The Gray Dames

Cold air seeped into Celestia’s coat, and her gold-weaved toga flagged as violently as her mane. The clinking of armor plates behind her showed the Battlehorns reorienting themselves. She was at the top of a small cliff. If Celestia’s understanding of the region was correct, they should be above the soft rolling hills south of Baltimare. Beneath, campfires shone limited auras on a relatively plain area among the mounds of grass. They illuminated pieces of a broken airship. Golden metal sheets, chunks of crystalized metal, wood steel beams, and shadows fed the imagination of what the wreckage site looked like. It laid at the heart of a make-shift fortification.

Shapes of ponies in the dim patrolled the area, mostly keeping to the edge of the lit areas. A sharp bang echoed. Shouts raised, following more bangs. The distinctive noises of the griffon rifled weapons and that of the Royal Guard’s issued muskets became a cacophony. Luminous stars shedding smoke and sickly yellow light rose over the land and reflected on the cloud cover. The wreckage became a mess of shadows and hastily joined parts inside the improvised walls.

Improvised barricades filled with naked or gold-clad ponies. They wielded muskets and pistols, halberds, and improvised spears behind the makeshift battlements. Flying griffons crested the hills surrounding the site. Bright flashes evidenced both firearm discharges and combat magic being hurled from the improvised fort. Nothing fancy, as training urged Royal Guard combat spellcasters to keep it simple. Packets of magical flux known as magical missiles, the eventual lightning and fireball too. Magical beams lit the terrain as much as the flares descending from the clouded sky. Soon enough, the repetitive drumming of automatic weapons dominated the sounds.

“We have arrived just in time.” The Battlehorn Centurion walked next to Celestia, speaking with urgency.

Her white hoof pointed from beneath her toga. “Charge them from the south side; I will provide a distraction. Use overwhelming force and drive them from the hills. They will expose themselves or surrender. Standard tactics, but do not take any prisoners you are not absolutely sure you can control. They are dangerous and volatile. Beware of any bulky weapon on a mount. Destroy them immediately from a distance. Do not give them a chance to use those damned things.”

After she acknowledged Celestia’s command, the mare commanded the battlehorns down the sloped side. Turning from the racket of clanking armor plates, Celestia looked down the cliff again. Losing no time, she sprung from the edge and flapped her wings, gaining altitude over the rolling hills. Her horn ignited with her golden magical light. Again, the immense magical potency of her loyal battlehorns fed her, bursting from her chest. Almost out of her control.

The lengthy and complex spell which summoned her magical armor flowed through her thoughts like a broken dam. A formula she had perfected and memorized since the time her spell casting skill had surpassed any enchanted armor or artifacts. Much like a released river, her horn delivered all the magical flow her mind demanded and channeled the spell into reality.

Her gold and purple garment burst into flames, consumed by a magical flare. What others have called ‘sunfire’ shaped into plates of light, fire, and lightning. Blinding light and searing heat in the shape of a heavy armor. It covered her from horn to hoof in protective fire and light. Shoulders to wingtips with ethereal blades. It covered her head and let her crown of hardened sunlight shine brighter still.

An unexpected sun surged in the sky. It lit the clouds from below and the dark hills revealed themselves, covered with scorched grass, strips of exposed soil, and burnt airship pieces. The Break of Dawn laid on her side, disfigured by the force of impact and torn in two, reflecting the light back from her golden hull. Most of it had been used to make the shelter, though, and exposed structural beams rose like ribs on the carcass of a dead beast.

The host of griffons had already surrounded their quarry before they launched the flares, which became utterly pointless. With the firefight halted and eyes turned to her, Celestia used the opportunity to avoid a bloodbath. It was the least she could do. Even if her hatred for griffons had reignited in the last days.

“Cease hostilities and surrender immediately!” She barked. “As defined by the Equestrian Constitution, Paragraph Zeroth I will—”

“Shoot her!” someone cried, but she never identified them in the middle of the busy group of griffons.

The battlehorns crested the distant hills, in formation and ready to charge. Up and down the rolling slopes, positioning themselves to attack. Celestia left them to their commander’s orders and hails of magical projectiles rained upon the griffons south of the wreck. Surprised, the assailants needed a few seconds before someone took command and reorganized them. They flew fast and repositioned as battlehorns howled a resounding war cry, hooves already thundering on the ground.

Still overwhelmed, Royal Guards ran everywhere to cover every exposed side of their flimsy fortification. Others looked at Celestia. Confused ponies trying to understand what was happening before they caught themselves and returned to the defense.

