew their legs off with explosion magic.”

“We will cast the teleportation spell.” One of the red-robed mares declared.

The robed, battlehorn-sized mares stood and surrounded the crystal floor. Its glow intensified as the magi chanted and their horns sizzled with magic. An incoherent singing for the untrained ears. One mare tasked with coordinating the spell passed along instructions to her subordinates. The magical formulae for the teleportation spell. Details that only unicorns would understand. Mental images, such as mana flux, spell intensity, coordinates, details about the location. Like trying to explain to a pegasus how to open their wings. And, more importantly, how to join their magic with that of the machine and guide its tremendous power. It helped them focus, literally think in unison.

Magical energies displaced the air in the room, an impossible breeze moved the mist and a rising chiming filled the air. It saturated Celestia’s coat, crawling on her spine and itching in her horn and wings. Her bones vibrated with it. The crystal beneath them shone brighter and brighter, as did the crystals hanging from the ceiling. Finally, their intense pink light filled Celestia’s eyes, and a white flash exploded in all directions.

In the heartbeat before the spell broke the space-time continuum and sent them to another place, Celestia surrendered to a small smile. Imagining what the Legion’s Magi would do with the modern engraved spell matrixes. What they could make with the arcane technology of the teleporters and the airships.