Celestia’s further demands of a ceasefire went unheard. From her pegasus’ eye view, she had the privilege of seeing it all. A pair of royal guards worked on the laborious process of reloading their muskets while their companions fired theirs. Their professional training made the coordinated firing and reloading seem easy. They had spent hours upon hours practicing that in formation, after all. Even under attack from all sides, they kept the motions the training had ingrained into them.

Unicorns, with their magic, had more flexibility. And yet, were difficult to train for combat situations and likely to tire in sustained battles. That was the whole point of the Battlehorns. But that was during a time when battles meant whacking each other with metal sticks and shields were effective against volleys of arrows. The griffons and their new firearms maintained constant pressure with all they had. Laying against the grass, shooting their weapons multiple times before being forced to stop and to feed them ammunition.

More disturbingly, wars were supposed to be a thing of the past. Standing armies were supposed to guarantee sovereignty of the individual nations. At worst, hold the line when monsters attacked population centers until the Bearers of the Elements of Harmony arrived. Like Life was supposed to be protected and wanton loss of it was unacceptable.

Celestia winced at her thoughts. She should not have allowed the situation to reach such gravity. The Hall of Friendship should have set a limit. She should not have given the northerner griffons so much space nor allowed the myth of the Lion to grow. She should not have trusted them.

Celestia had no time to mull over losing the perfect balance Equestria had found itself in. Her mouth hung open and her eyes widened at the sight of mighty battlehorns falling and tripping on their legs. Their companions leaped over them and still charged, unleashing magic. Their Leaf Plate armor’s magical shielding flashed where the projectiles pinged them. Firearms kept shooting as the griffons remained confident.

“Stop fighting and you will not be harmed!” Celestia’s cheeks blushed. A sense of naivety washed over her. She reminded herself of asking griffons to stop fighting mere days ago and failing spectacularly.

This time they were better prepared, too. A hail of bullets flew straight at her to evaporate on her armor of magical flames. The powerful impact of each projectile quickly drained magic from her armor as it drew from her. Her immense magical reserves could not hold it impervious much longer, so powerful the abomination was.

Much like the one in Griffonstone, they had fitted the machine gun to a cart and protected it behind sandbags. It had a water tank connected to it, but Celestia couldn’t be bothered to understand its function. The box and belt feeding it with ammunition was easy enough to figure out, though she cared little for anything about it. It was a metal monstrosity. Born out of ingenuity and malice. Summoning images of wicked necromancers instead of crafty and industrious blacksmiths.

The drumming noise of that aggravating thing hurt her ears and took her back to Griffonstone. The image of her lover and consort, covered by a wet, bloody sheet, sunk her heart. A foreboding sense of déjà vu filled Celestia. Frowning, she found her bottomless well of patience lacking.

It happened so fast it surprised even her. Her soul overflowed with magic and her horn channeled it into making real her emotions. It was a spell she hadn’t used since the times of war, dread, and suffering had ended. Her horn flared as a lance of light, filling the air with an undefinable tension, but it snapped so fast others must have barely noticed it.

A deafening boom filled the air. Blinding light descended from the sky as a pillar of pure, elementary magical energy. It undid the clouds and turned the hill where the machine gun was to a crater covered with brittle glass. The odious weapon evaporated. Griffons changed from biology into physics in a flash. A heat wave turned the surrounding catbirds into carbonized skeletons. All that remained was the screaming over the roaring flames that shrouded them. Amid panicked screams and pleas for help and mercy, Celestia’s eyes snapped wide open with the caustic smell in the air mixed with charred flesh and ash.

Her mind filled with the piercing screech of souls torn apart by the reality shattering power of her spell. She jerked backwards, gasping, and shook her head, pursing her eyes. A salvo of magical missiles followed. It showered over whichever griffons remained on the south side. The following explosions of magical might tore to pieces what remained of the hills and the griffons occupying them. Chunks of soil and burnt grass, along with barely recognizable griffon parts, flew into the air.

It should have been horrifying. The consequences of her barely unrestrained magic should have given her pause. Celestia didn’t recognize herself as her body remembered what to do in a flash. She had no time to think, much less feel sorry for the griffons. They were trying to escape.

Firearms still rang in the night turned into day as griffons flew in every direction. Confused shouts and screams accompanied. The battlehorns had separated into two groups, flowing around the flanks of the wreckage site. Fortunately, the royal guards recognized they were on their side and busied themselves shooting at any griffons that drew too close. Some unicorns even attempted restraining spells. They ranged from bubbles to red wrapping ribbons and chunks of sticky bubble gum.

None of the Royal Guard pegasi were in position to pursue, and none of the Battlehorn Auxilia Alae had come with Celestia’s hasty departure. The fire-clad alicorn dived and flared her wings with a wave of flames. Hovering a dozen hooves above the ground in the path of a group of retreating griffons. “I commanded you to surrender!”

She received wide, frantic stares, and panicked flight in every direction for an answer.

“What a bucking disaster!” She swore under her breath, bringing her horn to shine with magical energy and unleashing magic upon the fleeing griffons.

Tendrils of light broke the grass, sprung from the soil and lashed into the air. Sizzling with magical energy and whipping lightning. Reaching and grabbing whatever limbs they could coil around. From legs to wings and necks. Burning fur, breaking feathers, and coming just short of snapping bones. Filling the air with hissing and burning hair and plumage. Seizures and screaming followed as they brought a dozen griffons down and combat magic rose from below. A combination of lightning, magical missiles and shiny shards of glass-like ice tore gashes and ripped the fleeing griffons apart.

Bloodletting without an end in sight. Ripped muscles and exposed ribs. Collapsed lungs and bent legs. Those in enough control over their faculties used them to fight back rather than surrender. With the fabled griffon agility and feline grace, griffons twirled in the air and turned on Celestia and the ponies on the ground. A variety of firearms rang. Nothing as uniform and standardized as the Lion’s Army, but a band of griffons who should be doing better with their lives than seeking war with their friends.

Targeted again, Celestia defended herself. Her telekinetic magic jerked rifles and pistols off their paws and tossed them away, leaving wrenched fingers and broken bones behind. A blue griffon yelled. Wide-eyed and frantic, trying to flee the magical tendrils delivering a subduing shock at him. He cried like a panicked cub, pulling a hind leg and jerking his wing, failing to free himself.

“Mother!” He shrieked amid spastic quakes, smelling of burnt fur and urine.

Another griffon lunged at her from behind. Their weight jerked her, and someone screeched. Furious, frightened, as loud as the sizzling the magical flames caused against their skin. Talons flashed at the corner of Celestia’s eyes but never struck her. Their paw glanced off after activating half a dozen defensive spells. Only a desperate mother would attack a living sun with her bare paws.

The alicorn spun in the air, twisted around herself, and tossed the griffon from her back. In the middle of all the screaming, flying, magic and lead, she turned to face her assailant and found a gorgeous, navy-blue griffon lady. Half burned, but screeching fiercely at her. Completely ignoring her bloody burns and mangled paw, twisted and bended unnaturally. Celestia’s defensive spells crushed it with a sledgehammer’s worth of magical force. The griffoness still lunged, talons first, at Celestia.

“Wait!” the alicorn squealed. “Stop!”

She beat her wings, pulled away from the griffoness and bumped against another griffon in their frightened flight. Celestia turned around to see a brown male in a reinforced leather duster. Scared, he flew from her, and in the next instant, movement caught the corner of her eye.

Her screech froze Celestia’s blood. A fierce visage in her face brought back too many memories of recent and old times. Sharp talons like daggers flashed before Celestia’s eyes and summoned ancient memories. They unleashed butterflies in her stomach. Filled her mind’s eye with the red of ripped flesh and pools of blood over the emerald of grass and splashed on a rainbow of pretty flowers.

Complex magic came easily, but simple magic became reflexive as catching a falling book. As it was in the years she fought wars and killing was menial work. Her own agility surprised her. As a pony shielding themselves with a hoof, her telekinetic magic held the griffoness’ good paw mid strike. And as Celestia’s eyes barely caught the griffoness’ broken paw moving to attack, a scatter of magical projectiles shot from her horn. Countless pellets of magic fulminated through plumage, muscle, bone, lungs, and heart. It turned half of her body into gory, charred, minced meat. Dead. Even before her pieces fell from the sky. Before Celestia had even realized what had happened and resisted her stomach, lurching at the smell.

“Enough!” Celestia’s exasperated voice boomed with magical amplification. “Cease your resistance or your lives are forfeit!”

Between hails of combat spells and shots, they finally listened to her. Some surrendered to the restricting spells. Others landed of their own volition, to be restrained by royal guards and battlehorns alike. As things calmed down, Celestia’s hooves trembled. She noticed her quickened breath and how it hurt her nostrils with hot and dry air.

The blue griffoness kept returning to her mind’s eye. Her fierce scowl, terrifying. Her sharp claws, flashing like lightning in the clouds. The dark clouds above Griffonstone looked back at her. Then she shook her head. There was no storm. Only the clear sky through a hole in the middle of the clouds. That and the lives she had ended when she unleashed her magic. The fierce incandescence her magical armor radiated had subdued with her wrath and unbridled emotions now under control.

“Get a hold of yourself, Celestia.” She whispered to herself, aiming her eyes away from the griffons.

Still beating her wings and hovering in the sky, she found the battlehorns scattered on the battlefield. They assisted their injured sisters while others minded injured ponies or secured prisoners. Landing with her hooves on the grass, she kicked it softly. It brought a frown to her brow. A strangeness she couldn’t put her hoof on. Looking to one side and the other, she saw more than her battlehorns and Royal Guards securing the captured griffons. It was one of those veiled sensations, hidden behind the mundane, that only she could feel.

Patches of burnt grass striped the ground where the light from the bonfires and her resplendent armor shed light. The wind was gone, and a hole gaped in the clouds above, showing Luna’s stars. No crickets chirped; no owls hooted. Nature had silenced and its silence, unnatural and oppressive, transcended the noises of the ponies and griffons around her. It shook Celestia’s legs. It made her head heavier and further dimmed the shine of her magical armor.

“Princess.” A pony in Royal Guard armor approached her. A cyan pegasus with blue eyes and a gray mane that his helmet turned into a multi-shaded decorative crest. It was heavy armor, not the usual, every-day service barding. The one with the proper protective plates and weapon fittings. His were empty, though.

“Are you injured?” He didn’t seem to be. At least no gooey red dripped from the gaps in his armor. He shook his head before she responded. “I am just glad to see you here. We heard some pretty bad things in the last few days.”

“We will sort this out.” She assured him with a serious stare.

One of the mighty mares in heavy armor approached them from behind Celestia and properly greeted her with a bow. Then she turned to the gold-clad pony. “Are there any injured?”

“Who, in the ever-loving hay, are you?” He held his head up like a little lost colt, looking up at an adult, with a similar expression of confusion and worry. He even cocked an eyebrow at the battlehorn, unsure of how to address her.

Celestia waved a hoof between them. “That is complicated, and I would rather neither of you wasted time with unimportant details. You can trust these mares as you would trust me, and you can trust these ponies much in the same way. I will leave both of you to the immediate care of the prisoners and injured ponies. I must see your commanding officer.”

He gave her an acknowledging nod and turned to point a hoof at the walls of their makeshift fortification. “Corporal Shining Beacon is in charge. It looked grim in here for a while, Princess. Although I think he’ll tell you all about it. I think he’s injured.”

Celestia held him with an inquisitive stare, but ultimately, concluded he was right. And busy too. She turned to the battlehorn. “Have the shelter teleport anything they can to assist us. If possible, get Domina Panacea here. I will be in the fortification, talking to Corporal Shining Beacon. Remember, we must leave no evidence of our presence.”

She received a double assertive nod of acknowledgement from the pair. Then, she took a short flight to the wreckage turned into makeshift fortification. Her poor airship, the mighty Break of Dawn, amounted to a pile of scrap. Golden metal and metallized crystal sheets, burnt wood, and steel beams. Crystal remains and golden wires of magical components had been recovered and piled in their own area. All bearing cracks and scorch marks. Celestia didn’t know the specifics of how the griffon rebellion downed the airship, but the evidence pointed to something dramatic.

She crossed paths with several ponies. Busy royal guards helping the injured or repairing the barricades made of pieces of her fallen airship. Just in case there was another attack. They enthusiastically welcomed the princess and sent her on her way to meet the pony in charge. Diligently returning to their work, they trusted her to figure her way around the place.

She could probably have found him by herself, as their shelter was not large or complex. Sheets of the golden metallized crystal from the airship’s hull isolated areas within the reinforced walls. A small arsenal had a pair of guards dismantling and cleaning muskets and pistols. Two more prepared the paper cartridges with powder and crystal balls. For better or worse, they had plentiful supplies.

A fifth pony in golden armor, without his helmet, cleaned and organized griffon weapons over a sheet on the ground. Rifles, most of them, but also some revolvers and even some of the older revolver muskets. The most iconic of those were the stocky, portable automatic weapons which name eluded Celestia. Its larger cousins were not present. One of them, at least, Celestia knew she had reduced to its base components. The battlehorns must have followed her advice and obliterated the things upon sight.

“The more I look at these things, the more I am convinced that the time of the pike and shot is gone, Princess.” He told her mindlessly, rinsing the blood off a griffon firearm with a wet, strong-smelling cloth. Low brows of a tired pony accompanied his hard voice of a resentful servant. “Nice fireworks, though. It’s a shame not all can do that.”

“If fire and iron would win us the day,” Celestia told him tenderly, “the Three Tribes would still be fighting each other until the Windigos froze them to their cores.”

He didn’t react, keeping to his meticulous work of cleaning the intricate parts of the firearms. Celestia hated her own words. They sounded like the words they have always lived by. Friendship is Magic, and it was going to make it alright. Not untrue, but something that served the placid civilians more than a soldier, disheartened at the perceived superiority of the enemy. But she had cast the dice cast in that conversation.

An earth pony. He had little trouble negotiating the chinks and gaps of the weapon with his pieces of cloth. The sort of thing most unicorns from Canterlot might think was impossible. Still, as far as weapons were concerned, his hooves depended still on the lever design used by the pony firearms.

Although, that was not the reason ponies still used muskets. The crystal balls carried a multitude of enchantments and modern griffon rifles couldn’t shoot them. They shattered under the higher pressure. Or so Celestia had been told by the forge worker ponies of Manehattan Ironworks years ago. The lead failed to hold the magic, and thus wouldn’t take the stun spells ponies were supposed to use in law enforcement and peacekeeping.

That was, of course, only true for the Royal Guard and local militias during normal times. Celestia was no fool to let the griffons develop their fancy firearms and sit on her wings doing nothing. Oh yes, the catbirds were due for a harsh awakening once she recovered the experimental magical weapons.

She felt so silly again. She had intended to have the airship fire its magic-based weapons with a proper ceremony. Not only to show them to Twilight and Cadance, but to remind their griffon friend of how far-fetched their dreams of conquest and tyranny were. Shining Armor would have loved the flashy experimental weapons. Chocolate Velvet would have loved them. Celestia had even thought of gifting each with one.

“I suppose your highness is looking for the commanding officer.” The pony stopped his work, paying her due attention before pointing a hoof. “He’s in the infirmary. He got shot through his armor with one of these useless things.”

She thanked him with a small smile before turning and going her way without further words. The infirmary was, in fact, the largest of the isolated areas and had an influx of ponies seeking treatment. The line of ponies with bloody armor sitting in a line was the best sign she had found the place.

On the other side of the isolating pieces of hull was a triage area, a care area, and an infirmary. The latter comprised a sequence of foldable field medical beds supplemented by folded cloth. Those likely had come from the airship’s sails. Injured ponies laid there. Some rested, others recuperated from threatening bullet wounds. Others still recuperated from bloody medical procedures. Bags filled with bright pink liquid hung from improvised holders and dripped into the injured ponies and an unconscious griffon under guard. Teams of doctors and assistants helped the more urgent cases, as did two battlehorn mares.

Out in the corner, a surgery was being performed and one of the large mares laid on an improvised bed and let a royal guard doctor examine a gory wound in her foreleg. With her armor removed, so the doctor could properly examine her, the mighty unicorn mare blushed furiously. But the reason for her distress seemed to be lost to the royal guards, used to seeing naked ponies all the time.

Unfortunately, Celestia had no time to mind that. Nopony had time to coddle the Empress-Princess, and busy ponies walked around her with a curt greeting. At least a couple of them hauled supplies off, likely to assist the griffon prisoners. The place had a rhythm which mostly ignored Celestia and allowed her to make her way around the action. Despite being left to tend to herself, she found the pony she was looking for. Lying on his improvised folded sail cut, he raised a hoof to greet her as he stood to sit. Celestia approached and told him to be at ease.

An earth pony, deep gray and cyan, he wore the Royal Guard barding while his helmet remained on the trampled, grassy ground. A bloody bandage covered his left eye and across his head. A weak smile formed as he made himself comfortable on his piece of naval cloth. It hardly seemed comfortable at all. Someone had hung a magical lamp at the steel beam supporting the wall. It provided them with light, superseding the glow from his bag of magical fluids going into his neck.

“I don’t think I remember ever seeing your highness wearing this stuff.” He gave her a quizzical frown, pointing and guiding her eyes to the gold-weaved toga she was wearing again. It had returned once her magical armor waned, no longer needed. Celestia hadn’t even noticed, so intuitive even such powerful magic had become in the past days. “I don’t think I've ever seen anypony wearing this stuff, ever. Outside of silly parties.”

“It is complicated.” Initially, she frowned with amusement, but then brow wrinkled deeper. “What happened?”

“Well, after you sent our escorts away, the griffons got bold. We didn’t have enough ponies to keep them under control. And that really is all. Please tell me it was Chrysalis, not you. I have two hundred Bits in the bet. Winner probably gets enough to buy a private airship by now.”

Before she could respond, he groaned and forcefully pursed his eyes. Enough to turn into a grimace. “Apologies. Doc gave me some alicorn-grade stuff for the pain.”

“I’m Corporal Shining Beacon, First Air Group, serving at the Break of Dawn. I was already in charge when ponies from the First Canterlot ‘ported within the hour and brought the Baltimare Locals in force to help us. The griffons were too busy skedaddling to be an issue, though. Those were the professional guys and are probably half-way to Thunderpeak by now. The Princesses, Master Grigory and their friends escaped on Princess Twilight’s airship. They used the griffon airship teleporter or something. I don’t have a clue how they got it from their wreckage, though. Or how they got it into the Princess’ airship. I didn’t see a lot of details. I was busy trying not to die and keep others from dying.”

“You did well, Shining Beacon.” She reassured him with a smile.

“Truth is… I saw Chrysalis’ big, dummy soldiers helping the griffons, but most of the guys didn’t believe me. They think you covered up for Twilight and Cadance, and that is why half the armada split away with our combat effectiveness.”

“I left for Griffonstone before someone gave Admiral Gloria such orders.” She scowled. “It was Chrysalis, pretending to be me. Or one of her agents. What happened to her?”

His eyes darkened, and his brow creased grimly. “We found the admiral dead among the debris. This is dumb. I don’t know what is going on, princess. But those not too injured stayed to guard the wreckage and collect any survivors that showed up. A lot of stragglers found us, and we were still searching when these birdbrains showed up for the first time. Intel is that they are Baltimare residents, and the Local Militia is raising their files. The Lord Protector thinks they’re a local cell of Griffonian separatists. You know how it is… Working for the Lion, but independently so he can deny any connection. It’s like these catbirds just found out the spies are a thing. Bunch of hoofing terrorist plotholes.”

He shrugged, and Celestia nodded. The griffons probably thought they would be easy prey and that they could profit from the wreckage. Although they seemed more organized than a group of scavengers. Local cell sounded right. They were looking for the experimental weapons stashed on the Break of Dawn. Maybe to recover the weapons that were confiscated after the battle with the Sköll.

Worryingly enough, they could recover the teleporter device and install it on Twilight’s airship within days. They must have infiltrated the griffon airship’s wreckage hours after it was downed. Maybe the mercenary, Mister Flying Snake, was involved, being a griffon and not being around. Of course, all that was before Celestia knew the Harpy was involved, and that explained a lot. It even explained why they would attack Royal Guards protecting an airship wreck. They just put too much stock on their filthy new weapons and the catbirds were a touch too bold.

The old adagio that a weapon is as good as the creature wielding it was still valid.

Like he could read her mind, Shining Beacon spoke again. “The airship is gone for good and the shipboard weapons on the first gun deck are all gone.”

“We can probably refit the others, but the experimental ones didn’t survive the crash. Turned to a large glowing pile of pink crystal dust. Shame... I wanted to see them firing. Ah, the crates with the personal weapons were perfectly fine, though. For an airship that got her mana batteries turned to bombs, the Break of Dawn did pretty well, honestly. I’m gonna miss her.”

“The emergency response teams hauled the Elements of Harmony off to Canterlot.” He threw his hooves. “Along with the princesses’ and their friends’ gear and the experimental weapons. The rest went to Baltimare. The changelings evaporated into thin air, though. Ah… We got the ponies from Ponyville’s local militia safe, though. They’re probably already home by now.”

Celestia nodded at his words. The Royal Guard had performed exceptionally well. And if they followed procedures, they sent the experimental weapons to the Canterlot Archives, the inner vault. Fortunately, secured by the Royal Guard, and hopefully away from Chrysalis’ sneaky hooves. And thank Harmony, away from the Harpy’s bloody talons.

“Princess, Captain Armor has gone rogue, hasn’t he?” His voice had turned meek, and his exposed eye lost its shine.

“That is a harsh word, Corporal.” Celestia shook her head at him.

“Shining Armor is doing his best to protect his sister, his wife, and his daughter.” She smiled. “Not to mention his friends. That is a good thing. One reason he made it to Captain of the Guard. And I will do everything in my power so that he remains when this terrible situation blows over.”

Especially considering a competent commander will be invaluable if there is war in the future.

Shining Beacon nodded his satisfaction with her words quietly. “Anyway, what are your orders? Word on the street, according to the guys that came to help us, is that Sergeant Crucible Wings went to Canterlot. The Hall of Friendship wanted somepony to explain the situation and since your highness is awol…”

That was the first time someone said she was ‘awol’. He continued despite her inquisitive, curious stare. At least his eye had recovered its shine. “They say that you took Prince Velvet’s death really bad. And that there are some weird griffon magic shenanigans going on. I didn’t even know that griffons could do magic.”

“They did not lie to you, corporal.” Celestia hardened her stare, and he hardened his, directing all his focus to her. “I will take all the prisoners. If anypony asks, their survivors vanished into the night. You never met me, nor these mares.”

Her eyes drifted to one of the battlehorn mares holding down a thrashing pony while the Guard’s doctor performed some sort of medical procedure in his groin area. Blood everywhere and screaming, but at least it helped Celestia maintain a discreet conversation with the corporal.

He nodded, turning back to her. “Well, the fact you saved our tails may just as well be all I need to make it happen. Some of them aren’t thrilled, though. Morale is quite low. But we’ll make do. Is it alright if we bury these griffons? Give them a proper Snow Mountains burial?”

In practical terms, burning the corpses could fix several problems. That was how those griffons would want to be buried anyway and what their families would do. Respectful and practical, unfortunately, their families would not be able to attend. She nodded at the guard and that was enough of an answer for him, who nodded back in silence.

“If you wanted ponies not to know what happened here,” one of the ponies lying on a cot with a leg over his eyes talked. “Might not want to use the death beam from the sky.”

He was one of the larger earth ponies. His white leg was wet with hastily washed blood and a reddening dressing wrapped around his shoulder. But the grimmest of his situation was his tone. It prompted Celestia to look around the improvised infirmary.

Blood, complaining, some crying and tired ponies. The large mares in heavy armor, not to mention Celestia herself wearing gold, drew a lot of attention, but what stuck with her were the desolate stares. A young unicorn, gray and blue, wore his armor with a couple of dents on the chest and shoulders. His eyes shifted from hers. His expression was a stoic mask over confusion and sadness betrayed by his nonchalant avoidance of her gaze.

Among them were about a dozen griffons. Burn marks striped their fur where her magical tendrils had wrapped around them. Belts pressed into their feathers and chains allowed their limbs little movement. Still ponies cleaned their cuts and rinsed blood away with wet cloths and more patience and care than griffon wardens would dispense. They seemed ashamed, or angry that they were captured.

The young blue griffon sat in the middle of the silent, sullen griffons. Silent sobs jolted his shoulders while the burn marks on his forelegs went ignored. Celestia frowned, and then her frown deepened into a scowl as she turned to face Shining Beacon again.

“Have these griffons transferred to the battlehorns as soon as first aid is taken care of.” She ordered with her firmest tone. “You have done enough. More than enough.”

“I want you and your subordinates relieved from protecting a dead husk of an airship; there is nothing of value here anymore. But I am supposed to never have come here, and I have already stayed too long. With the griffons dealt with, you should be able to remain in peace until the local militia arrives to investigate the skirmish. Please, pass along to your subordinates that I will remember your commitment to duty when these trying times have passed.”

“What is happening, princess?” A meek voice distracted her. The light gray pony who earlier avoided her gaze spoke, sitting on his cot. He talked to her, but his eyes never met hers, and his right hoof kept massaging his leg. “I don’t remember you ever acting like this.”

“That is not for you to worry about, private.” Shining Beacon promptly reprimanded him. “The princess is supposed to care for Equestria, not your insecurities.”

The corporal set up a situation where the ponies and griffons in the area who were not too busy silenced. Drawn to the conversation by his tone, they provided Celestia with an invaluable resource: attention.

She bumped her hoof twice against the trampled grass. “We are under a threat like never before. I realize my words are trite, but we face an insidious enemy who has struck unseen and effectively. Although I cannot share the details right now, I can ask that you help me. My presence here must not be disclosed, much less of these mares.”

As she spoke, the centurion approached her, but Celestia still had more to say. “I have not sent the Break of Dawn’s escort away to help Twilight and Cadance escape. I am not trying to protect either of them, much less the Lion’s son and his friends. What happened was a deliberate attack by griffon separatists who want things which are honestly worse than anything than you can imagine. And for reasons I still do not understand, the Changelings, or at least a faction within them, assisted the griffons.”

“To do my job and protect Equestria, I need your help.” She stopped for a second and swept her eyes over the recovering ponies. Some provided medical help, others gathered there, drawn by her presence. The captive griffons, still receiving curative spells and balms for their injuries too listened. “If it comes to that, I will submit myself to any scrutiny from investigative bodies within the legal system and the will of the Hall of Friendship. But until then, until the situation is resolved, I will make use of my special powers, granted by the hall of Friendship, for the good of Equestria.”

Her last words. She delivered them straight and direct to ponies and griffons. That was how she has always talked to them, and they recognized her honesty. That was all she could hope for in that situation. Until a unicorn, one of her Royal Guards raised his hoof and took the word, green eyes loaded with contempt. A scrawny one, the kind that should land on a clerical job, was it not for showing skill in combat spell-casting. His gray coat had a long double gash on his neck and left shoulder, making it seem a griffon attacked him without his armor.

He sat on an improvised cot of folded cloth next to a tired and grimy cyan pegasus with gray eyes. His sarcastic tone convinced the alicorn her speech may not have had all the effectiveness she’d like.

“So, these griffons are going to be taken to Baltimare and delivered to the local militia. They’ll be in custody until confrontation and then sent to the judge for a fair trial. Right?”

The centurion took offense at his words and turned to face him, but Celestia took a step forward in front of her and responded before they could exchange any words. “The Equestrian Constitution allows me to take any action I feel is necessary to protect Equestria. Responsibility is mine, and I said I will submit myself to any decision of the Hall of Friendship afterward. That is all that I can do to assuage your fears.”

With that said, the pegasus wing-slapped a groan out of the unicorn. “Shut it, dumb pokehead. She just saved your life. You sound like those dummies complaining when the Crystal Empire appeared, and they accused Celestia of money laundering.”

A giggling griffon lady, tan and white, with half-lidded eyes among the captives, apologized. “I’m sorry. I thought only we called them that.”

Morphine-induced silliness aside, Celestia turned to the battlehorn next to her. “Take them to the carcer and make sure they are well-treated, despite it all. We leave as soon as we can take them, and we cannot tarry.”

With things moving on their own and ponies either busy or minding their wounds, she walked out of their camp. Her orders given; some distance discouraged anyone from thinking more than they should. The battlehorns took to guarding the camp on their own while the Royal Guard licked their wounds. They watched Celestia walk by from the battlements and distance herself but said or did nothing.

The night had returned to normal, as far as the temperature was concerned, and she wasn’t wearing powerful magic for armor anymore. Clouds grew, closing like a knitting wound. The ground would remain charred, and the rolling hills broken for far longer.

She looked at the crater her magic had opened on the ground. Green glass tinkled under the moonlight. The royal guards would recover the bodies, but that might be a mess too large already. Family members would miss them. Friends too. Worse yet, some would know what they were up to. The whole situation was a powder keg with a fuse burning alarmingly fast towards it.

Her ears flopped, and she closed her eyes. The silence distracted her. The oppressive silence returned. So egregious there was no ignoring it. Dozens of lives ended, literally in a flash. No. Not dozens: they probably numbered in the thousands, although only a dozen had invited death.

She eyed the ground, covered in burnt grass, and hoofed at it. It kept residual heat from the firestorm her magic caused. Carbonized plant matter undid itself at the softest touch. A soft gesture with her wing shredded an entire swath. It made a soft wave in the stagnant air, silent and dead. It washed over the singed bones of a griffon, and they too undid themselves. A small forest of flare-consumed bones crumbed before her into ashes so fine they vanished into the desiccated soil. Sprinkling unsuspended in the dull air.

She sat on the ground. Her toga would be dirty, soothed, but she did anyway. Eyes pursed, trembling, she turned to the sky and her horn came alight. An empty void, stygian as the Black Sun and devoid of everything but emptiness surrounded her. It sucked the golden glow of magic out of her, and it dissipated into nothing. A battlehorn approached her with a veritable wind washing over the alicorn. Magic, lavender light flowed from her, and it too dissipated into the gaping abyss that surrounded them.

Celestia opened her eyes and the sight of activity in the camp behind the centurion banished the gaping maw of nothing she had immersed herself in. Mundane sensations returned. But only the sounds of the camp. The air remained as dormant as it was before. No crickets made music; no owls hooted.

“Are you injured?” The gray and purple mare shone her worried eyes, like a foal fearing for her mother’s distress. Perking her ears, willing to listen. Baring her soul. Ready to do anything for her sake.

What was the point? She wouldn’t understand. The world was simple to her. But Celestia explained, nonetheless. “My spell tore their souls apart and damaged the magical matrix of the world.”

The mare smiled as she frowned. “It really was quite a powerful spell.”

Celestia didn’t react. Instead, she asked the mare a question of her own. “Did you come to report?”

“The griffons are ready to be teleported. Our telepath has contacted the Teleportarium and they are ready for us to return. Given the need for secrecy, I imagine we should depart as soon as possible.”

“You are correct. We should depart.”

The mare excused herself from Celestia with a bow and took a pair of steps back before she turned to walk with a brisk trot. Celestia watched her distance herself before she stood. Her toga was, indeed, besmirched with soot and dirt. But she was sure the Gray Mares would have a pristine one waiting for her.